The opera’s source is a sprawling 18th-century novel by Cao Xueqin, a 2,500-page family saga embracing philosophy, politics and romance that has been called the Chinese “War and Peace.” Hugely popular in China, it has spawned a literary industry of scholars and commentators, and has been made into two television series. The libretto, by David Henry Hwang and Mr. Sheng, uses a small slice of the book: A stone and a flower want to become human to fulfill their love. Through magic, they become Bao Yu, the young heir of the powerful Jia clan, and Dai Yu, his cousin. They fall in love, but Bao Yu’s mother, Lady Wang, wants him to marry another cousin, Bao Chai, who comes from a wealthy merchant family—the Jias are in debt to the emperor and need to restore their fortunes. The love triangle plays out against a background of political machinations, and the story ends unhappily.
Even with the novel’s plot drastically simplified, the librettists crammed in a lot of background. They also used a speaking narrator—the Monk ( Randall Nakano ), who “dreams” the story—to supply context, but with jarring effect. Act I is heavily expository and episodic, and much of its libretto is prosaic and not very singable. The exceptions are the poems that Bao Yu and Dai Yu sing, often to each other: They are romantic idealists, destined to be crushed by a corrupt world. The dramatic pace picks up in Act II, but now the dashing of romantic hopes and the downfall of the Jias seems almost too precipitous.
Mr. Sheng’s musical realization of the tale is puzzling. He uses occasional distinctive Chinese percussion effects, and there is a brief, tangy appearance by the qin, an ancient zither, but for the most part the score sounds like Puccini with dashes of Borodin and Bernstein. The vocal writing, especially in the first act, reaches for high notes so regularly as to become predictable, and the only character with a distinctive musical signature is the Machiavellian Lady Wang, who gets an ominous, Scarpia-like orchestral accompaniment. There are some musically gripping moments, most in the second act, as the clouds gather: the unsettled choral lament for the death of Granny Jia, the family matriarch; Bao Yu’s aria of self-assertion, when he stands up to his mother about his marriage; and Dai Yu’s mournful final aria.
Designer Tim Yip evoked the grandeur of Imperial China with lavish costumes and furniture, while the stunning backdrop of the Jia domain, made of hanging panels painted in traditional Chinese style, came apart like a jigsaw puzzle, symbolizing the fragility of their power. Stan Lai directed with panache; Gary Marder supplied the dreamy lighting and Fang-Yi Sheu the writhing choreography for Bao Yu’s erotic dream.
Pureum Jo brought a pure, soaring soprano to Dai Yu; with his high, secure tenor, Yijie Shi communicated Bao Yu’s growth from boy to man. Mezzo Irene Roberts was a pragmatic Bao Chai; mezzo Hyona Kim, a fierce Lady Wang. Qiulin Zhang brought a gravelly contralto to Granny Jia, and Karen Chia-Ling Ho had an air of touching resignation as Princess Jia, the older daughter of the family and concubine of the emperor. George Manahan was the capable conductor.
***
San Francisco also mounted an actual Italian opera, albeit a third-rate one. Umberto Giordano ’s “ Andrea Chénier ” (1896)—a tale of the French Revolution based on the true story of a poet who was guillotined in the final days of the Terror—stands or falls on its three leads. The handsome David McVicar production, with elegant sets by Robert Jones and stunning period costumes by Jenny Tiramani, began at London’s Royal Opera House in 2015 with tenor Jonas Kaufmann in the title part; the principals in San Francisco, while competent, did not have that level of charisma. Yonghoon Lee ’s Chénier was all in one gear, loud and unpoetic; Anna Pirozzi was sturdy as his love interest, the aristocrat Maddalena di Coigny; and George Gagnidze didn’t project the conflicts of Gérard, the footman turned revolutionary, and the would-be third in this romantic triangle. There were some trenchant cameos—J’Nai Bridges as the maid Bersi; Joel Sorensen as the Incredible, a spy—and the chorus did some splendid jeering at Chénier’s trial. The conductor, Nicola Luisotti, did his best to whip up some excitement.
Source: Wall Street Journal by Heidi Waleson