A Rewarding Return to HWV 27

Those who read my account of the opening night of George Frideric Handel’s HWV 27 opera Partenope at the War Memorial Opera House know that I did not waste any in invoking the attribute “slapstick.” This staging by Christopher Alden was first presented by the San Francisco Opera in October of 2014, and I had no trouble describing it as a roller-coaster ride. That said, yesterday afternoon’s performance came across as wilder than the opening, perhaps because the cast was now familiar enough with the libretto and staging to throw in some new embellishments that may well have been spontaneous.

Emilio (Alek Shrader on the ladder) creates his image of Partenope (soprano Julie Fuchs at the foot of the ladder) while Rosmira (mezzo Daniela Mack) observes, with Arsace (Carlo Vistoli) and Armindo (Nicholas Tamagna) to the left and Oromonte (Hadleigh Adams) on the right (photograph by Cory Weaver, courtesy of SFO)

I decided that this opera deserved a more informative subtitle. As a result, I scribbled into my program book, “Two Women and Four Men Behaving Badly.” An opera conceived for a classical setting has been relocated to Paris in the Roaring Twenties. The action could have been created by Charlie Chaplin, while the decor evokes any number of bold artists including Francis Picabia, René Clair, and Man Ray. Indeed, where the latter is concerned, Emilio (tenor Alek Shrader) spends much of the first two acts running around with his camera; and, in the final act, he assembles his large-than-life prints into an enormous image of Partenope (which might be described as “Playboy meets the Venus de Milo.” (See the above photograph.)

One way to approach this opera as a whole is that each act has its own “theme” that might be taken as a visual leitmotif. Emilio’s giant photograph provides the leitmotif for the final act. The opening, on the other hand, is established through an enormous spiral staircase, which provides the setting for no end of visual gags. (That staircase was included in the photograph for the opening night article.) Action in the second act, on the hand, revolves around a water closet (otherwise known as a bathroom, but this one really looked like a closet). All of these settings provide frameworks for no end of sight gags, regardless of how relevant they are to the plot.

Lest one think that the music itself was deprived of humor, Julie Fuchs, in the title role, rose to the occasion in the final act. Prior to the conclusion in which all the characters make up with each other, Partenope has a solo reflecting on all that has occurred. Fuchs sang this in front of a drawn curtain to allow for a set change; and, at just the right moment, she injected a phrase from Giuseppe Verdi’s “Sempre libera” aria of La Traviata, suggesting the Partenope and Violetta were not quite as different as one might assume (not that anyone would mistake Verdi for Handel)!

The good news is that there are two more chances to catch this show, tomorrow and on Friday!