‘Così fan tutte’ deftly mixes joy, heartbreak
S.F. Opera delights with Mozart rom-com set in 1930s country club
Operatic characters don’t get much more frivolously endearing than the pairs of lovers in Mozart’s romantic comedy “Così fan tutte,” which opened in a terrific new production at the San Francisco Opera on Sunday, Nov. 21. They can scarcely boast half a dozen brain cells among the four of them, and yet their emotional lives are real and impossible not to care about.
That makes the piece a potential dramatic tightrope, as we watch romantic illusions get slowly stripped away. It takes only a couple of hours and a few high-spirited disguises for everyone to discover that the foundational values they thought they could rely on — love, fidelity, even the effectiveness of personal charm — are built on sand. And at that point, the choice is either to laugh it off or to plunge into a very dark place.
The current production, directed with a light but richly inventive touch by Michael Cavanagh and magnificently led by conductor Henrik Nánási, threads the needle with flawless assurance. It is neither trivial nor cynical; it engages us in the piece’s essential drama without losing sight of the comic spirit coursing through it.
The comedy of the premise is perhaps more obvious. Prompted by the wily old philosopher Don Alfonso, two young swains agree to put the fidelity of their girlfriends to the test by wooing them in disguise. They’re confident that the women will withstand such an onslaught, but Don Alfonso, who’s seen a bit more of the world, knows better.
On the surface, “Così” seems to be fairly one-sided in its gender politics — the title means “that’s what they all do,” but the Italian pronoun is feminine — and yet its spirit of jovial skepticism is all-encompassing. The flexibility of romance comes as a surprise to all concerned.
Cavanagh sets the action in an opulent 1930s country club, which gives set designer Erhard Rom and costume designer Constance Hoffman free rein to wreak endless, delightful mischief. Every scene change reveals some new corner of the resort, from the lounge to the gym to the pool deck and back again. The costume changes — fencing outfits, candy-striped swimsuits, military uniforms and more — come at breakneck speed.
And though there’s a constant level of theatrical high jinks, none of it obscures the fact that these characters are slowly having their hearts broken.
On Sunday, that mournfulness came through most vividly in the exquisite company debut of tenor Ben Bliss as Ferrando, who is by a slim margin the more clueless and carefree of the two men. Bliss’ sweet tenor — fluid, bright, full of subtly shifting tone colors — seemed to have an element of heartbreak built in from the beginning. His Act 1 aria, “Un’aura amorosa,” brought a breathtaking depth of emotion and expressivity to the performance.
As Guglielmo, baritone John Brancy kept pace with him in the ensembles and shone exuberantly in
his solo arias. The two women were deftly played by soprano Nicole Cabell as the vigorous, high-flying Fiordiligi and mezzo-soprano Irene Roberts as her earthier, more knowing sister Dorabella.
Don Alfonso, here transformed into the manager of the resort, was embodied in all his suavity and assurance by baritone Ferruccio Furlanetto, and as the maid Despina, soprano Nicole Heaston gave a brilliant performance marked by hilarious resourcefulness and psychological nuance.
The Opera Chorus, led by the soon-to-retire Ian Robertson, contributed lustily to the crowd scenes.
Perhaps most crucial to the success of the performance was Nánási’s conducting, which was by turns buoyant, robust, elegant and lithe. Just as in the 2019 production of “The Marriage of Figaro,” Nánási’s work was a reminder of how varied and resplendent Mozart’s writing is.
That earlier “Figaro” is a relevant reference point, because it began a planned trilogy of Mozart operas that continues with the current “Così” and is scheduled to conclude in June with “Don Giovanni.” Cavanagh’s concept is that all three operas take place in the same physical location across three disparate chapters in American history — first the 18th century, now the 1930s and eventually a dystopian future.
Yet just as with “Figaro,” one searches in vain for the relevance of American history to this opera or vice versa. The lessons of “Così” are the same whether the setting is 18th century Naples or the 1930s.
If an overarching concept lurks in the background of a firstrate production without making its presence felt, is that a problem? I don’t think it is. This “Così” is vibrant and musically strong enough to succeed all on its own.