Debauchery and damnation at AT&T
Live simulcast of S.F. Opera’s ‘Don Giovanni’ expected to draw crowds
Take me out to the opera; take me out with the crowd!
And said crowd could come impressively close to 30,000 souls, if the early bird registration on San Francisco Opera’s website for the June 30 free simulcast of Mozart’s “Don Giovanni” at AT&T Park is any indication. The Opera’s 15th such gift to the Bay Area since 2006 — the most recent 10 of them beamed onto the ballpark’s giant digital scoreboard — the simulcast is an open invitation to bask in the delights of Mozart’s 1787 dark dramedy, issued to aficionados and opera know-nothings alike.
The cognoscenti will doubtless have their eye and ears primed for their favorite moments in this tale of a swaggering lothario who meets his richly deserved doom. But if you count yourself among the curious members of that latter, less-experienced group, we offer you five singular highlights to watch for as you take in your very first “Don G,” pretty much listed in their chronological order of occurrence.
THE CATALOG OF CONQUESTS >>
Leporello, the don’s much put-upon manservant, gives a breathlessly hilarious scorecard recitation of his randy master’s lady kills to date. They amount to a whopping total of 2,065 women (1,003 in Spain alone), and the little black book entrants are not limited by age, race, station in life or even, apparently, the full-blown consent of the ravishees.
AN AUDACIOUS SEDUCTION >>
Perky peasant girl Zerlina, on the very brink of her wedding day, succumbs to Don Giovanni’s advances, right under the nose of her churlish and suspicious fiancé, Masetto. The don’s main weapon? “La ci darem la mano,” a charmer of a three-minute aria that is likely the most famous tune in all the Mozartean oeuvre. (Seriously, folks, if you don’t recognize this one, you’ve been living on another planet.)
A SUDDEN ABOUT-FACE >>
Donna Anna, nearly undone in her own bedroom by the masked don in the very first scene of the opera and vowing revenge on him for the murder of her valiantly protective father, the Commendatore, doesn’t recognize him when she and her suitor Ottavio later encounter him and try to enlist his help in finding the culprit. But — voila! — the light of horror dawns. (The most persuasive explanation for this somewhat inexplicable reversal I have seen in other productions involves, rather ingeniously, a scented handkerchief the don wafts under her nose that triggers the lady’s memory — let’s see what S.F. Opera has in store to smooth things over). Her lightning-strike realization triggers an “Omigod — it’s him! ” outburst and a rushed, one-note per-syllable explication of his dastardly deeds (called a “recitative” in opera parlance). That evolves into her call for vengeance in the most impassioned and demanding aria of the opera (14 high A’s, several of them held at length — the opera devotees will be in paroxysms of delight it if it is superbly delivered). It’s called “Or sai chi l’onore”; give it a good listen and feel free to applaud vigorously if it pleases.
A DEADLY SUMMONS >>
“Don Gio-VAN-ni!” That thunderous exclamation follows a pounding on Don Giovanni’s door as the hulking statue of the Commendatore enters the premises, responding to a sneering invitation to dine the don delivered on a lark earlier in the day. It’s a deep bass clarion call that should rightly send the shivers running up and down our spines — and the sight of the dead dude should be terrifying, too.
DRAGGED TO HELL >>
In what could be the most powerful and horrifying sequence in all of operadom, Don Giovanni sticks to his guns and stoutly and repeatedly refuses to repent. Cue the fire and brimstone, and no holds barred. Real (or virtual) licks of flame could be deployed as the don goes down for the last time. Opera companies generally do their damnedest, you should excuse the expression, to impress us with this scene. It ought to bring the curtain down with a resounding thud — but it usually doesn’t. A simpering little epilogue most often follows, as the remaining characters deliver a moralistic “he sure got what was coming to him” as a singing sextet. It’s pretty to listen to, but decidedly anticlimactic.