San Francisco Chronicle - (Sunday)
Future operatic stars? There’s no guarantee
When the San Francisco Opera’s most recent batch of Adler fellows trooped across the stage of Herbst Theatre earlier this month for their annual showcase concert, you could feel a certain precarious sense of balance in the air.
All of these artists — the nine singers, and the two pianist-coaches whose ministrations behind the scenes are a critical part of any operatic endeavor — are potentially poised on the brink of major careers.
That’s the theory, anyway. The reality is much harsher and less forgiving. A few of these artists may end up gracing the world’s leading opera houses; most, inevitably, will not. Some will forge performing careers with smaller companies, some will teach or find administrative jobs within the opera world, and some will leave music behind entirely.
There’s no telling, which is one of the things I love most about watching young artists come through this early stage in their training. Over nearly 40 years of observing the Merola Opera Program and the Adler fellowships, I’ve heard (and reviewed) a number of future superstars at the very start of their musical journeys.
I was there when mezzosoprano Joyce DiDonato — now among the most important and original artists of the operatic world — announced her arrival with a brilliant account of the title role in Rossini’s “Cenerentola” in a 1997 Merola production
in Stern Grove.
A year later, I enthused over the soprano Anna Netrebko’s first recital as an Adler fellow (although admittedly, this followed her U.S. debut in the female lead of Glinka’s “Ruslan and Lyudmila,” because everyone could tell she was heading straight to the top).
I remember witnessing bass John Relyea’s triumphant turn in a Merola production of Mozart’s “Marriage of Figaro” as Doctor Bartolo — one of the opera’s least prominent characters, and an unlikely opportunity to catch a glimpse of coming stardom.
Yet, for each occasion when I could have made money with a well-timed wager, there have been eight or 10 instances where I missed the mark completely. Artists have come through the company with what seemed like the complete package — a superb vocal endowment, theatrical skills, natural charisma — only to see their progress stall in midstream, or even at the starting gate.
Part of that is due to the fact
that just as in sports or Hollywood or politics, a successful operatic career is something of a lottery. Natural ability can get you started, but luck is essential as well.
“As much as we hate to say it, a lot of this is being at the right place at the right time, and having the right people hear you when they can open the door,” said Carrie-Ann Matheson, artistic director of the San Francisco Opera Center, the company’s training wing.
Another aspect has to do with the fact that what an audience hears during the limited microcosm of a stage performance is only one component of an artist’s portfolio. A lot of other things — collegiality, work ethic, versatility, mental health — can often be assessed only in the rehearsal studios and backstage.
That’s why I try to temper my enthusiasm with caution on encountering what seems like an enormous operatic talent in the making. Sure, the voice itself may be a phenomenon, but it’s only one piece of the puzzle.
Some decades ago, for example, I heard a young soprano deliver a magnificent aria during the Merola Grand Finale, the annual showcase concert that concludes the company’s summer training program. It was an extraordinary display of vocal power and agility, and the audience in the War Memorial Opera House exploded into breathless applause.
Yet, when it came time for the prizes (in those days, a few Merola artists were awarded cash prizes based on their achievements and progress over the course of the summer), the soprano walked away empty-handed. I’ve never run across her name since.
When I asked a company insider what had happened, he replied, “That aria you heard? That’s all she’s got.” Apparently, she had worked up one superb showpiece and was expecting to rest on her laurels thereafter — hardly a formula for advancement.
That episode has lingered in my memory ever since, as a cautionary tale about what can and cannot be observed from the audience’s perspective. To hear Matheson tell it, the San Francisco Opera’s educational philosophy is grounded in a similar awareness of how much more there is to being an opera singer than the singing part.
“For the Adler Fellowship, we’re interested in people who want to develop their craft as artists, but are also interested in personal development, so that they are able to go out into the industry with their feet on the ground in the midst of the tornado,” he explained.
“If someone is only interested in going onstage and singing, but is completely uninterested in learning about how to be financially capable or talking about mental and physical wellness, then they’re probably not the right fit for us. Because we believe in training the whole person.”
A career in opera, as in any field, is an extended process. It begins in promise, and ideally develops over many years through a series of growth, setbacks and challenges. How any of it will shake out is in the lap of the gods.
But for the moment — as we watch the current batch of Adler fellows move onward, and as a new corps of young artists arrives to take their place — it’s possible to believe that each and every one of them will find a niche, and that they will all make a contribution to the continued flowering of the operatic world.