By now we had almost forgotten why we had come to Santa Fe - it was the opera; especially after a near death experience at a four way stop sign. Some ditzy broad barreled through the stop sign at about 50 miles per hour (that’s more than 80 km/hr). If our driver hadn’t been alert she would have run right into me and you’d be doing something more useful.

     But just before the opera we drove up to Taos where I was surprised to learn that the University that employs me was running the summer theater. Taos should be about an hour’s drive north from Santa Fe, but American guilt over our stealing the country from the Indians has given them semi-autonomy on their reservations. Fifty per cent of New Mexico is Indian Reservation. The first Americans have captured the American ethos - give the public what it wants but which it has paradoxically made illegal - in this case, gambling. Thus the road to Taos is studded with casinos that attract the white man like moss to a paralyzed stone. The numerous state lotteries seem to have little of the attraction of these aboriginal dens of extraterritorial vice, the former being more of a tax on people who are bad at math. So sometimes it takes three hours to go from Santa Fe to Taos because of the gambling traffic that snarls the road between the two trendy towns.

      It’s hard to tell if Taos has more high priced junk than Santa Fe. In any event it’s close. But all is not peaceful in tourist central. When we stopped at the almost two century old church of St Francis there were many shiny motorcycles and pick-up trucks parked by it. A funeral for a young man was in progress. He was one of three men gunned down in a drug related shooting - at least that’s what we were told. After the funeral we looked at the pretty church, had lunch, bought our expected quota of very expensive tchotchkes, and went back to Santa Fe for, at last, the opera.

      Monday night was La Belle Helene, sung in French, declaimed in English, and performed for the first time ever by the company. The production was borrowed from the Chatelet in Paris. The French version is available on both CD and DVD.

      The big attraction of the evening was Susan Graham who studied at Texas Tech’s renowned vocal department. She lives in the area and first appeared with the company in 1989 as Flora in Traviata. She’s come quite a way since then. Vocally the title role didn’t tax her. In that respect she was in way below her toes. She sang everything required of her with ease and beauty of tone. Fortunately she has an infectious stage presence and a gift for comedy. She carried the audience with her in the new English dialogue provided by Agathe Melinand. In October she’ll be the Chatelet’s Didon in Les Troyens. She’ll get to use all of her instrument in that part.

      The story is told as the dream of a sexually dissatisfied wife - Helene in the dream. Her husband (tenor Barry Banks) morphs into Menelas. Much was made over the height disparity between the two. Graham is statuesque while Banks appears to be barely five feet tall. Vocally there was little to choose between him and William Burden who played Paris. Both have nice lyric tenor voices which are similar to all other nice lyric tenors that Santa Fe seems to attract in profusion. Burden sang “Au Mont Ida” with facility and showed an unexpected talent for yodeling in his entrance scene. Though barely as tall as Graham he was appropriately “hunky” as Helene’s love interest. He got to take his shirt off and flex his muscles which weren’t too bad for a tenor. I’d be tougher on him if her were a baritone.

      But the real stars of the evening were Offenbach and the wonderful staging (by Laurent Pally) which was perfect for people who don’t like opera. Of course, Helene isn’t an opera, but why quibble? The first act finale required just a little French to get the silliness of “l’homme a la pomme” - the man with the apple. Obviously all is lost in translation. The second act duet when Helen lets Paris posing as a shepherd make love to her by telling herself that its all a dream features a flock of humans in sheep’s clothing - which also loses everything in the telling; but the sheep were really great. When Menelas returns home early and unexpectedly and catches Helene in bed with Paris, he’s denounced by all since no husband should ever return home without warning. In the third act Paris pretending to be the “High Priest of Venus” arrives in a ship which is a bed that floats in mid air onto the stage. Helene eventually gets on it and floats out with Paris.

      Offenbach’s music is catchy, perfect for its lyrics, and has much fun with Rossini, Meyerbeer and Wagner - of course anybody can make fun of Wagner. Wagner does it to himself all the time, albeit unintentionally. The musical parodies require a knowledge of opera to be fully appreciated, but they’re still fun even if you don’t have it. Kenneth Montgomery conducted the large cast with vigor. If the music sounds familiar though you’ve never heard the piece before it’s because Strauss seems to have lifted whole sections of the operetta into Die Fledermaus.

      This is the kind of show that Santa Fe excels at - young engaging performers, clever staging, brilliant sets, and music that doesn’t require heroic forces. The same was true of the following evening’s performance of Cosi fan tutte. There’s only one really hard role - Fiordiligi and Ana Maria Martinez was up to it. The young soprano from San Juan, Puerto Rico handled the runs and leaps of “Come scoglio” with agility and aplomb. In “Per pieta” Mozart cuts to the quick. Here things go beyond opera buffa and Fiordiligi’s pain is almost too real. Ms Martinez was as equal to the pathos of this number as she was to the technical difficulties of the first aria. This is a singer to watch for. Dorabella just isn’t as exciting a role as that of her operatic sister. Patricia Risley was fine the part. Charles Castronovo has sung at the Met and is on the roster of the coming season in San Francisco. His was another pleasant lyric tenor that would have been interchangeable with those of the previous evening. “Un’ aura amorosa” was well sung, but no lyric tenor in my experience makes of the piece what the bigger voiced Richard Tucker did with it at the Met a half century ago - in English no less. Troy Cook showed his light baritone to good effect as Guglielmo. Andrew Shore did as much as can be done with the know-it-all Don Alfonso. Despina is a pain in the butt. Lillian Watson was mildly amusing in the role, which is about as much as can be done with it. Yves Abel conducted with control and verve.

      Cosi fan tutte has probably gone through more critical reevaluations than any opera not by Verdi. Beethoven thought it immoral. Nineteenth century audiences were puzzled by it. Modern audiences see subtleties and ambiguities that Mozart and Da Ponte might not have intended. It really doesn’t matter exactly what they had in mind; great masterpieces are constantly reinterpreted by different audiences and eras. The fragile nature of love and faithfulness seems to us to be exactly what Mozart and Da Ponte were after. None of this would matter were the music not so beautiful. But it is so beautiful. One deathless melody follows another. Mozart was never more fertile than in this work. When well staged and performed as it was in this production its two long acts fly by.

      Director James Robinson set the piece in what appears to be the 1940s (judging from the costumes), but in no particular place. The soldiers’ uniforms though seemed to come from The Student Prince. But so timeless is this opera that the time frame made no difference. The stage was dominated by a box-like structure that opened to the audience. I was told later that this was supposed to be a wedding box, but during the performance I wasn’t sure what it was. After all the deceit and unfaithfulness that makes up the opera, the two couples are supposed to get back together and be married as originally planned. But who gets back with whom? It stretches the imagination more than this elastic art form usually does to believe that these four people could ever have anything to do with one another after the day’s treachery. Director Robinson solves this problem by having the four lovers leave the stage at the opera’s conclusion in four different directions. A good way to end this beautiful, but troubling work.

Then we returned to the mundane world with only our wallets lighter.