October 18th, my only free evening in Sydney, coincided with a performance of Opera Australia’s new production of Puccini’s masterpiece of the ordinary at the city’s iconic opera house.  Having heard mixed reports about the utility of the hall as a working opera house, as opposed to an architectural landmark, I was eager to hear a performance in the theater. 

 NEIL A. KURTZMAN, MD

Opera Australia's New La Boheme

or starters, however, the Sydney Opera House is not an opera house – it’s a multi hall arts center.  Its architect, Jørn Utzon, designed it to contain six venues:  Two auditoriums for opera, three small theaters for plays and the like, and a reception hall.  Utzon got fired because of many problems (most related to money) associated with the building’s construction.  In the intervening decades the building has become an antipodal Taj Mahal.  In 2003 the aged Utzon (now 87) received the Pritzker Prize for Architecture, so the Aussies accepted defeat, rehired him, and named the reception hall after him.  Ongoing work on the building is under Utzon’s supervision, but onsite work is managed by his son – also an architect.

The modifications from Utzon’s original design are many.  The large theater (2800 seats) is now a concert hall similar in interior design to Berlin’s Philharmonie.   The medium sized theater (1400 seats) is devoted to opera.  Both halls have some bare concrete surfaces rather than the wood envisaged by Utzon.  Nevertheless, the acoustics in both are very good.  The opera theater, however, has a very small stage and limited faculties to store scenery. 

            The curtain was up as the audience entered the theater revealing Boheme’s first act set.  I was fearful they didn’t have one, but they do – more on curtains later.  The time of the opera has been moved to the present.  Director Simon Phillips in his program notes explains why he changed the time period.  He learned from a Melbourne professor that Paris apartments in the 1830’s mixed various socio-economic classes, therefore he thought he should set the opera in the 21st century.  Go figure – he directs opera, don’t expect logic.  So the first (and fourth) act set is two floors of a seedy modern apartment house.  There is no garret as specified in the libretto.  An elderly couple is watching TV on the upper floor.  Mimi lives in a second apartment on that floor.  The Bohemians live underneath in a flat that takes up the whole floor.  The exit to the city is lower than their apartment.  There’s a loo stage right.  Schaunard or Colline (I can never tell them apart until one of them sings the Coat Song) takes a leak in it.  What’s behind this genitourinary fetish that seems to have swept over English speaking opera directors?  (See my review of Don Giovanni.) There’s a large red bean bag that serves multiple uses, some lewd.  Mimi dies on it.  Aussie opera lovers, according to the local press, are passionately divided about it.  I probably would have paid it little notice if I hadn’t been alerted to it.  The set requires Mimi to arrive at Rodolfo’s apartment out of breath from walking down one flight of stairs.  She’s obviously so sick that only modern medicine could have kept her alive until the fourth act.  Maybe that’s why Phillips moved the time forward.

            The second act was fairly straight forward except that it ended with a break dancer clad in gold lamé gyrating like an upside down top.  The main problem with the setting is provided by Puccini and his librettists.  Who eats dinner outside in Paris on Christmas Eve where the average temperature is 1 Celsius (and that's after global warming)?  Act 3 is set in a warehouse with a dumpster and a dumpster diver (the Sergeant in Giacosa and Illica’s original).  It ends with Marcello and Musetta going at it on the cold ground after concluding their part of the act’s brilliant double duet.  That’s as good a way to end an argument as any.

            Stephen Curtis’s costumes were unremarkable - which is good.  If the opera had been set in 1830, as intended, the nondescript costumes would have worked just as well.  The cast was young, lively, and a little overfed. 

            The best singing of the evening came from Rosario La Spina.  The Australian tenor received first prize in the L’Accademia di La Scala tenor competition in 2000 and then won first prize in the Mario Del Monaco International Opera Competition in 2002.  He has a creamy lyric tenor with bright high notes.  His stage demeanor is pleasant.  While his tone is attractive it sometimes has a hooded sound.  He also had difficulty with the soft passages required of Rodolfo. Thus, the high note of “Che gelida manina” was brilliant, but the conclusion of the third act was sung forte rather than the pianissimo that makes such a wonderful effect if the tenor has the resources to manage it.  If you can find a copy of Giuseppe Di Stefano’s out of print 1951 recoding of highlights from Boheme (with Albanese, Munsel, and Warren - he never sang the Marcello onstage) you’ll hear the music sung to perfection.   Di Stefano’s “Ci lasceremo alla stagion dei fior” is in a universe apart from other tenors.  Nevertheless, La Spina was the only member of the cast who might make an international career.  Remember his name.

            Lisa Russell was an attractive Mimi. She sang well, though her concluding high note in the Act 1 duet was insecure.  La Spina elected not to take the duet’s final high note with the soprano – an ending I prefer. Russell’s singing, though not memorable, was otherwise consistently good.  Amelia Farrugia was perky and wining as Musetta.  She could just as well have sung Mimi.  Tim DuFore, an American who lives in Australia , had a pierced eye brow and light baritone that was a little on the dry side.  He did as much as can be done with what is really a secondary role.  Puccini wasn’t generous to baritones.  Jud Arthur and Warwick Fyfe were Colline and Schaunard.  The former sang “Vecchia zimarra” affectingly, but having sorted the two out in the last act I had forgotten which of them had used the toilet in the first.  Andrea Licata conducted the Australian Opera and Ballet Orchestra with pep and precision.  The band played very well.  All and all, a very good performance up to top international standards.  If you get to Sydney and opera’s on, go.

            Now to the program – it cost 15 Australian dollars.  The Australians have kept a lot of things British, from the Union Jack on the flag, the Queen on their money, and a price on their programs.  In explanation, one of them said to me, “You guys kicked them out.  We never did.”  But even the Brits don’t charge $15 for a program, and a thin one at that.  Opera Australia is government subsidized, has numerous corporate sponsors, gets many private donations, charges more than $200 for a good seat and still begs for money.  Its part of the opera mentality that whines, “We lose $100,000 (fill in whatever number you like) every time we raise the curtain.”  I’ve been listening to that lament since before Hector was a pup.  I’m sick of it – so here’s a solution.

            Don’t raise the curtain.  If you don’t raise the curtain ( Santa Fe will have to buy one) you don’t have to put on a performance, but you can still sell tickets.  The public can come and enjoy a long intermission.  You can have all sorts of creative publicity.  For example: Next Thursday the Metropolitan Opera will not perform Verdi’s Aida.  Enrico Caruso will not perform the role of Radames.  Since Caruso is not performing Radames at The Met he could simultaneously not perform it (or anything else) at La Scala and Covent Garden. Great casts could be assembled.  The Vienna Opera could not perform Il Trovatore with Milanov, Simionato, Björling, and Ruffo not appearing in the principal roles.  Toscanini would not conduct.  I’d pay a lot to see those singers, even if they weren’t performing.  Fund raising would continue, the money would role in, everyone would get a free program (a fat one, filled with ads), and the whining for money would cease.  Not having to listen to a performance would attract an audience that would otherwise not go to the opera.

            After leaving Australia I went to New Zealand. There are a lot of sheep in New Zealand. There was also a double bill of Suor Angelica and Pagliacci in Christchurch, but I didn't go.