It must have been tough living in the shadow of Richard Wagner, but that’s just what powered the
career of Richard Strauss, who like his contemporary Gustav Mahler, spent many a sleepless night wondering just how to channel Wagner’s mojo.
Just after the turn of the century Strauss unveiled his voluptuous version of Oscar Wilde’s naughty Salomé, and promptly had his opera banned in most world capitals the minute it hit the stage. As Wilde/Strauss have it, there was much more to Salomé’s desire than simply a baptismal tantrum. She was fatally obsessed with having the Baptist, in God’s way. And as enacted by pliant German soprano Nadja Michael, Salomé was a sensuous handful.
The San Francisco Opera’s current production of Salomé uses set design as well as dramatic motivation to heighten the sexual tension among John the Baptist (sung by a bare-chested Greer Grimsley), the lusting Herod (tenor Kim Begley) and the psychotic temptress Salomé. As usual with Strauss, the orchestra steals most of the show, and under the baton of new music director Nicola Luisotti, last week’s sound was gorgeous, edgy, and resoundingly modern. Perhaps some vocal work was lost in the thundering waves of sound, but the effect was exhilirating. You can practically hear film soundtracks being invented in the dizzying mood changes Strauss requires of the score.
Aiding the sense of early Cubist/Dada expression was the set design, with a raked perspective heightening the pathological intensity of every gesture and note. Even with a bad throat Michael’s voice was often stunning, especially in the mezzo range, where it was equal to her fluid and hyper-active bodywork.
Grimsley, who soared as Wotan in Seattle’s “Ring,” provided charismatic (if sometimes stiff) wild-man visionary vocals and dramatic work, though he began to fade at the end (before he lost his head). And as the long-suffering Herodias, Irina Mishura was more visually appealing than vocally compelling.
Nonetheless it was a hot ride – under two hours, no intermission, and no flab. Too bad Michael’s top notes failed to land convincingly (was it a bad throat? or was it just a matter of pitch issues?) While the text may be dated, with its occasional flurries of Freudian sentimentality, the music was astonishing. Kudos to the SF Opera orchestra, to whom the Seattle brass section cannot hold a candle.
