Women of the Golden Empire

Like a lightning bolt that starts a fire, the world premiere of composer John Adams' and Peter Sellars' latest collaboration, "Girls of the Golden West," scorched the hallowed walls of the War Memorial Opera House last week in a bold attempt to re-read history by the raging light of the blaze. By turns cruel and violent, lyrical and transcendent, the massive work suffers from long stretches of tedious redundancy and scolding preachiness. The problem is: the brilliant pair is preaching to the choir.

The production is as huge as the subject matter, the dark side of the California Gold Rush. Sellars' libretto is too fragmentary and flat-out long to keep the audience from feeling a little more punished than enlightened at the conclusion. Culled from speeches, poetry, songs and memoirs of the day, most centrally and intriguingly from "The Shirley Letters" by Louise Clappe, writing under the name Dame Shirley, the libretto takes little artistic license. Setting prose to music often slows things down. When the text is poetic, Adams' melodies breathe energy into the words.

Multiple episodes depict the early excitement and rough life in the mining camps, as well as the ugly racial strife. Tempting as it must have been to leave everything in from his copious research, the brilliant showman and director should have edited material that only repeats dramatic points.

Moments of echt-Adams reflection are welcome and lovely, even as they grind the whole Brechtian pageant to a stop, but there is an increasing sense of diminishing returns. I felt impatient when the final rhapsodic and deeply felt aria of redemption in nature appeared. It was beautiful and allowed spiritual closure. If only it had arrived sooner.

The opera's parallels to contemporary society are readily apparent and need little emphasis. If Sellars' overwrought direction did not try to invest every gesture with meaning, dropped some bewildering and fussy stage business, and simply tightened the narrative arc, the message of his historical cavalcade might prove more effective. Throw some excess baggage off the stagecoach, and "Girls of the Golden West" will mature into a stunning "Women of the Golden West."

The title is an ironic aside to Puccini's similarly named opera, and the comparisons end there, according to Sellars. But does the music register in Adams' gargantuan new score? There is "sound enhancement" in the orchestra, and all principal cast members and eight chorus members wear body mics, per Adams' wishes. The results are occasionally noticeable but never less than realistic. They help Adams' trademark orchestration glitter and his rhythmic vocal lines stay audible. Crowd noises, gunshots, etc., from a library assembled by Adams and sound designer Mark Grey, are risibly phony by contrast.

Conductor Grant Gershon, making his SFO debut, is a passionate advocate of the score, and he labored throughout the marathon, keeping the 67-piece orchestra vibrantly cohesive throughout. Touches of accordion and guitar added idiomatic flavoring.

Males from Ian Robertson's SFO Chorus looked and sounded authentic (though remarkably well-laundered) in Rita Ryack's (SFO debut) colorful costumes. They acted convincingly within the deliberately anachronistic, often striking sets by designer Reid Thompson (SFO debut).

The most thrilling and positively memorable impressions of the premiere performance were achieved by the cast. A remarkable ensemble proved there is an encouraging casting pool of young, attractive, ethnically diverse and talented artists ready to revitalize America's musical institutions.

Soprano Julia Bullock (SFO debut) enlivened every scene as Dame Shirley with dignified beauty and rich vocal tone. She was given much to sing, and her voice is a perfect match for Adams' distinctive line.

Bass-baritone Davone Tines, making his first local appearance in a fully staged opera as the brave and endearing Ned Peters, a black cowboy and fugitive slave, triumphed in his standing-ovation-worthy singing of "What to a Slave is the Fourth of July?," based on a text by Frederick Douglass.

Tenor Paul Appleby navigated the role of Joe Cannon with great vocal stamina. His character starts as a sympathetic loudmouth who degenerates into a drunken lunatic. He was scarily believable.

Korean soprano Hye Jung Lee was Ah Sing, the Chinese prostitute who has decided he is her ticket out. She previously appeared at SFO in Adams' "Nixon in China" as Madame Mao Tse-Tung, proving she can conquer his stratospheric requirements without resorting to screeching.

Mezzo-soprano J'Nai Bridges portrayed Mexican entertainer Josefa Segovia, whom Joe Cannon attempts to rape. Her character kills him, and she is swiftly tried by a kangaroo court and lynched. Bridges displayed breathtaking composure and inner strength in the part. She is lovely to behold, and her melting voice only adds to the impact of her terrifying story.

The lynching is not enacted onstage, but the gut-wrenching beating of her romantic interest Ramon (a bartender at the hotel where she works) is staged realistically. Baritone Elliot Madore played him, and he was ardent, dashingly handsome and tenderly believable.

San Francisco Ballet principal dancer Lorena Feijoo appeared as the legendary Lola Montez, and she made the most of her "Spider Dance" in the second act. It pleased the audience; some diversion or comic relief was needed, but Adams' music was hardly seductive.

Bass-baritone Ryan McKinny, recently heard at Davies Hall in Bernstein's "Arias and Barcarolles," made his SFO debut as Clarence, a hard-luck miner who shifts from good guy to bad guy, and back again. Ruggedly handsome with a fine ringing tone, McKinny fit a more romanticized image of a 49er. His character is rather confusing amidst all of Sellars' hoopla, but McKinny made him distinctive.