[Update: you can see a live simulcast of this opera for free at PacBell Stadium on Sept. 28. Information here!]
While we expected a sense of deja vu at last Tuesday’s performance of Saint-Saëns’ Samson and Delilah -- we had seen Olga Borodina in this very role, sung in that very set, on that very stage back in 2001 -- we didn't. Why? Because the set manages to be both impressive, and, well, forgettable. Sure, it has some striking features, like a giant mill wheel and statue of the God Dagon (or is the Dog Gadon), which resembles a 20-foot chihuahua. Still, it fits a McOpera period style that is appropriate, luxurious but kitsch and not particularly inventive. We did remember the spectacular final collapse of the temple (oops, we spoiled it, didn’t we?), and good thing we did. A curtain malfunction at our performance kept the spectacular effect from working.

On the other hand, Olga, how could we not recognize you! Sure, these six years have changed you, like all of us. Plus, last time we saw you, it was a comedy and the mood was lighter. But the attitude remains regal, confident, and strong. The deep mezzo voice came off assured in every ranges: rich, velvety, luscious. It was sensual enough to hint at the eroticism of the lyrics, which in Act I have all the subtly of a stoned street walker’s advances.

Above, Olga Borodina and Clifton Forbis as Delilah and Samson. Below, the Act III Bacchanalia. Pictures by SF Opera/Terrence McCarthy.

Clifton Forbis gave an interesting interpretation of Samson, a more complex reading than the usual superhero who pays the price of a split moment of weakness. He makes Samson into a reluctant hero, a warrior who leads against his will. His Samson reminded us of his 19th century contemporary, Wagner’s Tristan, who came on the stage a dozen years earlier. Tristan’s love is not a positive affirmation towards rejoining Isolde, but a self-destructive impulse, a passion in the etymological sense, a disposition to suffer. According to Forbis's performance, and he has sung Tristan as well, Samson’s love is similar: it is not as much a way to reach happiness, than a way to escape the responsibility of leading his people. Forbis’ Samson is more plaintive than assertive, and his best moments were saved for the intimate act II in his duets with Delilah.

The last main character, Juha Uusitalo as the High Priest of Dagon, managed to be convincing despite a blackface make-up, his strong baritone being both intense and chilling. .

The staging of the first Act is a disaster: static, crowded. It does not help that the performers seemed uncomfortable, looking for their marks and waiting for their cues. Abimélech’s character (Eric Jordan) was thinly developed, his voice sounded precious, and he was so poorly accessorized! How camp was that plasticky snake bobbling from his cane like a one of these dogs in a car back window! We guessed his aria was supposed to be “sinister” not from his tentative interpretation, but from the press kit (“Note: Abimélech’s sinister aria is doubled in the bass by a baritone horn instead of the original ophicleide"). This aria ends with a fight scene, which we knew was a fight due to not the fuzzy staging but thanks to the synopsis. The only redeeming quality of the first act was the musicality of the choir (even though Saint-Saëns' orchestration as a four voice fuga reminded us more of the Protestant liturgy circa 1720 than any 1150 B.C. Hebrew theme).

While we are on the topic of musicality, credit must be giving to maestro Summers. He had the orchestra illuminating the score with grace and clarity. He provided a glistening background charged with voluptuous undercurrents to the duets of Samson and Delilah. There's a recurring theme in Act II, a warble of woodwinds in a chromatic mode above the orchestra, which evoked to us the cooing of mating pigeons, and Summers exacted such details with tender care. He showed more roughness, more grittiness, on the other hand, in the thoroughly enjoyable orgy of Act III, beautifully staged, with a choreography which was sexy without being too tacky. That’s the only time in the score where Saint-Saëns introduces some middle-eastern modes, and we’re grateful the stage director did not send in the belly-dancer at this point.

We were ready for anything after the previous scene, in which Samson, by himself, takes three turns pushing a giant milling stone before realizing that, hey, he could stop, nobody would notice! He actually was not by himself; a kid woke up in the middle of the arias from a pillow stage right, and started to make signs with his arms as if he was parking a 747 at SFO. Move that stone to the right, Samson, it's not quite at the gate yet! Oh well. Samson aria at this very moment was actually beautiful, so we could not care less.

Samson et Dalila
San Francisco Opera, War Memorial Opera House
Performances: Sun. September 16, 2 pm, Wed. September 19, 7:30 pm, Sat. September 22, 7:30 pm, Tue. September 25, 8 pm, Fri. September 28, 8 pm
Box Office: (415) 864-3330