So foul and poor a play we haven't seen. At least, not during this San Francisco Opera season. That is, until now: behold, the vile production that is Macbeth.

It's easier to count the things that went right, because there were so few: Thomas Hampson (fan), the Adler fellows, and Raymond Aceto, who all more or less shine. The rest, sadly, was pretty awful. You know you're in for a long night when you're forced to jostle your neighbor two seats over because of her audible snoring. (We wonder if the opera tattler noticed that.) Still, we can't totally fault that sleeping lady for doing what came naturally. We do, however, marvel at how she caught some zzz's, since the sounds heard coming from the stage were rough, and not at all propitious to dreaming.

Let's start with the production: it makes little sense. The stage looks like a bunker. Unlike La Rondine, it did not receive applause as the curtain went up. A giant hole marks the ceiling of the set, as if a comet crashed through. Guards dressed in black space-trooper-chic outfits didn't work, the same goes for the typewriter sitting on the proscenium, unused. There's only one way we can comprehend the mess onstage: director David Pountney and set designer Stefanos Lazaridis are fan of Terry Gilliam's Brazil, where a fly on a typewriter causes a typo, and a guy named Buttle to be arrested instead of Tuttle, by helmet-clad policemen bursting through the ceiling, etcetera, etcetera, and so forth. This explains it all. The typewriter, ultimately responsible for the mix-up, symbolizes guilty consciousness, and governmental oppression. Or something like that.

Pictures of Thomas Hampson and Georgina Lukács by Terrence McCarthy/SF Opera

Our interpretation is facetious, but we feel it's as valid as any other one. It will you save time and head scratching to take it at face value. And we usually like "Eurotrash" productions which re-invent operas. We loved Tannhäuser, to name the latest one here. And that Tannhäuser was panned by some, we can't wait to read what they'll say about this Macbeth (the best refutation to the Tannhäuser critics by Patrick Vaz is a must read). We're ready for a snark fest! (We'll make sure to have a drink every time the [previous general director Pamela] "Rosenberg era" is mentioned).

Pountney seems to have issues with dames. Maybe he has a difficult teenage daughter at home, or maybe his wife left him for a buddy. We don't know/care. But the chorus of witches, saturated in blood red, is actually a bunch of young girls, one with a hula hoop, one blowing soap bubbles, one listening to an iPod, one knocked-up. This group sets the story on its tragic course. Then, when it comes time to murder Banquo, three guys disguise themselves as women. See? Women = root of all evil. Lady Macbeth: guilty as charged. The only one who can restore justice is Macduff, the one who had been from his mother's womb untimely ripp'd and therefore: not born from a woman. We guess Pountney read this line as: not soiled by a woman, thus his excuse for misogyny.

Oh, could someone please explains to us why, after liberating the kingdom from Macbeth's tyranny, the army comes in goose-stepping. It's meant to be subversive, but it's juvenile. Finally, while Banquo is assassinated, Macbeth and his wife,um copulate; the final blow coinciding with a climax which is not exclusively orchestral. But if Macbeth or Lady Macbeth were psychopaths, would guilt lead them to madness? Who knows. Frustratingly, Pountney is provocative for the sake of provocation.

There is a big box moving about the set, usually a room inside the castle, and Lady Macbeth (Georgina Lukács) makes her entrance singing on top of it. No fear for her safety, she was chained by a cable which kept getting in the way. And the best SNAFU in a long collection of miscues: some backstage technician's walkie-talkie could be heard static-ing during a silencious and dramatic moment. Also, stuff fell backstage with noisy clanks, robes were stepped on, and singers almost tripped. (The production soars insofar as unintentional humor goes.)

Anyhow, there seems to be a fascination with putting sopranos up high on some vertiginous platforms (see Andrea Gruber in Forza or the Queen of the Night in the Magic Flute). At first we thought it a bad idea: we theorized that vertigo induces vibrato, in Macbeth as in the other two operas we mentioned. But then, Lukács came back on the ground, and still sounded awful: too much vibrato, poor voice control, a harsh tone of voice which got tiring after a while, unsure of pitch, she sounded like a harpie. Hopefully it was only one night off.

Thomas Hampson was not above reproach, but almost. There seemed to be a little tug of war between him and the conductor, Massimo Zanetti, as Hampson wanted a bit more freedom than Zanetti was ready to give him. What that meant: Hampson was slightly out of phase here and there in the first act. Other than that, he's a perfect Macbeth, perfect voice, perfect stage presence, perfect acting. He's reason enough to attend the opera. Raymond Aceto as Banquo provides a smooth, mellifluous performance. And after our ears have been assaulted through a few acts of harsh, off pitch singing by Lukács, the Adler fellows came in to bring a welcome breath of fresh air: Noah Stewart, Jeremy Galyon and Elza van den Heever, thank you.

And you want to know the bad news? The SF opera did not borrow this tragedy of a set, it bought it. Macbeth had not been performed on this stage since '94, but with Nicola Luisotti, a Verdi specialist replacing Runnicles as music director in 2010, we fear for more staging of this production. Just make sure Hampson is on board, ok?