[La Cieca welcomes the newest and most lissome member of the parterre espionage force, Mlle. La Taupe, who just last night invaded the first performance of San Francisco Opera’s La fanciulla del West.]

UPDATE: The last act!

We see again that same backdrop of the side of the gold country mountains (first seen in the curtainraiser, later pushed to the left side of the stage.) Rance is busy futzing with a coffin (for Dick) downstage and there is a kind of dilapidated Conestoga wagon in the middle of the stage, inexplicably. Nick is to the left of Rance. They have a nice colloquy. The Nick doesn’t have much of a voice and doesn’t always bring out that much in the phrasing “Amore, amore…” He makes for a sympa character, though. Frontali has his moment — nothing great but very firm and a lot of gravitas, instead of being a Snidely Whiplash caricature.

The guys come on and drag on poor Salvatore, who tries to rally to the moment, and partially does, in “Ch’ella mi creda”, but does NOT have enough fucking overtones in his voice to give any satisfaction.

The “chaos” was well-choreographed throughout and, in particular, I liked the fact that no one jockeyed with another to try to be top dog — they worked as an harmonious whole. Sonora was a big tall guy with a lotta hippie hair (straight from the Haight) and he looked effective and appropriate as the natural leader of the pack.( On the whole, I enjoyed the “boys” more than the soloists. Also, they played it straight. The “La, lontan” in the First Act was moving – Jake Wallace adequate but no great shakes.)

Okay. So a bloody flaming noose descends from outta nowhere, they get poor, poor little Sal up on his coffin and rope his neck and — SUDDENLY — we have the true golden moment of the night – Debbie rides in on a magnificent, huge, white steed!

She gets the boys won over, effectively but screechily. The rope comes off Sal’s neck. The Conestoga wagon miraculously springs up to life, the rocky mountain backdrop moves to the side to transform itself into a vision of a Mormon Valley in Utah – well I guess Nevada be the next state over! – and Minnie and her Dick take off into the sunset, her miners poignantly raising their hands in salute to her and making a fond leavetaking.

What really depressed ME was the fact that one had no sense, whatsoever of spiritual redemption, nor was there any emotional hohepunkt at the climax of the ensemble.

EARLIER: Act One: “A REAL HOME FOR THE BOYS” is emblazoned o’er the bar, just as it should be.

Despite Dr. Repertoire’s injunction, the curtainraiser was staged, adroitly so, featuring several fellows swinging from ropes with pickaxes, aside a rocky Californian gold dust hill. Ok.

The background is kept throughout the action — only a bar (with the banner) is rolled on the stage, and a stairway to the right. The guys are very well-coordinated and, for once, the Larkens breakdown scene is not embarrassing. Jack Rance is quite dignified in this – Roberto Frontali not a distinguished voice but a good stage figure.

Debbie‘s entrance applauded — very heartwarming. Her voice is not as bad as in Hollander but it is a shambles of what once was, unfortunately. Her appearance is charming. She looks like an altogether knowing St. Pauli Girl. I wish the voice were better –maybe in Act II!

Licitra looks like Gramma Rose from Sicily. He plays him kinda like the sad little loser and he didn’t fuck up that B natural in the “bello m’appar,” thank god! Didn’t like staging of duet. No regie her, grazie a dio!

Act Two: UGH NEVE!! Well, I don’t know quite to say. The Wowkle was very cute–she looked like a nice young Indian girl, instead of an old squaw.

Debbie changes her clothes behind a three paneled screen – no Tebaldi striptease here. She is the most willing and eager Minnie I have ever seen. She makes a few too many googly eyes and the same faces, but basically it is a role that suits her far better than did Gioconda. The voice keeps going in and out, or off the voice. You kinda get the idea why this glum chum of a Ramerrez would like her — she is a big ray of sunshine for this depressed guy. Licitra did okay with “Or son sei mesi,” but I’ve had friends who sang it just as well. He started to put out a little more voice with that piece, but basically, and this is what bugs me the most — they do not project the voice into the theatre nor make any attempt to do so. They are singing for themselves, essentially.

“Nina Micheltorena” is here “Nina Migueltoreña.” Stupid, but necessary for we Californians, one guesses. Every time San Francisco or Sacramento is mentioned, there’s a big knowing guffaw.

I like Frontali. He pushed her down on the four poster bed (whereupon Dick is hiding!) The blood drips down on his hand as he is trying to violate Minnie. Liked this approach – much more how that type of thing goes. The stage was cleared away– magically whisked to either side–for the poker scene. She tries very hard. I feel for her because it almost works. In fact, she tries too hard to act and needs to relax and find her inner Minnie. Her Italian is not so bad, either, though it needs work.

I am both overwhelmed by my own emotions an underwhelmed by what I witnessed, so I am going to beg off the last act till Morgen.