I Loves You, Opera–Porgy & Bess at SF Opera

Eric Owens & Laquita Mitchell in SF Opera's "Porgy and Bess" (Img. courtesy San Francisco Opera/Cory Weaver)

As I wrote in a previous post, my husband and I have been going to opera together since we met, 14 years ago.

We used to have season tickets, but children and a mortgage intervened, and we cut down to two or three operas per season. Thus, it’s been a long dry spell since our last rendezvous with Euterpe, in December. It was broken in spectacular fashion last night when we saw San Francisco Opera’s production of Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess.

One of the great pleasures of my life is discovering new singers, and on that score last night’s performance was a feast.

An astounding 17 of the 22 solo performers were making their SF Opera debuts, and many were young artists fresh from prestigious apprentice programs, competitions and regional opera companies, on the cusp of careers with “first-tier” international opera houses.

Two standouts particularly delighted me.

Soprano Angel Blue as Clara had the either enviable or unenviable—I can’t decide which—task of raising the curtain on the opera with one of the most frequently performed and famous of arias, “Summertime.” I’ve heard many (many, many, many, many… you get the picture) singers grapple with this, one of the most beautiful of contemporary standards, but Blue’s rendition was among the most memorable. She sang with the clear, simple and sure tone that the piece—which is nothing more exotic than a lullaby—demands. It is meant to set the tone for the opera, with its reassuring words set in a mournful minor key that lets the listener know that the livin’ on Catfish Row is likely to be anything but easy, and Blue’s voice practically told the whole story of the opera in that one aria.

On a few occasions in the opera house, I’ve experienced that thrilling frisson of hearing that One in a Million Voice that, for the moment, remains a delicious secret, as yet undiscovered by the opera-loving public at large (I’ve been fortunate enough to hear René Pape, José Cura, and Karita Mattila near the beginning of their respective ascents to the top of the opera heap.) It happened again last night, and via an unexpected source.

Comprimario roles in opera are roughly equivalent to “bit parts” in theater or film. They are soloists, but with very small roles.  The Strawberry Woman in Porgy and Bess is such a role. She comes on, sings for maybe two minutes, tops, and doesn’t make another appearance.

Last night’s two minutes made my opera-going year.
Where has soprano Samantha McElhaney been all my life? (Okay, don’t answer that, the two of you who know my true age.) Her voice is honey-sweet, amber-dark, and powerful all at the same time, and a more thrilling combination in opera I can’t think of. (Opera cognoscenti, think Deborah Voigt crossed with Kathleen Battle.) I’m a glutton; I want to hear more, more, more!

It isn’t often that a comprimario gets a big ovation at the end of his or her bit, but last night, McElhaney stopped the show for a few moments. She certainly stopped me in my tracks, and I found myself grinning like a fool for several minutes after she finished. It’s like suddenly falling in love, but without the messy complications.

I’m going to be watching for these two performers in future, and I hope each of them makes it big. They have the talent, and, if they’ve gotten as far as San Francisco Opera, they almost certainly put in the work. I hope that third elusive and mercurial component, luck, cooperates, and gives those of us who love great singing many more opportunities to hear them.