The return of Offenbach’s Les Contes d’Hoffmann to the stage of San Francisco Opera on Wednesday night was a welcome and long overdue event. Last heard here in 1996, this exquisite masterpiece of drama, comedy, and timeless musical inspiration has never occupied a significant role in the company’s history, but hopefully the enthusiastic response of the large and appreciative opening night audience will precipitate a local reappraisal. Too often, this work has been scheduled because one singer wanted to portray all four heroines and such was the case with San Francisco Opera’s production; soprano Natalie Dessay was initially announced to attempt the feat. This gimmick, which finds an equally pointless analog in sopranos aspiring to sing the three heroines in Puccini’s Il Trittico, was fortunately abandoned when Ms Dessay declared she would sing only the role of Antonia, appropriately refocusing attention on the opera itself.
Any time Les Contes d’Hoffmann is presented, the question of which version to use is unavoidable. The composer labored incessantly over the work in his later years, leaving sundry manuscripts unfinished at his death in 1880. Several incarnations have been presented throughout its complicated performance history, yet Hoffmann’s essence has been remarkably resilient to the affects of adding/subtracting arias, switching the acts around, and alternate endings for its Venetian scene. Ink is spilled in the program about “Les versions d”Hoffmann” (including an excellent “summing up” article by Thomas May), but Laurent Pelly’s new production makes no self-important or controversial claims at correctness; it is but one approach that essentially follows the Kaye-Keck critical edition, but with occasional satisfying surprises here and there.
Pelly’s realization of the work is stark and near monochromatic. The gray, bare walls and building block-shaped props were shifted about and reconfigured to provide the settings for the various scenes, while eerie lighting gave the surfaces a bluish tint. Some stage recesses remained impenetrably black; portending something sinister lay within. Were we seeing the inside of Hoffmann’s mind? Tales of failed love affairs were presented as imagined reveries made pictorially non-descript by the poet’s affection for the bottle. Even the framing story where Hoffmann entertains tavern folk was presented as a monologue with perceived auditors, the poet standing before two closed doors and chorus members periodically sticking their heads through to comment. Despite a sameness of presentation, Pelly’s emphasis on Hoffmann’s interior life yielded a powerful effect, aided greatly by the performance of the artist in the title role.