James Robinson’s new production of “La Bohème” for Santa Fe Opera (a co-production with Seattle Opera) is nothing earth-shattering, irreverent to the original, or stylistically bold. He sets the story in 1920’s Paris, the period between two wars. The opera was originally set in 1830’s Paris. It would seem to be a question of relative bohemianism—was the first production of the piece representative of a world of young starving artists that was essentially different than that to be found 90 years later?
Paris in the 1830’s had Vincent van Gogh, Paul Gauguin, Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec painting; writers of the time include Charles Baudelaire, Arthur Rimbaud, Paul Verlaine and Oscar Wilde. Paris in the 1920’s was the anńees folles, the crazy years. Painting was about Cubism, Surrealism and Dadaism, writing was Gide, Malraux, Valéry, Hemingway, Fitzgerald and Joyce.
Those are hugely different periods in the arts and letters of the modern era, but to see that that was being represented on stage in Santa Fe was difficult. The garret looked like a very cramped, messy bachelor pad; a cityscape projected on a scrim border around the set was abstract, a slightly blurry photo mural, a black and white view of rooftops. The costumes? Rumpled Bohémia (with the exception of Musetta’s stylish hat in Act IV). Music? The glorious Puccini score was well-played under the direction of conductor Iván López Reynoso, the 35-year-old wunderkind from Guanajuato, Mexico.
Perhaps there were one or two people in the audience on June 27 who were unfamiliar with “La Bohéme,” but that leaves the 98% who paid good money to hear familiar tunes, experience a familiar tragic tale, and listen to world class singers. Mission accomplished. The next level up, for opera buffs, is an appreciation for these particular younger singers, at this point in their careers, on this night in Santa Fe, reminding all of us why “La Bohéme” is such a perennial favorite. That’s what is really at stake. Can the singers move us to cry by the end?
While extended periods of the libretto involve frat-boy games amongst the young male Bohemians in their garret hovel, the evening belongs to the ladies. Mimi, the consumptive soprano who first shows up coughing, in need of a light, was played by Svlvia D’Eramo, easily the best actor on stage. Her interactions with Rodolfo, played by the Chinese tenor Long Long, showed a dying woman who deludes herself into hoping for love. Every gesture, glance and vocal line showed logic and intelligence. Vocally, her sound was appropriately on the light side, with crystal clear enunciation and flights of emotion that took her into a bigger, more gutsy tone.
Long Long, the evening’s Rodolfo, nailed his arias, in particular “Che Gelida Manina.” He has won a slew of awards in vocal competitions in Europe, including the Neue Stimmen and Verdi contests. He was a member of the Opera Studio of the Bayerische Staatsoper in Munich, and also took part in Salzburg Festival Young Singers Project and the Georg Solti Academy. That said, his acting was not nearly as natural as that of D’Eramo, his love interest, which lead to a few wooden love scenes. He has clearly been trained in the “park and bark” school of tenor presentation, which, with his voice, is partially justifiable.
Musetta, sung by Emma Marhefka, got to have all the fun of the evening. Her courtesan life-style physically embodied the director’s choice of setting, the Jazz Age—she was a flapper nonpareil. Marhevka, as well as D’Eramo, are both former Apprentice singers with Santa Fe Opera, a sign that the casting staff is well aware of how to spot future stars.
Act II, at Café Momus, exemplifies the challenges of the open-air stage at Santa Fe. With its cast of thousands, children’s chorus, puppet show, street scene and restaurant all crammed onto an already constricted space, the chorus was forced to stand outside the windows of the café and peer in—there just wasn’t enough room for everyone to move about.
The decision by scenic designer Allen Moyer to close-off the famous Santa Fe backdrop—sun setting over the Jemez mountains—probably had to do with the reality of creating a co-production with Seattle opera. No one else in the world has the kind of vistas to offer an opera, and Seattle’s theater is indoors. In any case, things are notably claustrophobic on the Santa Fe stage, which is appropriate for the attic headquarters of the freezing Bohemians, but inappropriate for café society living on the boulevards downstairs.
These days “Bohéme” is to opera what the “Nutcracker” is to ballet. A money-maker.
Both warhorses, however, are worth their (light) weight in gold, by virtue of their respective scores by Puccini and Tchaikovsky and by the singers and dancers who continue to step into dream roles the productions offer. There they have a shot at making something familiar suddenly sublime. Santa Fe’s 2025 “Bohéme” reaches that level musically, even if the set is literally too big for its bohemian britches.
