Falstaff's Comedy and Dignity

The Metropolitan Opera made a questionable judgment call a few years ago when it abandoned plans for a new production of Verdi's "Falstaff" and decided instead to refurbish its once-classic Franco Zeffirelli production from 1964. Despite efforts on their behalf, however, the sets looked every bit their age when they returned in 2002 and served as a reminder that no production deserves to last forever.

Fortunately, across the plaza the New York City Opera has a production of much more recent vintage that meets the needs of those in search of a fresh take on Verdi's irresistible comedy. New in 1999 and not revived since its initial season, the production by Leon Major made a welcome return to the New York State Theater on Wednesday evening.

This "Falstaff" makes room for significant innovation within a basically traditional framework. We usually encounter Falstaff in one of the public rooms of the Garter Inn, where libations are readily available. Here, in John Conklin's sets (smartly lit by Pat Collins), Falstaff is found in his own room — as expected, a disheveled affair, with open trunks and stacked-up furniture — and he relies on room service. The Fords' house, more upscale, has a simple elegance with its leaded windows, wooden staircase, and an armoire that suffers axe blows when Ford ransacks his own house in search of the fat knight, who he believes is seducing his wife.

But the production's real strength is a wealth of comic detail, which Albert Sherman, who oversaw the revival, ably brings out. Much of the fun comes from the way characters listen or react to each other. The opening of Falstaff's thunderous speech on honor puts the fear of god into his cronies, Bardolfo and Pistola. And when Falstaff appears dressed to the nines in preparation for his rendezvous with Mrs. Ford, the stunned look on Ford's face suggests a surge in his jealousy.

Jan Opalach doesn't have the imposing baritone voice of Mark Delavan, the production's original Falstaff (to say nothing of Bryn Terfel, who sang it at the Met), but it is more than adequate, and, moreover, Mr. Opalach performed like a born comedian. Every line of text was delivered with an ear for inflection and a sense of comic timing. And despite all the tribulations he undergoes, Mr. Opalach's Falstaff never loses his essential dignity, or perhaps pomposity is a better word. His great monologue "Mondo ladro," "Miserable world," sung after his bout in the Thames, rang true. And it is a plus that the torments he is subjected to in the last scene are, in this production, relatively light.

Jeffrey Halili, as Bardolfo, and Eric Jordan, as Pistola, provide Mr. Opalach with excellent comic foils. Mr. Halili, in his City Opera debut, supplied perhaps the longest rolled "r" I have ever heard, on the word "ricusai," "I refused," thereby emphasizing his self-righteousness in declining to assist Falstaff's scheme. Stephen Powell's excellent baritone made for a fine match in the confrontation between Ford and Falstaff. And John Tessier's sweet tenor voice was heard to suave effect in Fenton's charming song in the last scene.

Pamela Armstrong offered an appealingly sung Mrs. Ford that wanted a more authoritative bearing. It is she, after all, who calls the shots in this opera. And Ursula Ferri's Dame Quickly, while robust physically, could have done with greater vocal incisiveness. But Anna Skibinsky was a lovely, pure-voiced Nanetta, and Heather Johnson made the most of Mrs. Page's few moments to shine. George Manahan presided over a straightforward, well-managed account of the incomparable score that succeeded in revealing its magic.