For those who abhor humidity, tropical wildlife, and exposure to UV radiation, Sarasota in March can be an experience. This thought flashed over my sweaty brow during the many long walks between the theater and my deplorable hotel accommodations throughout the intense Sarasota Opera weekend schedule two weeks ago. But it served me right. Last August when the company announced its 2025 Winter Opera Festival lineup, I browsed through the bulletin and nearly choked on my inhale: A revival of Verdi’s Stiffelio featuring the talented Victor Starsky in the title role, would the season’s showpiece. Following a heartfelt declaration of “must definitely go to that”, the thought quickly faded into the shadows of my nearly fifty-year old mind only to creep to its forefront in the middle of the final week of the run (that was, of course, Wednesday the 26th). The realization that Stiffelio’s last performance would take place that very Sunday set off a flurry of last-minute phone calls to the company, various airlines, and the decidedly sketchy America’s Best Value Inn Downtown Sarasota (don’t do it). Thanks in great part to the super helpful Sarasota Opera staff, I arrived in the sunshine state at 9 am on Saturday, March 29th for what proved to be a grueling schedule: Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana and Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci at 1:30 PM, followed by Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia at 8:00 PM. Sunday would close the season with Verdi’s Stiffelio at 1:30PM, after which I would catch a 7:00 PM flight home. Almost a century of Italian music represented by three very different schools, encapsuled within 48 hours: It was at once irresistible and terrifying.
What I did have on my side was familiarity, having visited the company 12 years ago when it cast Brenda Harris, Jonathan Burton and Maria Natale in spectacular performances of Puccini’s Turandot. In that occasion, I took note of the company’s thoughtful, inspired casting, and an almost irreverent emphasis on the singing voice. If you believe that opera productions should be designed to live or die by the voice, where everything is secondary to a lineup of the right mix of vocal talent, then Sarasota Opera is likely to cater to your needs. Even after all these years, I vividly recall Mr. Burton’s as Calaf, exuberantly blaring over the orchestra dangerously flirting with the boundaries of good taste, while the rest of me could only default to “Yes, daddy!”
Revisiting the Sarasota Opera in 2025, little has changed. From the stage direction to the production values, the company takes great pains to avoid distracting from this main feature: the voice, further validating my deep love for great regional companies, where it seems vocal artists have more room to take chances. The company also boasts as its venue the historic William E. Schmidt Opera Theatre, which turns 101 this year. Seating a little over 1,100 patrons, its auditorium is graced by walls comprised of imitation stone which most certainly produce the very special acoustic the audience kept constantly discussing throughout the weekend. It is an excellent venue to experience opera in, and well worth the last-minute airfare premiums.
Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana & Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci
Sarasota Opera welcomed the final weekend of its 2025 Winter Opera Festival with a matinee staging of the once popular, traditional verismo double-bill of Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana and Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci. Using scenery created for the company’s 2005 production of both operas, the production team, comprised of scenic designer David P. Gordon, costume designer Howard Tsvi Kaplan, lightning designer Ken Yunker and hair and makeup designer Sue Schaefer – led by stage director Martha Collins – remained within its lane by producing a beautiful, traditional, period appropriate setting for the works to unfold without calling undue attention to itself. No projections, re-imaginings or novel conceptualizations. Director Martha Collins presentation of the Mascagni does little to sway the audience beyond the instructions in the score, only referencing the original Verga source by depicting Turiddu biting Alfio’s ear in the scene at the Inn. She does not lean into Santuzza’s implied pregnancy juxtaposed against the fabric of Roman Catholic Sicilian culture as a possible source of her heightened emotional state. Instead, she steps back and invites the audience to confront the events unfiltered and to make its own mind. Witnessing the dire consequences of a mundane instance of double dipping, against the backdrop of religion, unrealistic social mores and implied unwanted pregnancies in 2025 in such blunt, linear format was startling. At times it seemed that the world beyond the footlights was the real concept production.
Likewise, maestro Victor DeRenzi’s baton stayed on brand by maintaining a sympathetic, colorful orchestral foundation (he even featured a portative organ or (gulp) electronic synthesizer (?) to perform a score proper reading of the opera’s famous intermezzo), thus empowering his carefully picked principals to make a case for themselves. To the delight of those present, his strategy paid off right away.
As the afternoon’s Santuzza, mezzo-soprano Lisa Chavez dove head-first into the role’s intimidating twenty minutes with the enthusiasm of an artist driven to make the experience worth her risk. Her mezzo is blunt, ample and pours forth generously over the orchestra. Her voice featured a gritty lower and husky middle registers, though the upper tessitura occasionally soured under pressure. The all-important chest voice (the verismo trill) is more than serviceable, and was generously dispatched to address the histrionic demands of the part. The result was a performance on a big scale, bold and expressive, if perhaps lacking in subtlety, which culminated in a most satisfying Easter curse, and provided proper contrast with the serviceable Lola of mezzo-soprano Sara Kennedy. Furthermore, Ms. Chavez’ singing was hallmarked by an appropriately reckless quality which often proved tremendously exciting to the audience. As I hope to see more of Ms. Chavez in the future, she may consider spacing out further bouts Santuzza and the vocal self-flagellation that comes with it, as this role has earned the reputation of beating-up voices. She has proven to be among the minority of today’s singers willing to burn some voice in order to do right by the part.
Tenor Rafael Davila, a seasoned artist specializing in the big Italian spinto roles, is no stranger to me, having last heard him as Pollione in Bellini’s Norma at the Lyric Opera of Kansas City in 2010. He is featured here as Santuzza’s double dipping beau Turiddu, and it is my pleasure to report that his artistic development in the past fifteen years has yielded dividends, as the voice has maintained the bulk of its size and color while encompassing a greater gamut of expressive possibilities. His sound is big, though slow to respond to its master, starting off somewhat leathery and unsteady during the opening Siciliana and the first section of his duet with Santuzza. Following a brief warm up, Mr. Davila was ready to offer the best of himself, matching the intensity of Ms. Chavez and delivered a thrilling curtain after addressing the fine Mamma Lucia of Lauren Paul.
Sarasota’s Cavalleria Rusticana also featured the Alfio of baritone Jean Carlos Rodriguez, an emerging talent we will be on the look out for. His baritone has a granite core which cut through the orchestra with scintillating verve. This blunt, arresting voice was served up to the audience by Mr. Rodriguez with exciting abandon, and it promises to serve well as a leading verismo instrument (and beyond) as long as he irons out some deficiencies in the top register, which pushes back when engaged with the same enthusiasm the rest of the instrument. This weakness was more palpable through the run of Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci, where Mr. Rodriguez played the role of the deformed Tonio. The part’s tessitura is significantly higher and more exposed than Alfio’s, immediately testing the artist through a volley ranging from high Bs to E flat which marred an otherwise nearly ideal performance the part’s iconic prologue.
Mr. Davila, also serving double duty as Canio in Pagliacci and now armed with an instrument fully acclimated to the task, he seemed palpably inspired by Leoncavallo’s classic anti-hero. Responding to the character’s richer fabric, Mr. Davila released the full splendor of his rugged instrument to grace his vivid and tortured portrayal of a defeated, world-weary man, desperately hanging on to the remnants of an unhappy marriage. Canio’s gradual undoing was carefully managed, serving hints during his introductory solo (Un tal gioco, credete mi) and the controlled desperation of his flagship aria, Vesti la giubba. His reaction to Nedda’s final insults rose him to the sort of display that validated the inclusion of Verdi’s Otello in his repertoire list.
Earlier in this rant I quipped that these operas, once thought as emblematic of the Italian verismo school for their extremely popular, were key in championing the neorealist verve that dominated the Italian giovane scuola (an influence which would extend past the lyric stage into the school of Italian cinema following the second world war). They were often accused of lowering the standards of Italian vocal culture in the first half of the 20th century, setting up the arrival of the great Maria Callas as a sort of reset to a forgotten vocal and artistic ideal. But before this, the verismo school established its own set of criteria, demoting the more testing elements of singing, such as flexibility, evenness of tone, and a mastery of dynamics and instead championing vocal clarity and emotive, decadent declamation. Our current state of disfunction discourages the proficiency in this style, often rendering otherwise capable artists unsatisfactory in areas once so readily available, making these operas harder and harder to cast nowadays. Thus I was positively shocked to be in the presence of a real Nedda in soprano Ashley Milanese, the jewel of this matinee presentation.
From her very utterance, Ms. Milanese set herself apart from the rest of the cast. She revealed the type of voice made to sing the roles of Mascagni, Leoncavallo, Puccini, Zandonai, Wolf-Ferrari, etc. Her lyric soprano is slender, clear, capable of warm tones and slightly acidic overtones which, when wielded correctly, can imbue a certain Mediterranean flair so needed for these parts. The size of the voice is not overwhelming, but the clarity of her declamation is hypnotic, and that is the lifeblood of this repertoire. More importantly, she is not stingy in her use of chest resonance, which she generously engaged in the lower and middle registers for startling effects, allowing her full command of the audience’s attention without ever needing to overblow her instrument. Essentially, this allowed her to sound “adult”, and Nedda is very much a complex, real life character.
In her work with Director Martha Collins, Ms. Milanese’s interpretation is vivid and compelling. Moreso than the rest of the characters, her Nedda is essentially the every-man who believes they’re good even when they do bad things (and they’re probably right). Her ill-tempered admonishment of Tonio’s advances seamlessly contrasted with her reactions to Silvio, who is ripe to be used, though her singing suggested that her intentions are complex, and not altogether dishonest. Considering the life she finds herself condemned to, her need to find an out is both desperate and existential: So while she may be ruthless, she is also blameless. This in turn informs her relationship with Canio, which boils up to the unhinged outbursts that prove her undoing.
The remaining Pagliacci assignments were handsomely realized by two members of the Sarasota Opera Studio Artists Program. In his impersonation of Beppe, leggiero tenor Alejandro Luevanos avoided crooning, and instead explored the full possibilities of his charming serenade to Colombina with the pretentions of a young tenor vying future romantic leading man assignments. In the role of the love-struck local, Silvio, baritone Benjamin Dickerson achieved the right balance of earnest ardor and naivete through his clear, earnest lyric baritone.
Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia
With the official body count totaling three (Lola’s fate is always up in question), I braved the Floridian humidity in search of a digestive and physical reset before confronting Saturday’s evening feature, Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia. If the morning started with two gritty scenes of real-life passion and crime, it would now end with laughs, through an early 1800s aesthetic far removed from the world of Mascagni and Leoncavallo. And then, a twist: An insert in the program announcing a last-minute cast change welcomed me into the auditorium. The announced Count Almaviva, Hak Soo Kim, would be unable to go on (poverino!) and tenor Christopher Bozeka would go on in his stead. Thus, full of anticipation, maestro Marcello Cormio’s stylish baton led the audience down the aural time machine, offering an enchanting reading of the famous overture by bringing out delightful effects from his orchestra players through an athletic tempo, clear crescendos of startling sonority, and a special rhythmic feel for the architecture of the piece – keeping squareness at bay.
His principals are a remarkable lot, carefully selected to flatter the proceedings through their collective effort. Comparatively, they evenly matched one another in temperament and vocal prowess, thus any sort of vocal showboating, threatening either the comedic balance or the even sonic playing field, was discouraged. At its best, this approach encouraged individual vocal contributions to weave into the greater collective, offering a fascinating tapestry of sound to the audience. Of them, the already mentioned Almaviva of Mr. Bozeka, not enjoying the benefits of a full run of these stage performances under his belt, required some initial hand holding to get him through his heavily ornamented opening number, “Ecco ridente in cielo”. Once that trial was behind him, he settled into his performance with greater comfort, offering a slender tenore di grazia of patrician timbre and feline agility. It was a shame that his traditionally cut solo “Cessa de non resistere” was not featured: He would have made quite a display of it.
Baritone Filippo Fontana made for a curious case. His Figaro was a delight, adding value to the presentation though solid vocalism weaving through the variety of styles in the many elaborate group activities dictated by the score. Musically and comedically, he was in on the joke, and his delivery was precise in both timing and comic flair. His star shone brightest when working in tandem with his castmates. When left alone and his singing could be assessed on its own merits, he appeared curiously adamant to relish upon his position as the opera’s title character, as if his Figaro were modelled after less boisterous, continental forebearers. Luckily, his single aria just happens to be the most famous number in the opera (and the entire buffa genre, in fact), and propelled by his tidy and zany patter he scored a tremendous success at his entrance. The voice itself is on the slender side and betrayed some wear and tear, but it gathered in strength and profile as the evening wore on.
Despite his position as the famed barbiere, Mr. Fontana offered little resistance when relinquishing top marks to mezzo-soprano Lisa Marie Rogali, making her Sarasota Opera debut in these performances. Her tongue-in-cheek Rosina won the admiration of the audience and rightly so. Her supple, even mezzo-soprano is a top-drawer voice, sitting comfortably in the lower and middle ranges, and scaling upwards with confidence. Her vocalism is vibrant and piquant, further showcased by dazzling ornamentation designed to (imagine this) flatter her resources. Throughout the evening, she demonstrated exemplary mastery of the tenets of bel canto, maintaining a fine legato line through her precise, polished passagework.
A mainstay of Sarasota audiences for nearly a decade, Young Bok Kim returned to the William E. Schmidt stage as Rossini’s meddling music teacher, Basilio. The possessor of a light and musical bass, Mr. Kim was decidedly a very lyric Basilio, a fact which did not deter from his efforts, which amounted to much. His voice is well produced and he’s no slouch in keeping up with the ensemble. His performance of his famous aria “La calumnia” was intelligently paced to encompass a large sonority within his means. When the moment to deliver the canon-balls came, they were devastating enough to make their point in the sensibly sized auditorium. The lower voices were further represented by Andrew Gilstrap’s pedantic Dr. Bartolo in an instance of unexpected yet inspired casting. I have had the pleasure to hear this young bass-baritone in several minor parts in Atlanta, and now here he is, making a debut in Sarasota in a principal role. And it’s a winner! His instrument belongs in the lighter spectrum of his fach to be sure, but it does not lose resonance as it ascends to the forte. Its texture is characterful, a bit acidic and lachrymose at top, ideal features to embody the ridiculous old man in question. His patter and articulation were quite accomplished, and his natural comic timing made the old doctor a mighty foe to contend with. Soprano Alexandra Kzeski’s fruity Berta offered a well sung account of her aria di sorbetto, and bass John Potvin greeted a fine curtain in the role of Fiorello.
The production team of stage director Marco Nistico, scenic designer Jeffrey W. Dean, costume designer Howard Tsvi Kaplan, lighting designer Ken Yunker and hair & makeup designer Sue Schaefer made no effort to reinvent the wheel. As in the case of Mascagni’s Cavalleria Rusticana and Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci from earlier in the day, the scenic elements for Rossini’s Il Barbiere di Siviglia were previously featured by the company in its 2008 production of the opera. Even the color scheme (again!) recalls that of the auditorium, a subtle invitation to the audience to register the happenings onstage as an extension our world. Modern producers of the opera may be tempted to introduce extraneous contemporary reworkings in the hopes of better relating to modern audiences. By not compromising the work’s charming, well-manicured artifice, the production team makes, and succeeds, in making the opposite argument. The traditional comedic devices employed, such as the tuning of the band before the Count’s serenade, the overdramatic accompaniment of Rosina during the lesson scene, and even Bartolo’s berating manner when lecturing Rosina in “A un dottor della mia sorte” landed their intended effect through the artful delivery of the cast, making a greater case for the work than any restaging I have seen in recent years.
Verdi’s Stiffelio
I greeted Sunday morning still under the spell of the Rossinian afterglow from the night before, only to have the delectable charm of the America’s Best Value Inn Downtown Sarasota snap me back to reality. After saying goodbye to the wretched place (an experience I refuse to recount), I headed back to the theater for the final show of the Sarasota Opera 2025 Winter Opera Festival, and this pilgrimage’s raison d’être: Verdi’s Stiffelio. These bootcamp-style opera adventures can be rough on the body, but I was more than willing to endure all for Stiffelio. The Verdi rarity had to wait over one hundred and fifty years to receive a proper staging faithful to its composer’s vision, so it is only fair that one should exert all necessary efforts.
Principal among other factors, the operas of Verdi’s famed middle period (Rigoletto, La Traviata and Il Trovatore) distinguish themselves from their earlier sisters by exploring characters of profound psychological complexity. Composed in 1850 concurrently with Rigoletto, Stiffelio may not shed enough bel canto conventions to qualify for inclusion in this lofty cannon, but its subject matter makes a case for its position as a long-lost relative – one vying for greater legitimacy with each passing performance.
The opera is set in Austria in the first half of the 19th century, and it’s themes boldly set religion on a clash course with sexual morality. Stiffelio is a protestant minister who returns to his congregation after a missionary trip. In his absence, his wife Lina has been unfaithful, and is quite torn up about it, especially since her fling, Raffaele, can’t read the room and insists on sticking around. Her father, Stankar, spends the first two acts of the opera trying to keep the truth from the minister, but once the mystery is revealed, Stiffelio is enraged. The opera’s fascinating third act explores the nature of fidelity, love, sex, loyalty, deceit in ways rarely tackled on an operatic stage. It contains an extraordinary duet between husband and wife, “Opposto è il calle che in avvenire/Our lives shall follow an opposite path” where Stiffelio asks Lina to co-sign a divorce. After she complies (!) Lina asks to speak with Stiffelio the minister, not her husband, and makes a case for her love, devotion and loyalty beyond the flesh. It is a dramatic debate on the morals of monogamy centuries ahead of its time, structurally evocative of a possible prototype in the duet between Norma and Pollione in Bellini’s Norma, and preview to future efforts by Verdi in La Traviata (“Pura siccome un angelo/Pure like an angel”) and Aida (“Gia i sacerdoti adunansi/Already the priests assemble”). The subject must have strongly resonated with Verdi, for at the time of the opera’s composition he was cohabitating with Giuseppina Strepponi in Busseto and dealing with the subsequent cruel gossip that this alternative arrangement inspired.
Stiffelio naturally scandalized the censors, who pressured Verdi into hacking the piece past the point of decency. Disgusted, Verdi withdrew the work in 1856, salvaging large sections of the score though various reworkings, the most famous of which is occasionally staged under the title of Aroldo. For nearly a century and a half, Stiffelio was considered lost, with bouts of recovered material triggering important stagings with the then available edition from the 1960’s onwards. Finally in 2003, a critical edition by Kathleen Hansell, based on newly granted access to an autographed copy, allowed Stiffelio to be brought to life in a way that Verdi may have recognized as his original intention, and just in time for Sarasota Opera to perform the work for the first time in 2005 as part of the company’s Verdi Cycle. The occasion featured a stellar cast, with Todd Geer and Dinyar Vanya sharing the title role, Marie-Adele McArthur as Lina, and Timothy Mix as Stankar under the exciting leadership of maestro DeRenzi.
Jump forward twenty years later, now framed along the lines of a new production, Sarasota Opera has assembled another exciting line-up for this reprisal of the piece, featuring the participation of tenor Victor Starsky’s Stiffelio among its prime attractions. His is a considerable gamble, as the part of Stiffelio can be a thankless assignment to an artist without the intelligence, technical proficiency and artistic compass. Verdi did not go out of his way to promote the role through expected means, even denying his tenor a proper aria (in a rare instance of Verdi breaking the fourth wall he admits accountability as Stiffelio quips “Mai per me un’istante avro/I will never have a moment to myself”). This places a greater burden on its exponent to keep the audience riveted through the expressive possibilities of his blunt vocal prowess, which Mr. Starsky utilized to his full advantage. As this blog has noted in the past, his voice offers a tantalizing gamut of expression. Though his tenor has the appeal of a lyric instrument, it is also endowed with the enhancements of a masculine, dramatic edge. The core of his voice is alluring, warm, oak-like, graced with a certain hint of instability when he navigates through the break during the switch to the high tessitura, where his voice maintains comparable exuberance. This glimpse of vulnerability is enough to make the listener, sensing the danger, sit up and root for him. Having successfully hypnotized his audience, Mr. Starsky proceeded to fulfill his assignment with exuberant bravado, weaving through the dramatic arch of the character, from his removed position as minister to that of the very human, jealous husband. Perhaps a triggering observation nowadays, I would be remiss to ignore an undeniable erotic factor in his vocalism (think along the lines of the young Carreras, Di Stefano, Luchetti, Labo) which adds to the overall appeal. And here is where an unsolicited warning must be memorialized, as a dangerous cycle is always looming upon the heads of artists of Mr. Starsky’s proclivities: In terms of timbre, size and execution, his voice invites the increasingly ambitious engagements that seem to be lining up before him. The powers that be need only notice that he does not skip leg day for his career to be redirected towards the path of no return. The Viardot-vs-Grisi crystal ball is limited, so there’s really no alternative beyond prioritizing attendance to future performances by this terribly exciting young man.
Canadian soprano Aviva Fortunata has created significant buzz in underground circles in recent years, adding an impressive list of demanding parts to her repertoire (Wagner’s Sieglinde in Calgary, Mozart’s Donna Anna and Elettra in New York, etc). In Sarasota alone she has been entrusted with the testing soprano leads in Verdi’s Luisa Miller and Ernani. The young diva even comes equipped with the perfect moniker, ready to be abused by the cognoscenti for its versatility of reference. Matching the verve of Mr. Starsky’s performance, she scored a triumph in her assumption of Stiffelio’s embattled wife Lina, proving herself to be, indeed, “La Fortunata”.
The role of Lina exemplifies a certain post-Giuditta Pasta lirico spinto prototype which Verdi championed in his early days, and within the Verdi lexicon it lies somewhere between Griselda in I Lombardi and Violetta in La Traviata. This type of soprano voice is constantly called upon to summon, simultaneously, the sweetness of a full Italian lyric soprano, the dexterity of lighter voices, and the thrust of heavier instruments. Applicable artists often find themselves struggling for stability within this elusive designation, with the conflicting tenets likely engaged in perpetual turmoil and threatening to inflict lasting vocal damage. Clever artists enjoy their time in this repertoire, and transition to verdier pastures as soon as the right opportunity presents itself. Currently finding herself in the epicenter of this fach, Ms. Fortunata demonstrated a thorough understanding of the character’s emotional arch, which she brough to life through vocalism of remarkable uniformity. Her sizable soprano, which leans more lirico than spinto, spread comfortably over the auditorium through the use of a judiciously covered approach which some may find unidiomatic in this type of music. This propensity enabled her to float long phrases effortlessly, securing her success during the many segments of the opera requiring masterful execution of the sustained melody. Though not heavily featured, her chest resonance is active, contributing to the clarity of diction which graced her performance. Unlike Stiffelio, the role of Lina is decidedly more conventional, and replete with compound ensembles and scenas so commonly employed in bel canto operas of the period, and which Ms. Fortunata accomplished with assured aplomb. Her soprano occasionally came under scrutiny during passages requiring hyperfocus and a less constructed approach, such as in the concerted stretta which closes Act I. Still, her pacing of the role was admirable, empowering her to satisfy even the opera’s final scene, with its testing sequence of soft-pedaled octave leaps over the orchestra and chorus, achieving the effect of a whispered, yet desperate prayer all too vividly. Dramatically, her mannerisms were appropriately cautious and guarded, matching the character’s tentative disposition. By the time her Lina allowed herself to open the flood gates in her confrontation with Stiffelio in Act III, Ms. Fortunata obliged the character in full measure, matching Mr. Starsky’s intensity phrase by phrase.
Throughout this operatic pilgrimage in Sarasota, several promising artists have entered this blog’s radar for the first time, many of whom have been singled out for the purposes of future follow up and development tracking. In the case of baritone Ricardo José Rivera, featured here in the rewarding role of Lina’s father Stankar, his inclusion on this list was accompanied by a dignified “woah” expression which flashed across my goofy brow as soon as he engaged Lina in the extended duet between father and daughter in Act I. The impact of hearing Mr. Rivera for the first time inspired a moment of introspection during the intermission, for though this is true from essentially every composer, there’s still a very special sort of sonic joy one can get out of Verdi when the right cast is available. His is a voice of great beauty, its tone spanning the range of dark ambers, the type of sound which is both flattered by, and serves best through Verdi. The gears that produce this sound are well oiled, making the knit of his instrument evenly bound throughout its range. Changes in dynamics did reveal a detracting tightness in the girare, affecting Mr. Rivera’s tone at the top fortissimo, a caveat which should not be ignored. Dramatically, this functioned within the context of the strained father and daughter dynamic, and other instances where Stankar must offer up the key for the plot’s progression (he is uncommonly active for an older character – hiding love notes…dueling younger men…getting the best aria in the opera…killing younger men…). Addressing the root of what’s keeping Mr. Rivera from effortlessly ascending to the top while carrying the solid column of sound at full throttle will be essential if he wishes to tap unto the tantalizing line-up of Verdi assignments and remain healthy.
Supplementing this near-ideal trifecta, the remainder of the cast successfully co-signed the company’s efforts for this important revival. Jeremy Brauner’s Raffaele is no lightweight, and while he contrasted Mr. Starsky’s in tonal color, his tenor has definite body and squillo, clarifying Lina’s indiscretion to a degree (she has a type). Fresh from his success as Basilio the night before, bass Young Bok Kim participation as the old minister, Jorg, was less definite, with the vocal endowments that assured his success in comedy not fully translating to embody the position of the unshakable zealot. Mezzo-soprano Gabrielle Barkidjija as Dorotea, and tenor Juan Hernandez as Federico were appropriately inappropriate during the finale of Act I.
With sets provided by Opera San Jose, Sarasota Opera’s new production of Verdi’s Stiffelio, led by stage director Stephanie Sundine, offered a beautiful traditional staging to frame the proceedings. Director Sundine earns high praise for permitting the audience to digest the drama of the piece unfiltered. Viardot-vs-Grisi reserves its final ovations for conductor, and artistic director Victor DeRenzi, who, from the pit, translated the secrets of the score at every opportunity to propel the drama forward. As the company’s Artistic Director, he has granted himself, and Sarasota audiences, the rare privilege of previous production of Verdi’s Stiffelio to fall back on, and a second compelling case for its inclusion in the standard repertoire. Few opera companies in the world can claim that.
Want a Sarasota Opera adventure of your own? Be sure to visit the company’s website to learn more about its bold 2025-26 season at www.sarasotaopera.org
-Daniel Vasquez