Son’s Butterfly at the door of her home | Photo: Cory Weaver/San Francisco Opera

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One hundred seasons after San Francisco Opera first presented Giacomo Puccini’s Madame Butterfly, the company helped close its Centennial by unveiling one of its most recent co-productions, director Amon Miyamoto’s reframing of the opera. In this new conception, seen in the San Francisco War Memorial Opera house on opening night, June 3, the opera began with a mimed scene in which the adult son (John Charles Quimpo) of the late Madame Butterfly / Cio-Cio San (Karah Son) and her husband, Lt. B.F. Pinkerton (Evan Miles O’Hare as the elder / Michael Fabiano in the singing role), hovered by his ailing father’s bedside. Fearing the worst, Pinkerton shared with his son his written retelling of his time with Butterfly. Pinkerton’s wife, Kate (SFO Adler Fellow Mikayla Sager) and Suzuki (Hyona Kim), now Pinkerton’s servant, also appeared.

When the scene opened on what Puccini and his librettist, Luigi Illica, created, visuals were distinguished by late fashion designer Kenzō Takada’s dress for Cio-Cio San. The adult Trouble remained a constant silence presence, reacting to the events in real time. The potent conceit might have succeeded if only Quimpo’s facial expressions and body language had not sometimes touched more deeply than Butterfly’s. But Son was more a delight to listen to and see than emotionally wrenching. After pushing her voice beyond its inherently lyric limits in her entrance aria — she is not, at present, a spinto soprano — Son soon settled into the center of her lovely instrument and expanded outward. As touching as she was in Act I’s love duet, she could neither fully wrap herself around the tragic depth of her two subsequent arias nor transform Butterfly into a tragic creature.


Fabiano tenderly embraces Son | Photo: Cory Weaver/San Francisco Opera

Part of the responsibility rested on SFO Music Director, Eun Sun Kim. As much as she embraced the grand sweep of Puccini’s conceptions — melodies flowed like water —“Un bel di” moved far too fast, in prosaic metronomic fashion. Tragic moments were in short supply. Nor did Miyamoto’s “tasteful” handling of Butterfly’s ritual suicide help. Ultimately, Butterfly devolved into a story of multiple headstrong young people who irreparably harmed themselves and others by refusing to heed ample warning signs.

Fabiano sang like a god. His shining artistry, imbued with youthful warmth, lyric beauty, and strength was as glorious, secure, and passionate as when he soared to stardom in the first decade of the 21^st century. Lucas Meachem’s Sharpless was equally as strong, the natural warmth of his instrument intentionally held in check until moments when he wished to express extreme empathy with Butterfly’s plight.

As Suzuki, Hyona Kim projected empathy, suffering, and compassion more through facial expressions and body language than through her strong and attractive voice. Julius Ahn’s straight-backed Goro, who wielded a short stick as might a perpetual sheep herder, was a major success; he provided ample reason for Cio-Cio San to struggle to ignore him and push him away whenever she could. Alas, when all was sung and done, her tragedy as well was given the short stick.