Review: S.F. Opera’s ‘Heart of a Soldier’ falters

SAN FRANCISCO — With dark orchestral colors and quickening pulse, the final moments of “Heart of a Soldier” are unnerving. We know it’s coming — the destruction of the World Trade Center’s south tower on September 11, 2001. A bagpiper’s funereal song fills War Memorial Opera House and we see a man and a woman on their knees, coating their arms with fallen ash, attempting to stay physically connected to the hero whose death they are especially mourning, a man named Rick Rescorla.

That image is a terrible reminder of the terrorist attacks 10 years ago. But “Heart of a Soldier,” given its world premiere Saturday by San Francisco Opera, is a disappointment. With music by Christopher Theofanidis and a libretto by Donna Di Novelli, it is rich with biographical detail and grand themes: loyalty, duty, love, death. But these themes often ring hollow in this opera, which is clumsily conceived, as if burdened by the weight of its import.

Based on the eponymous book by James B. Stewart, “Heart of a Soldier” compresses the remarkable tale of a real man, Rescorla, who led 2,700 people to safety — singing to them through a bullhorn — before dying in the south tower as he headed back up the smoky stairs to try and save more. Portraying Rescorla, who was the head of security for the Morgan Stanley brokerage firm at the World Trade Center, is baritone Thomas Hampson, who struggled through the first act, as if his voice has been crammed by Theofanidis into an ill-fitting suit of clothes.

Directed by Francesca Zambello, the opera also portrays two other remarkable (and again real) characters: Dan Hill, Rescorla’s military buddy and best friend for 40-plus years, and Susan Rescorla, his second wife, whom he meets at age 58, just a few years before the attacks. These two — portrayed by pliant tenor William Burden and the deeply expressive soprano Melody Moore — are his soul mates.

With Hill, Rescorla shares a code of honor, tested in battle: Greater than the urge to kill the enemy is the need to save one’s brother in battle, and that is the heart of a soldier, we learn. With Susan, he finds a woman who shares his winking wit, as well as his love of bagpipes — and cigars. Before the final curtain, as Hill and Susan kneel in the ashes, we experience their shared sense of loss.

Before that, much goes wrong with the opera.

Theofanidis’ score — conducted by Patrick Summers — is proudly accessible: allusions to Copland fanfares, GI marching songs and lilting folk tunes from Rescorla’s childhood in Cornwall, England. But it lacks memorable moments. Even the electric guitar that crops up in a Vietnam battle scene is watered down. The chanted speech-song that threads through much of the opera is a serious challenge to Hampson’s low register.

The hour-long first act is a problem: Di Novelli stuffs in one mini-episode after the next, telegraphing plot and sacrificing characterization. We see a lot, but learn little as the action hopscotches from Cornwall to Rhodesia (where Rescorla was a mercenary in the early ’60s), to Fort Benning, Ga. (where, having joined the U.S. military, he trained platoons, as did Hill), and on to Vietnam (where both Rescorla and Hill were repeatedly decorated for valor).

But the barking of orders, the wrestling and chumming around among the soldiers — it rings falsely macho. The actors, Hampson especially, are physically uncomfortable in their roles. During the Vietnam battle scene, when he and his men point their machine guns this way and that, with stage lights flashing and Hampson shouting, “Go! Go! Go!” — they’re play-acting, like kids in the backyard.

Toward the end of the act, the dramatic flow improves when the characters step out of the linear time-line. We hear nocturnal atmospherics from the orchestra and watch Hill, in a reverie, re-experiencing his conversion to Islam — and, yes, you read that correctly. Having experienced Islamic culture during a mission in Beirut, Hill later became a pious Muslim, fought the Russians in Afghanistan, learned to hate Osama bin Laden, even hatched a plot to kill him — and told Rescorla that the World Trade Center was a “soft touch” target for truck bombers and cargo planes.

The opera gains legs in its second act — and as the suavely suited and middle-aged security executive Rescorla, Hampson finally looks comfortable. We see him doggedly leading Morgan Stanley employees in south tower evacuation drills. We see him out for a jog in Morristown, N.J., bumping into Susan, his future wife, who is walking her dog. Their falling-in-love music sparkles with a touch of Broadway soft-shoe. Hampson’s voice shines; Moore’s is suffused with the thrilled expectancy of love.

You only wonder why there isn’t more; this concluding act lasts only 40 minutes.

But we are quickly on to the inevitable.

The twin towers (sets are by Peter J. Davison) stand side by side: We look straight into them, see the many workers — they’re the opera’s chorus — on each floor. Suddenly, the lights go out in the north tower; the first plane has hit. And then there is the soothing voice of Rescorla/Hampson in the south tower, leading his people to safety. He calls Hill, he calls Susan. An orchestral blast announces that the south tower has been hit. And home in New Jersey, Susan is filled with dread; Melody Moore wails like an ancient Greek widow.

Saturday, I sweated with the audience through this depiction of the attacks — but wondered if it’s too soon for a high-art transformation of the events. This opera strives to humanize the national tragedy, but it can’t help but manipulate, even as it attempts to console and understand. It nobly afflicts, but feels rushed to the table.

Contact Richard Scheinin at 408-920-5069.