Music: Chicago 'Samson' a don't-miss affair By Erik Eriksson News-Chronicle Lyric Opera of Chicago begins the New Year just as it ended the old one - and that's welcome news. Lyric Opera's opulent production of Saint-Saens' "Samson et Dalila" is an absorbing example of opera at its best and shakes loose any residing notions that this work is too oratoriolike, too static. With two principals who bring large voices, exemplary physical appearance and incandescent histrionic gifts, "Samson et Dalila" flames up as it rarely has in its century-and-a-quarter lifespan. Opera enthusiasts have six more opportunities to hear and view this production (resuming Friday, Jan. 9), one we deem a "don't miss" affair. Beyond the luminescence of the two title artists, the production is what Wagner called "Gesamtkunstwerk" come to life. It holds accomplished singing, spectacular scenic design, costuming both lavish and honest, powerful theater and superb choral work. Such a well-balanced enterprise underscores opera's ability to engage and move audiences on multiple levels. The Samson, Argentinean tenor Jose Cura, began roughly, the tone in his upper middle voice curdling to a near yodel. Bottom and top registers sounded intact, but this unsteadiness around the "passaggio" is unsettling from one who just six years ago offered a suave, smooth integration of registers and a trim, thrilling vibrato. Notwithstanding this problem (one we hope he will address with a first-class vocal pedagogue), Cura was a powerful, subtle, ultimately profoundly moving leader of the Israelites. He has the volume, the dark good looks, the sense of stagecraft and the massive physique of a body-builder. After ranting a bit in the first act, he settled down to singing of nuance and purpose. In the first scene of the final act, pushing a millstone, he made Samson's anguish heartbreaking and he lifted himself in the temple scene to the final note that brings down the house - literally. A noble, courageous portrayal. No reservations whatever apply to his Dalila, Russian mezzo-soprano Olga Borodina. This beautiful artist has a lustrous instrument of such range and exquisite dark hues, of such volume (as to set loose torrents of sound in the big moments), of such overwhelming sensuality - that she occupies a realm apart from all other exponents of Dalila in the past 50 or 60 years. Before that, no one comes to mind who might outrank her. Borodina was resolute in her perceived duty to the Philistines, despite residual feelings toward her former lover. In her seduction of Samson, she was the most dangerous of women. Borodina's is one of the truly great voices of the present age and, here, it was displayed in a role its owner commands absolutely. Among the rest of a strong cast, Tigran Martirossian was a haughty, handsome-toned Abillech, his firm bass establishing all necessary authority. Baritone Jean-Phillipe Lafont was an imposing High Priest of Dagon with a menacing voice now beginning to fray a little. Bringing gravity and pathos to the Old Hebrew, bass Raymond Aceto had the granitic timbre and full low notes to make the most of his role. Patrick Miller and Christopher Dickerson were fine as the First and Second Philistines and Green Bay tenor Scott Ramsay made a cameo of the Philistine messenger, singing with lovely, plangent tone and acting with fevered urgency. The Lyric Opera chorus, for years one of the world's best, sang with such full, gleaming, finely tuned sound and acted with such intensity that it claimed a leading part in the production. Choral singing of such splendor can never be taken for granted. Douglas W. Schmidt's sets were luxuriant, with special attractions in Dalila's pavilion and the massive temple which collapsed at the end with striking verisimilitude. Christine Binder's lighting was always apposite and frequently breathtaking. The Lyric Opera Ballet executed a bacchanal of utmost sensuality, avoiding all suggestions of overheated kitsch. Finally, in the pit before Lyric Opera's extraordinary orchestra, was a Frenchman of uncommon eloquence. Conductor Emmanuel Villaume made the most of his players' virtuosity in pressing moments that benefit from propulsion, yet lingering when Borodina wished to prolong her act one aria ("Printemps qui commence") with suggestive languor. Not for a moment does this "Samson et Dalila" flag; rather, the full measure of its decadence, sensuality, betrayal and triumph resounds with clarion call. Eriksson writes about classical music and jazz for The News-Chronicle. A member of the Music Critics Association of North America and the Jazz Journalists Association, he may be reached by e-mail at [email protected].