I've just come back from watching my sixth (including the dress rehearsal) and final performance of the opera Sly with José Carreras. I can't help thinking, as I sit here watching tonight's Academy Awards, that if they gave Oscars for opera -- José Carreras would win one for his performance as Christopher Sly -- hands down. Carreras was superb!

Make no mistake, Sly, which is currently having it's North American premiere, is no long lost masterpiece. Sly is not another Stiffelio. Loosely based on the frequently ignored prologue to Shakespeare's Taming of the Shrew, the story is not one of the Bard's best. And it hasn't been helped by Marta Domingo's somewhat confused and confusing production.

It is not clear to me why Mrs. Domingo chose to take the story out of it's Elizabethan setting -- updating it to circa World War One. It's never adequately explained. Updating the story to this century robs the Earl of Westmoreland -- a first class villain, if ever there was one -- of much of the power he could plausibly wield over poor Sly. In the Sixteenth Century he could throw Sly in the dungeon. In the Twentieth, the best he could have done in reality, would be to throw him out on the street.

In addition to the problematic setting, there are a few other problems with this production of Sly. First, as someone commented on Thursday night, it's clear from the First Act that Marta Domingo hasn't spent any time in an English pub! Then there's the "One Thousand and One Arabian Nights" setting of the Second Act. Why? It's lovely, but its less than plausible that Christopher Sly -- even with the world's worst hangover -- would fall for the charade and fall victim to this vicious joke. The worst problems with her production come in the Third and final act. We did not need the dancing "Angel of Death" to clue us in on Sly's despair. Carreras does that very well on his own, thank you very much. However, when he slits his wrists in suicidal desperation, a little blood would have been nice.

By now you are probably thinking, how could she sit through six performances of this? Well, the one thing this production is blessed with is great singing. Each and every role was wonderfully cast -- Elizabeth Matos as Dolly; Gregory Yurisich as the Earl of Westmoreland; Elizabeth Bishop as the hostess of the Falcon; William Parcher as John Plake, Sly's one and only friend in the world; and of course, José Carreras as Christopher Sly.

The role of the drunken poet, Christopher Sly, is a long way from Puccini's Rodolfo or Verdi's Alfredo. Sly is not a romantic hero. He is, simply, one of life's losers. A poet who has never found success or love and has sought solace in a bottle. This is not the type of role that has traditionally been associated with José Carreras. However, it is a role that he plays with great dignity ( even when pretending to be a dancing bear.) Carreras's Sly is no stumbling drunk. Instead, Carreras captures the essential humanity of the man. Thus making his eventual end, all the more poignant.

Even more remarkable than Carreras the actor in Sly, is Carreras the tenor. Each evening, his voice has been powerful and rich-- filling the 2,300 seat Opera House of the Kennedy Center seemingly without effort. No, this is not the same voice that one would have heard when he last sang in our Opera House in La Boheme in 1976, but it's still an extraordinary voice. Octavio Roca, writing about Carreras in the San Francisco Examiner last November, likened his voice to a cello. In this production of Sly, Carreras's voice is a cello in the hands of a Casals.

Washington audiences are not the most demonstrative opera goers in the world, yet Carreras and his colleagues received standing ovations at each and every performance. Welcoming him with warmth and enthusiasm. Obviously delighted with the reception he received, Carreras responded in kind. He cheerfully signed autographs, posed for photos and cracked jokes after each and every performance -- culminating in a formal signing session after this afternoon's performance.

On Monday night, when I was sitting in my regular Washington Opera subscription seat, I overheard one of my fellow subscribers say to her husband -- "I don't think anyone else could sing this role. Domingo has the voice for it, but he doesn't have the vulnerability." I think that about sums it up. This is a role tailor-made for José Carreras.