Fiery Angel by Sergei Prokofiev SFO 27 Oct 94 This was a rare evening at the opera: the most interesting and artistic performers, although on stage the whole performance, never sang a note or made a sound. They were the Maryinsky Theater Acrobatic Troupe, who played the spirits that so dominated this production -- as well as playing dogs, skeletons, nuns and what-have-you on the side. The demons -- almost naked, muscular, painted white and bald-bewigged -- hung on pipes behind the main stage like malevolent gargoyles through most of the performance, dropping into motion now and then to bedevil Renata in her more haunted moments. They displayed superb athleticism as well as well-coached stage presence. They were exquisite in slow motion -- dreamlike, fluid, distinctly otherworldly. They were a perfect backdrop for a Halloween weekend performance. I was especially grateful for their performance (production was by David Freeman) in light of the unmemorable singing and playing that went on in front of them. I found the singing uniformly anemic, with both Renata (Galina Gorchakova) and Rupercht (Sergei Leiferkus) typically overwhelmed by the orchestra -- which was itself sounding especially brassy to me. Conductor Valery Gergiev, a handsome young Russian, won warm ovations, though I could not for the life of me hear why. But despite the absence of memorable music, I left the opera house feeling invigorated by the performance, which ended in a dervish of naked nuns and dancing demons -- altogether a San Francisco kind of event. I was also struck by the realization that in this occasion, as I so often do, I wound up ruching to the opera house almost fresh from a tiring plane ride. Because I see most of my opera on the road, I'm often rushed to get to the theater, sometimes after a hasty meal and sometimes without even that. Tired, rushed and hungry are not the optimum conditions for enjoying opera.