BLOG.CNYCAFEMOMUS.COM

Feb. 3 Syracuse Stage: Caroline, or Change

2012-02-11T03:14:29Z

‘Caroline, or Change’ a richly rewarding study in language, character and form

Syracuse Stage's production of the Tony-nominated Broadway musical reprises Greta Oglesby’s acclaimed Guthrie Theater performances in the title role

By David Feldman

http://cnycafemomus.com/David_Feldman.html

I really dislike the current fad of giving standing ovations for almost anything that limps or snuffles across a stage. Save the grand gestures for the grand performances, I say—which is why I had no hesitation about rising with the full house on opening night at Syracuse Stage to applaud the current production of Caroline, or Change. I may have even let loose a “hurrah” or two of my own.

Just about everything you want in a satisfying stage production is here: A strong book and powerful lyrics (Tony Kushner); Tony-nominated music ranging from blues to klezmer, gospel to classical, Motown to folk (Jeanine Tesori); an outstanding 10-piece orchestra under the deft direction of Christopher Drobny; a standout cast superbly directed by Marcela Lorca (who also did the choreography).

Caroline, or Change comes to Syracuse Stage with a substantial resume. It opened at New York’s Public Theatre in 2003, moved to Broadway for 136 performances and also played at the National Theatre in London. It’s been much produced in the U.S., including The Guthrie with the superb Greta Oglesby as Caroline (she revives the part here). It was nominated for six Tony Awards, and the London production won the Olivier Award for best new musical.

The “change” of the title refers to two interwoven plot-theme threads.

First, the action takes place in 1963 against the background of the assassination of JFK, the early years of the Vietnam War and the Civil Rights struggle, especially as all these affect the title character, a black maid working in a Jewish household in Louisiana in 1963. Caroline is from the old school of southern maids—and change doesn’t come easily to her. But it butts up against her with the news of the period coming from her radio (she can’t afford a television on her $30 a week), and in the form of both another maid (probably the only black person Caroline has ever known who goes to college) and Caroline’s teenage daughter, who is swept up in the anti-segregationist fervor of the day.

And then there’s the jingle-it-in-your-pocket kind of change. Caroline keeps finding some in the pants she’s preparing to wash in her hot and uncomfortable laundry down in the basement. Pants and change belong to eight year-old Noah, who lives in the house with his father and stepmother. Caroline faithfully puts the change in the bleach cup in the laundry until the day Rose, the stepmother, alters the rules. She tells Noah that change left where it shouldn’t be by a boy who has to learn the value of money will now go to Caroline.

Nobody in the household has adjusted to the death of Noah’s mother or to the father’s marriage to Rose—especially Noah, who sees Rose’s interference as coming between him and Caroline, the only person in the house he can connect with. Piper Goodeve is spot-on as Rose, a Manhattan expatriate who can’t find her emotional place in the home or in the South of the period (“I miss the Upper West Side”) and can’t connect to the emotionally distant Stuart Gellman, who hasn’t stopped grieving for his first wife. Caroline takes the new rule as an insult. She is determined not to keep the money. However she’s tempted. She has money problems of her own—her pay isn’t enough to buy the television set her three kids keep bugging her about, or even to give them a little change to buy a treat every so often.

The two changes—pocket change and social change—collide after Caroline finally decides to take the money that used to be put into the bleach cup. Matters intensify when Noah leaves a $20 dollar bill in his pants. It’s a Hanukkah present from Rose’s father (played to a perfect turn as a fire breathing, diminutive, ex-Depression-era radical by Larry Block). And the dramatic confrontation over that $20 dollar bill (a fairly substantial sum in 1963) between the young boy and Caroline leads to a confrontation that degenerates into racist and anti-Semitic remarks. And that leads to what I first thought was a smudgy denouement. Plot threads don’t come together, or they do in what seems to be underwritten resolutions.

But Kushner is ever the experimenter in language, character and form. We find ourselves in the middle of… something… a dream sequence? …a bit of magic realism? …where Caroline and Noah reconcile their conflict across space, or perhaps imaginations. The problems that exist between them (and between cultures) can’t be easily resolved within a pat conclusion. Kushner wants character to trump plot by focusing on two powerful, musical monologues. And it works.

One monologue belongs to Caroline—a long, anguished lament about how the world has changed around her and has tried to change her, but she cannot change. Oglesby is stunning here. It’s one of the few times in a long enough life of reviewing theater that I ever jotted down in my notes: “show stopper!”

The other is an epilogue when Caroline’s daughter, Emmie (the winning Stephanie Umoh), lets us know that the torch has indeed been passed to another generation—and she is ready to take it up and run with it into the future. “For change come fast,” she says, “or change come slow, but everything changes.”

Plot structure isn’t the only non-traditional aspect of Caroline. Some of the songs are performed by a three-singer chorus: Radio 1 (Caitlainne Rose Gurreri), Radio 2 (Christina Acosta Robinson) and Radio 3 (Gabrielle Porter). This radio of three women who bring the important news of the day to Caroline are part of the musical’s non-standard cast—including a Dryer and a Bus (both by Doug Eskew, whose expressive body, thousand-watt smile and effortlessly deep and booming voice command your attention whenever he’s onstage); a character named Washing Machine (the delightfully flouncing Danielle K. Thomas); and a very radiant moon played by Emily Jenda.

Fourth-grade Cortland resident Séamus Gailor delivers a polished performance as the neurotic, forceful and independent young Noah. He manages to be cute without being cutesy-poo, drawing our attention to his character and not to his own personality—not an easy trick for a young performer. Hurrah!

Caroline, or Change is an enormously interesting stage piece. It plays with form, deftly placing music, character and theme at the play's center of gravity rather than going for any knock-down climactic moment, and it never loses our interest.

Some people, myself included, found it hard to hear the lyrics on opening night. But that quibble aside, Hurrah one more time!

DETAILS BOX:

What: Caroline, or Change performed by Syracuse Stage

Where: Archbold Theatre, 820 E. Genesee St., Syracuse NY

When: Through Feb. 26

Length: Two hours and 30 minutes, including a 15-minute intermission

Tickets: Adults, $28-$50; 40 and under, $28; 18 and under $18; senior discounts for all performances but Friday and Saturday evenings. Rush tickets day of performance only: $20-25 general public; $18 with valid student ID, subject to availability. Call 315-443-3275, or www.SyracuseStage.org

Family Guide: Recommended for audiences of all ages

Jan. 12 Met (Live): The Enchanted Island

2012-01-18T02:35:17Z

The Met’s ‘The Enchanted Island’ an especially pleasant and lavish place to drop anchor

Despite the clumsy patchwork of two Shakespearian plots, this pastiche of Baroque opera proves a feast for both eyes and ears

By Leah Harrison

 Syracuse University's Goldring Arts Journalism Program

How many countertenors does it take to screw in a light bulb? At the Metropolitan Opera’s production of The Enchanted Island on January 12, it took three.

When David Daniels (cast as Prospero) became ill after Act I, Anthony Roth Costanzo stepped into the role, leaving his original casting as Ferdinand vacant for Jeffrey Mandelbaum. Costanzo’s Forgive me, please forgive me aria was stunning, the climactic note of the final phrase penetrating the lavish production with purity — my jaw actually dropped. Mandelbaum handled the transition with less elegance, his nerves causing issues with intonation and a dragging tempo, though his voice had a sweet tone.

The Enchanted Island is a pastiche — a popular genre during the Baroque era consisting of cherry-picked arias from various composers that are appropriated to a new plot. Jeremy Sams produced a hybrid plot of A Midsummer Night’s Dream and The Tempest, plugging in arias, choruses, and dance suites from Vivaldi, Handel, Rameau and others. The choice to produce something with such flexibility allowed the opportunity to alter the notorious tedium of opera from this era, and the production is largely successful even though there are scads of characters with minimal stage time to keep straight.

A pastiche devised in the 21st century (Peter’s Gelb’s good idea) gives way to technology-enhanced opulence befitting the Baroque, and Phelim McDermott was at home with a production suited for imaginative costumes and sets. Prospero’s exotic island is only slightly less exotic than Neptune’s ocean-floor home. From a view of a spinning globe among perfectly shaped clouds, the visual projections dove from outer space to the sea god’s palace, passing outlined continents and furious bubbles as the viewer penetrated the salt water. A giant clam throne flanked with floating mermaids beheld Plácido Domingo, adorned in a composite of a Roman Emperor and blue-green scales, and with trident in hand — the presentation a valentine to the famous tenor. Ariel, Prospero’s spirit, arrived in a comical atmospheric diving suit.

The detailed electronic projections and more traditionally constructed sets (Maurice Sendak-esque trees and vines as well as a ship and waves) worked well together. The shipwreck scene was especially impressive, complete with digital raindrops.

Though Daniels felt poorly, his performance was measured and precise in his portrayal of a frustrated old man trying to set things right. Danielle de Niese, whose mischievous, cheeky character was as endearing as her brilliant coloratura, masterfully sang Prospero’s exuberant spirit, Ariel. Her aria I can conjure you a fire was reminiscent of Peter Pan’s showboating, youthful spirit.

Joyce DiDonato played the spurned sorceress, Sycorax, who steadily regains her strength and beauty as the plot progresses. DiDonato’s performance was flawless throughout, her rich mezzo convincing listeners to embrace her vengeance. The brawny Luca Pisaroni, costumed to look like a combination of Tarzan and Uncle Fester, played Sycorax’s only son, Caliban. Pisaroni portrayed the simpleton with great skill, though it’s hard to hear Pisaroni’s voice as anything but complex and intelligent.

Domingo, whose legendary voice was alone worth the price of admission, delivered lustrous, melting high notes — although his English diction was awkward in Act II. William Christie conducted the singers and instrumentalists with grace, and the tempos were lively. His tempo for the overture was perhaps a bit too quick, but most everything that following was suitable. The Continuo, comprising Bradley Brookshire and David Heiss, used parts taken from pre-existing operas as well as newly composed sections. Various reed solos throughout the evening were beautifully done, especially those by the bassoon.

The shipwrecked quartet of Layla Claire, Paul Appleby, Elliot Madore and Elizabeth DeShong (especially sultry) put forth a fine performance. Lisette Oropesa’s role as Miranda was delightfully sung, her sweet, seemingly effortless voice flitting girlishly throughout the evening.

Some of the musical selections seemed to jerk the plot from light, frothy humor to abrupt anger or sadness. For example, Lysander’s aria Curse you, Neptune did not fit well with the overall tone of the production. His disproportionate anger seemed unnecessary for the plot (Neptune only mentioned it once and had other reasons for emerging from the sea). Moreover, we never again hear from Lysander. Similarly, Prospero’s lamenting forgiveness aria, while beautifully performed and a musical high point of this production, appeared much too serious to match the overall mood. These offenses may not have been so pronounced had they not involved Shakespeare’s plots, which are so remarkably constructed that deviations tend to stand out.

The goal to avoid stagnant stretches common to Baroque opera was largely successful, though a bit awkward during the da capo sections of the arias. In the beginning, there are several moments where Ariel and Prospero circle each other in anger or trepidation, although they’re really just waiting for the music to come around again. You can tell.

Particularly delightful was the Rameau dance suite resulting from a spell Caliban casts after being spurned. A dance troupe of masked figures moved to the lilting French music as if in a trance, enthralling and then frightening the poor monster. The climax of costume came with the unicorn headdress worn by the prima ballerina. As Caliban becomes increasingly concerned about the delights he’s created (like Pinocchio in Funland), Prospero rescues him and dissolves the fantasy.

McDermott’s production maintained excellent integrity with respect to the aesthetic of the Baroque while enhancing the spectacle with modern methods. This ornate experience is a delight to encounter several centuries after its vogue: a present to Vivaldi, if not an abomination of Shakespeare!

Leah Harrison is a graduate student at Syracuse University's Goldring Arts Journalism Program, based at the college's renowned S.I. Newhouse School of Public Communications. A pianist and musicologist, Ms. Harrison holds a master’s degree in musicology from Florida State University and a bachelor’s degree in music history from Converse College. A native of Campobello, South Carolina, Ms. Harrison enjoys professional cycling, travel, and southern mountain music and culture   

Details Box:

What: The Enchanted Island, Live at The Met

When: January 12, 2012 

Who: Metropolitan Opera 

Running time: 3 hours, 35 minutes

Where: Metropolitan Opera House, New York 

Live HD Simulcast: January 21, 2012, 12:55 pm ET

Dec. 10 Met simulcast: Faust

2011-12-13T02:42:16Z

Salvaging The Met’s new production of ‘Faust’ may require deal with devil

The singing is fine, but Des McAnuff’s unimaginative, cliché-ridden production is disappointing

By David Rubin

http://cnycafemomus.com/David_Rubin.html

It’s a pretty safe bet that those who were listening to the Metropolitan Opera’s live radio broadcast of Gounod’s Faust on Saturday had a much better time than those of us who had to watch it live in HD.

Contemptuous of offering another Faust featuring Mephistopheles in red pointy shoes and feathered cap, director Des McAnuff updated the fable of the philosopher Faust who, weary of life, sells his soul to the devil for pleasures of the flesh. Our current era has no shortage of potential Faustian stand-ins who no doubt regret how they’ve lived their lives. How about Bernie Madoff as the Faust character, set on a trading floor; or Governor Rod Blagojevich as Faust, set in his office, speed-dialing donors; or steroid juicer Barry Bonds as Faust, set in the trainer’s room at the Giants’ ballpark?

Alas, McAnuff had nothing that imaginative for us. He took the predictable way out: Faust as a disillusioned nuclear physicist in 1945. John Adams was there already in Doctor Atomic, but there’s plenty of guilt to go around in the nuclear physics crowd. It’s worth another go.

So once Mephistopheles has transformed Faust into a young man through the magic of dry ice and a quick trip off stage, I assumed we would emerge in a town square in Los Alamos, New Mexico, home of the A-bomb. Mephistopheles would be disguised as some mad Air Force general, or maybe even Harry Truman on the eve of Hiroshima. Marguerite would be that cute lab technician who never gave Faust a tumble.

Instead, McAnuff sends us to France during World War I. Nuclear physics disappears for about three hours, until he brings it back with the most damnable cliché one can imagine. Go ahead and guess. Yes, a projection of a mushroom cloud.

That’s the concept, but not the end of the clichés. Faust and Mephistopheles descend through a trap door in the stage. Marguerite is saved as she walks up a staircase to heaven, bathed in the light of salvation. Mephistopheles taps his magic walking stick on a water cooler and turns it into red wine. Wow, what an effect!

A trio of committed actors might have shaken off this nonsense and made the old warhorse work its magic. However, the chemistry between tenor Jonas Kaufmann as Faust and soprano Marina Poplavskaya as Marguerite was so inert that even an atomic bomb wouldn’t have warmed them up. Poplavskaya is as gloomy as a Russian winter. She barely smiled for four long hours. Her range of emotion is from weary to really weary.

Kaufmann is a handsome man, and director Robert Lepage pulled a convincing Siegmund out of him in Die Walküre at the Met in May of 2011. Here he seemed flummoxed by his icy Marguerite. Dressed in a spiffy tux, he was a refugee from a party scene in the Met’s The Great Gatsby.

René Pape knows "stolid," too. He is always acting King Marke in Tristan, no matter what the part. He made a bore of Boris Godunov at the Met. He has the perfect face for a devil with evil blue eyes, arching eyebrows, a pencil-thin mustache, slim goatee, high cheekbones, and a vaguely Mongol look. But he’s not really oily and slithering. He doesn’t move easily about the stage. One attempt at a little soft shoe was stiff. He didn’t inject any fun into the part, and what’s a devil without some mirth?

When Act 2 opens in France, we are not outside in a town square or at the fairgrounds, as Gounod asked. Maybe Los Alamos doesn’t have a town square. We are inside some sort of warehouse. The all-purpose frame for this and other scenes is a bare stage flanked by winding metal fire escapes that permit lab technicians, Faust and Mephistopheles to peer down on the action below. The bare stage became a tavern of sorts in Act 2 with a few rectangular tables, chairs, and drinking glasses. In Act 3 it became Marguerite’s house and garden with the addition of a Singer Sewing Machine. This may be perfect for an impoverished New York City Opera production, but for the Met?

Where are they going to dance, I asked myself at the start of Act 2? This Act opens with the spirited kermesse and ends with one of the greatest waltzes in all opera, Ainsi que la brise légère. Even the audience is ready to dance, but McAnuff didn’t feel it. His chorus wiggles a bit in the kermesse and, hemmed in by the tavern tables and fire escapes, attempts a bit of waltzing at the close. At this point I knew it was game over. McAnuff doesn’t hear the music he’s setting.

All of this worked pretty well on the radio. Pape is among the world’s pre-eminent basses. His Mephistopheles was rich and full. One of the two vocal highlights of the afternoon was his Act Two delivery of Le veau d’or. With this he injected the first real jolt of energy into the performance.

The other vocal highlight was Kaufmann’s ability to sustain a melting diminuendo as he pulled back after the full-throated high note at the close of Salut! Demeure chaste et pure in Act 3. Goosebumps for that one. It was impressive singing. While his voice lacks Gallic tint and seems more suited to the German repertoire, he offered a clarion Faust.

Poplavskaya has become a favorite of Peter Gelb and is singing a great deal, including Violetta in La Traviata and Elizabeth in Don Carlo. I am not sure why. Her voice is accurate if a bit pinched. She has the high notes. But it is not a distinctive voice. It has no special colors. Nor does she act with her voice. Her face, with its enormous jaw line, is a dull mask. The King of Thule ballad in Act Three (delivered while sitting at that Singer Sewing Machine) and the Jewel Song were competently done but didn’t make this Marguerite a sympathetic character. The opera can’t work if the audience doesn’t take Marguerite’s side, but Poplavskaya won’t woo an audience. She is not a generous artist.

With Kaufmann and Pape, she held her own in the glorious trio of salvation at the end, but I think that’s mostly Gounod’s doing. It was worth the wait, even in this production.

The most fully formed performance came from veteran baritone Russell Braun as Valentin, Marguerite’s brother. His big number in Act 2 — Avant de quitter ces lieux — made a good impression. Upon his return from the war in Act 4 he threw himself into the fatal duel with Faust (realistically staged), and cursed his sister with relish for her out-of-wedlock pregnancy. Braun’s performance made clear what was missing from everyone else.

Michele Losier was too feminine in the pants role of Siebel, although her singing was pleasant.

The young dynamo Yannick Nézet-Séguin led the Met Orchestra in a performance that was accurate, well-paced, and often exciting. But Gounod doesn’t give the orchestra enough of interest to do so that a conductor can carry the opera. It’s not Wagner. So he could provide no antidote to McAnuff. It would have been fun to hear him conduct the Walpurgis Night ballet, but it was cut.

Surely Faust needn’t be set in the 16th-century to work. I really would like to see a production with a disgraced financier named Faust contemplating suicide if his short position doesn’t pan out. Hasn’t Wall Street already made a bargain with the devil? But McAnuff couldn’t think beyond the obvious.

Details Box:

What: Gounod’s Faust, Simulcast Live in HD
When: December 10, 2011
Who: Metropolitan Opera
Running time: About 4 hours and 10 minutes
Where: Metropolitan Opera House, New York
Encore performance: January 11, 2012 at 6:30 p.m. EST

Dec. 3 Met simulcast: Rodelinda

2011-12-12T04:04:20Z

The Met’s ‘Rodelinda’ relives the glorious reign of the singer
One never has to wait long for the next aria in this 30-odd parade of Handelian hits

By David Abrams

http://cnycafemomus.com/David_Abrams.html

Retrofitting a Baroque opera such as Rodelinda into the 3,800-seat Metropolitan Opera House makes about as much sense as renting Yankee Stadium to stage My Dinner with Andre. Beyond the mismatch in venue, however, there’s little to criticize in the Met’s supersized production of Handel’s richly lyrical opera seria. The December 3 live simulcast, buoyed by the strong ensemble efforts of a superb cast of singer-actors led by Renée Fleming, sparkled and shined for the better part of its four-plus hours.

The current Met offering, only the fourth Handel opera to be presented there, reprises the 2004 production debut of this largely forgotten opera seria, updating the plot from a medieval tale of intrigue to one roughly contemporaneous to the time of Handel’s tenure in London. In addition to Fleming (Rodelinda), veterans of the 2004 cast include Stephanie Blythe (Eduige) and conductor Harry Bicket.

Rodelinda, written for London’s Royal Academy of Music and first performed at the King’s Theater in 1725, tells the tale of the dethroned King Bertarido, whose wife Rodelinda and young son are held in captivity by the man who would be king, Grimoaldo. But let’s not get hung up here on the storyline: The true mission of early 18th-century opera seria was to showcase the lead singers (sopranos and castrati, mostly) via a steady stream of da capo arias designed to allow these prima donnas to show off their wares.

For those in need of a refresher course in Opera 101, a da capo aria is constructed in three-parts [ABA], where the initial melodic section [A] is followed by a contrasting section [B], after which the music returns to the beginning [A] — only now the singer is expected to decorate the returning melody with improvised embellishments such as trills and rapid scalewise passages called coloraturas.

By Handel’s time, lead singers wasted little time trying to outdo their competitors with (mostly superfluous) vocal pyrotechnics. Enter the reign of the singer. Opera divas and male altos (castrati) became the superstars of their day, commanding greater attention (and larger salaries) than the opera’s composer.

Handel designed Rodelinda to showcase the celebrated diva, Francesca Cuzzoni. The Met does likewise, only here it's Renée Fleming. As the title character, Fleming has the lion’s share of arias in this work, and while her golden soprano may have lost some degree of weight and substance from years past, our modern-day Cuzzoni proved that she has what it takes to deliver this role with grace, élan and no small measure of flamboyance.

Fleming’s flexibility of voice in the coloratura passages throughout the performance was often breathtaking, and she rarely chose the safe path when embellishing her arias. She peppered the da capo repeat of the second act Spietati, io vi giurai with an array of daring coloraturas and trills that few sopranos today would risk. Fleming was equally impressive in the expressive numbers, particularly in the poignant lament, Se'l mio duol non è sì forte — massaging the tender, dirge-like phrases with sufficient feeling and emotion to bring a lump to one’s throat (live simulcast audiences no doubt saw the tears in Fleming’s eyes as she sang this).

As the alternately love-struck and vengeful sister of exiled King Bertarido, Stephanie Blythe as Eduige was sturdy in voice throughout her four arias. Blythe’s second act aria of vengeance, De' miei scherni per far le vendetta, breathed fire into the heavily caffeinated runs, coloraturas and embellishments. The dramatic soprano’s smooth delivery throughout the rapid changes in vocal registers revealed a liquid legato worthy of admiration from even the most particular of Handel worshippers.

Tenor Joseph Kaiser, as the slick (albeit not entirely evil) would-be successor to the throne, Grimoaldo, forged a character initially self-serving and evil but who grows sufficiently enlightened to reshape himself by the end of the story into the architect of a new Milan — with a restored King Bertarido. Kaiser’s captivating tenor, while not especially strong during his first act aria, Io già t’amai, came to the fore in the exquisite second act aria, Prigioniera ho l'alma in pena, one of the two or three most memorable numbers in this opera.

Shenyang, the promising young Chinese bass-baritone, crafted the role of Grimoaldo’s adjutant, Garibaldo, with just the right balance of arrogance and villainy. His imposing physical presence recalls Scarpia in Puccini’s Tosca (a role for which I imagine his voice is well suited), and his handsome and resonant baritone carried sufficient dramatic weight to achieve credibility of character.

Shenyang’s da capo arias, however, revealed a lack of vocal flexibility necessary to propel the rapid 16th-note coloraturas without dragging behind the beat (on one occasion during the first act he trailed the orchestra by nearly a full beat). How I wish singers would take a cue from instrumentalists when they find themselves falling behind: Just drop a damn note or two and catch the next downbeat!

Rodelinda calls for two countertenors, and both acted well and sang with penetrating expression. Still, it was impossible to ignore the striking timbral differences between the alto voices of Andreas Scholl and Iestyn Davies, performing the castrati (males castrated before the onset of puberty) roles of King Bertarido and Unulfo, respectively.

Davies, in his Met debut as the deposed king’s loyal ally, showed a greater consistency of tone when crossing from high to low alto registers than did Scholl, and he delivered his three arias with hardly a suggestion of falsetto. The promising British countertenor overcame some unevenness in the 16th-note runs in his first act Sono i colpi della sorte to deliver a very impressive Fra tempeste funeste in Act 2 (one of the catchiest numbers in this work), with well-timed melodic ornamentations that fitted comfortably within the steady pulse of the music.

Scholl, in the role of the unlucky king made famous during Handel’s time by the great castrato, Senesino, sang with incredible expressiveness and delicacy of tone throughout the production, particularly during the irresistible second act sicilienne, con rauco mormorio. His intonation throughout the performance was impeccable.

Scholl’s faux alto in this performance nevertheless revealed a pronounced timbral contrast between high and low registers that sacrificed strength and focus in the low notes. On one occasion, while singing a descending melodic line in the low register near the end of the B section of Confusa Si Miri, Scholl’s voice briefly morphed into his (normal) baritone voice. Occasionally, the sound of his voice in the deep alto register invited unwelcome comparisons to Mickey Mouse. And although his embellishments were solid, Scholl tended to shy away from the customary trills at cadences.

Production director Stephen Wadsworth animated the stage action by keeping the non-singing characters in motion during the stagnant arias. His daring choreography of the swordfight between Scholl and Kaiser, which at times looked a bit too real for comfort, provided the audience an entertaining visual divertissement.

With the help of moveable platforms taxied from right-to-left by two wagons, Set Designer Thomas Lynch’s handsome and richly detailed period set created a panoramic look and feel to the scenery that broadcast hostess Deborah Voigt observed "seems to go on forever." Costume Designer Martin Pakledinaz’s early 18th-century costumes gave the principal characters a faithful and distinctive period look.

Conductor Harry Bicket, who led the Met Opera Orchestra at the original 2004 production, divided his time between the podium and one of two harpsichords in the pit, from which he accompanied the recitatives. A scaled-down Metropolitan Orchestra, which except for the addition of two recorders made little attempt to capture a sense of period-instrument authenticity, responded well to Bicket’s generally brisk-paced tempos.

Young Moritz Linn, in the ubiquitous non-singing role of Rodelinda’s son, Flavio, convincingly played his part as the innocent heir to the throne to perfection. When Rodelinda dares Grimoaldo to slay the boy, Linn stands tall — staring down the knife-wielding villain with puppy-eyes that that could disarm a hungry lion. Not surprisingly, it was Grimoaldo who blinked first.

Perhaps there’s a promising future for this boy as a singer, as well. But please, don’t touch the scissors…

Details Box:

What: Handel’s Rodelinda, Simulcast Live in HD
When: December 3, 2011
Who: Metropolitan Opera
Running time: About 4 hours and 15 minutes, including two intermissions
Where: Metropolitan Opera House, New York
Encore performance: January 4, 2012 at 6:30 p.m. EST

Dec. 2 Syracuse Stage: The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe

2011-12-07T02:41:57Z

Syracuse Stage’s ‘The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe’ not targeted to adults

Cutesy-poo staged version the C.S. Lewis fable great for kids — but adults beware!

By David Feldman

http://cnycafemomus.com/David_Feldman.html

OK, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe. If you want to know whether this Christmas entertainment at Syracuse Stage is worth your attention as Serious Theater, the fast answer is: no. If you’ve already committed to taking a Young Person (or several of them) to see it and want to know what you’re in for, read on — but keep the aspirin handy.

The National Association for the Preservation of Adult Theatergoer Sanity requires that we publish the following warning in case you’re in danger of being talked into taking a Young Person (or several of them) to see this production but there is still time for you to back out: Sir or madam, read no further — beat a hasty retreat to the easy chair and turn on the TV while you can.

This staged version of the C.S. Lewis fable is cute; and there are lots of terrific voices for its music; and Anthony Salatino’s choreography is as usual first rate, if not as exciting as it has been at times (due to no fault of his own, as he’s confined by the requirements of the genre); and the spectacular set by Cary Wong along with certain very clever magic show-type tricks are worth the price of admission (except that you have to sit through the entire production to see them); and the costumes by Catherine Hunt are exceedingly clever and at times stunning (if occasionally a little too-adorable for some tastes); and Rick Paulsen’s lighting is spot-on (pun here); and the music under Dianne Adams McDowell’s ably wielded baton is fine indeed and never obtrusive (although the songs themselves aren’t what even a forgiving person might call memorable); and Linda Hartzell’s direction keeps the stage aswirl with plenty of activity; and the scattering of Equity performers among the cast adds depth to the SU Department of Drama’s students’ energetic (if at times not entirely top-notch) performances.

The plot is thin as air and has as much drama as instant oatmeal without the raisins. Four young sibling Brits are evacuated from blitz-imperiled London and find themselves at a country house that has a very large wardrobe with unusual magical capabilities: children who enter it often come out the other side into... get this... Narnia! Once there, they encounter lots of fantastical creatures including a White Witch (Jacquelyn Piro Donovan) who out of understandable perversity has cast the entire realm into cold and snowy winter for a century. That means there has been — better sit down now — No Christmas In All That Long Time!

Think about it, those of you who still haven’t decided what presents to buy Aunt Nell and your sister-in-law’s vicious offspring, not to mention their dog — which even after nearly a decade isn’t fully house-trained. Think about it, and remember that spot on the good carpet that you still can’t get out. Some may find a Christmas-less season a trial, but I call it pre-heaven.

Inevitably the four juveniles run into the expectable bunch of fantastical creatures. Among these are two English yeoman and -women types, who are for also Beavers. As portrayed by Eric Leviton and Jayne Muirhead they are a delight. I wish there had been more for them to do besides serve a meal and hasten the Young Persons to their destiny, but soon enough danger arrives in the form of a lion called Aslan (the powerful voice here belongs to Jordan Barbour), who threatens to vanquish the hard working Witch who disposed of Christmas. The play is essentially tragic: The well-meaning White Witch is defeated and a wicked Father Christmas (James Judy) arrives to distribute presents, some of whose magical powers serve to bring us more quickly than otherwise would have been possible to the ending of the play, but not one of which would have satisfied Aunt Nell, for instance.

One of the things I liked best about this show is that it has a character named Face on Butt (Tara Carbone, who also plays a wolf) and another called Snozzy Bosch (Katie Lamark), who like Ms. Carbone is a student in the Drama Department, and it is a Very Good Thing that this production with its enormous cast gives the students a chance to learn their trade by working with experienced performers and to perform on the main stage in front of a large audience (a great many of whom will, of course, be Children for this production).

Following the Christmas presents business, spring arrives rapidly — which serves to show emphatically that Narnia is not Syracuse. All of this is done in spectacular fashion with terrific lighting and sets and effects. Kids who are hooked into the 21st century’s electronic whizz-bang will probably find it “awesome” or “all right,” or whatever it is that they say too often — that is, so long as the kids aren’t over 15.

But you, serious theatergoer? Oh no. Go get tickets to NT Live at local movie theaters and see something like the terrific Collaborators I saw last week. Great work although I’ve liked Simon Russell Beal better at times, and less other times. It’s a clever play about the Russian playwright Mikhail Bulgakov and Joseph Stalin in 1938. Coming up are: Traveling Light, about Eastern European immigrants who played an important part in Hollywood’s golden age; The Comedy of Errors and She Stoops to Conquer.

Uh… where was I?

Oh... Syracuse Stage. Right. Back to that. I suspect the play has been winnowed down to the kind of thing that Young Persons go for and it’s missing what I assume are the resonances and textures and any possible significant meaning of the original Narnia tales. I wouldn’t know — I’ve never read them.

Oh… there’s also a character named Warts played by Jonalyn Saxer, who didn’t seem to have any as far as I could tell, but who also played a Nyad, a Reindeer, and a White Stag. The actors go through an amazing number of costume changes, and praise is due to whoever helps them backstage. Anyway, Warts — what a wonderful name for a character.

The script, such as it is, is all very archetypal: Young Persons return from their Hero Journey now much wiser than they were before about magic, faraway imaginary places, and about Lions, Life and funny human-sized Beavers and various fantastical creatures. And they don’t seem much the worse for having portentously been referred to by the inhabitants of Narnia as “Sons of Adam” or “Daughters of Eve.” That kind of dialogue sets my nerves afire, but perhaps Young Persons won’t notice because of all the dancing and singing and pieces of the set being whizzed in and out and other clever effects, plus fierce sword fights and similar delights that Young Persons seem to enjoy at entertainments of this sort. And we all agree that anything that takes them away from texting and video games and making it impossible for adult humans to watch the football game if there’s only one television set in the house is a Very Good Thing, indeed.

Well I know, I know: bah humbug — mean old me and all that. But really, it’s all more than slightly cutesy-poo. OK, one supposes, for doting uncles and aunts, grandmothers and grandfathers and such who are looking for a Christmas gift that will get some brat away from those damned computer games and cell phone cameras and Facebook business and into a real theater where — and this is of inestimable value — one isn’t allowed to muck around with electronic devices.

So, to sum up: Fine for the pre-pubescent, and probably OK for those who are recently post-pubescent if they have somehow retained some of their innocence. Otherwise… don’t say you weren’t warned.

DETAILS BOX:
What: The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe, by C.S. Lewis, dramatized by Adrian Mitchell, music by Shaun Davey
Who: Syracuse Stage
Where: Archbold Theatre, 820 E. Genesee St., Syracuse
When: Through Dec. 31.
Length: 2 hours, including a 15-minute intermission.
Tickets: Adults, $28 - $50; 40 and under, $28; 18 and under $18; senior discounts for all performances but Friday and Saturday evenings. Rush tickets day of performance only: $20 -$25 general public; $18 with valid student ID, subject to availability. Call 315-443-3275, or www.SyracuseStage.org
Family guide: The kids will love it; not for all adults

Nov. 12 Jupiter String Quartet

2011-11-15T05:35:29Z

Jupiter String Quartet’s engaging SFCM program rewarding, persuasive

The quartet maintains a firm grip on the listener’s attention throughout the versatile program of works spanning three eras

By David Abrams

http://cnycafemomus.com/David_Abrams.html

It’s always a pleasure to hear good music, well played. The Jupiter String Quartet delighted the Syracuse Friends of Chamber Music audience Saturday evening with an eclectic program that was both entertaining and musically rewarding — the kind of program that keeps us coming back for more.

For an ensemble named after a planet, Jupiter is amazingly down-to-earth. The players addressed the audience from the stage, signed autographs at intermission and mingled with the crowd at the post-concert reception. Yet beneath the relaxed exterior is a first-rate ensemble, equipped with all the necessary ingredients required of a professional string quartet: a unique sound (anchored by the big and rich tone of cellist Daniel McDonough), a strong and dependable first violinist (Nelson Lee) and a firm command of ensemble interplay that synchronizes all aspects of its playing.

As if all this weren’t enough, the four players actually look as if they belong together — which, in a way, they do. McDonough is the husband of the quartet’s second violinist, Meg Freivogel, who is the sister of violist Liz Freivogel. Family notwithstanding, it’s obvious these musicians enjoy each other’s company — one can see it on their faces and hear it in the manner in which they interact with one another.

Jupiter appears to relish the challenges of a stylistically diverse program. The three works performed Saturday evening took the ensemble from Classicism to Romanticism to the 20th-Century, and in each case Jupiter proved it has sufficient command of style to bring the music to life.

The players wasted little time capturing the young Beethoven’s playful spirit in the Quartet in B-flat Major, Op.18 no. 6 (1798-1800), with alert execution of the sharply defined dotted-rhythmic figures that permeate the vivacious opening movement (Allegro con brio) and tight interplay between the middle voices (second violin and viola) during the closing theme of the exposition.

The warmly expressive dialogue between first and second violins in the opening of the second movement (Adagio) set the stage for the snappy syncopations of the vivacious Scherzo that followed. Here, the players danced through Beethoven’s maze of tricky rhythmic twists and turns as if they were playing jump rope. Jupiter’s well-paced passing from the melancholic opening of the final movement to the jovial, dance-like Allegretto, along with the shapely rubatos the ensemble produced throughout this movement, placed the finishing touches on this enjoyable and fulfilling listening experience.

Prokofiev’s Quartet No.2 in F Major (1942) owes its heavily ethnocentric flavors to the indigenous cultures intersecting the northern Caucasus mountains, where — according to McDonough’s pre-performance talk — the Soviet government relocated its best and brightest artists ahead of Hitler’s advancing armies during the Second World War.

Jupiter is clearly a champion of this demanding work, and it showed in its playing.

The four players dug into the music fearlessly, with a tone that oftentimes bordered on raucous, in a relentless effort to recapture the raw, authentic folk melodies of the Caucasus region unsanitized by the listener’s Western sensibilities. They put lots of muscle and brawn into the thickly seasoned ethnic flavors of the outer two movements, where Prokofiev to a large extent mirrors what Bartok had done with the Magyars decades earlier. I especially enjoyed the middle (Adagio) movement’s Kabardian love song (Synilyaklik Zhir), a sweet and haunting solo perched high atop the cello’s upper register, which McDonough played with a silky smooth legato.

Perhaps the most persuasive effort of the evening came after intermission with a superlative performance of Mendelssohn’s masterful Quartet in D Major, Op.44 no.1.

Jupiter found a smart balance between angst and warmth of expression in the weighty first movement and demonstrated alert ensemble execution, from the persistent dotted rhythms of the opening measures to the five-note motif that passed seamlessly from player to player.

Although the Minuet movement may have been a bit too fast to remain faithful to the composer’s tempo indication (un poco allegretto), I reveled in Jupiter’s poignant delivery of the wistful third movement, an Andante espressivo gently sprinkled with pizzicatos, that brought a lump to my throat.

Jupiter raised the roof in the effulgent finale (Presto con brio), spinning off sets of dazzling sextuplet runs that all but lit the auditorium like bolts of lightening, sending the crowd to its feet in a prolonged, and well deserved, standing ovation.

Details Box:

What: Jupiter String Quartet

Where: Lincoln Middle School, 1613 James Street, Syracuse

When: November 12, 2011

Information: call (315) 446-3424

Ticket prices: Regular $20, Senior $15, Student $10

Website: http://syracusefriendsofchambermusic.org

Next: Jasper String Quartet, 8 p.m. February 25, 2012

Nov. 5 Met simulcast: Siegfried

2011-11-07T20:58:28Z

Singers, orchestra dwarf Lepage’s mechanical monstrosity in the Met’s ‘Siegfried’
The über-expensive set offers little dramatic insight into the production and, if anything, impoverishes Wagner’s music drama. But with a performance this good, who cares?

By David Rubin
http://cnycafemomus.com/David_Rubin.html

Audience reaction to the first two operas in the Metropolitan Opera’s ongoing new Ring cycle, produced by Robert Lepage, has been close to unanimous.

The Met orchestra, under both James Levine and Fabio Luisi, has played at a level even Wagner, exacting as he was, would have admired. Much of the singing has been the best the world can offer today, especially the booming Alberich of Eric Owens in Rheingold, the clarion Fricka of Stephanie Blythe in Rheingold and Walküre; and the virile Siegmund of Jonas Kaufmann in Walküre.

Lepage’s massive, computerized machine of a set, also massively expensive, was supposed to provide a Star Wars experience. But only occasionally has he offered jaw-dropping effects and stage pictures; the machine has just as often rumbled and grumbled and stopped altogether. As a director of flesh and blood characters, Lepage has failed utterly, leaving the gods and demi-gods to fend for themselves. If Lepage has an overall conception for his Ring, other than to make it eye-popping, it has eluded me.

Now comes Siegfried, the "chamber" opera of the four, impossible to attempt without a credible Siegfried who can handle Wagner’s punishing dramatic and vocal demands. Arguably there is no one in the world today who can sing this part nearly as well as the Met orchestra can play it.

The Met originally cast Gary Lehman, who withdrew during rehearsals, pleading a virus. Up next was Jay Hunter Morris, a Texan with a twang, who sang the young Siegfried in San Francisco this past summer in the Francesca Zambello "Eco-Ring" to good reviews, this critic among them.

Had Morris not been available, that wonderful New Yorker cartoon would have played out for real on Saturday, with the stage manager standing in front of the curtain to ask, "Is there anyone in the house who can sing Siegfried?"

But Morris didn’t cancel, and there was definitely no need to call for help. Morris delivered a performance that was stunning for his vocal assurance and power and his confident stage presence. Here is a true Wagnerian heldentenor who, somehow, has not made his way for years through the roles of Lohengrin, Stolzing, and Siegmund to prepare for Siegfried, the challenge of all challenges. Six months ago in San Francisco he was a cover artist, only called into action because the tenor originally cast (Ian Storey) opted out. Now he has already triumphed at the Met. This is not supposed to happen. The Met audience recognized what they had just heard and awarded Morris with an ecstatic standing ovation (fortunately not so common).

Morris told interviewer Renée Fleming in an intermission feature that he learned from a voice teacher his loudest notes are not necessarily his most beautiful notes. He has clearly taken that advice to heart. He never seems to strain. His face betrays no performance anxiety. He really seems to be having the fun he claims he is having. He wasn’t even sweating until his Act 3 confrontation with the Wanderer, his grandfather. The forging scene in Act 1 was rhythmically precise. So often this goes off the rails, but not here. He eases comfortably into his high notes. He tired a bit in the final love duet with Brünnhilde and his voice turned a bit tight and nasal. But for five-plus hours he was a pleasure to hear, and to see.

Morris is built like a linebacker with strong arms and a hefty chest. He is clearly in great shape. He has the chiseled face of a western cowboy hero. He acts better than John Wayne. (OK, that’s not saying a whole lot.) He did not try to play Siegfried as the gawky teenager. Morris offered dignity and presence immediately, but he did age subtly through the three acts so that he was indeed ready for his first encounter with a woman — and the mystery of sex.

I offer one caveat. I heard Morris in San Francisco, where he delivered an equally satisfying performance. However, his voice did not carry live in San Francisco quite as strongly as it came across in the HD telecast. It is dangerous to judge how a voice sounds live in the house based on the HD relay. Judging from the boisterous Met audience, however, they must have heard him just fine.

Overall this was a great afternoon of singing, the reason opera fans are opera fans. I attended with three people who had never seen any Ring opera before, and this is not the one I suggest for starters. But all three were fully engaged by what they saw and heard.

Gerhard Siegel sang Mime with a strong tenor voice. He was not as mobile as some Mimes, perhaps because of the treacherous set. Most of his acting was in his highly expressive face. This production presents him as a hunchback with spectacles, wispy hair, and a nervous facial tick. He held his own vocally with both Bryn Terfel’s very strong Wanderer in the exchange of riddles in Act 1 and with the cavernous Eric Owens as his brother Alberich in Act 2.

Terfel was more comfortable vocally as the Wanderer than he was as Wotan in the two earlier operas. Perhaps he identifies with the world-weary character who finally comes to embrace his fate. His performance grew stronger as the afternoon continued. His voice is sturdy, secure, and impressive from top to bottom. It is, however, a bit characterless in color. Perhaps it’s my fault that I don’t have a "Terfel sound" in my ear to compare with, say, James Morris’s sound, which is instantly recognizable. But Terfel delivers the goods.

In her thirty minutes in Act 3 Deborah Voigt was an ardent, secure, and soaring Brünnhilde, only shorting the very last note of the ecstatic love duet. She looked with genuine affection on her amazing young lover-to-be.

The rest of the cast made strong contributions: Patricia Bardon as an Erda with a voice of velvet; Mojca Erdmann as a sweetly piping woodbird; and Hans-Peter König as a thundering Fafner.

Fabio Luisi adopted much quicker tempos than has been the case with James Levine. Coordination between singers and conductor was, for the most part, excellent. The Met Orchestra continues to play Wagner as only it can — for Levine and now Luisi.

Which brings us to the production. Sadly, Lepage offers no more insight to Siegfried than he did to Rheingold or Walküre. Some of his stage pictures worked, including the projection of a forest floor crawling with bugs and snakes, a wall of flames surrounding Brünnhilde, and an image of the Wanderer, at the beginning of Act 3, rising high above a lake on the stage, creating a wave with his spear. Most amazing was Lepage’s ability to create a reflection in the stage water in Act 1 so that Siegfried could see himself. This reflection was clearly visible to the audience. One of Lepage’s assistants explained during an intermission feature how they pulled this off digitally, but he lost me.

But so many important moments flopped. The splitting of the anvil at the end of the forging scene wasn’t equal to fireworks at a backyard July 4 celebration. The dragon slain by Siegfried could have been created for a 1950 production and wouldn’t frighten elementary school children. (He did have lively yellow eyes, however.) The climactic moment when Siegfried breaks the Wanderer’s spear, signifying the end of the old order, was botched because the Wanderer was lying on the set and the audience couldn’t see the spear. At this point the Wanderer wasn’t even blocking Siegfried’s path, as the music signals he must.

So the problem with this Ring remains: too much time and money spent on meaningless technology, and not enough time spent on thinking about how best to present the key moments in the drama, or even on what the drama is about.

But so what? With singing and orchestra playing like this, put them all in evening clothes and let ’em rip.

Details Box:

What: Wagner’s Siegfried, Simulcast Live in HD
When: November 5, 2011
Who: Metropolitan Opera
Running time: About 6 hours, including two intermissions
Where: Metropolitan Opera House, New York
Encore performance: Not yet determined

October 29 Met simulcast: Don Giovanni

2011-11-03T02:14:09Z

The Met’s ‘Don Giovanni’ eschews gimmickry, lets Mozart’s masterpiece speak for itself

Mille e tre critics can’t be wrong — or can they? Michael Grandage’s controversial new production is better than the nay-sayers would have us believe

By David Rubin

http://cnycafemomus.com/David_Rubin.html

Is there, really, much new that any director can say about Mozart’s Don Giovanni without doing violence to the work? Critics of Michael Grandage’s new production at the Metropolitan Opera in New York complained that it was traditional; that is, set in the right time period with authentic costumes, faithful to Da Ponte’s libretto.

Indeed, it was precisely this conservative approach to the opera that appealed to the Met’s Giovanni, Polish baritone Mariusz Kwiecien, who was singing the role in New York for the first time. Kwiecien told interviewer Renée Fleming during the intermission of the HD telecast that he and his colleagues Barbara Frittoli (Elvira) and Luca Pisaroni (Leporello), who have sung the opera together often, appreciated Grandage’s production because it is not freighted with high-concept baggage. They could focus on the singing and the acting.

And do they ever. With the estimable Fabio Luisi in the pit and a true ensemble of eight strong singers on stage, this is a Don Giovanni for those who like it without directorial gimmicks. Grandage provided a worn Spanish street scene as a constant backdrop, the residences marked by peeling paint and crumbling plaster. He stacked small apartments in cellblock fashion, each with a balcony. The windows on three levels provided a variety of playing spaces for singers and supers.

Grandage pulled apart this façade to reveal the wedding scene for Zerlina and Masetto in the first act, and to transport the audience to Giovanni’s equally worn palace, dressed up with a few chintzy chandeliers. This bleak set did force the singers to the front of the stage where most of the action played out. This permitted the HD audience to focus almost exclusively on the interactions among characters, and on the singing.

Grandage conjured a few deeply satisfying stage pictures. Zerlina became a wishbone as Elivra tugged on one arm, Giovanni on the other, she trying to save Zerlina from rape, and Giovanni dragging her to it.

The Commendatore entered the Don’s palace in a ghostly light and dispatched him to hell in a nightmarish scene of real flame and enough smoke to alarm a fire department.

In Leporello’s catalog aria, a sample of Giovanni’s female conquests appeared in the windows of the small apartments, dressed and lit as if in paintings by Vermeer. It was, or at least could have been, a stunning effect, but it was ruined in the HD telecast because the video director insisted on cutting away from these images quickly to resume the tight close-ups of Leporello and Elvira. Such relentless close-ups now regularly disfigure these video presentations. Is Met boss Peter Gelb, the architect of these highly successful telecasts, aware of how annoying this camera work is?

So strong was this cast that no disrespect is meant by first praising the Zerlina and the Ottavio — not the most important characters.

Making her Met debut as the peasant bride was the German soprano, Mojca Erdmann. Here the close-ups served the HD audience well. Erdmann has a magically pliable and expressive face of impish beauty, perfect for a Zerlina who does want to be ravished, until she doesn’t. Every emotion of her character flickered across her face. She is model-thin with strawberry blond hair and twinkling eyes. She had Masetto wrapped around her finger, as any good Zerlina must. Her voice is agile, pure and clean. Both Batti, batti and Vedrai, carino brought great pleasure.

Veteran tenor Ramón Vargas was Ottavio, and for a change Ottavio was not a wimp. Vargas has a more robust tenor than many who assume this role. He has both volume and sweetness, and his soft singing in Dalla sua pace was melting. Vargas made an excellent case for casting a tenor who also sings heavier roles, as he has, such as Riccardo in Un Ballo in Maschera and Rodolfo in La Bohème. The endlessly vacillating and selfish character of Donna Anna was lucky this Ottavio was interested in her at all.

Kwiecien was singing his first Giovanni at the Met. The HD relay was his second performance. He seemed fully recovered from emergency back surgery that kept him on the sidelines opening night. His voice is more baritone than bass, so don’t expect Cesare Siepi or Samuel Ramey. He delivered the serenade to Elvira’s maid sweetly and sensitively. Finch’han dal vino and Gia la mensa e preparata were feverish, fast, and frightening in their intensity. Grandage clearly wanted an unhinged Giovanni from the beginning. With his small eyes, somewhat pinched face, and athletic swagger, Kwiecien was a constant menace to all those around him.

Pisaroni’s catalog aria was not as funny as some, but he makes a luscious, round sound that contrasted nicely with Kwiecien’s. The two were at their best in the recitatives where their experience in the roles together paid dividends.

The two ladies were an unusual pair. Frittoli is a singer of great dignity and pathos. She has been a heart-stopping Sister Angelica and a sensitive Desdemona at the Met. She was not a fiery or half-mad Elvira, as the role is often played. She is too sane and dignified to have been chasing around this Giovanni. But as a road-weary Elvira, used and abused, she was a good foil to the younger and fresher Anna, sung by Marina Rebeka, who was making her company debut.

Their voices were also a logical dramatic contrast. Rebeka has a gleaming top with lots of power and agility, but her voice is a bit characterless. This fits Donna Anna, a naïve and puzzling woman. Grandage suggested that she was hardly being assaulted by Giovanni in the opening scene, despite her later protestations. But who knows? Only Da Ponte. Frittoli’s voice is heavier, not as agile, but loaded with personality and the wisdom of experience.

As Masetto, Joshua Bloom might be a brother to the Rocky of Sylvester Stallone. He cuts a muscular figure, sang strongly, and acted as the perfect complement to his Zerlina. Stefan Kocan was sufficiently booming as the Commendatore.

Luisi’s conducting was so perfectly judged that one forgot the opera was actually being conducted. Every tempo seemed right. Don Giovanni is a long opera, but under Luisi’s direction, and with the heavenly Met Orchestra playing at its usual level of perfection, the afternoon was too short.

The Met has not had good luck with this opera for many years. While some critics groused about the production, it proved to be a very satisfying musical and dramatic experience. Grandage lets the work speak for itself. Would that more directors took his cue.

Details Box:
What: Mozart’s Don Giovanni, Simulcast Live in HD
When: October 29, 2011
Who: Metropolitan Opera
Running time: approximately 4 hours
Where: Metropolitan Opera House, New York
Encore performance: November 16, 2011 at 6:30 pm

October 21 Syracuse Stage: The Boys Next Door

2011-10-28T03:29:26Z

Syracuse Stage’s thought-provoking ‘The Boys Next Door’ takes a closer look at the developmentally disabled

Production overcomes a weak first act to shed light, humor and understanding upon those whom society would just as soon sweep under the carpet

By David Feldman

http://cnycafemomus.com/David_Feldman.html

Terrific first acts are too often followed by a weak second act. Rarely do you see the reverse: a weak beginning blossoming into an outstanding second-half of the play. But that’s the case with The Boys Next Door, currently at Syracuse Stage.

Too bad, then, for the few patrons who on opening night left after Act 1, because they missed a wonderful Act 2. Not only does Tom Griffin’s script shuck the bathos, the easy laughs and some sentimentality early on in favor of genuine sentiment and interest-provoking drama in the second act, but Director Timothy Bond and his cast of merry misfits rise to the challenges of the script.

The lights come up on Michael Vaughn Sims’ naturalistic set (it even has a partial ceiling) of an apartment in a group home somewhere in New England. Residing there are four men ― two developmentally disabled, one operating on the ragged edge of schizophrenia, and one with a disability I couldn’t quite catch because the lines of Demetrios Troy, as the group home’s supervisor, Jack, were muffled on opening night.

That wasn’t a total loss, as the characters’ own actions pretty much speak for themselves.

As Arnold, Michael Joseph Mitchell is nervous, cranky, easily confused and quick to tell everybody that he’s going off to Russia if he isn’t treated as he deserves. If he seems a little nutty at the end, waiting in a New England station for the Moscow train, his feelings of bewilderment and despair are as normal as those of anybody in the audience ― with the slight exception, perhaps, that he doesn’t realize there’s a lot of water between the train station and his intended destination.

Samuel Taylor as Barry is clearly the schizoid one. He thinks he’s a golf pro, although his lessons tend to center on such matters as how to deal with a golf course’s hedges (as opposed to his student named Hodges) rather than what’s the correct iron to use. Barry is all loud golfer clothes, sight gags and one-liners in Act 1, but in the second act a painful encounter with his father leads to long, silent and powerful moments when we learn what it’s like to have your joys become bottomless despair. You don’t have to be schizophrenic to understand (Carey Eidel crafts a remarkable performance as Barry’s father).

Then there are the two developmentally disabled characters: the doughnut eating, romance-seeking Norman and his easily confused apartment mate, Lucien, played by William Hall Jr. ― who quite amazingly came into the production only a week before opening night, although if you didn't know that you'd think he'd been with the cast from the first rehearsal.

Norman (the enormously talented Sean Patrick Fawcett) can’t function very well without the reassurance of the keys he wears on his belt. He has grown fat from eating far too many of the free donuts he gets in his job, and he falls in love with as many fears and apprehensions as any “normal” human I know. If his girlfriend Sheila (played touchingly by Alanna Rogers) seems at times to want to make his keys her own as badly as she desires him, she also lends herself to a charming pas de deux with Norman, sensitively staged by Director Bond, that ends the first act and reveals to us (if we ever had doubts) that the disabled can feel the sweet joys and the pangs of romance as strongly as the rest of us.

William Hall’s confused and awkward Lucien prides himself on a library card with his own name on it, although he can barely get halfway through the alphabet. But he knows, and lets us know, that his pain and confusion make him no less human than anybody sitting in the audience.

All four main characters follow their own trajectories as they welcome guests to their home, try to catch a rat that turns out to be something other than the presumed rodent, go off to their menial but satisfying jobs, and so forth. Each comes to a moment when his innate humanity is confirmed by his actions and words.

Director Bond does something quite interesting in the ways he structures these moments: They move from something close to strict naturalism ― the inhabitants’ household tasks, missing welcome mats, a visit by a neighbor next door, and such, to a moment when the performances slip from naturalism into magic realism. In these moments the action and time stop. We see in Barry’s silence the pain and depth of his depression. As Norman and his new girlfriend Sheila dance at the end of the first act we see for a brief moment a transformation: These awkward, mentally and physically challenged individuals step out of character and suddenly dance gracefully to the music (nice work here by Sound Designer Jeremy J. Lee) and we see them not as the world sees them ― awkward, mentally and physically challenged ― but rather how they see themselves in their own souls as tender, loving and graceful people.

For Lucien, too, there is a moment that goes beyond the script into the wonder that far surpasses what words can express. He is called upon to meet with a governmental committee examining the plight of the disabled. After he delivers his confused, barely articulate testimony, he steps out of his role as a disabled person, comes forward into a spotlight and speaks to the audience, in measured phrases like a practiced orator, about what it is like to be abnormal in the eyes of the world when, in your heart and in your soul, you are ineffably as human as anyone in the audience.

I thought that Bond’s direction too easily lets the performance slip into sight gags, little vignettes and easy one-liners in Act 1. Part of that lies with the script, which lends itself to overdone exposition and hesitant dramatic progress. But the performances can't withstand the tug-and-pull of the script, and things end up a bit too cutesy and saccharine in this act. And while at first we laugh too easily (and a little uncomfortably) at what are stereotypes of the disabled early on, by the end we laugh in understanding along with the residence supervisor, Jack, who will be moving on to a new job and must leave the three remaining people in the home to fend for themselves with a new caregiver.

We, like Jack, have been shown what is human and universal in those individuals whom society has too often tried to tuck away at its margins. Their souls are as beautiful as any "normal" person's, and their lives can be full when they are allowed to participate, as the rest of us, in the complexities of everyday life.

DETAILS BOX

What: The Boys Next Door by Tom Griffin, performed by Syracuse Stage.

Where: Archbold Theatre, 820 E. Genesee St., Syracuse

When: Through Nov. 6

Length: 2 hours and 20 minutes, including a 15-minute intermission

Tickets: Adults, $28 - $40; 40 and under, $28; 18 and under $18; senior discounts Call 315-443-3275, or http://www.SyracuseStage.org

Family guide: Recommended for audiences of all ages

Copyright 2011, CNY Cafe Momus