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| go to lobby page | more reviews | go to other departments | LONEY'S SHOW NOTES
By Glenn Loney
[01] Award Season Butterflies...
LUCK & JOY FOR "JOY LUCK CLUB"-- Pan-Asian Theatre's production of "The Joy Luck Club" has been so well received that it's moving to Theatre Four on July 7 for an extended run. Photo: Carol Rosegg.
[02] At Season's End
[03] Epic "Cider House Rules"
[04] From Screen to Stage: "The Joy Luck Club"
[05] Ireland's Wild "Lonesome West"
[06] Irish "Lime Tree Bower" Monologues
[07] John Guare Comes Full Circle with "Lake Hollywood"
[08] Lesbian "Lips"
[09] Sex for Six in "Things You Shouldn't Say Past Midnight"
[10] Toby Stephens Twinned in "Ring Round the Moon"
[11] New Second Stage & "Championship Season"
[12] "Exactly Like You"—Contempt of Court?
[13] "Ain't Nothin' But the Blues" at Beaumont.
[14] Cuban Dreams Without Visa Problems
[15] "Count Ory" in Drag
[16] Mendelssohn's "Elijah" at St. Ignatius
[17] Manipulating European Culture Politics
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For our archive of Glenn Loney's previous 1999 columns, click here.
Another Ending of Another Season:
The nominations have been made. In some cases—as with the Outer Critics Circle—the votes are already in. Outer Circle winners know who they are, So everyone can enjoy the after-theatre supper with no anxiety butterflies at Sardi's on May 28.Shows which open after the major award-nominations can of course be considered next spring. By that time, however, few critics remember whether any of the latecomers were all that great.
But producers cannot open a new production if they don't have a theatre ready for it. Sometimes it needs more work, new actors, and even more financing. The problem about opening near the close of the season is that—failing a nomination or an actual award—the show may not carry through the summer.
But even a Tony Award can't keep a show alive if there are no lines at the box-office.
For years, the Broadway season was presumed closed on May 31. Or June 1. Early in this century, some very popular shows closed as well—but just for the summer. When the fall season began, they were back in business, their stars refreshed by vacations in Long Branch or Long Island.
Theatres then had no air-conditioning, and people dressed much less casually for a visit to a Broadway show. Open-air theatre roof-gardens were the only cool answer to summer shows in Manhattan.
New Scripts & Innovative Productions:
Where do ideas for new plays come from?From closets full of Family Skeletons, when invention fails. Or from Barnes & Noble.
Dramatizing popular novels has long been a staple of both Broadway and West End stages. And if the plays are really good, then they get turned into musicals. Even into motion-pictures!
But it's not easy to dramatize a novel. Not at all easy, if you really intend to make a play with sequential and fully acted scenes. The scope of many sprawling novels—whether by Charles Dickens or Margaret Mitchell—is simply too extended and varied to be encompassed in a tightly structured drama of two hours or so.
Putting the Structural Squeeze
Peter Parnell's New York audiences have certainly discovered that at the Atlantic Theatre. There "The Cider House Rules" runs more than three hours. And it's only Part One of John Irving's epic novel of the same name.
On Irving's "Cider House Rules"Audiences in Seattle and Los Angeles must have more staying-power. Mark Taper and Seattle Rep subscribers have sat through more than six hours of Parnell's reduction of the novel into two parts.
The show's greatest problem as a play is that Irving's tale cannot be told in acted scenes. To construct a powerfully compacted drama, Parnell would have had to leave out a great deal of the novel and focus on some specific characters and events.
Instead, he has opted for a form of Story Theatre, in which a very talented small cast impersonates a variety of characters—some of them mere stereotypes—and speak the narrative linkages as well as their lines.
This doesn't make for gripping drama, but it does save one having to read Irving's novel. Sort of "Reader's Digest" in-your-face.
Some reviewers deplored the length of the evening—two intermissions, an almost Victorian throwback. Coupled with an untheatrical text and uninteresting characters!
One colleague warned me: "It's all about abortion and orphans. And it's too long."
I must be in the minority, but I found it very interesting. Once I had accepted the narrative convention, the energy and intelligence of the central players—constantly moving between distanced narrative and engaged action—entirely engaged my attention.
Josh Hamilton, as Homer Wells, and Colm Meany, as Dr. Wilbur Larch, were outstanding. Jillian Armenante's ferociously physical performance as Melony was almost terrifying.
This was conceived and directed by Tom Hulce and Jane Jones. It was sold out before it opened, but I spotted empty seats on my evening at the Atlantic Theatre. The negative reviews were already out.
If New Yorkers are not able to see Part Two next season, they can always read the novel.
"The Joy Luck Club"—
The Play of the Film of the Novel?I have long been an admirer of Tisa Chang and her innovative work with the Pan Asian Repertory. It is no "China Lobby," in the old Henry Luce Tradition.
LUCK & JOY FOR "JOY LUCK CLUB"--Pan-Asian Theatre's production of "The Joy Luck Club" has been so well received that it's moving to Theatre Four on July 7 for an extended run. Photo: Carol Rosegg. It surveys the nations and peoples of the Pacific Basin: Old & New, Past & Present, Asian & American.
When Pan Asian Rep mounted Noël Coward's "Private Lives," I was, I admit, briefly puzzled. Why did they want to waste their time on this dated High Society fluff?
Tisa Chang explained that she wanted to show that her company could play the most demanding of sophisticated comedies. As well as Japanese-Americans in the Santa Anita "Relocation Center" in World War II. Or victims of the Thought of Chairman Mao.
But I couldn't believe the Pan Asian Rep would busy itself with a production of a stage-version of Amy Tan's "The Joy Luck Club." Not when it had already been so successful—and widely seen—as a film.
Nor could I find anyone who wanted to go with me to see Susan Kim's adaptation. Most said, in effect: "I saw the movie. Why would I want to see a play about it?"
Not only is Kim's dramatization effective—also using narrative linkages—but it offers, in production, something the movie could not: Immediacy!
However real and powerful people and events may seem on screen—often much larger than in life—there is a genre-distancing in cinema that even 3-D spectacles cannot correct.
To have Amy Tan's tale of the Mah-Jong-playing Chinese mothers and their modish, modern young Chinese-American daughters come to life a few feet in front of you is a rich emotional experience.
Especially so with such a seasoned and talented cast as Jo Yang, Ruth Zhang, Kati Kuroda, Tina Chen, Scarlett Lam, Ann Hu, Donna Leichenko, and Fay Ann Lee.
Susan Kim told Tan's tale in some 20 scenes, but it took only about two hours. And it was never boring, always surprising—even for one who admired the movie. Tisa Chang's direction and choreography of course had a lot to do with its visual beauty and powerful impact. These were elegantly achieved with limited resources.
Ireland's "Lonesome West" Country
Unlike the Wild West—But Certainly WildMartin McDonagh's "Beauty Queen" has gone back to Leenane in Ireland's West Country. But some of her neighbors—one even more murderous than she—have moved into the Lyceum Theatre.
MURDER IN THEIR EYES--Brian F. O'Byrne and Maeliosa Stafford as a pair of very peculiar Irish bachelor brothers in "Lonesome West." Photo: ©Joan Marcus, 1999. A more mis-matched pair of bachelor brothers than Coleman and Valene Connor would be difficult to imagine. Unless, of course, you were McDonagh, who seems able to conjure up the most bizarre characters on a moment's notice.
Coleman has shot his dad dead, and Val has testified it was an accident so he can have Coleman's share of their inheritance as well. The Beauty Queen and her deadly poker seem very small stuff here. As the brothers agree agree about her and her crime, since McDonagh manages to include reference to his other Landmark of Modern Irish Drama.
There is also a drunken, broken, hopeless priest who kills himself. And there's the young girl—called "Girleen"—who hopelessly loves him and who also dies.
This is no "Playboy of the Western World." Coleman's old Da' doesn't come crawling in, still alive, in the last act.
If the Irish audiences who long ago detested Synge's "Playboy" could see McDonagh's idea of Irish inhabitants in Galway or Sligo, they'd riot all over again. Fortunately, they've all passed away—gone to that Great Abbey Theatre in the Sky.
As directed by Garry Hynes—despite the grim summary of the play's action above—the evening at the Lyceum is largely a laff-riot. This is also thanks to Maelíosa Stafford and Brian F. O'Byrne as the brothers.
This Ireland!
"This Lime Tree Bower"
This Hibernian Overkill!The Irish city where Joe, Ray, and Frank live, move, and have their being—so to speak—is certainly no Lime Tree Bower. That phrase was borrowed from Coleridge [1797] by monologist Conor McPherson.
STORY-TIME--Thomas Lyons in mid-monologue, watched intently by Drew McVety, in Conor McPherson's "Lime Tree Bower." Photo: James Leynse. Not that the author of "The Weir" is appearing solo on stage at Primary Stages. Not at all. But he has chosen to develop his story about three young Irishmen's lives of quiet desperation as three interwoven monologues. Not as dramatic dialogue.
This served his fellow Gael, Brian Friel, very well in "Molly Sweeney." There, the device was especially powerful because most of what was spoken were private, interior, thoughts and feelings the characters could not or would not share with each other.
In "Lime Tree Bower," the device is less compelling, but it is valid, for once again each character is sharing his personal memories, thoughts, and reactions with the audience.
These aren't meant to be audibly shared among the three young men, though director Harris Yulin has the two who are silent at any one time appear to listen to the third with attention and amusement.
The quiet rustic village of Leenane seems an Irish paradise, compared with the acrid whiffs of the city conjured up by the three. Two are brothers, one still in high school [T. R. Knight]; the elder [Thomas Lyons] working in their father's Chip Shop.
The third [Drew McVety] is a philosophy lecturer in the city's University. So this is no small-town milieu. But it's not Cork City, for that's where the three go for a spendthrift weekend.
As a philosopher and a mentor to aspiring youths, the prof cuts a sorry, dissolute figure—but at the same time, he's wryly amused and outraged by turns at his life and his luck.
This is an exercise in Irish story-telling, with the bumbling but successful theft of a lot of money a potential high point. As recounted, however, it is not especially exciting. It's all in the past tense, which can be a problem in the medium of drama.
The three young men's various adventures and mis-adventures do reveal something about them, but their insights and use of language don't make them particularly compelling. "Shite" seems to be a favored exclamation and description.
So much for the Land of Poets and the Language of the Bards!
McPherson's "St. Nicholas," shown last season at Primary Stages with Brian Cox, was rather more interesting. A self-loathing, drunken Irish drama-critic excoriated his colleagues, the theatre, and himself.
The excesses he described suggested Private Eye's stereotypical alcoholic journalist, Lunchtime O'Booze.
Even in McPherson's drama, "The Weir," the dialogue exchanges are not dynamic. Nor are the speakers, alas. The dialogue serves as provocation for the telling of some monological ghost-stories. And as linkages between them and time to close down the bar.
Bring back Sean O'Casey and John Millington Synge!
To John Guare, We Leave a Credenza!
John Guare has been honored this season at Signature Theatre with a brief reprise of some of his unusual dramas. And a World Premiere—"Lake Hollywood."Signature specializes—if not in raising the dead—at least in trying to breathe new life into forgotten plays by neglected American playwrights. Plays of Rom Linney, Lee Blessing, and Edward Albee have had brief new lives on stage in Signature productions.
Last season's nominee, Arthur Miller, may not have seemed quite as neglected nor forgotten as the others. But, on the evidence provided, his day had passed.
The Guare Season also doesn't suggest a major revival of audience interest. Guare was one of the most novel of the Playwrights of the Absurd way back when. But he is still at it.
Guare rhymes with "Square," but there is nothing square about his wryly surreal view of life. As in "Marco Polo Sings a Solo," it is often too crazy, too Absurd to engage audiences who are not themselves slightly surreal.
"To Wally Patone, We Leave a Credenza" was the first play of Guare's I saw. Years ago, at the Van Damm Theatre, under the auspices of the Barr-Albee-Wilder Playwrights' Unit.
And, for years, it has been my link to Guare. I must be the only critic who remembers not just the name of the play, but also its content.
Now, both Guare and I have come Full Circle. Near the end of "Lake Hollywood," a dying, fearful, paranoid old lady—who may be modeled on Guare's mother, seen earlier in "House of Blue Leaves"—writes her will on a restaurant napkin. As she did in the first play, she writes: "To Wally Patone, we leave a credenza."
Lake Hollywood doesn't exist. It could have been a Maine lake, transformed with summer cottages—echoes of "The Cherry Orchard"!—but this, like the other dreams of the oddball characters in the play, just doesn't work out.
Had Preston Sturges written this during the Depression, it would have been called a "screwball comedy." Looking back toward the Great Depression, Guare seems truly depressed. Things don't improve as the clock races forward either.
Replacing an ailing Ralph Waite, Mason Adams was just fine as the aging Andrew, patient foil for his crazed wife Agnes, played by Betty Miller.
Sixty years before, as played by a determined, spunky Kate Burton, she's not exactly Agnes of God, but she is devoutly dedicated to the Cult of the Virgin.
On August 15—the date Christ raised the miraculously uncorrupted physical body of his Beloved Mother up into Heaven—Agnes wants everyone to take a dip in the lake. The waters all over the world on that date have wondrous powers to cure disease.
The fact that a forest-fire is raging round the lake—even the credenza has been pulled out to the shore for safety—doesn't faze Agnes.
"Bosoms and Neglect" was the best Guare production of the Signature season. Next fall, Señora Fornés will be honored with her own season. Her many fans will surely want to see "Mud" and "Fefu and Her Friends" once again.
Loose Lips Sink Ships—
Congden's "Lips" Looses LaughterConstance Congdon's "Tales of the Lost Formicans" is quirky and brilliant. Her new comedic satire at Primary Stages, "Lips," also has rich moments. But the fact that Artistic Director Casey Childs put it upstairs in the smaller of his two theatres suggests that even he doesn't see it in the mainstream.
AMERICA'S FIRST FEMALE PRESIDENT--Lisbeth Mackay makes her right-hand man [Stephen Barker Turner] very uncomfortable in Constance Congden's "Lips." It is often hilarious, and Greg Leaming has staged his cast of three very inventively and energetically on the tiny stage. Lisbeth Mackay, Robin Morse, and Stephen Barker Turner are hectic and charming.
Obviously inspired by the Monicagate Scandals, Congdon imagines the first female President of the United States being Outed as a practicing Lesbian. It apparently isn't true—though she does share a bed with a lesbian mother who is eager to regain custody of her child.
Mme. President, we are told, allows this scandal to surface, in order to raise national consciousness about the varieties of sexual expression. At least that's what I think it was mainly about.
It is also about betrayal, as Madame President's right-hand man is spying on her for her own husband, who is dying. This bushy-tailed eager-beaver is also possibly the father of the lesbian lady's child. What they used to call Plot Complications.
If your consciousness about sexuality has not already been raised, this play is probably not for you!
Try It On for Size!
Oral sex is vigorously mimed—between two orphaned children—in "Ciderhouse Rules," but John Irving wrote that long before Kenneth Starr forced Monica to explain to a previously innocent nation just what is involved in the Act of Fellatio.
"Things You Shouldn't Say Past Midnight"Peter Ackerman may also have written his new play before the Monicagate Revelations. It certainly is not about sex scandals in high places. Or even about major betrayal.
"Things You Shouldn't Say Past Midnight" is an up-front, in-your-face sex-comedy. And it's not only about Oral Sex. That's only one of the options for the three confused couples in Ackerman's "Comedy in Three Beds."
Rob Odorisio has designed a handsome bulb-spattered set for the show, with three beds which slide out, as needed, from the three planes of the angled facade. Images of Manhattan at night pop up behind the beds.
The hectic and often hilarious action is set in motion when blonde Nancy [Erin Dilly]—at her moment of climax—spurs her lover on by calling him a "hook-nosed Jew." They have been humping nude and vigorously under a sheet—to the astonishment of some seniors in the audience—but her chance comment brings boyfriend Ben [Mark Kassen] right down.
He thinks she's possibly anti-semitic. She feels shut out of his Jewishness. Discussing attraction and sexuality, he posits how he might react if he were gay.
Nancy doesn't take this as a point for philosophical discussion, but rushes off to her best friend, airhead Grace [Clea Lewis, of "Ellen"]. Grace is about to make it with her "Boy Toy," Gene, the Mafia Hitman [Jeffrey Donovan].
Instead, she calls Gene's gay brother, Mark [Andrew Benator], who improbably happens to be her Shrink. His passion is only for very old men, and he takes her call in bed with old Mr. Abramson [Nick Kepros], who is "in carpets" and into philosophizing.
This Conference Call is extended to an astonished Ben, who understandably feels betrayed. But all's well that ends well, and he who humps last, humps best.
Years ago, Major LaGuardia would have raided the Promenade Theatre and arrested the audience, as well as the perps on stage. Much later and laxer in sexual suggestion, "Same Time Next Year" would look like First Communion in comparison with this lively farce.
This is a first-ever production for Peter Ackerman. It wasn't previously tried out in Seattle or Los Angeles. Or even Off-off Broadway.
Judging from the riotous howls of laughter from the audience, West Coast productions should soon be mounted. If that is the right word for three couples doing it on stage as the climax of the comedy. Climax is certainly the right word!
[At this very moment, as I am proofing this, the announcer on WQXR has spontaneously exclaimed that he was "rolling in the aisles" last night at the show. This was definitely not one of those "Broadway Minutes," in which announcers are paid to rave about ghastly shows. He really sounded excited about this comedy!]
The Calculated Ennui of Jean Anouilh:
Attempted Elegance in "Ring Round the Moon"The two most recent major drama revivals could not have been more different, visually, textually, emotionally. Jean Anouilh's wispy romance, "Ring Round the Moon," as adapted by Christopher Fry, emerged from the mists of memory at the Belasco Theatre.
BETWEEN WALTZES AT THE CHATEAU--Marian Seldes [center] hatches intrigues involving Simon Jones, Frances Conroy, and Joyce Van Patten in Jean Anouilh's "Ring Round the Moon." Photo: ©Joan Marcus, 1999. Despite its attempt at elegance with a semi-hemispheric glass conservatory—designed by the always elegant John Lee Beatty—it still seemed skimpy and low-budget. Possibly because some of the players looked so out-of-place in Anouilh's chateau-theatre of sophistication and illusion.
Two characters—the lovely young ballerina, Isabelle [Gretchen Egolf], and her mother, a vulgar, pushy piano-teacher [Joyce Van Patten]—are supposed to be out of place, out of their element. And the mother—even out of sight.
Toby Stephens—the sturdy bairn of Maggie Smith and Robert Stephens—showed he has the right DNA. Playing the both Good Twin and the Evil Twin did require some unseen—but not unheard—scampering.
Marian Seldes was gracious as the aged grand-dame who has made herself mistress of the romantic revels. Originally, she would have shared the role with an ailing Irene Worth. Simon Jones and Fritz Weaver were passable, but Shaw may suit them better than Fry. Gerald Gutierrez directed, but not with his customary panache.
Banking on Second Stage?
Quite a contrast was the Second Stage's revival of Jason Miller's "That Championship Season." Even their new Art Deco theatre—on the northwest corner of 43rd Street & 8th Avenue—is a strong contrast to the fusty false Venetian Baroque of the Belasco.
"Championship Season" Not Quite a WinnerThe theatre was for many years a bank, and one of the box-office windows is set inside the open door of a huge bank-vault. The Second Stage is on the second floor, with a simple tier of seats facing the end-stage.
On this, designer Allen Moyer constructed a complicated late Victorian interior, every surface covered with vintage collectibles and kitsch. This offered welcome opportunities for study when the action lagged. Or bogged down in racial epithets.
Second Stage won its metaphoric spurs by reviving worthy plays which were trashed by critics—or neglected by audiences—the first time round. Why "Championship Season" was chosen to inaugurate the new theatre is puzzling.
Originally performed at the Public Theatre, it was very well received. And it showcased the talents of Charles Durning and Paul Sorvino handsomely. It was made into a movie. It also briefly launched the career of playwright Jason Miller—who subsequently played a priest in "The Exorcist."
The Second Stage's former home uptown was half-named for a deceased actor in the original production, so that may have been the hook on which to hang this show.
Miller's tale hasn't traveled well through time. Its characters' fading memories of high school comradeship and athletic prowess is a twice-told tale.
And the dreams and illusions they need and nourish to survive make them kin to the already sadly dated Pipe-Dreamers in Gene O'Neill's shabby old Manhattan pub. At least they aren't waiting for either Hickey or the Iceman.
Scott Ellis staged the action stagily in the quasi-Naturalist set. As the two Daley brothers, Michael O'Keefe and Dylan Baker were fairly impressive. But I'd rather see a rerun of the movie.
Musicals—More or Less:
"Exactly Like You"—
Why does "Exactly Like You" sound exactly like the title of some old musical? Yes, yes, it's a song-title, of course. But it sounds like something the Gershwins might have done. Or Cole Porter, on a bad day.
Cy Coleman in Contempt of Court?The best thing about this show at the York Theatre—in the sub-basement of the Citicorp Building—is the inventive staging and choreography of Patricia Birch.
Her achievement is all the more interesting as the framework of this flimsy musical is a courtroom—which offers very little space for elaborate maneuvers.
So small—or should one say "compact"—is the York's stage that it's a wonder there's room for both cast and the band. The musician-actors are right in the middle of the Hearing.
But the songs sound like they came right out of Cy Coleman's trunk. The book-framework A. E. Hotchner has devised also supports that intuition.
The songs—some of them rather amusing—seem disparate, written at different times for different occasions. But not specifically for this show—which was first produced at the Goodspeed Opera House upriver in Connecticut.
Hotchner has an angry, possessive mother suing her son-in-law for physical abuse. If mother-in-law jokes weren't already older than Methuselah, this still wouldn't be funny. Or timely.
It all seems so dated—even the perkiness of the performers, who are both talented and attractive. And the book's hooks for the songs seem so contrived, so forced, so patently impotent, it's as if Rodgers & Hammerstein had never revolutionized the American Musical Theatre.
After the Costly Failure of "Parade,"
As for that other transfer—from the New Victory [Theatre for Children] on 42nd Street to the dark, dark, dark Vivian Beaumont up in Lincoln Center—"It Ain't Nothin' But the Blues" is misnamed. It in fact offers some variety in popular musical genres, not just blues, though there are a number of favorites included.
The Beaumont Now Has "Nothin' But the Blues"It also boasts an able inter-racial cast, dismissing that old notion that Honkies can't sing the blues. For that matter, "Good Night, Irene" gets an entirely new sound in this show.
Radio ads have been shouting brief critical quotes—all of them raves. But the Beaumont—recovering from the epics losses of "Parade" and sorely needing a show—was only about 2/3 full when I saw the show. True, most of the folks jumped to their feet, stamping and clapping, when the show came to an end.
But it's really more of a concert with some dancing and chatter. The individual songs are not staged as mini-dramas. This would have made each one much more interesting.
That would have taken director Randal Myler more time and considerably more imagination.
But then, this is no "Smokey Joe's Cafe."
Other Entertainments:
Cuba Without Visa Problems:
"Dreaming in Cuban" at American PlaceWynn Handman, titular director of the American Place Theatre, came to its handsome theatre-complex on Sixth Avenue after Sydney Lanier and he had enjoyed triumphs at St. Clements Church.
Michael John Garcés, poet & lover, in "Agua Ardiente" at the American Place Theatre. Photo: Martha Holmes. On the new and beautiful main-stage, with its attractive but practical auditorium, he and his co-workers gave New Yorkers some very handsome and disturbing productions. There were also exciting cabaret performances in the lounge halfway down to the main theatre.
Somewhere along the line, the funding gave out. Or Handman simply could not raise the annual donations needed to produce on a professional scale on the mainstage.
For some time now, Handman's offerings have been presented in what seems to be a sub-sub-basement, reached by what seems a workman's elevator. Casts have even shrunk to solo performers—though some have been very impressive.
With minimal budgets, productions have frequently been ingeniously designed, both for the space and the play. And to have maximum visual impact on the audience. "Stonewall Jackson's House" was notable in this regard—and also in its hilarious satire of race relations.
For his latest "conceived and directed" production, Handman takes his audience to a fictive Cuba, with the small chamber decked out in a rainbow of Hispanic colors and souvenirs. Not to overlook the Santeria statues.
"Dreaming in Cuban and Other Works" is prefaced by a Cuban supper and free rum drinks. There's dancing and song. And then there are two performance-pieces.
One, the title-work, was adapted by Handman from Cristina Garcia's novel. Why? As performed by Eileen Galindo, Garcia's own memories and reactions seemed warmed-over, inauthentic. I could hardly wait for this monologue to end.
Michael John Garcés, on the other hand, performing his own impassioned invocation to poetry, life, love, and liquor—"Agua Ardiente"—was dynamic and totally authentic.
Randy Nobles Disguised as Nuns:
"Count Ory" is neither a musical nor even an operetta. As performed recently at the Manhattan School of Music, this comic opera of Rossini once again showed how much it needs excellent operatic singers to do justice to the score.
Rossini's "Le Comte Ory" RevivedBut, as in musicals and operettas, it also desperately needs singers who can act—and not in the High Dramatic Mode. It's a theatrical paradox that Comedy is often more difficult to do well than Tragedy.
This is certainly true on the opera stage, where it is given to very few performers to be able to sing, dance, and play the deft farceur. Some singers are too intent on protecting their vocal quality and diaphragmatic projection to unbend even a little.
Some are so self-impressed—or terrified of making a false move or hitting the wrong note—that they seem wooden when not petrified on stage.
Rossini's "Le Comte Ory" is not exactly a laff-riot, especially not when sung in the original French. But it does have strong elements of farce and rogue sexuality—which can be very amusing in the context of this medieval madhouse.
The libretto is based on a French farce by Eugene Scribe and a double-hyphenated colleague. Ory—sung in this production by the properly raffish Christopher Pfund—is trying to seduce all the young maidens he can while his father and the other manly men are away on the Crusades.
Ory initially disguises himself as a saintly hermit, giving advice and benedictions to suppliants. Especially girls eager to find husbands. Later, he and his cronies disguise themselves as nuns to gain access to a lovely Countess and her ladies.
Just when he believes he's finally in bed with the Countess, he discovers it's his own page, disguised as a woman! Well! You can imagine!
The performance was musically sound, and mildly amusing. But director Michael Patrick Albano is no Jean-Pierre Ponnelle. I'm afraid I was constantly comparing this staging with the brilliant production mounted by Ponnelle.
"Elijah" Comes To St. Ignatius:
To celebrate the 10th Anniversary of "Sacred Music in a Sacred Space," Kent Tritle and the combined choirs and orchestra of St. Ignatius Loyola recently performed Mendelssohn's oratorio, "Elijah." It was a magnificent experience, even if the dramatic potential of the dark deeds of Queen Jezebel isn't adequately exploited in the text.
Mendelssohn's Oratorio Powerfully PerformedThe great vaulted nave of St. Ignatius, unlike even some famous cathedrals, does not muffle or baffle sound. It has a splendid resonance—and one of the finest new organs in New York. Even Sunday Mass at St. Ignatius can provide music of concert-quality, thanks to the organ and the choirs.
For "Elijah," Tritle had powerful soloists in the persons of Marion Vernette Moore, Kathy Theil, Robin Lynne Frye, Daniel Clark Smith, and Charles Robert Stephens.
Kent Tritle is not only one of New York's leading choral directors, he's also an outstanding organist. He has played with the New York Philharmonic under all its major conductors, including Maestro Kurt Masur. This led to an invitation to play the great organ in Leipzig's Gewandhaus, where Masur was long the Music Director.
There will be five major Sacred Music concerts next season at St. Ignatius, all under Tritle's direction. Verdi's "Requiem" and Handel's "Solomon" are both programmed. For further information, call: 212-288-2520. St. Ignatius is at 980 Park Avenue, NYC 10028.
ARTS BOOKSHELF:
MANIPULATING CULTURAL POLITICS
Two Important Reports from Chapel Hill! Art As Politics in the Third Reich, by Jonathan Petropoulos. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1999. 439 pp. [Numerous black & white illustrations] Cloth: $49.95/Paper: $19.95.
FIFTY YEARS AGO IN CENTRAL EUR0PECoca-Colonization and the Cold War, by Reinhold Wagnleitner. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1994. 367 pp. [Some centerfold black & white illustrations] Cloth: $59.95/Paper: $24.95.
These interesting studies are reviewed in the current Curator's Choice column on the New York Theatre-Wire's companion website: http://www.nymuseums.com [Loney]
Copyright © Glenn Loney 1999. No re-publication or broadcast use without proper credit of authorship. Suggested credit line: "Glenn Loney, New York Theatre Wire." Reproduction rights please contact: jslaff@nytheatre-wire.com.
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