'You Harlequins'
Friday evening began with a brightly colored production of Ferruccio Busoni's "Arlecchino," a one-act "comedy" in which the title character -- equal parts rogue, soldier, husband and victor -- interacts with the many stock characters of commedia dell'arte. There is Ser Matteo, the blind tailor who values Dante more than life. Annunziata, a silent character, is Matteo's wife, whom Arlecchino has successfully wooed. Columbina, Arlecchino's "own legitimate wife," loves her husband yet is perfectly willing to follow any other man with money, such as Leandro, who sings his way into Columbina's heart.\nAs director Vince Liotta explained in a pre-performance talk on the Musical Arts Center mezzanine, successful commedia dell'arte relies less on the strength of the plot than on the "comedic input of the actors," particularly their ability to pull off shtick. Unfortunately, Busoni's score, ponderous and languid for the better part of the hour, simply does not allow for successful comic timing. And therein lies the fundamental weakness of the production. \nLiotta emphasized in his talk that the audience should not read too much into the work, that it was best taken at face value. That is, the opera should only be viewed as a piece of comic theatre. The problem with this approach, however, is that it not only grossly overestimates the opera's comic potential but shortchanges its gravitas as well: Busoni began composing the music for this opera just six months after the outbreak of the First World War, a war that saw his native Italy pitted against his adopted home, Germany. Busoni could not have taken this cultural conflict lightly, and to ignore the layers of critique and commentary with which the libretto is cloaked simply for the sake of slapstick leaves a desperately unfunny opera and an uncomfortably bored audience. \nThe cast, for their part, did their utmost to keep the audience's spirits lifted, no matter the limitations of the material and its treatment. The title character, the lively and attractive tenor Nicholas Nesbitt, remained sprightly and buoyant. Soprano Johanna Nordhorn, as his wife Columbina, sang beautifully, but her character didn't seem to offer much for the audience to work with. One of the few truly comedic moments came when tenor John Rodger, as Leandro, offered a fitting parody of Italian operatic tenors, a motif revisited after intermission. Baritone Aleksey Bogdanov, as the Abbate Cospicuo, and baritone Steven Hrycelak, as Dottor Bombasto, also provided some much-needed levity as the wine-loving bon vivants. But sadly, the valiant efforts of the actors could not salvage this floundering production from becoming a work best forgotten.
'We'll Never Sing Opera Again'
Luckily, composer Edwin Penhorwood's "Too Many Sopranos" was more than enough to brighten everyone's mood after intermission.\n"I was really pleased with every aspect of the production," he said. And he had every reason to be.\n"Too Many Sopranos," which had its first staged reading here at IU several years ago, begins in the parlor of heaven, designed in fabulous Busby Berkeley style by faculty designer Robert O'Hearn. Here we find St. Peter, played by baritone Alan Dunbar, preparing the Angel Gabriel, a silent role performed by Jacob Sentgeorge, for the arrival of four newly deceased divas. Dunbar and Sentgeorge made a wonderful comic duo, a sort of heavenly Penn and Teller, you might say. Dunbar's voice is as full and sonorous as ever, and Sentgeorge, following a brilliant turn as the Lord High Executioner in Mikado this past summer, has only grown in his ability to manipulate the MAC stage to hilarious effect.\nUpon arrival, each diva learns she must audition for the sole soprano spot in the heavenly choir. Dame Dameful is played by the mellifluous mezzo Lindsay Ammann to Gloria Swanson perfection; Madame Pompous, the ferocious Wagnerian, is sung magnificently by Siân Davies, who deftly channels everyone from the late Margaret Harshaw to the indomitable Jessye Norman; Miss Titmouse is played adorably by Angela Mannino, looking like a young Sandi Patty and flinging bell-tones from the stage as easily as coins into a fountain; and Just Jeanette is performed with great joie de vie by Jacqueline Brecheen, the mysterious ingénue with a heart and voice of gold.\nWhen the auditions are complete and St. Peter cannot make a decision, the Angel Gabriel reminds the troupe of the Redemption Clause, which would allow the sopranos to journey into hell and commit one selfless act -- a rare accomplishment for any soprano -- in order to lift enough tenors and basses --who disproportionately end up in hell -- from their damnation to the glory of God's heavenly, vocally-balanced choir.\nAct Two thus takes place in the "caverns of Hades," essentially the same as the "parlor of heaven," save for more sinister lighting and an overhead set piece that oddly resembles the head of a Transformers villain. Here, the divas and their heavenly escorts encounter the less than happily fated male vocalists -- Enrico Carouser (get it?), sung by extraordinary Daniel Shirley, who is the epitomical oversexed Italian tenor; the duly Unnamed Bass, played by the booming Aubrey Allicock, who has been sentenced to a lifetime of viola lessons; and Nelson Deadly, performed by the devastatingly talented and good-looking, Brian Arreola, who steals the heart of Just Jeanette in a very much intended homage to "Rose Marie." \nEnter the Sandman, sung beautifully by Valerie Vinzant, who offers Jeanette and Nelson the chance to raise the doomed male vocalists from their damnation if only they can avoid falling asleep in conversation with the also damned stage director Orson, a bitter, sassy old queen of a director played hilariously by bass-baritone Carl Konowsky, in his IU Opera Theater debut. Though Jeanette and Nelson fail in their efforts, they are granted one last reprieve, and all parties happily make their way to heaven with a pledge never to sing opera again. In the only spoken words of the Angel Gabriel, "Thank heavens for that!".\nAs a piece, "Too Many Sopranos" is not only bursting with hilarity and wit, but also reveals a deep and firm understanding of that which it parodies. The material indicates an intimate familiarity with the subject matter -- the librettist is a soprano and the composer is married to one -- and the performance was both purposeful and virtuosic. It was without a doubt the highlight of the evening and certainly makes the price of admission worth it.\nThe only thought that remains, then, is: why? For what reasons were these operas ever paired? "Sopranos" could easily have stood on its own as a two-act opera with a real intermission and overture, which Penhorwood had composed but which was not performed. And even if it was deemed indisputably necessary to pair it with another opera, surely there is more appropriate material than "Arlecchino". \nMy only suspicion is that, with a cast of eleven roles and no chorus, "Sopranos" just doesn't supply enough performance opportunities to warrant an evening all its own. But I hope the administration will ask itself just what quality of opportunity the over-burdened cast of "Arlecchino" has really enjoyed.
