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| July 10th ,2003 |
Source: Copyright (c) 2003, Denver Westwood
Juliet Wittman |
Rossini's L'Italiana in Algeri yields almost unalloyed pleasure. It's
about as
light and frothy an opera as I can imagine, with a plot that reads like
Gilbert
and Sullivan at their sunniest and a number of songs as outrageously funny
as
they are melodically and rhythmically scintillating.
The entire cast of the Central City Opera production is excellent, but three
performances truly stand out: Hungarian mezzo-soprano Viktoria Vizin, making
her
United States debut as Isabella; Lorraine Ernest as Elvira; and Richard
Bernstein as a bald-headed, Yul Brynner-ish Mustafa. Bernstein has the kind
of
huge, gorgeous voice that carries everything before it, and he's a
dominating
presence on stage. He's also an unabashed and uninhibited comic. Mustafa
bullies
and preens, gazes at Isabella with buffoonish lust, gulps forkfuls of
spaghetti
at her behest and plunges wholeheartedly into any insane action that might
win
her favor. Ernest has a rich, soaring soprano that engages beautifully with
Bernstein's bass-baritone -- even when all he's doing is yelling at her to
leave
him alone. As for Vizin, she shatters any lingering images anyone might
still
harbor about waddling, pouter-pigeon-chested opera stars. She's slim as a
pencil
stroke and, like Bernstein, a hell of a performer. In our culture, funny
women
have tended to be plain, often deprecating their own looks in their
routines.
But Vizin stems from the line of beautiful female cut-ups that started (at
least
for me) with England's Kay Kendall. Vizin shares Kendall's long, elegant
lines,
tart humor and class -- along with a clownish willingness to go all out.
Dressed
like a 1920s flapper, she moves through the set like a dancer. The voice?
There's a darkness and astringency to it -- something sophisticated and
bitter-sweet -- though Vizin can fly to the high notes on the instant, and
she
effortlessly delivers Rossini's most technically demanding passages. But
this is
a cool, sharp-tongued Isabella rather than a seductive one -- the kind of a
clever, intimidating modern woman who could never end up in a harem and who
can
defeat a befuddled, over-indulged Mustafa without breaking a sweat.
Brian Downen brings a light, flowing tenor to the role of Isabella's
beloved,
Lindoro (although I do wish the costumer would reconsider those gray, harem
trousers). Jonathan Hays, making his debut as a Central City principal, is
Taddeo. He has a fine, mellow baritone and is a pretty funny performer,
though
perhaps a little young for the role: Taddeo survives impalement by
pretending to
be Isabella's uncle, but he looks like her brother. The opera boasts an
impressive male chorus and a tight, bright orchestra, led by conductor Hal
France.
Director David Gately employs lots of funny touches, and Michael Anania's
sets
provide visual humor. The rejected Elvira comforts herself at the beginning
of
the show by sucking blissfully on a huge hookah. Michael Rice, as Mustafa's
captain, cleanses himself in a bubbly, cartoony, pink bath shaped like a
hippopotamus. At one point, Lindoro sends a message to Isadora in a bottle,
which bobs obediently off into the wings, then reverses and returns to him.
At the risk of being accused of humorlessness, I have to say that I had a
moment's compunction watching the gleeful gulling of Mustafa. In the
nineteenth
century -- for obvious reasons -- Europe liked to see Asian and African
leaders
as preening, foolish, hopelessly naive and in need of a civilizing hand. You
can't blame Rossini or librettist Angelo Anelli for using the stereotypes
prevalent in their time any more than you can fault Shakespeare for his
characterization of Shylock -- or the humbling of Katherina in The Taming of
the
Shrew. People can't see beyond the cultural parameters set by their own
place
and time. But these days, anyone who stages Merchant of Venice or Shrew has
to
somehow deal with the fact (whether through interpretation, judicious cuts
or a
program note) that our ideas about Judaism or women's rights have changed. I
don't think these uncomfortable ideas would have visited me if it weren't
for
the poisonous anti-Arabism that exists in some segments of our body politic
at
this moment.
Otherwise, however, L'Italiana provides a magical few hours of comedy, wit,
charm and glorious music.
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