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OPERA REVIEW
August 13, 2005
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By Michael Zwiebach
Candide, by Leonard Bernstein and a string of absolutely brilliant lyricists, is the operetta with the gorgeous and witty
score and a somewhat troubled theatrical history. It usually succeeds as a piece of high camp, with an elbow all but surgically
attached to the audience's rib. Festival Opera's production, given its premiere on Saturday at the Dean Lesher Center for the Arts,
follows this formula with gusto: generally fine realization of the score, under the unfailingly musical Michael Morgan, tied to a
sex farce and a campy performing style that rarely attains the subtlety of Porky's II.
For their Candide, Festival Opera used the final edition with some important cuts, mainly the entire part of Martin. Credit
Hugh Wheeler, the librettist, for introducing Voltaire's language into the play via the narrator who doubles as Dr. Pangloss in the
show. Narration also becomes the means of changing scenes quickly and leading the audience through an absurdly complicated story.
But Wheeler also introduced the slave auction at Buenos Aires where a cross-dressed Maximilian is wooed by the colonial governor
and then taken away (with much leering), by a randy Jesuit monk.
That campy scene suggests others to a vigilant director. And so now every Spaniard is fey and goofy. The Inquisitors in the auto-da-fé scene kick up their heels, and one speaks with a lisp. "I Am Easily Assimilated" has everyone doing the macarena. It's all
very energetic, but also somewhat amateurish. Having easily eviscerated any point the show may once have had, there is nothing to
do but go on in the same style, which means lots more stale gags.
Director Michael Scarola devised an overly busy production on Matthew Antaky's geometrically-patterned set. But you'll object most to the predictability of the jokes, especially if you happen to have seen another Candide production recently. It seems to be a rule that the impatient narrator-as-stage-manager bit (cueing late or mistaken entrances) must be used more than once in Candide, and Scarola happily complied. In the new Candide, the sly humor of "Oh Happy We," Candide and Cunegonde's completely different but musically intertwined visions of marital bliss, has no point. Focus on her tearing his clothes off instead. There is a happier tale to tell about the musical side, fortunately. The narrator/Dr. Pangloss was entrusted to baritone David Cox. An able singer, Cox also managed the large volume of narrative and dialogue in an engagingly worldly and urbane manner and with a fine speaking voice. It makes no sense for Rebecca Garcia (Paquette), who has none of those qualities, to take over the narration, but I suppose Scarola was looking for a change of pace. Candide was well-sung by Isaac Hurtado, despite some wispy notes in the lower register. The Lament was beautifully shaped, especially the final phrases and the pianissimo last note. Again, at the end, with a heartfelt "Nothing More Than This," the audience heard something of the emotion that is meant to bring home the cost of Pangloss' irresponsible teaching.
Marnie Breckenridge (Cunegonde) earned her ovation, as she must, with dead-on coloratura and an infectiously dizzy performance of "Glitter and Be Gay." But her musicianship was also evident in her phrasing and dynamic control throughout. Bruce Brown sang a strong Maximilian, showing both a lightness that served the patter well, and vibrant full tone used to full effect in the Act I Finale (as the Captain). Darla Wiggington was comfortable playing the raunchy Old Lady, and sailed through her tango and the "We Are Women" duet with ease. Rebecca Garcia was a charming Paquette, though her soprano was nearly wasted in such a small singing part. Wayne Davis capably filled the roles of the Governor, Vanderdendur and Ragotski, though his vocal interpretations could have been more fully characterized. Unexpectedly, a vocal high point was the usually forgettable "Kings' Barcarolle." Christopher Fernandez, Brian Frutiger, John Frederick and John Minagro (and Matthew TreviZo as the mostly silent Stanislaus) brought vocal heft to the number. The chorus coped adequately with a demanding score, though they never achieved the vocal sheen and volume of sound of a seasoned ensemble. The orchestra played flawlessly under Michael Morgan's direction. Morgan's slightly slower tempos, although still fleet, allowed the lyrics to be heard and understood by the audience. Thus, for the first time in my experience, "Dear Boy" garnered the chuckles that Richard Wilbur's exceptional lyrics deserve. Morgan's absolute command cushioned the singers through the most difficult parts of the score.
(Michael Zwiebach holds a Ph.D. in music history from U.C. Berkeley and lectures on music history at the San Francisco Conservatory
of Music.)
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