IL BARBIERE and EL BARBERO

Victor Khodadad, Costas Tsourakis, Stan Lacy, Caroline Tye, Maria Brea, Jose Maldonado, Anna Tonna,
Jay Lucas Chacon, and Brian J. Alvarado

Regular readers will recall how long we have yearned to see a zarzuela onstage with sets and costumes. For several years we have enjoyed arias and duets extracted from zarzuelas; we have attended seminars about zarzuela; we even tried to figure out how to produce one. Last night at a black box theater on the Lower East Side, our dream was realized. One of our favorite boutique opera companies--New Camerata Opera--joined forces with Latin American Theater Experiment Associates and fulfilled our dream.

The zarzuela they chose, El Barbero de Sevilla, was composed by Gerónimo Giménez and Manuel Nieto with a libretto by Guillermo Perrin and Miguel de Palacios; it premiered in Madrid in 1901 and is best known for the soprano aria "Me llaman la primorosa" which we have heard the marvelous Maria Brea sing in recital. How totally excellent it was to hear her sing the entire role of Elena, a wannabe diva who defies her strict father Nicolás (portrayed by baritone Stan Lacy) to star as Rosina in Rossini's masterpiece Il barbiere di Siviglia in a regional company in Burgos.

This gave Ms. Brea an opportunity not only to sing the afore-mentioned "Polonesa" as an interpolation for the voice lesson scene, but to also let out all the stops for "Una voce poco fa". Of course we have heard sopranos sing this mezzo role before, but we were particularly taken by Ms. Brea's  ability to handle the lower register as well as committing to the firework coloratura of the cabaletta.

Similarly satisfying was the performance of baritone José Luis Maldonado who has made Figaro's "Largo al factotum"  his signature piece; we never tire of hearing (and seeing) his interpretation. The joke, among many other jokes, was that he was secretly an opera singer masquerading as a surveyor--and furthermore, a baritone envious of tenors. But in this zarzuela, the baritone has the romantic lead as Elena's novio.

Two mezzo-sopranos shone in two different roles.  Anna Tonna created the character of Roldán, a diva with whom Nicolás is having a clandestine affair; she exhibited all the hauteur of a diva as well as the requisite spitefulness toward a younger rival.

Caroline Tye gave a fine interpretation of Elena's mother Casimira who supports her daughter's singing career and spirits her away to Burgos in the company of Elena's voice teacher Bataglia, a role given a fine comic turn by Costas Tsourakis who plays Don Basilio in the "opera within the zarzuela", making the most of his very large hat.

There was a very funny bit of hostility between two critics--Brian J. Alvarado's Pérez of the publication Tapas Today and Victor Khodadad's López from the newspaper The Manchego Gazette. It was especially funny because we personally just adore our fellow critics and enjoy sharing ideas with them. Perhaps in early 20th c. Spain there was significant rivalry of which the librettists were poking fun.

Jay Lucas Chacon took the role of Benito, Nicolás' sidekick and we must relate how much fun it was to see all these singers we know stretch themselves in new directions.

As far as the music, zarzuela is delightfully tuneful and this one is no exception. Maestro Pablo Zinger, Mr. Zarzuela himself, performed the reduction of the score and conducted from the keyboard. The chamber orchestra comprised violin, cello, bass, flute, and clarinet. We wondered why the keyboard was chosen when there was a piano onstage. Perhaps conducting from the piano would have suffered from impaired sightlines.

Aside from the solo arias, the most delightful musical moment was the scene backstage  in which all the characters were onstage at once, voices blending in charming cacophony.

As delightful as was the music, the frequent musical references to operas we know and love reminded us of how outstanding was 19th c. Italian opera. An interlude between scenes gave us the melody from Germont Père's Act II aria "Di Provenza il mar il suol", among other tributes to famed operas. The entire zarzuela can be seen as a tribute to Rossini's comedy.

Audience members who didn't know the operatic underpinnings could still enjoy the work for its engaging melodies and farcical story; but those who know and love opera could get an additional layer of pleasure from identifying the musical references.

Speaking of comedy, this piece has all of the farcical moments for which one could hope. There is the secret affair, the deceiving spouse, the lies, the coverups, the running in and out of rooms--here the various dressing rooms of the Burgos opera house--, the strict father (like Dr. Bartolo), the rebellious daughter sneaking around behind his back (like Rosina), and a facilitator (the voice teacher, unlike Don Basilio who was an obstructor to Rosina's romance).

The work was directed by Rod Gomez who chose to set the work in the 1950's, giving it the feel of a mid 20th c. sitcom. Although the Spanish was retained for the singing, dialogue was spoken in English. We got the sense that certain things that were funny in Spanish were not as funny when translated into English. There seems to be no other solution when presenting the work to a mixed audience. Although we personally can converse in Spanish, we would probably not understand rapidly spoken Spanish with wordplay and double entendres.

Aside from the ridiculously funny situations, there was an improvised moment of pure genius provided by Mr. Tsourakis who played his impresario role as Donald Trump. The audience loved it.  As a matter of fact, the audience loved the entire piece and we hope this leads to more zarzuela productions in New York City.

The simple but effective set was designed by Omayra Garriga Casiano and lit by Daniela Fresard Montero. Angela Huff designed the costumes.

Mr. Zinger spoke of his many productions in the 1980's but that was before our time and we regret having missed them. For those readers who have not read our writings about zarzuela, let it be known that the art form began in Madrid in the 1640's as an entertainment for royalty. It had a welcome revival in the mid 19th c., probably as Spain's response to Italy's grand opera. It was carried to the colonies in the New World and was regularly composed and performed for the next century, particularly in Cuba and Puerto Rico. Just as Spain lies between Europe and Africa, so zarzuela lies between opera and musical comedy.

We hope we have tempted you to enjoy this wonderful art form. This weekend will see several more performances and you just may be able to snag a ticket if you move quickly, since last night was a sellout-- in spite of the rain.

(c) meche kroop

A NEW SPANISH LANGUAGE ORATORIO LOOMED LARGE OVER WEST VILLAGE AUDIENCE

El Caminante de Nazaret at United Methodist Church of the Village

Guest Review by Cullen Gandy:


I wish I could say that I enjoyed the new Spanish Easter “Opera in 5 acts” El Caminante de Nazaret, yesterday, but there were a few things that were just too imposing which prevented me from doing so. The evening spanned around three hours, and covered the same type of territory that one would expect to hear in any large scale oratorio; such as Bach St. Matthäus Passion, Mendelssohn Elijah, or Handel's Messiah. It was, in effect, a full rendering of the passion story. Start to finish. In Spanish, composed by Rafael Grullón.

The issues I had with the piece/production weren’t, for the large part, the singing that I heard from the soloists during yesterday’s performance. In fact, the evening featured some rather impressive and limpid voices.

The main soloists were pooled from a serious group of young singers. Among the principal voices was Linda Collazo, who played Mary Magdalene. Her voice was elastic and luxurious; opening up nicely through the top. A stentorian tenor Juan del Bosco played Jesus, who did most of the heavy lifting in terms of time spent singing. His voice was a force to be reckoned with, and it evoked dreams of Verdi’s Requiem or Aida. It is always great to hear healthy, full-throated singing. Baritones came to play, as well, in the voices of Pablo Garcia (Judas), Jose Maldonado (Pilate), and Frank Colón (Peter). Both Jose and Pablo had large, Verdian instruments to put on display, adding to the drama. Mr. Colón, while possessing a more slender instrument, engaged with the emotional intent of his struggle nicely, with gestures and thought out emotional response. Each one manifesting in his voice, to good effect.

My complaints didn’t necessarily extend to the effort surrounding the concert, either. It was refreshing to see a new-ish company shell out the money, and take the time, to hire and feature great local talent (including the awesome full orchestra). As a Juilliard grad myself, I was able to pick out a handful of outstanding musicians from my years there; hiding among the cadre. These are serious professionals, not amateurs.

The bulk of what bothered me about this performance had to do with how it was produced and how it was prepared. Whoever was in charge of the recording and amplification set-up for these concerts majorly dropped the ball. The whole concert sounded like a condensed recording, where loud and soft sounded none-too-different. Also, after the major climaxes of the heavier voices and ensembles, there was always a large feedback flare of the microphone. It was so loud, and happened so often, that it gave me and my girlfriend both headaches. It also threw the balance of the piece way out of whack. Someone thought it would be a good idea to mic this concert as though it were being performed in an arena outside, instead of inside a Methodist church with vaulted ceilings.

Not that the balance or blend presented in the piece was ever in danger of being good. The chorus suffered from a continual problem with blend and intonation. Many of the vowels were harsh, and individual voices stuck out everywhere. The microphone situation exacerbated this, by having random microphones pointed in careless directions among them. This made it so certain unpleasant individual voices from the smaller ensemble of disciples/choristers jetted out all the more.

I was initially encouraged by the overture of the piece, as it seemed to have a Romantic sensibility, worthy of the large voices under employ for the evening. However, as the concert went on, I realized that much of the concert sounded as if it were derived from various composers. At certain points in the program I would lean over to my girlfriend and say, “that sounds like…” Berlioz, or Mozart, or Verdi, or Beethoven.

While the composer did write in contrast with respect to tempi, time signature, and tessitura, all of the music (with very little exception) was sung syllabically. That means that each note was accompanied by one syllable of a word. This is a mechanism to get through text rather efficiently, but, at the same time, makes things sound homogeneous; especially if there is no break from it. The arias sounded much like the choruses, which sounded like the ensembles (what few duos, or other small ensembles there were). It made the music feel like I was listening to two and a half hours of very dramatic Spanish laundry lists, and it made most of the choruses feel monophonic…even when they were polyphonic.

There was narration over the music at regular intervals, too; spoken and amplified over the speaker in the hall, in English. It was so grating and loud that it startled me even when I knew it was coming. That is not to say that the narrators (either Elizabeth Arredondo or Emily Kitchens) did a poor job of narrating. They were actually quite emotive, and acted convincingly. I am sure that our narrator was a professional actress, from the way she payed attention to diction and inflection.

Lastly, the absence of an intermission until before the final (fifth act) was about two acts too late. Many audience members got up and walked around during some portion of the performance, because of how long it was. I understand why the intermission was placed where it was (because of the significance of the death of Christ on Good Friday), but at some point one must think logistically. If we have a group of largely over 50 year olds watching a three hour Easter marathon, they’re going to need a break. My girlfriend clued me in to that for good measure, as well.

For a summation, I say this — ditch the mics, iron out the balance (by adjusting the strength of the orchestra playing as needed), blend the chorus (and make sure they are singing uniform vowels and consonants at the same time), and give us another small intermission. Barring that, I wouldn’t recommend seeing this one yet. Too much left to iron out.

(c) meche kroop