THE PAST INTRUDES ON THE PRESENT

Benjamin Robinson and Molly Mustonen (photo by Robert J. Saferstein)

The Little Opera Company That Could--Chelsea Opera--having won a grant from the National Endowment for the Arts, is on a roll.  Last night they presented two one-act works by the prolific Henry Mollicone, with libretti by John S. Bowman.  Each opera was commissioned by an opera company with the stipulation that the work relate to the home town of the company.  The theme of each would appear to be a blending of the past and present.

The brief curtain-raiser, The Face on the Barroom Floor, was commissioned by Central City Opera in 1978 and has been performed annually in Colorado ever since. It involves a love triangle from Gold Rush days, one that comes to a violent end. The story is told within the framework of the present day; the love triangle and its violent end are recapitulated.  

The beautiful Molly Mustonen used her lustrous soprano to good advantage as she portrayed a present day chorister as well as the historic saloon singer.  Lyric tenor Benjamin Robinson sang sweetly as the chorister's beau in the present and also as the starving artist of long ago who pays his bar tab by painting the saloon singer's portrait on the floor.  Baritone John E. Callison, whom we have been hearing and enjoying more and more lately, made a fine bartender.

With meager financial resources, set designer Anna Yates managed to create a very believable saloon with faux stained-glass windows, a simple bar and a few tables and chairs (amusingly occupied by company co-founders Leonarda Priore and Lynne Hayden-Findlay playing denizens of the bar).

Mr. Mollicone was present for the occasion; his piano was accompanied by flutist Kevin Willois and cellist Emily Brausa from the Chelsea Opera Chamber Ensemble. The music is jazzy and there are touches of American folk melodies woven in.

The second and more substantial work on the program, the 1981 Emperor Norton, was commissioned by the San Francisco Opera and deals with a legendary character in that city's past.  He was at least eccentric and probably quite mad as he declared himself Emperor.  He died as a derelict on the street.

The interesting treatment of the story is told in a somewhat mystical way.  Two actors are mysteriously summoned to audition for a role in a play about Norton.  The playwright, magnificently performed by one Vira Slywotzky (a singer we just love to hear, calling herself a soprano but with a voice that suggests strong mezzo coloring), uses their help to finish the play.

The two actors--the excellent soprano Rosa Betancourt and the fine tenor David Gordon--are soon joined by an imposing figure from another time.  We shall know him by his costume!  He is, of course, the spirit of Norton (big-voiced baritone Justin Ryan) and he has come to offer correctives to his reputation and the way he is being represented in the play.  The ending has a lovely twist and is marked by a marvelous quartet.

For this opera, conductor Noby Ishida took over. Mr. Mollicone at the piano was joined by violinist Stanichka Dimitrova and cellist Emily Brausa. Thankfully, the music is tonal and lyrical.

We particularly enjoyed Ms. Betancourt's impersonation of the dancer Lola Montez, which had the audience laughing out loud, and her impersonation of a Chinese woman who sang a stunning melismatic aria.

Stage direction by Ms. Findlay was always effective.  Costumes in both operas were also designed by Ms. Findlay with some contributions from the Theater Development Fund Costume Collection.  We particularly admired Ms. Mustonen's saloon singer gown and the period-appropriate 1940's costumes for Emperor Norton.

The only thing missing was titles.  Somehow they are not deemed necessary when an opera is sung in English but, as we frequently point out, English is more difficult to sing and more difficult to understand than Italian or German, especially in the upper registers.  We missed quite a bit of Norton's story because of this.  We heard enough and the acting was sufficiently effective that we understood the story but we would have enjoyed it more if we'd heard all the details.

(c) meche kroop

THE MOST HAPPY AUDIENCE

The Dicapo Opera Theatre has managed to fill the house with music and laughter during its extended run of Frank Loesser's The Most Happy Fella--so much so that we were reminded of our long-held wish that one of New York City's small opera companies would fill in one of the gaps in our opera scene.  At the time we expressed this opinion, South Pacific was filling the Vivian Beaumont Theater at Lincoln Center night after night.  BUT, big but here, they used amplification; Dicapo does not.  It is a comfortably intimate house that seats but 200 and, in this case, involved a cast who moved gracefully from opera to "a Broadway sound" without any feeling of noblesse oblige.  These singers brought the show to life without making any compromises.  Reflecting on what we previously wrote about what comprises an opera, we consider this an opera, especially when it is sung by good voices and without miking.

As the eponymous hero, baritone Michael Corvino gave a most committed performance.  He was completely believable as the lonely Italian vintner establishing himself in Napa Valley, CA in the mid 20th c.  He absolutely oozed garlic.  His sister Marie was gorgeously sung by mezzo Lisa Chavez, who, while very much looking the part did not have an old-country accent at all, leading us to speculate on how she managed to lose it!

The San Francisco waitress with whom Tony falls in love and whom he calls "Rosabella" was winningly acted and impressively sung by soprano Molly Mustonen.  The big issue that this couple must deal with involves a series of betrayals and ultimate forgiveness.  Tony woos Rosabella by mail with a photograph of a much younger and handsomer man, his foreman Joe, in which role Peter Kendall Clark gave a persuasively cocky performance that benefited from his generous baritone voice.  His solo "Joey, Joey" was moving and went a long way toward establishing his character.

In a blind rage at the deception, Rosabella behaves badly, marries Tony anyway but has an intimate encounter with Joe which results in a pregnancy.  Tony also has his issues.  Fear of Rosabella's discovery of his deception leads him to have a driving accident and he is carried home in very bad shape for the wedding.  How these two flawed human beings resolve their issues leads us to care for them and want them to be together in spite of Marie's warnings about the difference in their ages.  Marie wants Tony to be an old man she can look after and is threatened by Rosabella's taking over her duties.

This is serious stuff but comic relief is provided by Rosabella's friend Cleo (the delightful belter Lauren Hoffmeier) and Tony's employee Herman (the hilarious Brance Cornelius) who somehow manage to get together also. Their show-stopping number "Big D" won our hearts. As if this weren't sufficient to keep us smiling, we also heard some wonderful ensemble work in "Standing on the Corner" and, our personal favorite "Abbondanza".

That delicious word just about sums up the entire production.  An abundance of good singing, good acting, good storytelling and good music provided by (gasp!) a full orchestra, ably conducted by Maestro Pacien Mazzagatti.  For unknown reasons, the orchestra was not in the pit but onstage behind the singers.  John Farrell is credited with the set design which consisted of nothing but a few benches and a table; more was not necessary.  Costumes by Julie Wyma were apropos the period.  Francine Harman was responsible for the choreography which we truly enjoyed in the "Big D" number.  General director Michael Capasso did better as Stage Director than he did as an actor portraying the manager of the San Francisco restaurant where Rosabella was working.

We thank him and Diane Martindale, the Artistic Director, for showing us a realization of our dream--to see an American musical treated as the opera which we believe it to be.  With pleasure we noted that next season's roster includes Kismet.  We are filled with anticipation.

(c) meche kroop