THEATER REVIEW: EUGENE ONEGIN

Despina  (Roxana Constantinescu) in Eugene Onegin. 

In Russia with love

By Ed Rampell

L.A. Opera has launched its new season with two operas that have a single, controversial theme: Infidelity. Both works are conducted by James Conlon. One, Eugene Onegin, is a Russian tragedy composed by Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, based on Alexander Pushkin’s novel in verse. The other, Così Fan Tutte, is an Opera buffa, an Italian comedy composed by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, libretto by Lorenzo Da Ponte.

Sung almost entirely in Russian, in Eugene Onegin’s Act I Tatiana (Ukrainian soprano Oksana Dyka) is a virginal, repressed young woman living in Russia’s countryside. Tatiana throws herself at the dashing newcomer from Petrograd, Onegin (Slovakian baritone Dalibor Jenis), the friend of her sister Olga’s (Russian mezzo-soprano Ekaterina Semenchuk) fiancée, the poet Lensky (Russian tenor Vsevolod Grivnov). However, for some reason -- unlike the Beatles – “well, the Ukraine girls don’t really knock Onegin out, Moscow girls don’t make him sing and shout and Georgia’s apparently not always on his mind.” Onegin declines Tatiana’s impulsive proposal, declaring their marriage would never work due to certain unspecified characteristics he possesses which would inflict misery upon her.

At a party in Act II Onegin dances with and ogles Olga, prompting his jealous best friend Lensky to challenge him to a duel. The outcome propels Onegin to embark upon a self-imposed exile; in Act III Onegin is back in the pre-U.S.S.R. He’s been away so long he hardly knows the place; gee, it’s good to be back home. At Saint Petersburg he stumbles upon a ball being thrown by elderly Prince Gremin (American bass James Creswell), who has wed a now radiantly beautiful and worldly Tatiana. In a moment of lucidity, Onegin realizes his woes were triggered by snubbing Tatiana, and pursues the now married sophisticated beauty. Although she still has the hots for Onegin, Tatiana won’t come and keep her comrade warm; the tables are turned and now it’s Tanya’s doing the rejecting. You don’t know how unlucky you are, boy! (My sincere apologies to Lenin and Lennon/McCartney.)

Eugene Onegin’s sets are co-stars in L.A. Opera productions, and while scenic designer Antony McDonald’s ho-hum interiors are serviceable, his glowing exteriors are glorious. In the first act McDonald brings alive Mother Russia’s vast steppes, as reapers rhapsodize about the harvest in a great ensemble number with about 40 performers onstage. Old McDonald’s farm is truly beautiful. As at Caesar’s Palace in Las Vegas, lighting designer Peter Mumford creates a sense of the natural passage of time with his colorful, lovely lights. A pond of water makes a big splash and is imaginatively put to good use; it later serves as a skating rink as winter sports are enacted in the third act, wherein McDonald provides a sumptuous, panoramic view of Petrograd (which I recognized from all of those Eisenstein and Pudovkin films about the storming of the Winter Palace). McDonald also acquits himself well with the cast’s 1820s costumes, but those Russian exteriors are eye popping. Bravo1

The score is sonorous and well-conducted; director Francesca Gilpin’s mise-en-scene and choreographer Linda Dobell’s dances are on point. There is, however, a gremlin in the Kremlin. Gremin is played by a performer who is much younger than the prince is supposed to be – and his age is an important plot point obscured by this casting of 30-something Creswell. But this is a mere quibble that should not deter opera lovers from experiencing Tchaikovsky’s lamentation of love loss. 

Eugene Onegin runs through Oct. 9 at L.A. Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave. For more info: 213/972-8001; www.laopera.com.

DVD REVIEW: COME UNDONE

Domenico (Pierfrancesco Favino) and Anna (Alba Rohrwacher) in Come Undone.

Unraveling at the sheets

By Don Simpson

Anna (Alba Rohrwacher) and Alessio’s (Giuseppe Battinston) relationship begins to come undone when a charming waiter named Domenico (Pierfrancesco Favino) enters the picture. Prior to Anna’s first interaction with the talk, dark and handsome Domenico (he is from the south), we sense that her relationship with Alessio is friendly and comfortable but there is nothing sexy about it. Even their body types — Anna is attractive and petite, Alessio is frumpy and rotund — signal that they might be romantically incompatible. I often found myself wondering how Anna and Alessio became a couple in the first place.

The affair between Anna and Domenico is clumsy from the get go, as they not so clandestinely exchange each other’s digits outside of the insurance office where Anna works as an accountant. At their first rendezvous, Anna crashes into Domenico as she frantically rushes out of the cafe; she is intending to chicken out, but instead she has to lie about having to go to her office to send an email. The sexual chemistry between the two of them is incredibly magnetic, but it seems as though whenever they have an opportunity to see each other, they are unable to consummate their relationship. They stop the charade before it even begins, but then they decide to try again…and again. Eventually they develop a plan: every Wednesday evening, while Domenico is supposed to be snorkeling at the pool, they will meet in a sleazy motel room (with red walls and lots of mirrors) to have incredible sex.

The situation between Anna and Domenico becomes incredibly complicated because it is based upon a web of lies and deceptions. Domenico is married to Miriam (Teresa Saponangelo), with whom he has two young children. When Miriam becomes suspicious that Domenico is having an affair, suddenly Wednesdays evenings are no longer a convenient time for Domenico’s sexual forays. Anna, on the other hand, decides to be honest with Alessio, but she fails to confide in her family, friends or co-workers.

Come Undone is just as much about the working-class struggle to put bread on the table as it is about Anna and Domenico’s affair. Both Anna and Domenico’s households are struggling financially. The only reason Anna and Alessio are able to enjoy a middle class existence is because they are childless, otherwise they would be stuck in the very same dire financial straits as Miriam and Domenico. According to Domenico, everything comes down to money; and given Domenico’s limited working class income, every expenditure comes with a painful choice (such as: ballet lessons for his daughter or a secret vacation with his lover)? When Anna and Domenico are together, however, money is not part of the equation, which is probably why they are so happy together.

Writer-director Silvio Soldini (Agata and the Storm, Days & Clouds) often allows the most minute gestures and actions to speak for themselves (fleeting glances, unconscious smiles, furtive flirtations, nervous conversations, etc.). Soldini also opts to focus on the more mundane and arbitrary aspects of life within the structure of his narrative, delegating very little time and attention to the traditionally important moments, such as the birth of a niece. These non-traditional storytelling techniques promote an impressively organic atmosphere in which scenes and dialogue develop (or come undone) naturally and flow at the normal speed of life.

Come Undone is now available on DVD. For more information: www.filmmovement.com

SXSW 2011: THE DISH AND THE SPOON

Rose (Greta Gerwig) and Boy (Olly Alexander) in The Dish and the Spoon.

The woman with the thorns in her sides

By Don Simpson

We first meet Rose (Greta Gerwig) as she drives her car amidst some sort of intense emotional breakdown. Still clad in pajamas, Rose wanders into a convenience store located somewhere in Delaware to stock up on donuts and Dogfish Beer purchased with the change she scrounges from her car’s ashtray. Refueled with a hefty dose of sugar and alcohol, Rose continues her drive to the coastal town where her family’s vacation home is located.

Before heading to the shuttered house Rose climbs the spiral stairs of a cement lookout tower (used during World War II to search for German U-boats) where she meets an absurdly dislocated British manchild (Olly Alexander), a lost puppy of sorts who resembles a vaudevillian mash-up of Bob Dylan, Robert Smith, Oscar Wilde and Charlie Chaplin’s Tramp. It is not without purpose that a woman who has partially de-evolved into a sobbing, tantrum-throwing child meets an ambiguously-aged male who feeds her childlike tendencies, but also desires her love and affection. Whether that is the love and affection of a mother-figure, a lover or both has yet to be determined. The British lad represents the most simple and innocent form of love, but it also does not hurt matters that he has enough money to support Rose’s bender for a while.

It is not long before we learn the reason that Rose is in such a state of emotional disrepair: her husband has cheated on her, shagging one of Rose’s friends no less. The harlot in question just happens to live in the very same quaint seaside town where Rose’s bender has marooned her. Okay, it is not as much of a coincidence as it seems. It turns out Rose has arrived here quite purposefully to "kill the bitch." Rose and her Boy-friend thus proceed to alternate whimsical adventures with the development of their asexual romance with schemes to avenge the woman who slept with Rose’s hubby.

My unwavering love for Gerwig is pretty well known from sea to shining sea, but for those of you who have been residing under a rock since Hannah Takes the Stairs, let me warn you that I sometimes find myself a wee bit biased when it comes to reviewing films featuring Gerwig. That said, Gerwig’s unyieldingly emotional Tilt-a-Whirl of a performance in The Dish and the Spoon is by far the best of her career. Unleashing an endless plethora of emotions, Gerwig may totally let herself go at times (to transcendental results) but we never lose our sense of Rose’s reality as a human being. In Gerwig’s hands, Rose is a magnificent humanization of juxtapositions: juggling a dire sort of fragility with enduring strength, humor and beauty with ugly emotional breakdowns.

Alexander portrays the boy who fell to earth -- since Rose never once asks his name, we will never know what to call him (Alexander is credited as "Boy") -- with a frail and sweet persona, yet a mysterious presence. Alexander’s character seems to be not of the same time or place as Rose; and not just because of his accent and fashion sense, but his archaic taste in music and cultural naivete play into this as well. The Dish and the Spoon contemplates history in many literal manners (historical costumes, old-timey music, the characters’ discussion about Thanksgiving), but it is director and co-writer Alison Bagnall’s clever toying with the historical ambiguity of Alexander’s character -- who appears to be torn straight from a 19th-century novel -- that really turns any sense of reality on its head.

Bagnall, who co-wrote Buffalo ‘66 with Vincent Gallo, takes a fairly extreme risk allowing Gerwig to portray Rose’s turmoil and anguish with intense sincerity during some scenes while playing the same emotions for comedic affect in other scenes. Bagnall also reveals a real (or reel) knack for never allowing The Dish and the Spoon to veer too far into the realm of overly precious tweeness. Recalling Blue Valentine, an all-so-cute song and dance scene is one of the lighthearted highlights of an otherwise emotionally intense film. The Dish and the Spoon is incredibly sincere and brutally honest in its portrayal of the highs and lows of relationships -- especially in its representation of the rage and sadness that are closely associated with romance.