THEATER REVIEW: CINDERELLA



Cinderella (Kate Lindsay) in Cinderella.

 Fairytale Marx a spot

By Ed Rampell

This L.A. Opera production of Gioachino Rossini’s Cinderella (La Cenerentola) is nothing short of a sheer delight. It ranks amongst the most enchanting of all of the operas I’ve ever seen. The music, conducted by James Conlon, is frothy, as lighthearted as the Wagnerian Flying Dutchman’s score and story are full of sturm und drang. Joan Guillen’s sets are inventive, while his costuming, along with the stellar cast -- including a charming quintet of mice -- are exceedingly magical. Mezzo-soprano Kate Lindsey fits the bill perfectly in the title role (Georgian mezzo-soprano Ketevan Kemoklidze plays Cinderella during the April performances) and Italian bass-baritone Vito Priante as Dandini steals scenes with a kleptomaniac’s gay abandon.

More on the stellar cast below, but what of the story? Rossini’s cheery concoction, with its libretto by Jacopo Ferretti, is of course a retelling of the vintage fairy tale first published in 1697 and subsequently re-published by the Grimm Brothers circa 1812. Fans beware: Rossini’s version is different from others with some dissimilar elements, which this plot-spoiler adverse reviewer won’t disclose. But the essential storyline remains the same.

In essence, poor little Cinderella is mercilessly exploited by her stepsisters Clorinda (soprano Stacey Tappan) and Tisbe (played, in a bit of unconventional if welcome casting -- despite a libretto line referring to her ivory white skin -- by the Black mezzo-soprano Ronnita Nicole Miller), and step-father, the wittily named Don Magnifico (Italian baritone Alessandro Corbelli). These three rascals dream of grandeur, but apparently live in a home that has seen better days, hence the cutest mice this side of the Mickey Mouse Club and the Mouseketeers in the household that is slavishly looked after by the downtrodden Cinderella. She is reduced in status and role to a mere scullery maid, a servant -- if not an outright slave -- by her step-siblings and stepfather, who are genuinely cruel to this impoverished but pretty young lady who sweeps the cinders and cooks their meals.

In the guise of a fairy tale Rossini and his librettist are clearly making reference to the exploitation of labor. Other scenes and characters reinforce a social critique composed a year before the birth of Karl Marx. In an expression of class solidarity as well as in a simple humane act of compassion, Cinderella surreptitiously gives a character she believes to be a beggar -- whom her haughty stepsisters with their pretensions towards superiority scorn -- food.

But this aspect of class conflict is further expressed by another character, and ladies and gentlemen, please allow me the pleasure of introducing you to the great Dandini. In Cinderella there’s a lot of mistaken and/or hidden identity -- an operatic convention -- and Dandini is actually the (not-so-)humble servant of dashing Don Ramiro (tenor Rene Barbera), although through a series of plot contrivances they trade places and switch roles. Dandini relishes playing the powerful prince and assumes this part, full of social status and stature, with gusto. He enjoys dressing for the part and is quite a dandy -- hence his rather hilariously apropos nomenclature. Priante plays the character with great panache, full of sparkling wit, in portraying the subservient flunky who yearns to be the top banana, but for the unfair societal pecking order he is, unfortunately, born into.

Rossini’s titular character in The Barber of Seville similarly chafes under these unfair class distinctions imposed upon Figaro, who is also the lead character in Mozart’s 18^th century The Marriage of Figaro. Through these class conscious characters in class conflict with their “betters” Mozart expressed nascent Enlightenment ideals while Rossini evoked the French Revolution’s principles of “Liberte, eqalite, fraternite.” One can easily imagine both Figaro and Dandini singing Tevye’s lament in Fiddler on the Roof: “Lord… Would it spoil some vast eternal plan, If I were a wealthy man?”

Although Rossini explores themes of class struggle in Cinderella, the war between the classes is resolved magically -- with a dose of Christian morality -- through the genre conventions of the fairytale, wherein all the characters live happily ever after (with the possible exception of that rapscallion Dandini, who is, alas, once again reduced to servitude). However, the Italian composer was also capable of positing a political solution to social injustice. Rossini’s final opera, William Tell, is an explicitly political tale about revolution, which celebrates Swiss resistance to the tyrannical Hapsburg dynasty. Interestingly, like Cinderella, this 1829 opera is also suggested by legend (if not fairytales per se). In it, Rossini renders rousing music of a revolutionary nature, of justice triumphing over oppression. As all good Lone Ranger fans know its brassy musical fanfare and theme literally trumpeting the arrival of righteousness is derived from the incomparable, galloping William Tell Overture.

But in Cinderella we have a more playful Rossini, his bel canto opera full of great comic performances by droll, grandiose stepsisters and a stepfather who never miss the opportunity to overstep their boundaries; those whimsical, cavorting acrobatic rodents; and the one, the only great Dandini. Cinderella touchingly sings, “Virtue is my splendor, love my wealth” and later, when the wrongs are righted and the last has become first, she warbles: “My revenge is forgiveness.”

What a great fable full of utopian sentiment, of commoners and royals united in a moral certitude and rectitude.

This opera is ideal for children of all ages.


Cinderella runs through April 7 at L.A. Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave. For more info: 213/972-8001; www.laopera.com.

 

FILM REVIEW: GOTTFRIED HELNWEIN AND THE DREAMING CHILD

A scene from Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child.

What is a kid suppose to do?

By Miranda Inganni

Near the beginning of Lisa Kirk Colburn’s documentary, Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child, Austrian-born artist Gottfried Helnwein states that there is far too much child abuse in the world. He emphasizes that child abuse includes child labor. This point becomes relevant later on in the film when we learn that Helnwein feels strongly that an actual child should play the titular character in the Israeli Opera’s 2010 production of the opera, The Child Dream, for which Helnwein is the production designer. Unfortunately for Helnwein, there are pesky rules and regulations regarding child labor in Israel which prevent him from being able to take advantage of the very thing he rails against.

Feeling more like the “extras” you would get on a DVD, Gottfried Helnwein and the Dreaming Child is missing focus and the foundation of basic story telling: a beginning, middle and an ending. We see Helnwein at work in his studio (he lives in Los Angeles, CA and in Ireland) on his photo-realistic paintings of children (often depicted as bloodied and/or ghostly white), describing what life was like for him growing up in post-World War II Austria and slopping blood-red paint on the costumes of some of the (allowed children) actresses in The Child Dream. Additionally, there are interviews with various Israeli Opera members, The Child Dream’s director Omri Nitzan and the opera’s composer Gil Shohat. While Colburn’s film never reveals what the opera is actually about (it is based on the play of the same name by Hanoch Levin), we do learn that almost everyone involved was excited to have Helnwein join the crew.

Branding himself as I-don’t-know-what exactly, Helnwein wears sunglasses through the film and his creative process (how does this not impinge on his ability to see light and darkness as those without light-dimming glasses?), all-black clothing and brow-banishing bandanas. I can’t help but wonder if he is more concerned about presenting a certain image than he is about his work as an artist. He explains that children represent innocence and the betrayal of that innocence -- this theme is repeated in his work –--and is what he (and others) believes the opera is about.

Rather than look at the seemingly contradicatory work of Helnwein's art, Colburn’s film is a homage to Helnwein and while the documentary doesn’t necessarily raise questions, disappointingly, it doesn’t answer any that the average viewer might be inclined to ask.

 

 

THEATER REVIEW: LA BOHEME

A scene from La Bohème.

Ending on a high note

By Ed Rampell

Giacomo Puccini is to opera what Gucci is to handbags: The gold standard. The libretto of the prolific composer’s 1896 La Bohème is by Giuseppe Giacosa and Luigi Illica, based on fictitious stories Henry Murger began writing in the 1840s. Puccini’s La Bohème set the template for productions about starving artistes in their garrets, aesthetic outcasts living on the fringes of society -- often in a not so Gay Paree. From Somerset Maugham’s Paul Gauguin-inspired The Moon and Sixpence to the 1990s rock musical Rent, which re-set La Bohème in modern Manhattan’s milieu of struggling artists, works in this genre bear Puccini’s indelible stamp, but rarely, if ever, surpass his masterpiece.

L.A. Opera’s presentation of La Bohème is true to the spirit and letter of Puccini’s four act-er; there’s no screwing around with the basics by way of updating the action to another time period, placing it at another locale and/or whiz bang special effects. These adaptations sometimes work -- as with Pacific Opera Project’s recent mounting of Cosi Fan Tutte, which cleverly transposed Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s meditation on sexuality in 18^thcentury Europe to the American Civil War. But often these new fangled versions merely muddy the waters, add nothing to the creators’ original intent and worse, distract from same.

With his glorious Parisian sets and scrims, Gerard Howland visualizes Puccini’s howling, and are (pardon the pun, considering the opera) to die for. This veteran set designer has not only worked for numerous operatic companies, but also for theater, film (most recently, HBO’s just premiered Spanish Civil War-set Hemingway and Gellhorn), theme parks, Michael Jackson, the Rolling Stones, etc., and Howland faithfully brings his pictorial panache to  Puccini’s Paris-set saga. His renderings of Latin Quarter garrets, rooftops and Café Momus exquisitely express the romanticism inherent in Puccini’s opera. However, Howland’s tavern set in Act III has too much empty space; the stage -- like nature -- abhors a vacuum. And depending on one’s seat in the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, viewers may have to be contortionists in order to be able to see Howland’s Eiffel Tower at stage right.

Lighting designer Daniel Ordower aesthetically illumines the City of Lights with rapturous moonlight and twinkling constellations that likewise give form to Puccini’s amorous tale of Parisian Bohemians in love. They are brought to life by a dazzling, youthful cast, headlined by tenor Stephen Costello as the poet Rodolfo and soprano Ailyn Perez, an ailing seamstress who sews silky roses. Offstage, the performers who incarnate these lovers are not only real life  husband and wife, but both recipients of the operatic realm’s prestigious Richard Tucker Award. (Perez is the first Hispanic to ever receive this coveted honor, opera’s equivalent to the Heisman Trophy.)

The Bohemians include the musician Schaunard (baritone Museop Kim) and philosophy student Colline (bass Robert Pomakov). As is often the price of nonconformity, the characters are frequently stony broke, and to stay warm during Parisian winters must feed the flames of an insatiable stove with their works, used as kindling. The outsiders’ poverty weighs heavily upon them, especially on the consumption stricken Mimi, and the painter Marcello (baritone Artur Rucinski), who romances that Belle Époque belle of the ball Musetta (soprano Valentina Fleer), who aspires to be what Billy Joel dubbed “an Uptown girl.”

Impoverished Marcello has woes because he woos a beautiful gold digger who can attract wealthy, uh, patrons of the arts, to stick the bills with. Musetta and Marcello’s big number at the Café Momus (not to be confused with the Spearmint Rhino) brings down the house, as the sexual frisson between the two estranged lovers explodes with what may be the original table dancing. Their Act II delicious tabletop tangos are in the same scene as the jester Parpignol’s (tenor Ben Bliss, who also cut loose in the title role of L.A. Opera’s production this season of Benjamin Britten’s Albert Herring) clownish antics, in one of the opera’s mass tableaux, which presented 60-ish performers onstage en masse, including members of the Los Angeles Children’s Chorus.

In his L.A. Opera directorial debut, Gregory Fortner (who crewed for Michael Moore’s Oscar-winning Bowling for Columbine) adroitly helms the mise-en-scene, in mass and more intimate scenes alike. Conductor Patrick Summers is a worthy successor to Arturo Toscanini, who conducted La Bohème’s 1890s premiere in Turin.

The plot of La Bohème may be skimpy, but the forte of the operatic medium is to let themusic do the talking, so to say. Puccini’s sonorous score gives aural shape to the story’s lush romanticism, speaking volumes more than plot points and dialogue ever could. And, on a personal note, after experiencing this performance, I could see why La Bohème was my late dad’s favorite opera.

I also believe that Rodolfo’s final exclamation of grief as Mimi is consumed with consumption is where the term “the Screaming Mimis” is derived from. The Screaming Mimis has some off-color definitions I won’t repeat here, but it can refer to expressions of lamentation that are often hysterical in nature. At an after talk following the performance I attended, I asked the young married co-stars Perez and Costello if this was indeed the case, but the charming couple had never heard of this before. Perhaps this discovery -- if correct -- is your humble scribe’s contribution to opera reviewing?

In any case, as La Bohème marks the end of L.A. Opera’s current season, and opera fans will have to wait, alas, for four whole months until the new season starts. I feel like I have the Screaming Mimis. In any case, along with Giuseppe Verdi’s Simon Boccanegra and Mozart’s Cosi Fan Tutte, La Bohème certainly ranks among L.A. Opera’s finest 2011/2012 seasonal offerings. Tomorrow is your last chance to see La Bohème.


La Bohème will be performed Saturday, June 2 at 2:00 p.m. at L.A. Opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, 135 N. Grand Ave. For more info: (213)972-8001; www.laopera.com.

FILM REVIEW: PASSIONE

Pietra Montecorvino in Passione.

Turturro's take on Naples

By Don Simpson 

Passione is not a documentary and it is certainly not a narrative; Passione is a series of musical postcards proclaiming writer-director John Turturro’s unwavering love for Naples. Whether or not Turturro will convince you to love Naples as he does is totally reliant upon your acceptance of his absurd yet strangely poetic cinematic technique.

Between seemingly random song and dance routines, Turturro directly addresses the camera to recount seemingly random factual tidbits about Neapolitan history. The structure of Passione seems completely nonsensical. At times it plays like a collection of music videos, other times like a cinematic recreation of an opera or musical theater.

The scenic shots of the city are saturated with biased reverence, while some of the musical performances are so absurdly choreographed that Passione seems like it might actually be a form of parody. If Christopher Guest had directed Passione, I would be much more certain that it is a parodic mockumentary; but I am fairly certain that Turturro wants us to take this film seriously.

Turturro describes Passione as “a musical adventure that comes directly out of the people and the volcanic land they inhabit." He obviously loves the Neapolitan music featured throughout Passione, but he is unable to convince me of why? Passione might be better suited for someone who approaches the film with a pre-existing fascination with Naples.

Passione features Mina, Spakka-Neapolis 55, Avion Travel, Misia, Pietra Montecorvino, Massimo Ranieri, Lina Sastri, M’barka Ben Taleb, Gennaro Cosmo Parlato, Peppe Barra, Angela Luce, Max Casella, Raiz, James Senese, Fausto Cigliano, Fiorello, Enzo Avitabile and Pino Daniele.