Arguing with Fellini

Nine
Guggenheim Entertainment
October 19, 2019

Claudia (Amy Bouchard), Luisa (Susan Gundunas), Stephen
Guggenheim (Guido) and Carla (Becky Elizabeth Stout).

The effect of Nine, the musical, is much like that of a film by its subject, Fellini. It provokes and puzzles you, and continues to piece itself together the following day. For a musical, this is a remarkable achievement.

I've got a few bones to pick with the work, however, and since it's based on Fellini's film, 8 1/2, I suppose I'm arguing with Fellini himself. I hate that stories revolving around creative artists always focus on creative block, as if that's the only struggle facing an artist. Then, of course, there's the great challenges of  becoming a great success. (Give ME some of those problems!) Thirdly, the story doesn't really illuminate the creative process; we're supposed to just accept that the central figure, filmmaker Guido Contini, is a genius without any real proof. (For an excellent recent example of showing the creative process, see the film Bohemian Rhapsody.)

Bone-picking aside, the musical works, because it portrays some intriguing relationships illustrated by a fascinating cast of players. Stephen Guggenheim is perfect as Contini, providing a calm, bemused eye to a hurricane of his own making. His resounding baritone lends the famed director a commanding presence, and plays well with the score's regular dips into classical tropes; Contini's  film about Casanova even employs classical recitative. The only downside to Guggenheim's voice comes in the rapid-fire lines of "I Can't Make This Movie," when all that power obscures some of the fast-flying words.

Contini's greatest flaw is his constant philandering. It is also, paradoxically, his greatest skill, in that he can make every woman in the world feel that she is the only woman in the world. The company succeeds in supplying a number of intriguing females to fall for him. Elizabeth Palmer plays Lillian LaFleur, a cranky producer who suddenly turns into a cabaret hostess in the hallucinatory "Folies Bergeres" scene. Katherine Stein plays Stephanie, a film critic who sings of many Contini's many flaws in a lightning-fast patter. (It is one of Contini's many charms that he finds these insults rather entertaining.) Heather Faulhaber projects a warm wisdom as Our Lady of the Spa, playing tour guide to Contini's psyche as he tries to relax at her retreat. The ensemble number "The Germans at the Spa" is just plain hilarious.

Susan Gundunas plays Contini's wife Luisa with a quiet calm that only accentuates the pain beneath. This is most touching in "My Husband Makes Movies," a desperate attempt to explain Contini (and perhaps her reasons for putting up with him) to the press. Her restraint is maintained for so long that her eventual blowup, "Be On Your Own," is well-deserved and a great relief. (Also, a good piece of advice.)

Becky Elizabeth Stout plays Contini's mistress Carla with mile-long legs and a joyous sexuality. In "A Call From the Vatican," she wraps herself around the filmmaker in various gymnastic poses as she tries to lure him to her hotel room. Her final song, "Simple," gives the character added dimension and a depth of intelligence. Amy Bouchard gives Contini's favorite actress, Claudia, a determined coolness, not happy to play more of his fantastical spirits, and dedicated to her art in a way that Contini is forced to respect.

Krista Wigle plays Saraghina, the prostitute who teaches nine-year-old Guido the ways of love. Her answer is "Be Italian," an infectious tune that Wigle delivers with a remarkable radiance. Young Guido completes that circle years later by telling his older self to grow up in "Be Tall," delivered with a touching sincerity by Elijah Seid-Valenca.

Set with Julie Engelbrecht's simple, elegant backgrounds and costumes, the production is really not much more than interactions, but of course it's the magic of theater that sometimes that's all you need. Sound designer Jon Leyden and orchestrator Tom Tomasella did a fantastic job of delivering the music. Finally, kudos to the company for taking on such a challenging, provocative piece.

Through Nov. 10, 3Below Theaters, 288 S. 2nd St., San Jose. 408/404-7711. 3belowtheaters.com

Michael J. Vaughn is the author of 22 novels, most recently A Painting Called Sylvia.

Figaro Goes American

The Marriage of Figaro
San Francisco Opera
October 13, 2019

Serena Malfi as Cherubino, Michael Sumuel as Figaro and Jeanine de Bique
as Susanna. (All photos by Cory Weaver.)

SFO has embarked upon an intriguing three-opera project, setting the three Mozart-Da Ponte operas in the same American manor house in 1786 (Marriage of Figaro), the 1930s (Cosi fan tutti), and 2090 (Don Giovanni).

Le nozze is a natural for an American setting. The opera made its appearance in 1786, just as the world-changing Constitution was percolating overseas, aimed at taking down the noble classes in the same way that Beaumarchais' play took aim at the aristocracy's overentitled tuckus. (Beaumarchais was greatly fond of the new country, and in fact financed a gun-running scheme during the Revolution.)

Nicole Heaston as the Countess, Serena Malfi as Cherubino.

The elephant in the room (literally, Figaro's room) is the dominance of black faces: Texan bass-baritone Michael Sumuel as Figaro, and our Susanna, Jeanine de Bique from Barbados. (Another appears in Act II, Chicagoan Nicole Heaston as la Contessa.) Although acknowledging the "optics" of such casting, trilogy director Michael Cavanagh denies any intention - which is really too bad, because the move brings up some provocative parallels. Figaro's pivotal conflict is the droit du seigneur, the medieval European custom allowing feudal lords to have sex with subordinate women on their wedding nights. The painfully apt American equivalent was the trysts between plantation owners and their slaves, most infamously exemplified by Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings.

Jeanine de Bique as Susanna, Catherine Cook as Marcellina.

The other intriguing presence is Erhard Rom's set, a classic Philadelphia manor represented by facades that are half-house, half-blueprint, as if the home, like the country, were still in the process of becoming itself. The set is foreshadowed by a lively dance of architectural projections during the overture.

From square one, Sumuel is the quintessential Figaro, a hard-working blue-collar figure with sensitivities and wit far above his station. He fits right in to a particular American ideal of manliness, and perhaps his pledge to take on his master, "Se vuol ballare," is his Declaration of Independence. De Bique partners him with all of Susanna's saucy cleverness and appealing moments of girlishness, whether bouncing excitedly at the latest scheme or unleashing bursts of infectious laughter.

Musically, I keep flashing on the quiet moments. Conductor Henrik Nanasi displays a great sensitivity in matching these passages to his orchestra. The first is that fetching slowdown in Cherubino's "Non so piu," mezzo Serena Malfi gearing down from her page's hormonal panic to soak in the sudden open spaces and sing in captivating sighs, "And if no one is near to hear me, I speak of love to myself."

Michael Sumuel as Figaro.

The second quietness comes with Heaston's elegant reading of Dove sono, the restatement of the theme conveyed with a sublime delicacy. The third is De Bique's thoughtful interpretation of "Deh vieni," a beautifully sincere rendering of an aria that is completely fake, a trick for her new husband.

The more outrageous side of the equation is fueled by the Evil Trio, intent on undoing the youngsters' nuptials. Mezzo Catherine Cook is divine as Marcellina, like some kind of wacky Disney villainess, and tenor Greg Fedderly and his pink wig play Basilio gloriously out. Bass James Cresswell offers a calm, likeable center as Bartolo, particularly in the great "sua madre" reveal. Lawrence Pech gave the threesome some deliciously dastardly movements to complete the picture.

Malfi's Cherubino is nicely centered on the female-male scale of a teenage dandy. Designer Constance Hoffman gave her a dazzling regimental uniform, all white underpinnings with a blue and red waistcoat. Levente Molnar's Count is all lothario, making his scenes with Susanna delightfully cringe-worthy. In the days of Harvey Weinstein and a certain President, you really can't carry the caddishness too far, and actually the Count's boyish moments of glee at his sexual anticipations are rather charming.

There was a surprising disappointment in the back-and-forth duet of "Sullaria... che soave zeffiretto" (famously played over the prison PA in the film The Shawshank Redemption). Though they blended beautifully in their scheming chatters against the Count, Heaston and De Bique seemed to be battling here. It's hard to pinpoint the blame - a little too much ego, clashing timbres - but it does demonstrate the challenge in Mozart of having to deploy both solo and choral abilities.

Greg Fedderly as Basilio.

Kudos in general to the orchestra for its care in matching its conductor's dynamic desires, as well as to Bryndon Hassman for excellent continuo work on the fortepiano. My favorite supertitle: "She's his mother? Well then they can't get married!"

Through November 1, War Memorial Opera House, 301 Van Ness Ave., San Francisco. sfopera.com, 415/864-3330.

Michael J. Vaughn is the author of 22 novels, including the opera novels Gabriella's Voice and Operaville, both of which include scenes at the San Francisco Opera.

Rocky and the Callbacks

The Rocky Horror Show
San Jose Stage Company
October 5, 2019

Allison F. Rich as Magenta, Parker Harris as Brad,
Ashley Garlick as Janet, and Sean Okuniewicz.

"The callbacks," the practice of inserting one's own lines into the dialogue, has long been a part of the Rocky Horror Picture Show, but not necessarily of the stage version that started it all. The Stage Company makes no bones about where it stands; they invited audience members to speak up, sold "participation packets" with the familiar RH props (playing cards, spray bottles), and one of the wittier hecklers turned out to be their artistic director, Randall King.

At times the back-and-forth is a little chaotic (this is not a rehearsed element), but it produced a number of superb moments. When Brad surmised that the castle must be one of those places where sicko millionaires hide out, an instigator at audience left shouted "Mar-a-Lago!" But the most fun came with the Narrator, Edward Hightower, who had a brief Harvey Korman moment when one of the comments struck his funny bone, and made comic battle with his hecklers the rest of the night, aiming his lines and gestures for effect.

Allison F. Rich as Magenta,
Matthew Kropschot as Rocky and
Jill E. Miller as Columbia

Beneath all this unfettered democracy, Stage has itself a freakishly awesome production. There's a certain quality - call it "presence" or the "it" factor - that an aficionado might find once or twice a season. You know it when you can't keep your eyes off a particular performer. This single show has three. One is (no surprise) Allison F. Rich, whose commitment to Magenta is absolute, and intense. Another is Sean Okuniewicz, whose Riff Raff is a 100 percent freakball liable to go off at any moment (he also has a true rock star voice suitable to the Time Warp). The third is Keith Pinto, who moves with a fascinating, precise elegance, giving an undercover fussiness to Frank 'N' Furter.

Keith Pinto as Frank 'N' Furter

Over all, I keep coming back to that word "commitment." The cast offers no half gestures, they are all there, all the time. Matthew Kropschot could easily cruise on his ridonkulous physique, but he's also quite loose and funny, and a good singer. The phantom ushers offer a tight, athletic dance team. Performing Eddie's "Hot Patootie," Will Springhorn, Jr. whipped out a sax and played the solo himself. It's also nice to hear a Janet Weiss with real pipes (Ashley Garlick), and Parker Harris gives Brad a likeable Niles Crane nerdiness that turns to fetish on a dime. The only flaw I even noticed was a little tightness from Jill E. Miller on Columbia's Time Warp solo, but her later drug trip is an excellent little monodrama. It's obvious that director Allison Rich and choreographer Tracy Freeman-Shaw got the absolute most out of their players.

Allison F. Rich as The Usherette

The production creates a nice balance between providing all the touchstones of the 1975 film without being a slave to them. Ashley Garlick's costume design, for one, made some amusing innovations. When Riff-Raff entered the final scene in his white platform boots, our friend at audience left remarked "Didn't you wear those in Mamma Mia?" Which was my exact thought.

Through Nov. 3, The Stage, 490 S. First Street, San Jose. 408/283-7142, thestage.org

Michael J. Vaughn is the author of 22 novels and two plays, Darcy Lamont and Cafe Phryque, which are available for free downloads at amazon.com.