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Candide Lyric Opera
at Emerson Majestic Theatre through
$10-$40 student tickets available at door 30 minutes before show
"Candide," this season's final Boston Lyric offering, hovers between Old World operetta traditions and light-hearted American musical theater.
The peeling gold paint and rows of bare bulbs seem to portend a long evening at the Emerson Majestic Theater. Like the theater's facade, much of Leonard Bernstein's music has not weathered the thirty-odd years since its premiere as well as it might. But the verve and slick packaging of the Boston Lyric's production keep the show afloat, and prove that the company can hold its own in the world of American musical theater.
The musical, based on Voltaire's novel, retains the other-worldly quality of the original, though in this musical adaptation its exoticism becomes laughable. The Spanish (or any of their colonies) seem to live, love, and scheme to the strains of a tango; all of Paris, even in the 18th century, spontaneously erupts into waltzing.
Incongruous ensembles dot the score. A whole chorus of Portuguese townspeople interrupts an inquisition with "What a day for an autoda-fe." The cast collectively bemoans their lot with unfortunately appropriate words--"What's the use"--to the strains of Venetain-style organ grinding that would have made even Sir Arthur Sullivan shudder.
Victoria Morgan's choroeography, usually strong and well-integrated, contributes to the overall tedium of these two moments.
The cast is studded with fine performers. Richard Clement's simple Candide is likeable yet not wishy-washy; no mean feat for the only incessantly "serious" character. As Cunegonde, Lisa Saffer simpers about and exploits her body with ease. Her rendition of "Glitter and be gay," sung in various states of undress, is as strewn with jewels as Cunegonde's sordid path through life.
Jan Curtis plays the more-jaded-than-thou Old Lady, and in the process loses herself and the audience in her mezzo warble. She milks what lines are comprehensible (and even some that aren't) for all they're worth. Rounding out the cast is David Evitts, as the bumbling master Pangloss and Voltaire himself, adding as much spice as he can to his limited part.
The real stars of the show are Robin VerHage's costumes. The main characters and their compatriot Westphalians all wear white. They proceed through a whirlwind tour of countries and climes whose inhabitants run the gamut of color and texture. The lively contrast amply compensates for deficiencies in the score. VerHage has turned a costumer's nightmare into an audience member's pipe dream.
The Boston Lyric's latest operatic offering is "operatic" only in that it is as long as Wagner and as contrived as any opera plot. The cast's energetic efforts and the show's polished appearance (forget about the bare bulbs and peeling paint) redeem the score's failings.
Bear with the dull parts--there may not be gold at the end of the rainbow but there's certainly much of interest along the way.
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