Tuesday, February 10, 1998
Love of music conflicts with reality in ‘Traviata’
THEATER Characters face effects of obsession with drama in
McNally’s play
By Cheryl Klein
Daily Bruin Senior Staff
An aging Blanche DuBois desperately laments, "I don’t want
reality. I want romance!" as her Southern-belle dynasty comes
crumbling down on her.
The same might be the mantra of Mendy, a central character in
Terrence McNally’s "The Lisbon Traviata." Only, Mendy doesn’t even
have the delicious melodrama of a black-and-white Tennessee
Williams film to feed his fantasies.
Mendy’s world is contemporary New York City – the village – in
an overly ornate apartment where his closest friend, a
two-dimensional version of Maria Callas, peers out at him with her
dark diva eyes from multiple posters on the walls.
McNally expertly juxtaposes the tragic beauty of art with the
comfortable banter and painful doldrums of real life – opting for
the latter but eventually broaching the question, what happens when
the two collide?
The West Coast Ensemble’s fairly impressive staging of the play
runs through March 29, and presents believable interpretations of
the four homosexual men around whom the plot turns.
Mendy is obsessed with opera in general, Maria in particular. In
addition, on the night that fills out the first act he is obsessed
with securing a recording of her Lisbon performance of "La
Traviata." Mendy (Don Shenk) assures his buddy Stephen (John
Nielsen) that he is indeed looking for love, but both Stephen and
the audience see that opera is simultaneously his escape, the
standard by which he measures life and an obstacle to accepting any
flawed relationship (which is, of course, every relationship).
Shenk is immediately and overwhelmingly reminiscent of Nathan
Lane, from his high-pitched theatrics and gulps of shock to his
endearing, expressive eyebrows. This interpretation is problematic
in its slight lack of originality, but it should be noted that Lane
originated the role of Buzz in McNally’s "Love! Valour!
Compassion!" and perhaps director Peter Grego saw the two
characters as similar (e.g. Buzz’s obsession is musical theater).
And while much of Shenk’s humor lies in potentially stereotypical
phrases and mannerisms, he lends the character depth by letting
Mendy’s vulnerability and stubborn dedication to Maria shine
through.
Stephen gets virtually all the other lines in the first act, as
he hems and haws over the impending end of his eight-year
relationship to Mike, who is currently spending the night with a
dashing young thing named Paul a few blocks away.
In the play’s strongest performance, Nielsen is appropriately
subtle and neurotic next to over-the-top Shenk and it is not until
Act 2 (which takes place the next morning in Stephen and Mike’s
stark apartment) that we see his own denial-laced need for
romance.
Shenk and Nielsen deliver the play’s dense dialogue with
rapid-fire timing, capturing both the humor and emotion of the
script. They make constant operatic allusions, absurdly stopping
mid-conversation to re-enact scenes from "Tosca" or "Carmen" every
now and then. What is hilarious in the first act also foreshadows
the dark turn of the second. After all, when the metaphor is opera,
blood must be shed.
Though McNally’s medium is dialogue/character-based realism, he
uses the genre’s potential limitations as a springboard for
thought-provoking dips into fantasy. Having written the books for
"Ragtime," "Kiss of the Spider Woman" and "Master Class," McNally
is keenly aware of the power of music. In "The Lisbon Traviata" he
shows how it can act as crutch, savior and downfall when extended
as a symbol for culture-bred romance.
The West Coast Ensemble echoes this dichotomy nicely, bathing
the stage in soft pink light every time one of the characters
launches into an operatic interlude. This sets the stage for Act 2,
where Mike (Scott Ryden) asks Stephen to turn the stereo down,
demanding, "What’s wrong with quiet?"
His increasingly panicked lover responds, "Then you have to
listen to yourself think."
As ultra-realist Mike, Ryden occasionally makes his calm voice a
shade too calm, and when the script calls for more emotion, takes
on a "Look Mom, I’m acting" quality. When he attempts to snap
Stephen out of his musical fog with a blow to the jaw, it is out of
the blue, given Ryden’s intonations up to that point. The punch
itself seems physically awkward and staged when compared to the
pair’s more believable moments of tenderness.
As the strapping Paul, Andy Hirsch, who has repeatedly graced
the set of "Beverly Hills 90210," manages to be more than just
strapping. Hirsch plays Paul as young and not yet worldly, but also
thoughtful and perceptive of Mike and Stephen’s relationship. His
wholeness complicates and enriches the couple’s increasing
tension.
And it is wholeness that pervades the play. Yes, it helps to be
fluent in the language of opera and it is, at times, difficult to
keep up with the somewhat obscure references to sopranos and
mezzo-sopranos and conductors of the past. To this end, the West
Coast Ensemble has conveniently enclosed "A ‘Lisbon Traviata’
Primer: a tongue-in-cheek lexicon" in each playbill – but even
without the Cliffs Notes, the play is understandable and universal.
When Paul confesses that he’s just seen "Cats," the audience
roars.
Similarly, McNally has made a name for himself writing plays
about homosexual characters that defy being pigeon-holed as "gay
theater." He captures certain unique elements of homosexual culture
while keeping the very broad theme of human relationships at the
heart of his work.
AIDS, for example, affects but does not monopolize these
characters’ lives. Mendy and Stephen both acknowledge that it is a
bad time to be aging and alone, but really, is there a good time to
be aging and alone? McNally thus puts himself at the forefront of
an evolving theater scene which has not forgotten, but perhaps
transcended, the disease.
"The Lisbon Traviata’s" final, tragic claim is that people who
want drama make it for themselves and must suffer the consequences.
The ancient debate over art’s role in society manifests itself
eloquently in the hands of McNally and the West Coast Ensemble.
THEATER: "The Lisbon Traviata" runs through March 29 at The West
Coast Ensemble, 522 N. LaBrea, Los Angeles. Tickets are $20, with
discounts available for seniors, students and groups. For more
information, call (213) 525-0022.