And in ring three: A Daring Opera Company Walks a Tightrope.
"Acis + Galatea" at American Opera Theater

By Rachel Ritzel
Freelance Writer
Jan. 29, 2007

A sad and wonderful thing happened Friday night on my way to see an opera -- a scowling six-year old informed me that the performance was sold out.

"They might have already paid for tickets sweetie," said the woman (Mom, I presume) descending the stairs with her. And I felt a bit chagrined, knowing that inside the box office staff was holding a pair of press tickets for me. To assuage my guilt, I have to tell you that American Opera Theater's "Acis + Galatea," which opened its American tour with a two-week run at Baltimore's Theater Project, is an amazing production. A rare high quality crowd pleaser that illustrates an interesting point: The "graying of the audience" isn't just a marketing problem; it's a challenge to programmers. Tim Nelson, the 26-year-old artistic director of Opera Theater, is facing that challenge with chutzpah of a daring ringmaster.

Nelson has staged Handel's "Acis + Galatea" a behind-the-scenes romance that tears apart a troupe of circus performers.

Actually, Nelson's program notes say it's the troupe telling the story, but the production so perfectly juggles a postmodern mix of Baroque score, ancient tale (Handel loosely adapted the libretto from Ovid's "Metamorphoses," and surrealist staging that no extra layer of reality is necessary.

Once nearly all of the 150-person, capacity crown had arrived to see "Acis" Friday, a comedia del dell'arte ensemble began performing at the foot of the stadium seating. A mime pretends to be stuck in a box; a bear jumps through a hoop. The suspenseful question for the audience isn't whether a fire-breather is coming out next, but are these actors the singers?

So it's something of a thrill when this quartet, after displaying comic virtuosity, lines up and launches into the opening chorus. My gosh, these people ARE actors, they just also happen to be trained early music performers. True, the melismas loose some force when the singers disperse to shake hands with the audience. All is forgiven moments later, when Rebecca Duren, the fearless soprano playing Galatea, achieves a pristine sound hanging upside down.

Where did Nelson find these singers? Most have orbits that pass through the Peabody Conservatory, where Nelson and Duren recently picked up master's degrees. The same is true of the Ignoti Dei musicians, an able ensemble of 12 that stands, mostly visible behind the set pieces.

Red curtains hangs from each side of the black box. Once unhooked and knotted at center stage, the drapes double as a bungee cord for Duren's aerial acrobatics. Props are few but well chosen, including seesaw perches for Acis and Galatea to perch on as they sing their "Happy, happy" duet and a red yoga ball that serves Polypheme fatal weapon.

The plot, such as Handel and Ovid conceived it, involves love triangle between the nymph Galatea; her shepherd lover Acis; and Polypheme, the forest monster who pines for Galatea. In this production, these characters are portrayed as a mime, trapeze artist and clown respectfully. Add the woodsman Damon as the ringmaster and Coridon as a performing bear and the circus is complete. You'll not find better costumes where "Wicked" is playing down the street.

Nelson took few liberties with the libretto. He recognizes, however, that even in a metropolitan area like Baltimore, there's not a large audience for Baroque opera. I confess, the Messiah and a Brandenburg concerto or two usually fills my Handel quota for the year. Da capo arias can get monotonous, even when well sung. Time and time again in "Acis," just when you think, "Please, no. It's lovely but do you have to repeat everything again?" Nelson throws in a tasteful distraction, whether it's a tenor on roller skates, upside-down soprano or comic stage business from the supporting cast.

Nelson has a keen sense of a dramatic timing. I don't know that I've ever had the privilege of associating that the phrase with an opera before. Singing may be tantamount for opera buffs, but directors take more risks with their staging, few people from the theatergoing and Dora the Explorer set will line up at the opera box office.

That's why I'm giddy with hope for American Opera Theater, this two-year old company from Crabtown. May many more six-year-olds be denied admission to sold-out American Opera Theater performances, and ask Mom if they can please try to see the show tomorrow.