There are few operatic comedies as sweet as Donizetti's Elixir of Love. While most operatic romantic comedies are about a pair of lovers who others (usually a vain old man) stand in the middle of, Elixir is a simple story about Nemorino, a simple boy (very simple) who is desperately in love with a girl, Adina, who thinks he's a nice guy, but she really isn't interested in him. Then Adina is swept off her feet by a smooth-talking man in uniform, Belcore. Adina can tell Belcore is a dimbulb, but he makes her laugh, and he's a lot more fun to be around than Mr. Simple Earnest Nemorino.
Up to this point, the plot to Elixir sounds like virtually every modern romantic comedy. So, it's time to add the wild-card: the charlatan snake-oil salesman, Dulcamara, who is happy to peddle the title love potion to Nemorino, parting the fool from his money. Through the deus ex machina of a rich uncle dying, Nemorino suddenly becomes irresistible to the village women, which makes Adina jealous, which brings the plot to its happy ending.
A silly plot, but one that works: Nemorino is one of the all-around nicest characters in all of opera, and because of that, the audience wants him to get his love--he's certainly more sympathetic than, say, the rather obnoxious and at times abusive Count Almaviva in The Barber of Seville. Adina is also deeper than most characters of her genre: she knows that she has a petty streak, but she's not bad, and she genuinely wants Nemorino to be happy--even though she thinks he shouldn't be happy with *her*. Okay, Belcore is a ridiculous buffoon, and Dulcamara is a typical buffo patter role, but the main pair is one of the best couples in all opera.
Elixir works well as a small-scale opera, so it was a good choice for the annual Rialto Theater production for Tacoma Opera (the season's other mainstage Tacoma Opera production is in the larger Pantages). The production, by Christopher Nardine, was updated to post-WWII Italy, perhaps in the 50's or 60's. Rather than peasant garb, Nemorino wears clamdiggers, most of the men have scarves tied rakishly around their necks, and Dulcamara has a zoot suit (costumes by Kathleen Anderson). Apart from the costumes, there weren't any particularly radical touches in the staging, apart from characters occasionally interacting with the orchestra (who are onstage, as the Rialto has no orchestra pit), and the audience (Dulcamara makes his initial entrance from the aisle).
Nemorino is by far the most important role in any production of Elixir: he is onstage for nearly the entire opera, has two major arias, and is in most of the ensembles. In Tacoma, he was played by Marcus Shelton as a bit of a nerd who knows nothing about women, but who desperately wants to be loved. Shelton's voice sounds made for bel canto: it gets louder and has more squillo the higher it goes. He brings the kind of prosciutto necessary for his drunken scenes.
Megan Hart, in her first Tacoma Opera performance, was Adina. Her characterization was kind and gentle, but cruel when necessary. High notes held no terrors for her, as she appeared to take every high note option in the score. While Adina is generally played by piping soubrette sopranos, Miss Hart's soprano had a rich, almost fruity sound that was most pleasing.
Tacoma Opera veteran Barry Johnson, last heard by this reviewer as the Steersman in Seattle Opera's Tristan und Isolde, was Belcore. He was a sergeant without troops in an over-the-top fancy uniform, and looked like a young Ned Beatty. His vocal highlight was the "Venti Scudi" duet with Nemorino, though in his first act appearances, he did not make much of an impression--although that is more the fault of Donizetti.
Charles Robert Austin, who first appeared with Tacoma Opera as Mephistopheles in the 2009 Faust production played the completely different role of Dulcamara. He was clearly having a good time as the swindler, though he did not appear to be in the best voice: in his first act patter song, he sang many of his lines an octave lower, some parts being inaudible.
Giannetta, one of the girls in the village was played by Megan Chenovick with charm and a sweet soprano. The chorus was boisterous, well-prepared, and clearly having a great time onstage. The tiny orchestra of 13 players, in a reduced orchestration prepared by conductor Bernard Kwiram, produced a surprisingly full sound, certainly adequate for the tiny auditorium. Kwiram kept a good balance between singers and orchestra and led at a good brisk pace.
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