Palm Beach Opera wrapped up its significant 53rd season with humor, choosing to follow its February world premiere exploration of post-World War II Holocaust survivors in New York (Enemies, a Love Story) with a lighthearted bel canto comedy.
It’s been nearly 40 years since Donizetti’s La Fille du Régiment has been performed at Palm Beach Opera, the last time with the legendary Beverly Sills. There may have been those in the audience Sunday afternoon at the Kravis Center’s Dreyfoos Hall who remembered that event, but they had little reason to see this production March 22 as any sort of comedown from a night with Bubbles.
That’s because at its center was a first-class performance by the soprano Syndey Mancasola as Marie. Having finished a stint as Leila in Bizet’s Les Pêcheurs de Perles only weeks earlier for Florida Grand Opera, Mancasola was undoubtedly in limber shape for her turn as the aristocrat’s secret daughter adopted by a company of regular guys in the French Army. And it showed: She simply sang wonderfully, with a big, beautiful sound, even across its compass, and strong without being shrill in the interpolated high Ds and E-flats she hit and held with bravura.
This is a story with Marie at the center, and Mancasola made sure she owned the part. She was a fine comedic actress, full of aw-shucks vigor in her village, and believably out of her element when trying to fit in as a marquise’s niece as well as persuasively obedient. Instead of singing “Le jour nassait” in a slightly off-key way, as some have done, she sang it straight, which makes her willingness to do what the marquise asks her to do more believable later on in the act.
Her Il faut partir in Act I had great tenderness, and she used a darker, almost muted color that was quite affecting; she brought much the same approach to the very similar Act II aria, “Par le rang et et l’opulence.” Most memorable was the sheer tirelessness of her voice, which rang out forcefully throughout all the martial music in this opera (and there is a great deal), and which always sounded joyfully ready for battle. It was a terrific performance in every way, and thoroughly enjoyable.
Almost as good was the tenor Taylor Stayton as Marie’s paramour, Tonio. Like Mancasola, he is a handsome, slim person, and the two looked like a natural fit together. His “Ah, mes amis” was right on the money, hitting each of the C’s with apparent ease and a bright, young color (some members of the audience tried to get an encore, to no avail; I think he would have hit it just as well the second time through).
His second-act aria, “Pour me rapprocher de Marie,” sounded less comfortable for him, perhaps because he was trying to find a warmer sound in a voice that is naturally a clarion instrument and not getting what he wanted. But Stayton was a very fine Tonio, vocally ideal in his duets with Marie — both sparkled in the cabaletta section of “Depuis l’instant,” in Act I — and an engaging presence on stage.
As the marquise, mezzo Judith Christin was delightful, if a little hammy at first, and her large, authoritative voice took some time after her first entrances to warm up. Sgt. Sulpice, sung by the Austrian baritone Peter Strummer, was very fine; he’s a good actor, and he sang with a forceful, pleasing sound. Baritone Thomas Hammons had less singing to do as Hortensius, the marquise’s manservant, but he was funny and properly fussy in this smallish role; he made the most of it, and made it memorable.
The Broadway veteran Judy Kaye played the non-singing role of the duchess of Krakenthorp, and in keeping with the tradition, interpolated a song, Stephen Sondheim’s “I Never Do Anything Twice,” from his score for the Sherlock Holmes film The Seven-Percent Solution. The audience adored it, and she performed it in expert scenery-chewing style. As excellent as she was, I think this was an unfortunate interpolation. In my admittedly minority opinion — seeing as the people around me were going out of their minds — a piece of clever but deeply vulgar Johann Strauss II pastiche written in 1974 has no business in an 1840 bel canto opera, no matter how loose the tradition has become.
In addition to Marie, a lot of the vocal weight in this opera falls on the men’s chorus, who are constantly hanging out in the barracks, singing about the joys of the regimental life. Greg Ritchey did an admirable job training his chorus, which is rather light vocally, but which had enough weight to make a strong impression. They sang lustily, accurately and crisply, and they did a good job on stage, too, thanks apparently in part to the training they received from a former Marine who took them through rifle drills.
Conductor Antonino Fogliani, making his debut with the company, did an admirable job in steering Donizetti’s ship and its crew, and the Palm Beach Opera Orchestra was in fine form. Dona D. Vaughn’s stage direction was straightforward and easy to follow, though she tended to use the middle of the chateau room in Act II as a performance space, which made it less interesting. The production looked sharp, with sets and costumes by Beni Montresor from a production at Canada’s Edmonton Opera.
The spoken parts of this opéra-comique were in English, with some iffy modern touches, including a reference by Sulpice to Meghan Trainor’s “All About That Bass,” which got quite a good laugh considering the age of much of the house. There were a whole series of hit-or-miss jokes in Act II when the ridiculously named guests arrived at the chateau and were introduced by Hortensius: There was one for the Duke, Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl, and another for Victor Frankenstein (“Franken-steen!” the chorus member said) and Frau Blücher, accompanied by the sound of a whinnying horse and a clap of thunder. (I half-expected him to channel Garrett Morris and announce the arrival of the Lord and Lady Douchebag.)
The audience ate it up, and it’s always good to have a happy crowd at the opera. What was somewhat regrettable here, though, was that the show’s chief attraction, impressive singing and vibrant music, was there in abundance, and the extensive clowning in Act II detracted from it. Had all of that been dialed back a bit, and with a different interpolation, this La Fille du Régiment would have been less of a laugh riot — but then audience members would be recalling Sydney Mancasola more than they would all the funny business that is designed to be in the background, and pace Sulpice and Trainor, this opera is really all about Marie.