The Lisbon Traviata - Garrick Theatre (14 April 2024)

Ah, the opera! An art form full of heightened storytelling, glorious voices, big emotions, and sublime music. Love, jealousy, lust, betrayal, comic misunderstandings, and tragedy all writ large, "often at the same time" as *Eric Idle might say. In that world composers, conductors, musicians, and singers can become immortal. Stars such as influential opera singer Maria Callas who shone as bright as any during the mid-20th century. 

Now, a recent attendance at a performance of Mozart's The Marriage of Figaro notwithstanding, I cannot claim to be an opera fan let alone an aficionado. This is not the case for two of the characters in playwright Terrence McNally's love letter to Callas. They are immersed in opera - they exchange rapid fire references to performances and recordings down to the exact date and location as they disparage other opera luminaries whilst adoring Callas as an unimpeachable goddess. It's very specific and while I catch many of the obvious references most sail waaaaaaaaay over my head. 

Two things come from this. Firstly, kudos to actors Adam Poole (Stephen) and Martyn Churcher (Mendy) who plough through a staggering amount of names, places, titles, and operatic ephemera, oftentimes singing excerpts from the pieces they are discussing. The second is, I need something to ground myself in this arcane setting as we settle into Stephen and Mendy's discourse which comprises the bulk of the first half. Sure, there's way more going on but we'll get to that a little later. For now, I'm trying to navigate my way to a place of perspective even though I may not grasp the specifics.

In this I am helped by a brief pre-show conversation with director Barry Park. I come away from this surmising that Maria Callas was the Taylor Swift of her day. Yes, I can hear the gnashing of teeth and sharpening of knives from true opera lovers as I type this. But it gives me a point of reference. Mendy would have made a tremendous Swiftie - he is obsessed by Callas. He knows everything about her. Consumes vast quantities of her work and voraciously seeks out rare and previously unheard recordings such as, you guessed it, the Lisbon Traviata. 

I know this feeling - when I left high school I moved out of home to share a house with three friends and we were always at Dada Records (those were the days!) eagerly looking for rare bootleg live recordings of bands such as Pink Floyd. In other words, passionate 'fandom' is a concept I can handily latch onto here. 

Mendy is the diva of the two and Churcher plays him suitably large with more than a touch of Nathan Lane about him. Stephen appears the more unaffected but as the first half unfurls we learn that he fears his relationship with Mike (Patrick Downes) is on rocky ground due to Mike's dalliance with the younger Paul (Alex Comstock). That first half is big, sumptuous (a gorgeously dressed set by Park), over-the-top, and there are laughs to be found in the outlandish nature of, particularly, Mendy's foibles. It also sows plenty of seeds for what's to come. 

The second half takes a somewhat abrupt turn in location, look, and especially tone. We relocate to Stephen's apartment which he shares with Mike only to find Paul is also there. By comparison, the set is antiseptic and ordered with a wonderful depiction of hundreds of albums and CDs on the rear flat. Initially it's like a set-up for an opera - Stephen, the villain, comes in to find the mismatched lovers (Mike and Paul) with Mendy intruding briefly for comic relief. 

But then something far more interesting happens - Stephen becomes the diva. He pleads with Mike to love him after he crassly makes multiple passes at Paul. Things escalate from there until that heightened storytelling and big emotions associated with opera explode into a fury of jealousy and rage. The over-the-top pretentions of the first half morph into the even bigger emotions of the second. 

By the end of the play you come to realise that Maria Callas symbolises a relationship that was one-sided and never real. That obsession isn't a substitution for love. That finding that rare recording or moment can't rekindle something that is over. As the lights slowly fade on our tragic figures (Lighting designer Mark Nicholson) the trajectory of Mike and Stephen's relationship appears as if it were always fated, like the plot of an opera which is the clever conceit at the heart of this. 

The acting is excellent throughout - Churcher, as mentioned, is all flourishes and vain remonstrations as he plays the full tilt diva to the hilt. Poole gets to go just as large in the second half, albeit in an increasingly melodramatic way, as his Stephen unravels with jealousy and fear. Downes is more grounded as the doctor who has tired of Stephen and fallen for Paul, and provides a rock solid foundation for Poole to bounce off as Stephen becomes more desperate. Comstock provides some shock value to start but plays Paul with a "whatever, man" disdain that's a nice counterpoint to the roiling emotions of the others.

Sound design plays a critical role and is well-handled (Sound operator Jeremy Moore) with the recordings of Callas performances, household effects, and phone message recordings, while there is a focus on the equipment used to play these vinyl records with turntables and stereo kits that will be familiar to anyone from that era (mid-80s). The production also utilises an American dialect coach (Phillip Steele-Young) and Foreign languages coach (Grace Edwards) so the New York accent work and pronunciation of opera terms, lyrics, and names was notable.   

The density and specificity of the opera references might keep audiences at arm's length from this initially but it's well worth persisting with because there's a complex and genuine human tragedy that emerges from under all the "operatic" bluster. 

This is the third play in a row I've seen by director Barry Park that tackles such complexity in forthright and honest ways after The York Realist and The Normal Heart last year. He's to be commended for continuing to present such challenging material at a high level in Perth's vibrant community theatre space. The Lisbon Traviata runs until 27 April at Garrick Theatre in Guildford.

*Eric Idle wrote the Tony award winning musical 'Spamalot' with John Du Prez. McNally takes a few pot shots at musical theatre and while I can tolerate 'Cats' being taken for a walk and even 'The Sound of Music', you're messing with trouble when you go after Sondheim and 'Sweeney Todd'!