Capsule Stage Reviews: Aida, Avenue Q, The Crucible, Death and the Maiden, Venus in Fur

>Aida Filled with DeMille spectacle, scene-chewing passion and sublime music, Giuseppe Verdi's Aida (1871), one of grand opera's grandest, evokes the moonlit Nile, sumptuous palaces, gloomy temple sanctums, a split-level set that reveals claustrophobia below and splendor above (Verdi's own design), and, most famous of all, a majestic triumphal scene that trumps any parade by Barnum & Bailey. You can almost see the poster: "a cast of thousands!" Aida also covers all the emotions — jealousy, hubris, revenge, patriotism, love, all in capital letters. It is Verdi's masterpiece (if you could choose one among so many). Houston Grand Opera reprises the lame Zandra Rhodes production from 2006/7 with its cartoon sets and costumes straight out of a Maria Montez Republic B-picture. Pushed to the front of the stage, the action is flat and lifeless as a bas relief, although the Lion King-like elephant is imaginative, if derivative, and the lapis-colored stage "legs" that open and close to form pyramid shapes emit a nice Egyptian vibe. The whole thing needs more sand, more grit. The flatness infects the cast, except for internationally acclaimed, volcanic-voiced American mezzo Dolora Zajick, the foremost interpreter of Amneris, the Egyptian princess racked by jealousy. She could sing this role in her sleep. Her commanding voice is one of the wonders of the world, rich and plummy through all ranges, yet she can float a pianissimo with seductive softness. But it's her powerful agility that has made her the leading Verdian mezzo. She is out-of-this-world and rock solid. In the one-dimensional stage picture, you always know where she is. The other sides of the operatic love triangle, enslaved Ethiopian princess Aida (Ukrainian soprano Liudmyla Monastryska) and Radames (Italian tenor Riccardo Massi), the enemy Egyptian commander with whom she's in love, are on shakier ground. This couple is wooden as a mummy case. Monastryska, who recently made her Metropolitan Opera debut as Aida, has a mahogany finish to her plangent voice, and she, too, can float high notes with distinction. Her radiant romanza, "O patria mia," as she remembers her native country, is like a sigh, noted as a rite of passage for sopranos, much like Radames's hymn of praise to Aida, "Celeste Aida" ("Heavenly Aida") is a tenor's Everest. Monastryska conquers the aria, but seems ill at ease everywhere else. She doesn't make singing look easy. She spends more time glancing at maestro Fogliani than at her supposed lover. Big and solid, Massi looks the part of the ancient army general and sings Verdi's demanding role with determination, if not clarion tone. His lower register is full and buff, but he shades into nasality when going big-time, landing top notes with an extra step up. But he certainly makes singing Verdi look fresh. We never see him breathe, never see the preparation. He just opens his mouth and out pours the sound. With impressive panache, Fogliani elicits ringing fanfares and ethereal melody out of HGO's orchestra. The chorus is best of all, whispering priestly invocations with deep-dish mystery or declaiming in triumph while the faux elephant lumbers on. Dominic Walsh's frieze-fueled ­choreography enlivens the parade; American baritone Scott Hendricks gives Amonasro, Aida's father, nobility; Estonian bass Ain Anger is appropriately stiff-backed as inflexible high priest Ramfis; and Canadian bass-baritone Robert Gleadow growls imperiously as Pharaoh of Egypt. HGO's Aida is sadly unremarkable. A-list Zajick is surrounded by B-movie. That's something Verdi never intended. November 9. Houston Grand Opera, 501 Texas, 713-228-6737. — DLG

Avenue Q Take Sesame Street and give it a college coming-of-age story and an R rating and you've got the Tony Award-winning musical Avenue Q, now being presented by Music Box Musicals. The musical, which stars puppets, monster puppets and humans, is being mounted by Music Box in its intimate theater space, and is quite a different experience from seeing it in a large venue. The stage is small, not giving the large cast of actors and puppets much room to move around. To make up for the lack of space, director Michael J. Ross has placed much of the action to the left side of the stage, taking away some vantage points for those patrons seated on the opposite angle. Marco Camacho and Allison Sumrall aptly play the main puppets, Princeton and Kate Monster, respectively. Both actors portray additional puppets as well, and the jumping between the two characters, even when they are both required in one scene, is done skillfully and without missing a beat. The other puppets and actors keep the comedy moving along and more or less have the vocal chords to match. The nature of seeing this type of production in a small theater may be jarring to some who find being right in the action too close for comfort, especially for those who find it awkward watching puppets have sex. If that's the case, then just find yourself a spot in the back of the theater and enjoy a good show. Through November 23. Music Box Theater, 2623 Colquitt. For information, call 713-522-7722 or visit — AK

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D.L. Groover has contributed to countless reputable publications including the Houston Press since 2003. His theater criticism has earned him a national award from the Association of Alternative Newsmedia (AAN) as well as three statewide Lone Star Press Awards for the same. He's co-author of the irreverent appreciation, Skeletons from the Opera Closet (St. Martin's Press), now in its fourth printing.
Contact: D. L. Groover
Abby Koenig
Contact: Abby Koenig