Last night at the ART, there were moments of this Theatre de la Jeune Lune opera-play-gymnastic production that made my heart race. It had some of the best theater I've seen in my life. The climax to Act One is the ensemble singing "Viva le Libertate!" as the huge battered black car lurches across the stage, the singers hugging the exterior and raising their fists in the air as they sang. I wanted to jump out of my seat, join them and help push the car out into the street to march around Harvard Square singing. And who knows and who cares why you're singing "Long Live Freedom!" at that point?
This is the second Theatre de la Jeune Lune production we've seen (saw Carmen last year). I loved the choreography and singing. It was nicely paced and the music and tempo worked the audience toward the various climactic moments. The physical agility of the actors was astounding and circus-like: they skipped and danced on the moving car, bicycled and ran around the enormous stage, kissed and caressed -- and all of it while singing Mozart! Then tension and sense of danger on stage was like watching trapeze artists.
The exhilaration I felt made me forget that what was actually happening on stage was...kind of scatterbrained. Why are we seeing that young Don Giovanni on the stage? He's not part of any narrative I could figure out, although he's a great singer, and his sidekick Leporello was terrific (the performer Bradley Greenwald played him as an Italian thug with a real sense of menace mixed with comedy). And how does Don Juan finally get thrown to Hell in the end? I couldn't figure it out (although it is a deus ex machina, in any case).
But I'm willing to live with the flaws.
Is the production saying that morality and God really don't matter? That morality is all hypocrisy in any event? The play/opera's heart seems to be with the cynical Don Juan (we loved Dominique Serrand in the role -- but Don Juan is still a bastard) and the confused rants from the frenetic Sganarelle. It can only be evil and self destructive to repeatedly lie and cheat Donna Anna (played and sung by Momoko Tanno, who sang so gorgeously). In this production, there's no satisfaction in the comeuppance that Don Juan suffers.
Other things we could have lived without: the brief instances of mock urination, simulated sex, and the juvenile jokes about George Bush and Republicans. These seemed awkward, almost grotesque attempts to establish street cred with the well-off Cambridge audience. These instances diminished the play, but they were fortunately overwhelmed by the rest of it -- the river of music and visual fantasy.
As we filed out, the out of breath actors stood in a receiving line in the lobby. What a wonderful idea. We shook each of their hands, and gushed to them about how much we loved their work and the production. It was inspiring.
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