XL REVIEWS

The Barber of Seville, the Killers, Fusebox, Ah Wilderness

Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Obstacles notwithstanding, 'Barber' is a sheer delight

If life throws you less-than-perfect circumstances, may as well make a raucous funny romp of it.

That's what Austin Lyric Opera decided to do with their current bare-bones yet completely charming production of Rossini's "The Barber of Seville." And they did so with aplomb Saturday night to a sold-out crowd at Riverbend Centre, turning in a show that bubbled with comic acting and delighted with fine voices and symphonic surety.

The company was squeezed out of its longtime home — the University of Texas' Bass Concert Hall — as that venue is scheduled to close soon for renovations. And with its new home, the Long Center for the Performing Arts, not set to open until 2008, the opera, like other large arts groups, has been forced to find a temporary home.

Since there was no use in pretending the 2,300-seat multi-purpose amphitheater-like Riverbend venue is at all suited for full-scale opera productions (there's neither an orchestra pit nor adequate stage or backstage space for sets of any consequences), director Joseph Evans smartly decided to integrate the orchestra into the action. After all, conductor Richard Buckley and the musicians couldn't be anywhere but front and center. Hence, they were part of the fun, with Buckley amiably hamming it up and chattering in Italian to the characters and keyboardist Elden Little donning period wigs now and again.

Indeed, the tight stage meant the entire cast had to break character every now and again. But that just added to the overall charming, comic effect. Even the super-title screens seemed to humorously go their own way now and again.

The close quarters and lack of sets just added to the demands that each performer hand in a rousing comedic turn — which they all did in spades to hilarious effect.

Likewise with the nimble singing: mezzo-soprano Sandra Piques Eddy, tenor John Tessier, bass-baritone Peter Strummer and baritone David Small sparkled, leading the rest of the small cast in a vocally spot-on show, especially considering Rossini's challenging score.

Bravo to Austin Lyric Opera for squeezing one of opera's comedic masterpieces into small and less-than-ideal quarters.

"The Barber of Seville" continues at 7:30 p.m. Friday and 3 p.m. April 22 at Riverbend Centre, 4214 N. Capital of Texas Highway. $15-$109. 472-5992. www.austinlyricopera.org.

—Jeanne Claire van Ryzin

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The Killers, live from Las Vegas

From the stadium seating of the Erwin Center to the popcorn and peanuts to the vendors walking through the aisles calling out "cotton candy," the Killers show on Friday felt more like a major sporting event than an indie rock show. Or maybe an elaborate theatrical performance.

Eyes were fixed to a white shroud over the stage as four brave souls climbed rope ladders in front of the curtain to spotlight turrets high in the rafters. There was either about to be an impressive display of acrobatics or an astonishing stage show. Blinding lights pulsed, gold and silver confetti flickered in the air and plastic roses on vines adorned the amps and pianos. The Killers burst forth with lofty guitars, enlivening organs and soaring choruses sure to rattle around in your head for days. They had the sold-out crowd dancing like it was Depeche Mode in '91.

The Grammy-nominated alt-rockers were channeling their hometown, Las Vegas, throughout. During "Read My Mind"" from their latest platinum album, "Sam's Town," singer Brandon Flowers hopped across the monitors, singing into the crowd with all the personality and panache of a lounge singer. During "Smile Like You Mean It,"" strings of bulbs straight off the Vegas strip illuminated Flowers as he stood at his decadent keyboard podium, which looked like a sacrificial altar. But you don't see many sacrificial altars with disco balls in them.

Openers Howling Bells were less about production and more about ominous country-tinged indie rock featuring female vocals as strong at a whisper as when they cried outward to the heavens. The eerie guitars howled, and she was like a siren in a western epic.— Will Mills

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O'Neill: Worth the walk?

"Ah, Wilderness!" isn't Eugene O'Neill's best play, though it's certainly his lightest. The question raised by the new production at St. Edward's University, directed by Rod Caspers, is whether anyone could really care to stroll down a bitter playwright's idealized memory lane.

Set in a small Connecticut town on July 4, 1906, "Wilderness" gives us a day in the life of the Miller family. Father Nat sees to the newspaper business while Ma Essie trains the servants. Son Arthur comes home from Yale to sing along to his sister's piano accompaniment. The black sheep of the family is precociously subversive Richard, who secretly reads Ibsen and Shaw — thrilling subject matter.

The production doesn't add much excitement. As Richard, Nigel O'Hearn is suitably snide when reciting Wilde to his family, but he's never quite dreamy or poetic enough to make up for it. It's the angst of adolescence, but without the tender brush of first love. Fortunately his two role models are more endearing. Ev Lunning Jr.'s Nat seems so concerned with setting the right example that his stumbles only highlight his true steps. And Ian Scott's Sid is the stereotype of "that uncle" in every family — flawed, but lovably so.

Ultimately the play's warmth is the sort you feel when listening to a proud parent talk about his or her kids. It's nice, but not that exciting.— Joey Seiler

("Ah, Wilderness!" continues at 7:30 p.m. Wednesdays-Saturdays and 2 p.m. Sundays through April 22 at the Mary Moody Northern Theatre, 3001 S. Congress Ave. $10-$15. 512-448-8484.)

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Fusebox Festival reviews: 'For Forms'

In "For Forms" Friday at the Blue Theater, curator Chris Cogburn exploited performance's interdisciplinary possibilities. As the kickoff for Refraction Art's Fusebox Festival, the performance ranged from Cogburn's intimate percussion and Joshua Beckman's slowly unfolding poetry to Scott Heron's fabulously dramatic dance in purple, Gothic drag.

The only Austin artist of the crew, Cogburn opened with an exploration of softly felt vibrations. He played two snare drums with a variety of accoutrement: bells, cymbals and a wooden stick inserted into a cymbal, resting on a drum. As he stroked the stick, a slow din grew, like hearing a jazz band warm up from afar.

Turning the volume up tenfold, Heron bounded onstage in purple taffeta, black wig and torn fishnets, after a blurry film featuring a similar figure struggling in black-and-white waves. After several trips into the audience, including crawling under legs while stripping to underwear and garter belt, Heron seemed likely to explode from his own skin. Sniffing black pepper, he breathed with every pore, to hilarious, straining effect. Bringing the audience further into consideration of what his body might do, Heron sketched quick portraits of his now revealed body parts. The filmed figure he initially mimicked had struggled to escape the waves' swallow. Standing with chin and chest puffed, mostly naked amidst the pictures, Heron faced no threat of easy consumption.

After such a comic feast, Beckman's poetry was bizarre. Though lines like "I've lost my shoes, but I have my Walkman" felt funny, Beckman's monotonous, waltz-like voice grew tiring. — Clare Croft

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Fusebox Festival reviews: Joe Diebe and Phil Soltanoff

Mother Nature got in on the theatrical collaboration of Joe Diebes and Phil Soltanoff at a massive sound stage Friday night at Austin Film Studios, the first night of the indie arts festival Fuse Box.

As if on cue, gusts of wind blew and lightning cracked just as sliding doors rolled open to the audience assembled outside, revealing eight performers under sparse lightning, each standing in front of a speaker. Dressed in casual street clothes and sporting wireless microphone headsets, the performers each began to utter delicate breathing noises.

Those utterances were then instantly recorded by Diebes, a New York sound artist, who sat at a console laden with equipment in the middle of the soundstage. The recorded sound was then electronically sampled, mixed with other sounds and projected on top of the live sounds of the performers.

That fuguelike patterning of sound grew in complexity as performers, changing their breathy utterances to spoken or sung words, rearranged themselves and their speakers throughout the massive space. The audience was invited inside, at first standing in a self-conscious group around Diebes and his console. But as the 45-minute piece evolved, people splintered off and wandered freely, as if they felt invested in being a part of the theatrical action.

As the sound grew in aural intricacy into a lush wall of hauntingly lovely music, the actions of the performers gained complexity. Again, neat fuguelike patterning came into play as the performers crisscrossed the sound stage, jogged around its edges, issued each other commands for various movements and toted their speakers now and again, the action building in speed and in density.

Diebes and Soltanoff, a New York theater director, dubbed their piece "I/O," the computer technology abbreviation for input/output. Concerned with the most basic ways people physically interact with technology, Diebes and Soltanoff staged "I/O" last summer in New York and plan to stage another iteration of the piece next year in Europe.

They took the audience on a charming yet also mesmerizing and thought-provoking little journey Friday night. They're onto something and "I/O" might just be leading the way.

— Jeanne Claire van Ryzin

("Fuse Box" continues through April 28. Performances at various locations. Headquartered at Blue Theater, 916 Springdale Road; $40 festival pass, $5-$25 for individual events. 927-1188, www.refractionarts.org)