Ken Ludwig’s plot is perhaps the most preposterous ever to be conceived by a playwright. However, it is so skillfully and ingeniously woven together that it acquires a logic and credibility all its own. As a result, the audience rides along with the absurdity while rolling in the aisles throughout the make-believe.
Because of the sudden "death" of Tito Merelli, Il Stupendo, owing to an overdose of sleeping pills, Max, an opera aficionado and a virtually self-made singer, substitutes at the last minute for Tito. The role is no less than Verdi’s formidable Othello! Max’s only preparation for the opera was a random duet (from Verdi’s Don Carlo) sung with Tito in the latter’s hotel suite just a few hours before curtain time. The production is under the auspices of the Cleveland Opera Guild headed by Julia Leverett, with Henry Saunders (Max’s boss) as producer-impresario.
For a personal note, I must add that Lorin Maazel, now conductor of the NY Philharmonic which Manilans recently heard, wielded the baton for the Cleveland Symphony for many years, and it is not likely that Cleveland’s sophisticated opera-lovers will mistake the amateurish Max for Tito, Il Stupendo. The very absurd substitution is made plausible, thus leading to rib-tickling consequences.
For here, we have two Othellos, identically costumed, returning to the same hotel suite, and what more ideal situation for mad-cap confusion? Maggie, Saunder’s daughter and Max’s unresponsive fiancée, and Diana, an aspiring singer (?), are both fanatic admirers of Tito. Barging on separate occasions into his room, Maggie falls into the arms of Max, mistaking him for Tito; Diana falls into the arms of the real Tito. The latter two draw gales of laughter with their conversation running into two different directions yet making sense to each one while the audience reads into their innocent lines risqué double-entendre meanings. The dialogue makes for the wittiest and cleverest (as also the naughtiest) scene in the entire farce.
Timing is of the essence in comedy), and director Zeneida Amador, far from being a dilettante, keeps the pauses not a second too long or too short, the racy pacing sustaining the momentum of each scene. Similarly, the players’ various exits and entrances through the many doors of the hotel suite are done with split-second precision — heightening suspense and leaving spectators wondering who or when a character will miss his cue.
Michael Williams reveals a marvelous flair for comedy and versatility as he portrays both Max, Saunders’s factotum, and the tenor Il Stupendo. With his arrogant, pompous, flamboyant manner and assumed Italian accent, Miguel Faustmann portrays Tito with utterly delightful conviction. Joy Virata — her Italian accent is equally credible — struts about as the vain, strong-willed, jealous Maria, Tito’s wife. Jay Valencia Glorioso is the fluttery, often annoyingly solicitous Opera Guild president Julia.
Liesl Batucan portrays the flirtatious, flighty Maggie, Saunder’s daughter. Arnel Carrion, with his imposing presence and demanding air, compels attention; so does Ana Bitong, who as Diana flaunts her feminine charms before Tito. Ben Zamora, the refreshingly obstreperous Bell Hop and opera buff, draws snickers as he ticks off the operas, e.g., Carmen, Aida, etc. at the drop of a hat.
In sum, each player adds his/her considerable share in making Lend Me a Tenor the rib-tickling comedy it is meant to be. (Gone are the days when the fledgling Rep had to pit tyros by necessity against the pros.)
Amador’s sure hand is evident throughout. Faustmann’s single set is attractively functional. How elegant are the costumes designed by Baby Barredo (associate artistic director. Manjke Amador serves as assistant director.
Ludwig’s obvious conversance with opera renders his farce even more hilarious, particularly to opera-lovers themselves.