Monday, Jan. 16, 1995
Falsettos and Falsies
By CHARLES MICHENER
The somber judgment scene from Aida unfolds. Portraying the Egyptian princess Amneris is a singer identified in the program as "Carmelita Della Vaca- Browne," a burly Puerto Rican ex-soprano whose voice (since she gave birth to triplets) has darkened to a take-no-prisoners mezzo. In the role of the doomed warrior Radames, all-American tenor "Tex Stolto" can't seem to resist handing out 8-by-10 glossies of himself. And as Ramfis, the high priest, Russian bass "Boris Pistoff" doffs his headdress to reveal himself as a Conehead.
This is Aida? Well, yes -- as staged by a New York-based all-male company called La Gran Scena. This rare -- and rarefied -- troupe recognizes that opera thrives on the tension between the sublime and the silly. After all, when a 200-lb. soprano trips down the castle steps trilling like a 1-lb. canary in the mad scene in Lucia di Lammermoor, should one weep at her character's insanity or howl at the absurdity? La Gran Scena's answer is: both. As they see it, loving opera and laughing at it are one and the same thing.
The spectacle of men getting dressed up as divas and belting out Verdi in falsetto may seem a specialized taste. But the appeal of La Gran Scena goes well beyond that of your usual drag show. As they are currently demonstrating on their seven-city U.S. tour (this week: Sun Desert, California), these divas can convulse mainstream audiences; and they are not only consummate clowns, but they can really sing.
Clad in tacky ball gowns, they make their entrance with Wagner's Ride of the Valkyries, wielding spears and boas with imperious belligerence as they battle for the spotlight. The performance is presided over by a folksy/bitchy hostess, "Miss Sylvia Bills," a Kewpie-doll look-alike of "America's Most Beloved Retired Diva." She seats herself in an armchair, vodka bottle at the ready, and introduces the samplings from operatic war-horses. (Typical plot synopsis: "Manon falls in love in 16 bars. Sounds like me after the show.")
The St. Sepulce scene from Manon, a passionate encounter between lovers in a monastery, brings on the prima donna "Vera Galupe-Borszkh," a.k.a. "La Dementia." Wearing a colossal red fright wig and more lipstick than Lucille Ball, she commands the stage like Bette Midler on Benzedrine, casting her stratospheric soprano to the bleachers as it veers between ear-splitting fortissimos and never-ending pianissimos.
The evening's tour de force is Act II of Tosca, with a lavishly bejeweled Galupe-Borszkh in the title role and the Hungarian baritone "Fodor Szedan" as her nemesis, Baron Scarpia. A much- brandished leg joint of a roast pig, a servant with an infectious body twitch and the wicked baron's narcolepsy (which becomes most pronounced during the heroine's stupendous singing of the work's signature aria Vissi d'arte) all figure heavily in a send-up that shatters every cliche in the trunk. Opera buffs can delight in spotting references to great, legitimate performances -- from Tosca's tigerish poses a la Maria Callas to Cavaradossi's Castilian lisp, a dig at Spanish tenor Jose Carreras.
La Gran Scena's brand of burlesque may owe much to Mel Brooks and the Marx Brothers, not to mention the late drag master Charles Ludlam. But it is also clearly an inside job -- the work of connoisseurs who, even in falsetto and falsies, have a keen understanding of the magnificent excess that makes this art form so compelling.
The company's founder and artistic director, Ira Siff (a.k.a. Mme. Galupe- Borszkh), was introduced to opera in high school in New York City. "In the beginning, " he says, "it was Callas, Callas, Callas. I slept three nights in the streets to get into her 1965 Tosca at the Met. It was at once thrilling and hilarious, riveting and funny, especially because the performance was so devoid of humor. My giggles have always been appreciative, but once at the old Met I laughed so loud a dowager clobbered me with her program."
Siff studied to become a tenor in the Italian bel canto style, but detoured into a career as a cabaret performer and teacher of theater voice. He launched La Gran Scena in 1981, gradually building a repertory based on 19th century classics and a company of free-lance singers, most of whom have opera careers elsewhere in their natural voices. Indeed, Siff is one of only two non- conservatory-train ed singers in the troupe.
Among La Gran Scena's most vociferous fans are some of the most formidable names in opera, including the Met's artistic director, James Levine, and divas Leontyne Price and Joan Sutherland. In recent seasons the troupe has traveled well beyond its initial cult status, playing such venues as Washington's Kennedy Center and the Edinburgh Festival.
"In a way," says Siff, "we're a reminder of what opera used to be. You don't see the grand manner onstage anymore -- no one will embarrass themselves. Which is too bad, because if opera isn't over the top, what is it?"