Lucia Mastrantone and Elisa Colla hit the high notes. Photo: Prudence Upton
Billed as an ‘explosive homage to legendary opera singer Maria Callas’, Terrence McNally’s 1995 opera play opens with Lucia Mastrontone (in the principal role) conducting a masterclass in New York’s Juillard School of the Arts. Her Callas, now past her prime as a singer, takes no prisoners. She behaves as a stereotypical diva, demanding a cushion, then a footstool; is condescending to her ever-smiling and nearly mute pianist Bunny (Maria Alfonsine, who is also the show’s musical director); and refers to her pupils as her ‘victims’. At the same time, Mastrontone takes the audience (or her class) into her confidence, making us laugh with her sardonic asides and exacting standards. ‘It’s not about me,’ declares Callas, waving an admonitory finger – but of course it clearly is.
Her first ‘victim’, a diffident and hapless Sophie (Bridget Patterson) is barely allowed to open her mouth, let alone sing, and is soon dismissed. Which, by the way, is no reflection on Patterson or her voice.
The second ‘victim’ is Sharon (Elisa Colla). Having insisted that all wannabe opera singers must have ‘a look’, Callas immediately castigates Sharon for hers – she is in a formal long, red dress, accessorised as per the fashion in the ’70s, and definitely has a ‘look’. In the face of Callas’s sharp criticisms, Sharon soon takes flight.
Towards the end of the first act, the lighting (courtesy of Kelsey Lee) changes and Mastrontone delivers some insights into Callas’s life, which was not supremely happy. Famous for being an opera singer and the mistress of Aristotle Onassis, this work delves a little deeper into her life and psyche, highlighting her unhappy childhood, her preoccupation with her weight and her dedication to her art.
The beginning of Act 2 delivers more of the same, with tenor Matthew Reardon turning up for some humiliation (although his character is somewhat, and somewhat unbelievably, smug) and even a little praise.
But then, having found her courage, Sharon returns and we are quickly into the best scenes in Masterclass. Sharon manages to get a few notes out before she is stopped and told to act. When she protests, ‘I am a singer, not an actor’, it is Callas’s opportunity for more derision and the cue to extol her convictions that singers must inhabit characters they seek to portray (which she, by all accounts, absolutely did). Sharon takes a deep breath and begins again (she is singing the letter scene from Lady Macbeth) and Colla proves she is a fine singer, and an equally fine actor. Her transition from timid to manic and, eventually, resentful is a joy to watch.
Having railed against her famous teacher’s insensitivity and perceived jealousy, Sharon departs in a huff, and Callas retreats into memories once more.
She does not dwell on the criticisms Sharon has offered, which would have been interesting. Instead, the stage darkens again and Callas is once more reflecting on the unhappinesses of her career and personal life. These last introverted scenes are curiously lit, with jolts of blue light matched with sounds that could be camera flashes or gun shots. I confess the effects rather took my attention away from what was being said.
On the plus side, Mastrontone is a commanding and passionate Callas, her comic timing is spot on as is a caustic wit. At times it is easy to believe her assertion that ‘I have tried to communicate to you what we feel as human beings and as artists’. The operatic interludes, as delivered by Patterson, Colla and Reardon, are a delight, and credit must also go to Damian de Boos Smith (at once a member of the cast, musician and composer).
A play that runs for two hours (including interval) cannot give all the details of Maria Callas’s life, but I was left wanting more and, although director Liesel Badorek moves McNally’s work along at a fine pace, this is a play that does not reach a crescendo. Nonetheless, there are some very fine moments.
Until 20 July
Tickets:$43-88
https://www.ensemble.com.au/shows/master
