For his debut as Artistic Director of the Opera Comique, Jerome Savary brought with him a hit (or miss, depending on whether you listen to his strongly-opinionated fans or detractors) from his similar position at Paris' TNP. He's been working with La Perichole since 1977 at the Schauspielhaus in Hamburg, Germany, as a popular operetta, developing what he now claims is a musical comedy. This kind of popular art, Savary insists, is what should be Opera Comique fare in the 21st Century. So he's presenting a current story of a beautiful street singer in Latin America who's lured by hunger away from her partner to the palace, guarded by hooded thugs, of a "benevolent" despot. Showing himself god-like, emerging in smoke from the base of his Libertador statue before his poor, dependent people, he and his military, police and associates traffic in drugs and extortion. By turns swaggering, lascivious and sappy, he's always comical but, Hitlerian-looking Denis Bradon reminds, dangerous. This contributes suspense regarding whether or not he and his henchmen will be foiled, and who will bed as well as wed the heroine.
Perichole (Elise Caron) and three cousin-prostitutes are hotchacha, even if they have musical comedy voices more than grand operatic ones for what Savary calls Offenbach's "swinging" score. What's more, the women have believable faces and figures for plying their trades. When Perichole appears in a sheath-gown of shimmering fuschia, not only the dictator drools. As her lover Piquillo, Eric Huchet recalls a younger Placido Domingo in looks and voice, once kidding around like Elvis with some of "Love Me Tender," but handling his drunk scenes realistically.
The comic tone registers at the start as the musicians, as much a small band as an orchestra, are prodded into the pit by a pistol-packing gaucho leader. In evidence throughout is the legacy of Savary's Grand Magic Circus, engaging spectators (on and off stage) in street theatre antics while underscoring politics. Steps fill the playing area to make crowds on them seem large. When parts are highlighted, scenes may shift quickly or actions be simultaneous. Savary is no crude agit-prop proponent, however, but more an heir to David Belasco in his staging. Offenbach's score is at times interpreted in samba, conga, tango beats and choreography.
Brief strains of Carmen are added supposedly because they convey the popular spirit of the piece and the place. Nevertheless, since the musical is French, at the celebratory happy ending Offenbach himself appears, lifts his robes to reveal blue-white-red ruffled petticoat, and does the can-can!
Obviously not for purists, Savary's treatment of Offenbach's classic may undergo further development. Here, however, at the Millennium, it looks and sounds like classic Jerome Savary.
