From the Boston Globe
Replete with slamming doors, mistaken identities, and conjugal conflict, Ken Ludwig's ''Lend Me a Tenor'' has all the makings of a good farce. In any comedy, however, these devices are mere cliches if the actors and director don't have a precise sense of timing and a penchant for farcical exaggeration. The Lyric ensemble fortunately has both in its punchy production of this shallow but entertaining American comedy. Opening on the heels of a fine production of ''Glengarry Glen Ross,'' ''Lend Me a Tenor'' brings the Lyric's laudable season to a comic close.
The play's first act builds its farcical momentum gradually. Tito Merelli, the famed Italian tenor known to his fans as Il Stupendo, arrives at his hotel suite in Cleveland suffering from indigestion. Merelli, who's traveling with his haranguing wife, Maria, is making a guest appearance in the Cleveland Grand Opera Company's production of Verdi's ''Otello.'' Exhausted and nauseated, Merelli is greeted by Saunders, the company's gruff general manager, and Maggie, his infatuated, star-struck daughter.
Like a good character of farce, Merelli has conveniently brought two sets of his Otello costume. When Max, Saunders's nerdy assistant, mistakes slumber for suicide, he dons one of Merelli's wigs, smears on blackface, and steps into the limelight, transforming himself from the gofer of Cleveland into the Moor of Venice.
The Lyric actors take their time working through the first act setups, but the production explodes in bursts of farcical mishap after intermission when Merelli wakes up and Max returns from a tour de force performance. To detail the twists and turns of the plot would steal the actors' thunder. Suffice it to say that two Otellos in tights, a lascivious Desdemona, a livid Italian wife, and a ridiculously outfitted chairwoman of the Opera Guild make for sidesplitting situations. The ill-fated entrances and amorous interludes would become stale routines, of course, without a cast that exudes joie de vivre. Joe Smith leads the ensemble through this comic confusion as Max, bringing impressive physical and vocal gusto to his role. Smith shines in the second act when Max assumes not just the role but the identity of a vainglorious tenor. As Merelli, Robert Saoud is a convincing caricature of an Italian opera star. Laura Napoli brings frenzied, comic exaggeration to Maggie, and Cheryl McMahon is similarly big and bold as Merelli's gesticulating wife.
The production ends with a farcical flourish that calls for razor-sharp timing from the entire cast. There's a palpable sense of camaraderie at work here, and while this production won't provoke much thought, it will inspire good, hearty laughter.
From the Boston Herald
`Tenor' hits the comic highs
by Terry Byrne
The encore of ``Lend Me a Tenor'' - a wild romp through all the door slamming, mugging and mayhem we've just seen (without any of the dialogue) - highlights the strengths and weaknesses of Ken Ludwig's farce.
Director Jack Neary (better known as a playwright) has choreographed his company at the Lyric Stage to fluid perfection, and Ludwig's careful attention to structure keeps the action lively. It's just that Ludwig's jokes always fall back on goofy double entendres rather than building on the frenzied situations set up onstage.
The plot follows the mishaps involved when Cleveland Grand Opera Company impresario Saunders (Richard Snee) discovers that the famous Italian tenor he has hired for the company's gala is too ill to perform. Snee gives his arrogant producer a wonderfully self-absorbed attitude, dismissing his ``factotum, gofer and all-around dogsbody'' Max (Joe Smith) with a well-placed insult and threatening a bellhop with bodily harm just for entering the room.
The comedy works best between Snee and Smith, both of whom know how to play off the other's magnificent comic timing and who offer a great balance between sinister and slap-happy. Smith's sense of physical comedy and his ability to underplay a very hammy role (he does a lot by simply letting his eyes zig-zag back and forth) also add much to this admittedly simple role.
Without a leading man, Saunders convinces his gofer, who fantasizes he's a great tenor himself, to dress up in the costume and pretend he is Il Stupendo. In the meantime, the real Tito Merelli (Robert Saoud) awakens, dresses in costume and heads to the theater, setting up the opportunity for a series of mistaken identity moments with two men in the same costume, wig and dark makeup, ready to play ``Otello.''
Add to the comedy three women in love with the tenor - his wife (Cheryl McMahon), an ambitious amateur opera singer (Rachel Harker) and Saunders' infatuated daughter (Laura Napoli), as well as a busybody Opera Guild chairwoman (Bobbie Steinbach) - and Ludwig creates a very silly sex comedy.
Neary delights in the physical slapstick routines, making Snee's response to the possibility that Tito has committed suicide so over the top, it's hilarious. His own, and Ludwig's, obvious admiration for the Marx Brothers make these scenes pure joy.
Still, while the direction and the performances in this production are pristine, ``Lend Me a Tenor'' never quite delivers the sense of giddy abandon of the genre's best work.
From the Boston Phoenix
Opera buffa
The Lyric lends Tenor panache
By Ellen Pfeifer
Ken Ludwig’s Lend Me a Tenor is as intricately plotted as a fugue, as dizzyingly fast-paced as a coloratura showpiece, and as silly as . . . well, an opera plot. No surprise, then, that this farce, a success on Broadway in 1989, takes place around the periphery of a gala production of Verdi’s Otello celebrating the 10th anniversary of the fictional Cleveland Grand Opera Company. The world-famous Italian tenor Tito Merelli has been engaged to sing the stupendously difficult title role, but from the moment the divo arrives at his hotel — late and dyspeptic — nothing goes as planned.
The Lyric Stage Company of Boston had the good idea of engaging Jack Neary, actor, playwright, and frequent director at the Worcester Foothills Theatre, to stage the show. His production is like demented clockworks, everything whirring and spinning in perfect synchrony on fast-forward.
Set in 1934, the action takes place in Robert M. Russo’s delightful nouveau/deco hotel suite. The two adjoining rooms feature purple brocaded wallpaper, a bed, a settee, a tufted hassock, and an elaborate carved wood radio. Like all good farce, this one has its multiple doors — all the better for quick escapes, unexpected arrivals, and the concealment of contraband (usually in the form of pulchritudinous women). Russo decorates his five doors with wood trim in the shape of curving tendrils and dragonflies. But however delicate they may look, those doors take a lot of punishment in the form of repeated slamming.
Ludwig’s cast of characters is a collection of stereotypes. Tito is a boozer and womanizer with a heavenly voice. His wife, Maria, is an Italian battle ax who’s jealous of her spousal prerogatives. Think Adua Pavarotti or Wanda Toscanini Horowitz crossed with a middle-aged Sophia Loren. Saunders, the company’s general manager, is always worried about public relations. His assistant, Max, is a wimpy " factotum, gofer, and all-purpose dogs body " who, as amateur tenor, saves the day. Maggie, Saunders’s daughter, is a starstruck opera buff who finally comes to love the true-hearted Max. Surrounding them are Diana, the soprano who exploits the casting couch; Julia, the bossy chairwoman of the opera guild; and the Bellhop, another wanna-be tenor.
Director Neary moves these stereotypes around the stage like a soprano singing a mad scene: each note is perfectly placed and follows the others in a dazzling cascade. Particularly amusing are the mirror images he creates; these often involve Max and Tito when both are dressed in Otello garb. Also funny are musical moments like the one where Tito gives Max a voice lesson and the two conclude with the rousing vengeance duet that closes act two of Otello. (Okay, so the music calls for a tenor and a baritone, not two tenors — I don’t hold that against Ludwig and company. It’s wonderful music, after all, and sound director Marc Plevinsky does a nice job synchronizing the pre-recorded accompaniments.)
The cast members, who must all enjoy marathon-quality aerobic fitness after preparing this show, are attractive, funny, and agile. Joe Smith displays the right boyish charm as Max and then the perfect panicky catatonia when called upon to substitute for Tito. Cheryl McMahon is spot on, down to the gestures and the Italian accent, as the much-betrayed but still sultry Maria Merelli. Robert Saoud, as Tito, has exactly the right build for an Italian tenor, and he is master of both the patois and the physical humor. Laura Napoli’s Maggie is all nerves and angles — in the 21st century you’d give the girl some Xanax. With his white hair and white-tie ensemble, Richard Snee is handsomely imposing as Saunders — a tightly wired but dignified executive who loses his composure when he believes his tenor has croaked. Rachel Harker, as Diana, is much too skinny to look realistic as an operatic soprano, but she possesses all the requisite seductive wiles. Bobbie Steinbach and Brian Nash are bright and amusing as Julia and the Bellhop.