It all started with great promise: a wall-to-wall curtain decorated with manuscripts in Voltaire’s hand; gentle landscapes and, on the ground, an antique globe on a stand. Stylish. Then the music began with Leonard Bernstein’s overture to Candide, encapsulating its splendidly mischievous melodies, made famous by irresistibly crisp recordings conducted by the composer and others. Here, it was as if conductor Brett Weymark did not trust his orchestra with Bernstein's brilliant cross-rhythms, seven-beat-long phrases and the like. The sound was tentative, tempos too careful and, even then, sluggish. Then the curtain went up, presenting set and costume designer Dann Barber’s cheap-looking stage without side walls (allowing stagehands to be seen walking “outside”), with a dilapidated caravan in the centre... and not much else.
The fundamental dichotomy with Bernstein’s daring concept was that he tried to amalgamate a quintessentially European topic, 18th-century French Enlightenment writer, Voltaire’s sardonic response to German philosopher Leibniz’s axiom about the best possible world (hence the title: Candide, or Optimism), with the best of his American musical heritage, writing an operetta which is arguably really a musical. The fundamental problem of Dean Bryant’s directorial take on this is that he adds a further cultural layer, blending French period costumes (mostly in shades of pink or purple), wigs and hooped petticoats with contemporary local artefacts. One can only hope that the scenes with baseball bats and the iconic beach umbrella, shopping trollies and Coke cans, crocs with jibbitz for footwear, cocaine being snorted, and lyrics regularly rewritten with a smattering of vulgar references are not his deprecating suggestion of “fair dinkum” Australian humour.
Notwithstanding these visual incongruities, Bryant's concept could still be witty, entertaining, even fulfilling. However, a vehemently shaken bedsheet representing the turbulent sea (on the way to Lisbon), reminiscent of the efforts of a high school production, and the repetitive, childish choreography in the toreador scene (Cadiz) or in the Pilgrims’ Procession at the beginning of Act 2 confirms that the aesthetic bar has not been set very high.
It helped matters little that, against its usual practice, Opera Australia presents no surtitles, trusting instead the individually microphoned protagonists’ enunciation of the text. The amplification does not always work reliably, at times being too loud, then hard to hear. As a case in point, Eddie Perfect, as the omnipresent Pangloss–emcee–Voltaire, offered compelling acting; however, his spoken voice came through as raspy, making his humorous text difficult to understand. The singing of the main characters with an operatic pedigree, Dominica Matthews as the unfortunately named Old Lady, Cathy-Di Zhang in the role of the coquettish Paquette and Eddie Muliaumaseali’I as Cacambo, offered warmth and reliable pitch in their singing.
Others in the cast came from a musical theatre background and their interpretation did not always comply with operatic expectations familiar to his theatre. Lyndon Watts, as the eponymous hero, used his voice sparingly but gave credibility to Candide’s many calamitous adventures with some tender moments, often bringing the fate and emotions of another Bernstein protagonist, Tony from West Side Story, to mind. On the other hand, his love interest, Cunegonde, sung by Annie Aitken, saved nothing in theatrics and vocal pyrotechnics. While her repeated high E flats in the famous “Glitter and Be Gay” were spot on, her uncontrolled, rapid-fire vibrato bordered on the parodistic.
The chorus, dressed in black with garish make-up, sounded less dependable in pitch and tone than usual. Bernstein’s life-affirming apotheosis “Make our garden grow” lost its effect due to the many poorly amplified a cappella voices sounding thunderously loud, but more chaotic than ecstatic. Explaining its presence, the antique globe was opened and, astonishingly, a baby doll from inside was offered to the loving couple, Candide and Cunegonde, as the final message of the evening. I wished it wasn’t.
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