Walking up the steps to Lincoln Center, I was filled with something akin to trepidation. The reviews were in and The Merry Widow, a new production featuring opera superstar Renee Fleming among other big names, was by majority consensus, a flop of epic proportions. The critics showed no mercy in deriding the production that premiered on New Year’s Eve, but, quite frankly, I am forced to separate myself from the horde and say that I actually enjoyed The Merry Widow.
The operetta – different from a true opera in that it includes spoken-word dialogue and is more driven by plot than by music – by Franz Lehár, follows Hanna Glawari, a wealthy widow from a small country called Pontevedro who is courted by her countrymen. These suitors are high-ranking officials, determined that the widow’s fortune should remain in Pontevedro.
Romantic entanglements ensue, with seemingly every wife untrue to stodgy old husbands and young Frenchmen vacillating between these unfaithful ladies and attempts to seduce the merry widow herself. The male lead is the dashing Danilo, a foreign attaché from Pontevedro. A notorious womanizer, Danilo also has a history with the widow from “the old country” – back before either of them had money. At first the two resist each other, but by the end of the operetta, Danilo is forsaking his dancing ladies (Lolo, Dodo, Jou-Jou, Frou-Frou, Clo-Clo, and Margot) and he and Hannah agree to marry.
The first thing to notice about Widow is the elaborate stage. No stranger to the Met, even I was taken aback at the richness and brightness of the three different sets. The Met describes the design as “Art Noveau” but there is less grace and more Broadway flash, especially in the final Act, which takes place in a dance parlor complete with dancing grisettes flaunting anachronistic dance moves.
Next was the new English translation of the show by Jeremy Sams, something upon which many critics focused. While halting and stumbling at times, the translation fit well overall and did not detract much from the show. Yes, some of the jokes fell flat, but when Fleming flippantly stated, “I never forget a snore!” even the crotchety old man sitting next to me gave an appreciative chuckle. More jarring, however, was hearing English spoken dialogue on the Met stage – something more normally found at a Light Opera Theatre house or, yes, on a Broadway stage.
Speaking of Broadway: Kelli O’Hara. The Met debut of Widow’s other starring soprano left something to be desired as well – quite simply, her voice. A Broadway star in her own right, with past successes in such shows as South Pacific and The Pajama Game, she seemed an obvious choice for the light and fun operetta that calls more for good acting than vocal expertise. The issue arrives when one considers the venue: filling a small Broadway theater is one thing, but a light soprano voice the likes of which O’Hara wields simply is not strong enough to reach to the rafters of the Met. While she commands the stage and her elaborate costume well – she had a body that the Met stage may never see again, as opera singers are not exactly known for their physical fitness – the orchestra, try as it might, could not help but drown her out.
While Broadway may not fit with the Met in singing style, the rest of the show certainly did in its liveliness and visual appeal. Although Renee Fleming never does more than a slight skirt-lift-and-kick style trot, everyone else dances with abandon. The audience had a thoroughly enjoyable time watching the male cast cavort across the stage to “Who Can Tell What the Hell Women Are?”
Particularly in that piece, but also in the entire show, the person who brings Widow to the comedic level it was meant to occupy is, not surprisingly, baritone Nathan Gunn. A veteran at the Met, he inhabits the role of Danilo with ease, lounging about the elaborate set like it was built to his dimensions. His character’s chemistry with Hanna is undeniable, yet while Gunn has no problem acting the bold and unselfconscious playboy, Fleming’s performance is not as enticing. Gunn counteracts this awkwardness by playing into Fleming’s character and forcing her to react to his over-the-top charm.
The negative reaction to Fleming’s performance as title role of Widow is complicated and not without merit. While she did not crash and burn as I was led to expect from the reviews, it was obvious from her first appearance that this role simply did not suit her. It is not through a lack of acting chops, for during the dialogue, she’s able to convince the audience with a smoky, seductive chest voice that she is no stranger to romance and intrigue. Once the singing begins, however, it becomes obvious that her sweet soprano is better fitted to the suffering virgin than the jaded widow, no matter how merry. An audience member might find herself leaning forward at any hint of a high-note, excited to experience the greatness of Fleming, only to be disappointed as the role, better suited for someone with a lower register, does not allow her to shine.
After the final curtain call – there were several – I left the theatre humming and pleased. I had not, as I had feared, wasted good money on a frightful production…I had, in fact, enjoyed myself! It was a far cry from Die Meistersinger (a comedic opera by Richard Wagner that occupies the other end of the spectrum as far as “light” operas go), which I saw last month, but more importantly, it had been accessible. The casting left something to be desired, and perhaps the artistic direction could have used some reigning in as far as showiness and flashiness go, but overall, bringing a little bit of the fun of Broadway to the Met stage may end up doing more good than harm.