'Pagliacci, 'Cavalleria Rusticana' double dose for Kentucky Opera's opener

September 19, 2010 | By Andrew Adler | aadler@courier-journal.com

When you're producing a pair of operas defined by adulterous sex and murder, with blood literally running in the streets, it's reasonable to wonder if there's any room for nuance.

Kristine McIntyre and Richard Buckley think there is.

At least, to a point: As stage director and conductor for Kentucky Opera's double bill of “Cavalleria Rusticana” and “Pagliacci,” which opens the company's 2010 season this weekend, they're challenged with discovering the sense amid several hours of senseless passion.

Both operas turn on men and women driven to acts of ultimate desperation — “two people caught in the middle of a huge emotional situation,” McIntyre observed, “doing things that, with more time or more therapy, they might not choose to do.”

No combining of operatic works is more celebrated. One count has the two works having been recorded close to 250 different times between them, beginning in the earliest years of the 20th century when tenor Enrico Caruso essayed the role of the tragic clown Canio in Leoncavallo's “Pagliacci.”

The image of Caruso, wearing a loose-fitting white costume adorned with improbably huge puffball buttons, became one of the first certifiable examples of operatic iconography. More than one prankster has deconstructed the opera's signature aria, “Vesti la giubba,” in which Canio — who's just found out his wife is sleeping with another man — still dons his clown costume and prepares to perform.

Composed in 1892, “Pagliacci” is sometimes paired with one of Puccini's single-act works from “Il Trittico,” and occasionally is even performed by itself. But the vast majority of opera goers encounter it in tandem with Mascagni's 1890 “Cavalleria Rusticana” (which translates as “Rustic Chivalry”) giving way to the enduring vernacular of “Cav and Pag.”

“My father, who was also a conductor, used to refer to these as ‘Ham and Eggs,' Buckley recalled. “The last two times I have done ‘Pagliacci' actually have been alone, with an intermission. It's a short evening. Opera lovers want more, and the guys whose wives have taken them to the opera and who are asleep in their seats are probably happy.”

You have to wonder who could possibly sleep through successive scenes describing cheating spouses and various resulting stabbings. These two operas exemplify the white-hot tradition of verismo — “true-to-life” depictions of ordinary people grappling with gritty elements of everyday living.

Of course, these turn-of-the-century operatic notions of everyday life aren't exactly “Leave It to Beaver” with an Italian accent. The characters in both operas are consumed with lust, jealousy and revenge. It's a reality show that even “The Real Housewives of New Jersey” would have trouble keeping up with. Maybe “The Sopranos” is more appropriate.

“Obviously it's kind of heightened reality,” McIntyre said of both operas' narrative framework, explaining that she's created a dramatic arc suggesting that “Cav” takes place in the early morning through noon, with “Pag” carrying on until nightfall. “It's a helluva one day,” she acknowledged, “but hey, it's Italy.”

All this brings us back to the original question of nuance. Perhaps the answer lies in the shrewd building and release of dramatic tension, expressed in such interludes as the famous instrumental Intermezzo in “Cav,” which arrives immediately after a typical spasm of violence.

There are similar opportunities for restraint in “Pag.” McIntyre mentioned how Silvio, who's having an affair with Canio's wife, Nedda, spends part of one scene in remarkable quietude.

“Our Silvio simply sits and listens, the little spinning top that he is,” McIntyre said, with a little smile. “It's wonderful to see one character just listen to the other. It tells us everything we need to know about the differences between the two.”

Still, it's not as easy as it may sound to do nothing. “It's challenging for singers,” McIntyre explained, “because they're used to having to fill out the musicality. They have to trust you when you say, ‘less, less, less.'”

In this respect, Kentucky Opera's production has the advantage of singers — some who have performed these works and some who have not — who boast an instinctual feel for raw theatricality. “They are all young, and they're all American,” McIntyre said, “and that means they have very good stage skills. They get what works.”

While McIntyre's realm is the stage and Buckley's the orchestra pit, they're working toward common ends. “We both come from our first opinions, and we see what melds,” Buckley said. Since the operas are being produced at the Brown Theatre, a relatively intimate space where an audience can readily appreciate close-up gestures, the drama is heightened.

So get ready to be seduced, and slammed.

“You can't have ‘verismo lite,'” Buckley emphasized. “You have to have the garlic, you have to have the spaghetti sauce, you have to have the passion. Because that's part of the definition of what it is.”

In other words, if you can't stand the heat, get out of these operas.

“Because we are trying so hard to make work that is real, and you see the choices the music makes you make,” McIntyre said, “you can become very afraid of getting there. But you have to screw your courage to the sticking place, and do it.”

Reporter Andrew Adler can be reached at (502) 582-4668.