Director Amy Lane’s “Roméo et Juliette,” which opened Saturday night at the Four Season Centre for the Performing Arts, is not as disappointing as her prior work at the Canadian Opera Company, a staging of another Charles Gounod opera, “Faust,” which was, bar none, the company’s most disastrous production since the pandemic reopening.
It doesn’t have a mise en scène that looks like scraps from the set of a B-rated, Tim Burton movie, with trees resembling lungs and a staircase that looks like a spine. It doesn’t include choreography that tries to mimic the sultry, sexy dance moves of the late great Bob Fosse, but instead looks like it’s drawn from a sanitized, middle school production of “Chicago.” And it doesn’t feature performers who, quite understandably, appear to have no clue what the heck they’re supposed to be doing on stage.
No, Lane’s “Roméo et Juliette” isn’t that bad. It’s somehow even worse.
It has Juliette singing her iconic aria “Je Veux Vivre” in front of three burlesque dancers, robotically gyrating their hips. It has Romeo delivering his wistful solo “Ah! lève-toi, soleil!” while standing atop a giant clown’s head. And it has Count Capulet performing a strip scene centre stage … because he’s some sort of carnival entertainer, or so we’re supposed to believe.
This is all just from the first half of Lane’s confounding and self-indulgent production, which originated at Malmö Opera. (I’ll spare you details of the rest.)
To be clear, Gounod’s “Roméo et Juliette” isn’t a half-bad opera. Sure, his adaptation plays fast and loose with Shakespeare’s plot, flattens the storylines of its secondary characters, and essentially reduces the original tragedy into a series of schmaltzy duets. But this 1867 work is a fine example of the grand opera tradition, with stirring arias and luscious, majestic melodies that sweep over the orchestra.
Too bad the mess that is this production overshadows any of the redeeming qualities in Gounod’s opera.
Lane transports the action to New York City in 1889, at the height of the Gilded Age. The Capulets run some sort of entertainment empire, while Romeo’s family is made up of Italian immigrants who’ve settled nearby. The Capulet ball, where Romeo and Juliette have their meet-cute, is rendered here as a circus-themed masquerade, filled with clowns and a host of other quirky characters.
Lane’s concept, however, is fully at odds with the material at hand. You never get a sense of the tension between Juliet and her parents. You also never feel the animosity between the two warring families, nor the violence of the society surrounding them.
In short, this production is entirely incomprehensible. And it’s only after reading Lane’s note in the programme that you can begin to understand what she’s trying to accomplish.
After intermission, the production morphs into something completely different. Emma Ryott’s carnival-themed set, so overblown for even a comic opera, is swapped out for one that looks like it was borrowed from an amateur production of “Sweeney Todd.” It’s dark and dreary, more reminiscent of 19th century London than a New York City of the Gilded Age.
As Juliette, the Russian soprano Kseniia Proshina possesses a bright, lyrical instrument. She navigates her role’s coloratura passages with featherweight agility, even if her voice loses some of its warmth toward the upper end of its range. She’s a strong actor, too, presenting a Juliette who is impetuous, naïve and passionate.
The same, however, can’t be said about Stephen Costello. The American tenor has made a strong impression in previous COC productions, but is completely miscast as the teenage Montague.
His acting is so wooden, stilted and void of passion that it’s hard to imagine how Juliette can ever fall in love with his Romeo. This lack of colour and depth also extend to Costello’s stentorian voice, which sacrifices musical phrasing and clear enunciation for sheer volume.
The Canadian bass-baritone Gordon Bintner has several standout moments as Romeo’s friend, Mercutio. His voice, in fine form, is deeply expressive with a full-bodied tone — perfect for the character’s twisting and cheeky Queen Mab aria. Meanwhile, the mezzo-soprano Alex Hetherington shines in the trouser role of Stéphano, Romeo’s page. And in the pit, Yves Abel leads a polished orchestra, always in perfect balance with the voices on stage.
None of these artists, however, can right the sinking ship that is this production. “Roméo et Juliette?” More like a total comedy of errors.
