FLASHBACK 1992: Ron Bitton reviews Salt Lake Acting Company's Lisbon Traviata 

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In commemoration of City Weekly's 40th anniversary, we are digging into our archives to celebrate. Each week, we FLASHBACK to a story or column from our past in honor of four decades of local alt-journalism. Whether the names and issues are familiar or new, we are grateful to have this unique newspaper to contain them all.

Title: No Trivial Traviata
Author: Ron Bitton
Date: April 16, 1992

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As in any good opera, obsession, romance, and longing for the unattainable are prominent themes in The Lisbon Traviata (playing through April 19 at the Salt Lake Acting Company). These themes make their appearance early in the play, which opens with two men, Stephen and Mendy, enjoying a dinner at Mendy's apartment. Stephen and Mendy are both opera fans, of a sort who remind one that the word "fan" was originally short for "fanatic." Specifically, they both revere the late Maria Callas. When Mendy learns that Stephen has a new recording of Callas singing La Traviata in Lisbon, he will settle for nothing less than hearing it tonight.

Playwright Terrence McNally deserves some sort of award for the massive amount of research that has gone into this play. There really is a Lisbon Traviata, it turns out, and the hundreds of other bits of operatic trivia in the play seem to be equally accurate. It would take an opera fan with the blind devotion of a Moonie to fully appreciate Mendy and Stephen's hilariously bitchy comments about the likes of Joan Sutherland, Kirite Kanawha, Renato Scotto, and Dame Janet Stephens, among others. The two men argue endlessly about opera folklore; more often than not, it's Stephen who remembers the specific date, place, and cast of a particular performance. Mendy is less in control of his facts, or much of anything else. He buys records without knowing if he'll like them, and he can't play a record without scratching it.

Stephen, by contrast, is always in control. As the evening goes on, it becomes clear that Stephen has something else that Mendy envies; a stable committed relationship. Ironically, it's the relationship that puts the record out of reach. Stephen's lover, Mike, is entertaining another man tonight, and Stephen refuses to impose on them. The "perfect" relationship begins to sound less and less idyllic.

In the second act, The Lisbon Traviata takes a dramatic turn for the worse (pun intended). Stephen's own plans for a date fall through, and when he arrives home the next morning, Mike's friend, Paul, is still there. Gradually it becomes clear that Stephen and Mike's ideal relationship is really a false front, and the qualities that made Stephen seem somewhat aloof and unsympathetic in Act One are actually a mask concealing a far more troubled and insecure person. As the relationship between Stephen and Mike disintegrates, events move toward an inevitably disastrous conclusion.

It's fairly clear that McNally intended the first act of The Lisbon Traviata to be opera buffa, and the second act to be tragic opera seria. There are several thematic links between the two acts: Stephen's brittle and bitchy interplay with Paul, for instance, nicely walks the line between drama and farce, and compares well with the banter between Stephen and Mendy in Act One. Likewise, Mike appears briefly in Act One, while Mendy makes an equally brief appearance in Act Two. However, the grand gestures of opera seem ill-suited to a story set in Manhattan's East Village in the late eighties, and as the play moves toward its operatic conclusion, it moves farther and farther away from reality. The final ten minutes of the play, as written, simply don't seem plausible.

The catch here is in that qualifier, "as written." As in opera, it's the performances that make the action plausible, and the performances here are very strong indeed. As Mendy, Thomas E. Jacobsen is colorful, flamboyant, and over the top; imagine Dom DeLuise in La Cage Aux Folles, and you get the general idea. His performance is a definite crowd-pleaser, and initially he far outshines Eric Jenkins as Stephen. However, as the play progresses one realizes that Jenkins is playing his character in an extremely well thought out manner, creating a remarkably powerful and subtle portrayal of a man so tightly controlled that under pressure he breaks before bending. One should also note the contributions of director Edward J. Gryska, and set and costume designer Keven Myhre. Thanks to them, The Lisbon Traviata unfolds as a witty, stylish evening of entertainment that still packs a considerable emotional punch.

Although the characters in The Lisbon Traviata are gay, it would be a mistake to pass this one up (or to see it, for that matter) on the assumption that this is a "gay play." The Lisbon Traviata makes no attempt to convince us that its characters are human beings, entitled to the same dignity and respect as heterosexuals. Instead, it simply takes that for granted, and moves on to explore the issues of emotional fulfillment in their lives in a way that any mature, thoughtful adult, regardless of sexual orientation, should be able to relate to. Admittedly, the play does have its racy moments. There is some nudity, some blood (from a punch in the mouth), and some dialogue that told me more than I wanted to know about Stephen and Mike's sex life. All in all, though, The Lisbon Traviata is a complex and compelling play, with a powerful message about the danger of substituting grandiose ideals for the messy ambiguities of real life. Set to music, it would make a good opera, or maybe even two good operas.