Meet the Lazara String Quartet, a fictional quartet created by violist-turned-playwright Michael Hollinger. His play "Opus" goes behind the concert performances to expose the musicians' bickering and bantering as well as their virtuosity.
This sophisticated theater fare might be too uppity for Dolly Parton fans. But given a chance, the dynamics of these dysfunctional musicians offer some of the same guilty pleasures of a high-class soap opera. So if you don't know a hoedown from a sonata, you can still enjoy this cleverly-conceived comic-drama. You might even learn a thing or two about classical music.
Directed by Braden Abraham, "Opus" plays out like a musical composition in 90 minutes without intermission. As the play opens, the quartet has been invited to perform at the White House. Years back, they won a Grammy for their Bartok compilation, but their standing in the classical world has taken a dive. They're hoping their White House gig will put them back on top.
None of them can stand the Commander-in-Chief, never mentioned by name. Hint: It's 2007. Since the concert will be televised to millions of viewers, it's an opportunity for a string quartet bent on recapturing its reputation.
But there's just one problem-and it's a big one. Their brilliant but emotionally unstable violist Dorian was fired and has gone off the grid. So they need a replacement-pronto. After suffering through auditions with "the guy with the hair" and "guy who sounds like he's making love to a kitchen appliance," Grace, a young woman fresh out of the conservatory, shows up and blows them away.
So much so, Elliott persuades them to replace the familiar Pachelbel Canon with the more challenging Beethoven's Opus 131.
Rehearsals bring out the best and worst of the quartet. Hollinger's play centers around their tensions, anxiety and doubt, as they tackle Beethoven's demanding Opus.
Alan Fitzpatrick, makes the most of his role of Elliott, the uptight, first violinist. He may be a competent musician, but he's a totally dysfunctional diva in his personal relationships--prissy, bossy, critical and unpleasant. He throws childish hissy fits at the drop of a bow. While he thinks he is a brilliant musician, it's soon obvious that absentee Dorian was the real genius.
Complications arise due to the end of Elliott and Dorian not-so-secret love affair, which flouted the quartet's rule about intimacy. Todd Jefferson Moore plays the brilliant but unstable Dorian, who's "buggy" on medicinal drugs. For a crazy person, he actually seems the sanest. We only hear about his mental instability. What we do see is his keen self-deprecating wit and cunning intellect.
Played by Charles Leggett, Carl is the quartet's cellist as well as the anchor. A family man with a wife and two children, he's almost five years cancer-free--almost. Leggett shows a great strength of character in the role, as well as great comic timing. 'What is the definition of a string quartet?" Carl asks. Then he answers his own question, "One good violinist, one bad violinist, one former violinist, and someone who doesn't even like the violin."
Shawn Belyea, as Alan, may be a laid-back guy, but he's no push-over. He calls Elliott, "Nelly" and dares to confront him over musical interpretation. As a divorced violinist with an eye for the ladies, Alan turns his focus on Grace, confessing to her that life on the road can be lonely.
Inhabiting the quartet's newcomer, Grace, with perfection, Chelsey Rives gives a charming and believable performance as a bright, young violist with great talent and an ability to cope with the quartet's quirks, tempers and tantrums.
Etta Lilienthal's set design relies on a pair of monolithic golden-toned tablets embellished with musical notes that slide back and forth to suggest a change of venue. But when stage hands shuffle and rearrange the chairs between scenes, it interrupts the fluidity of the action and slows the pace. Luckily, the wonderful sound design by Matt Starritt soothes our frustration with works by Bartok, Bach, and Beethoven, among others.
According to one character, a string quartet must be like four instruments being played with bow. The five faux musicians deliver the instrumental equivalent to lip-syncing. The secret is moving only the right hand with the bow; the left hand remains still. While their bowing is quite believable, the recordings behind the actors were actually created by the real-life Vertigo String Ensemble.
Each scene of "Opus" resembles a musical movement, with a unique mood and tempo. There are duets, trios, and each actor even has his "solo" monologue.
But the real star is the music itself. Composed in 1826 it is supposedly Beethoven's favorite of his later works. Opus 131 has seven movements and 14 tempo changes-all played without pauses. A massive challenge, it was and still is considered the monumental work for string quartets.
Music lovers will love the production for the sheer joy of experiencing sections of this glorious composition. Legend has it, that upon first hearing Beethoven's Opus 131, his contemporary Schubert remarked, "After this, what is left for us to write?"
"Opus" runs Wednesday to Sunday through December 6th in the Leo K. Theatre at Seattle Repertory Theatre, tickets $12-$52, 206-443-2222.
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