Bravo, Caruso!

Next Act Theater can indeed take a bow for its production of Bravo, Caruso!. It is one of the end-of-year highlights of the Milwaukee theater season. While the play may seem to be an odd choice for this time of year, the events of Bravo, Caruso! occur on Christmas Eve, 1920.

The setting is Enrico Caruso's dressing room at the Metropolitan Opera in New York City. Caruso is tackling his latest (and, the audience knows, his final) role. This role is of a Jewish rabbi in the French opera, La Juive. But the play is less about the music than it is about the man. The play takes place during a pre-performance chat with a couple of fictitious "reporters" (represented by the audience). As attentive "reporters," we learn much about Caruso's strengths and foibles. When Caruso is not addressing the "reporters," he talks with his faithful valet, Mario. And talk he does, tickling us with an endless stream of amusing anecdotes and clownish antics.

The playwright, William Luce, is probably best known for his biographical play, The Belle of Amherst, about Emily Dickenson. Here, he seems equally at home in revealing the person behind the legend.

In one of the play's more riveting sections, Caruso focuses on his childhood in Naples. We can almost envision him as a small boy playing in this bucolic village. His extraordinary voice was detected at an early age, and he was firmly on the road to fame at 10. Years later, he was even excused from military service due to his voice (when his brother "volunteered" to take his place).

As Caruso, artistic director David Cecsarini fills the role as comfortably as an old glove. He makes us understand why this character was known and loved worldwide in the early 20th century. Cecsarini manages to keep us interested throughout his lively chatter. The challenge of talking constantly -- whether his character is eating pasta, drinking wine or applying make-up and a costume for his upcoming performance -- would be overwhelming for a lesser actor. Cescarini does not sing during the performance, but he doesn't have to. It is a blessing that Caruso's career coincided with the mass manufacture of gramophone records. During the performance, a few of the real Caruso's arias are briefly heard via a conveniently placed gramophone.

As Mario, associate artistic director C. Michael Wright equally fits the bill. (As a side note, Wright just ended another role as a valet (for Sarah Bernhardt) in another play (Memoir)). Wright is a talented actor who, in true valet fashion, becomes the model of efficiency, diplomacy and loyalty. Wright conveys a true affection for his employer, despite Caruso's occasional quirks and tantrums. The director, Roseann Sheridan, strikes just the proper emotional balance between the two characters. She is also to be congratulated for her subtlety in integrating moments of Caruso's physical weakness (which would soon claim his life).

As mentioned previously, the entire play takes place on a single set. Caruso's dressing room is handsomely crafted and emanates an aura of faded grandeur as well as a typical backstage shabbiness. The costumes have vintage appeal and appear authentic. This is especially important in a theater where the audience is often a few feet away from the actors.