|
For A Song — Page 3
Four days before the opening night of The Italian Girl,
a dozen shadowy figures crouch in the empty aisles of
the Queen Elizabeth Theatre, fiddle with BlackBerries,
and murmur over music stands while the first full dress
rehearsal stumbles along. At one point in the opera,
directed by Michael Cavanagh, a model plane is scheduled
to soar above the audience. (This is the plane that
crash-lands in Algiers, delivering the titular Italian
Girl into the hands of “savages.”) The plane
lumbers awkwardly on its wire, eventually becoming stuck
and eliciting laughter from the wings.
Schnitzer walks on-stage in his mini vest. He’s
playing an attendant at the local harem and dutifully
scrubs the back and crotch of Mustafà (bass Randall
Jakobsh). He sings with the others about life as a slave
and acts broadly, as opera singers will. Props fall
over. Singers find themselves stuck in shadow while
the lighting team experiments. Only five souls clap
after a particularly touching aria from mezzo-soprano
Sandra Piques Eddy (who had her own crash landing in
Vancouver after the original Italian Girl was forced
by her doctor to beg off from her commitments). Denim-clad
techs with headsets wander incongruously onto the stage.
And when conductor Robert Wood wants to try something
new, the whole 80-person machine (orchestra, soloists,
and chorus) grinds to a halt; the 18 chorus members
lounge on the set as casual as a construction team breaking
for lunch. A minute later, at a swing of the baton,
they’re back in Algiers.
When the chorus is finally given a break, Schnitzer
wanders into the house and collapses onto an aisle seat
with a can of pop. A false camel is dragged onto the
stage, and he eyes it with resignation. “We wanted
a real camel. But camels—God, they cost the world.”
Now he must set off in search of his lost turban. Opening
night is frighteningly close, and they haven’t
yet nailed the second act.
“I tell myself that I’m just enjoying the
music,” he says, “and if I get a job out
of this, that’s great. Of course, that’s
not how I really feel. But it’s how I reconcile
myself to this stressful existence.”
|
SUBSCRIBE 
