This work was written
for the "Überbrettl"
(Super cabaret) in Berlin which allowed
no alcohol or tobacco but featured nudity
and sexually explicit drama on stage.
The overture sets the scene with a gong,
a sinuous oboe passage, and pentatonic
phrases, and the chorus sings a hymn
to Osiris, who was the Egyptian God
of, among other things, fertility. Matters
continue with a kind of Ketèlbey-style
orientalism. The tunes are sprightly
and lilting but utterly unmemorable,
the German diction clear so you don’t
miss any of the risqué jokes
and double entendres. A few titles of
selections give the idea here: "...Meine
Kleine Liebesflöte," "Anton,
steck’ den Degen ein...."
The title refers to
Cleopatra’s (or as it is usually declaimed,
clay-OH-pa-tra, as in OOM-pa-pa.) alleged
use of pearls dissolved in wine as an
aphrodisiac, and the show tells the
stories of four lovers, one pearl for
each lover. Will a pearl actually dissolve
in wine? Possibly, if the wine is very
acidic and the pearl is genuine, but
it would take a long time, make the
wine bubble, and leave a gritty sludge
in the glass. The alleged aphrodisiac
properties of the resulting calcium
tartrate have not been extensively explored
in the literature. But authenticity
is obviously not a concern here. Cleopatra’s
gown looks more Minoan than Egyptian,
and Mark Antony is dressed in Alpine
lederhosen and a green cap with
a fan of feathers.
Morenike Fadayomi made
a lovely Cleopatra to judge by the colour
cover picture of her striking an appropriately
angular "Egyptian" pose in
her golden gown. The musical performance
is excellent—the singers all have the
proper voices for this kind of theatre
and the pit band plays with the appropriate
tongue-in-cheek solemnity at times,
and with proper German OOM-pa lilt at
others. The stunning clarity of the
SACD surround tracks further ensures
the intelligibility of the dialogue.
But the producers missed an opportunity:
a little hooting, stamping, gasping,
and laughing from the audience would
have made it a lot more fun, and even
more authentic, especially in surround
sound. With all the blank space on the
disks, they could have given us some
of the selections both with and without
the audience participation. As it is,
the audience, if there was one, is dead
quiet, and all the jokes fall flat.
Apparently the absolute
limit on an SACD is such that a 76 minute
program must be split between two disks,
but the producers have the good grace
to apologise for this necessity. Hopefully
the sale price will reflect the fact
that these two disks are each only about
half full.
Paul Shoemaker
Franz Lehár-Orkester, Chor des Lehár
Festivals Bad Ischl/Herbert Mogg 