WA Opera’s Cav & Pag double-header brings truth and betrayal to His Majesty’s Theatre

From the first stirring of strings in the prologue, West Australian Opera’s revival of Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci at The Maj has the quality and crystalline clarity to carry off not one but two devilish plots with sublime musical moments on the way.

“Cav & Pag”, the original soap opera double-header, brought “versimo” (realism) to the stage in late 19th century Italy, turning the spotlight on common people rather than gods and monarchs.

“Cav” opens in an austere Sicilian village square, a brutal decor reflecting tragedy to come.

Paul O’Neill’s returned soldier Turiddu sings offstage of love; but it’s the love of Lola, another man’s wife, and the tone is stripped back and bare — O’Neill expertly tuning his lyric tenor to the character.

A chorus enters singing sweetly of spring, modelling the “passeggio”, the nightly promenade of provincial Italy.

Sets by Shaun Gurton, costumes by Victoria Rowell and lighting by Donn Byrnes complement Andrew Sinclair’s direction, assisted by Margrete Helgeby Chaney: the scene economically drawn; the people never too structured, yet placed with precision.

Into this sepia-tinted world, Ashlyn Tymms’ mellow mezzo injects the passion and pathos lurking behind the patina; rich in timbre and emotional range, she makes the role of Santuzza her own.

Cast off by Turiddu and the church, she becomes a metaphor for all sinners seeking redemption — and today is Easter in Europe’s Catholic south.

Lo dite, Mamma Lucia — a plea to Turiddu’s mother for understanding — begins a dialogue with Nicole Youl as Lucia, a role played with stoic dignity amid the melodrama, yielding passages of pure poetry.

Another conversation opens with Alfio’s entry — Simon Meadows’ crisp baritone wielding swagger and strength, matching O’Neill’s hard exterior for macho menace.

Religion hovers over the scene, heightening Santuzza’s exclusion while she pleads with Lucia and Turridu — “Don’t think your tears will pacify me” he snarls — repressed, boiling emotion in every exchange, a dialogue of the deaf.

Enter Alfio’s wife Lola, soprano Brigitte Heuser as florid and nonchallant as the flowers she carries into the maelstrom; yet cold as charity in taunting the distraught Santuzza, who responds with a curse.

The die is cast when Santuzza confronts Alfio with truth in the sign of the cuckold, her brutal honesty matching the ambience.

Religion intrudes again when the congregation emerges to share wine with Turridu, in a numinous scene redolent of Da Vinci’s Last Supper from which betrayal and death are the only way out.

This bleak Easter has no redemption — its fallen women are shown no grace, and its bitter men are disgraced — yet in the musical and theatrical cauldron, under Chris van Tuinen’s deft baton, each earns a taste of immortality.

Tymms rightly took pride of place at the curtain call, but the night was just started.

Pagliacci, a tale of travelling players whose tears mock their merriment, follows a similar format to “Cav”, though with only one woman: a luminous Emma Matthews as Nedda, partner on stage and off to troupe leader Canio, whose extravagant tone gives O’Neill’s voice full scope.

Tonio (Meadows) opens the drama with a prologue heavy in irony; house lights throwing attention literally and metaphorically on the audience: we’re all in this drama, he intones.

Composer Leoncavallo’s “Pag” follows Mascagni’s “Cav”, much as a modern moviemaker adopts the “universe” of a franchise, but with more light and shade.

Enter the people, up tempo and eager to see the show. But as in “Cav”, religion intrudes and they must first attend Vespers.

Beppe — local tenor Matthew Lester — leads in the clowns with circus-style slapstick only to have Canio crack at an assumed sleight; raw emotion bubbling beneath the surface.

Nedda’s reflection, a channelling of birdsong in duet with woodwind gives full play to Matthews’ coloratura palette.

Tonio’s move on Nedda puts flesh on the plot, their interplay a mash-up of physical and musical humour broken off by the cruellest put down of all: laughter.

Enter tenor Christopher Tonkin as Silvio, Nedda’s lover, who pleads with her to run away from the circus.

Opera and realism are always a stretch, but the switch from mannered to more natural acting is nicely handled; Matthews’ demeanour subtly enticing, Tonkin’s clean-cut voice and figure coolly alluring.

Cue a visceral reaction from an alcoholic Canio, led on by the devious Tonio, to set up O’Neill’s pivotal aria.

Vesti la giubba — put on the costume — channels the tears of the clown in a sublimely paced crescendo to the climactic heights before collapsing in grief.

It’s the tune that lingers through the night, haunting Beppe and Nedda in the orchestral intermezzo; meditative before facing the music.

They team with Tonio in a delightful commedia dell’arte scene of Columbine and Harlequin — a play within a play — before Canio’s rage brings down the curtain.

Meadows is almost demonic in the melodramatic close: “La commedia e finita”.

Cavalleria rusticana and Pagliacci are at His Majesty’s Theatre until July 24. www.waopera.asn.au