Antonin Rondepierre and Meghan Lindsay in “Handel’s Acis and Galatea”, Photo by Bruce Zinger
Featuring Tafelmusik (orchestra) and The Nathaniel Dett Chorale (choir)
I’m not particularly fond of Handel. Baroque music in general tends to be too light and airy for my taste, which gravitates towards the Sturm und Drang of, say, a Wagner opera. And harpsichord grates on my nerves (a full disclosure I’ve made in past reviews). Opera Atelier, though, has been gradually wearing down my aesthetic defences. I can’t help but be enchanted by exceptional artistic achievement and their production of Handel’s Acis and Galatea is truly radiant.
An episode in Ovid’s Metamorphoses, this tale of a water nymph (Galatea) in love with an Arcadian shepherd (Acis) isn’t plot heavy. They are completely gaga for each other, but their romance is doomed because a cyclops (Polyphemus) wants her for himself. He kills Acis with a boulder, so Galatea turns her dead lover into a fountain—immortalized as the water she inhabits.
Marshall Pynkoski (director) and Jeannette Lajeunesse Zingg’s (choreographer) production has an elegant storybook playfulness. Gerard Gauci’s backdrop suggests a massive oil painting of a waterfall nestled in foliage. A stage-level focal point rises to give us a glimpse into the stream, Galatea’s watery home. His costumes pop against the scenery. I especially loved the swashbuckling, bare-chested earthiness of Polyphemus’ get-up. The eyepatch rendering him a cyclops is a cute comedic detail. And Galatea’s dark aquamarine gown with sheer overlay is luxurious and lends her an aquatic, ethereal quality.
That dress figures into some of the most adorable, lovey-dovey moments between Antonin Rondepierre (tenor) and Meghan Lindsay (soprano). The defining image of their romance is him burying his face in that gorgeous fabric—perfectly capturing the essence of their giddy, adorable dynamic.
As a quirky irony, the villain of the piece, Douglas Williams’ (bass-baritone) Polyphemus, has considerably more visceral sex appeal than his romantic-lead counterpart. His angsty swagger (“I rage — I melt — I burn!”) is glorious pantomime and the bawdy antics with his big wooden stick are quite… well, I’m sure you can imagine.
Another highlight for me is Blaise Rantoanina’s (tenor) endearingly mischievous Damon. A fellow shepherd and friend of Acis, his costume and stage business here suggest he’s a woodland sprite, reminding me of Puck from A Midsummer Night’s Dream. Always dashing about and striking an iconic hands-on-hips pose, he’s got a Peter Pan thing going on too.
Foreshadowed by understated yet ominous thunderclaps at the end of the first act, Acis and Galatea’s perfect romance (“Happy we!”) is under threat. At the opening of the second act, the libretto gives us “Wretched lovers, quit your dream!”—which is a hilarious about-face. I wonder if the humour is lessened or enhanced by the act break. Sometimes performed without intermission, perhaps this jarring change is intensified.
Uplifting interludes with the Atelier Ballet feature vivid pastel costumes and contribute greatly to the winsome mise en scène.
I was tickled by an illustrated, mobile flat with mechanical pop-outs representing a flock of goats scampering across the stage. A cascade of glittering confetti is an especially magical moment that depicts Galatea’s divine powers of transformation. The final tableau is an exquisite image: Acis and Galatea embracing at the base of length of blue fabric (which Kimberly Purtell’s undulating light turns into a stream of enchanted water), with Damon pulling back the fabric in a distinctly meditative theatrical gesture—an idyllic conclusion to this charming romp.
Acis and Galatea
running October 24 to 27, 2024
Elgin Theatre (189 Yonge Street)
running time: 115 minutes (including intermission)
Blaise Rantoanina in “Handel’s Acis and Galatea”, Photo by Bruce Zinger