STAGE REVIEW : ‘Double Bass’ Weaves a Singular Fugue for Solo Instrumentalist

What are we to make of a classical musician who refers to his instrument, the double bass, as “the loins of the orchestra”? And means it?

The first thing that comes to mind is that this is a fellow with sex on the brain. Second, he’s probably thought long and hard--perhaps too long, too hard--about his role in the universe.

Third, we figure we’re in for a portrait of an artistic breakdown. After all, he’s in his mid-30s, seriously balding, standing around in his bathrobe and expounding on music and the meaning of it all to a room of strangers.

But it’s wrong to guess too early while watching Patrick Suskind’s “The Double Bass” at the Boyd Street Theatre. As odd as it may seem to hear someone in his cozy living room (Nancy Dunn Eisenman’s set suggests a modestly elegant occupant) smashing the fourth wall and talking--sometimes lecturing--directly to the audience, it’s a style that’s quickly accepted. Especially since it becomes clear that Suskind is up to no tricks. He’s as direct as his nameless bassist (Louis Fantasia).

For this musician, the bass is both blessing and scourge: blessing, in that he knows he’s a part of the orchestra’s heartbeat (body parts and organs are big with Suskind); scourge, because it’s his substitute for a woman. Meanwhile, there’s this young, beautiful soprano in the opera company. . . .

Like most intelligent people, the bassist knows exactly what he’s about and why he’s about it, but can’t seem to do anything to change his situation. He’s a walking-talking double bass dictionary, and he’s aware of what he’s lacking, so it’s only natural that he tracks down every known score for double bass/soprano voice duos for an upcoming date. But using pedantry as a means of sexual conquest is getting him nowhere.

Suskind is a West German novelist (his “Perfume” is an international best seller) and occasional playwright. This is his first play (1980), and it feels like the work of someone who has been touched by music but knows the cruelty of the musicmaker’s profession. The bassist, when he looks at the bare facts, depicts himself as a worker doing his job. The magic of art was left behind long ago.

But there is nothing here so stark or bitter or political as we see in the working world of fellow German Franz Xaver Kroetz. Kroetz’s people also wander around their living room, wondering where their lives went. At the end of Suskind’s piece, this working musician gets in his tuxedo and heads out to another night at the concert hall.

Fantasia keeps the balance between the bassist’s nearly contained anger and ingratiating humility, while giving him the memorable edge of a true character. Director Lloy Coutts lets Fantasia saunter in and out of the room as a host might--but to no comic effect and for no practical purpose. That and a few flubbed lines will likely work themselves out in time. This is a lecture that deserves our ears.

Performances are at 305 Boyd St. on Fridays and Saturdays, 8 p.m., through July 23. Tickets: $10; (213) 629-2205 or 387-7414.