OPERA REVIEW : UCLA Re-creates Roman Flourish of ‘Alessio’

It was a lovely idea. The dedicated musicologists of UCLA, generously aided by the Nakamichi Foundation and abetted by the ubiquitous Nicholas McGegan and a team of scholarly professionals, would stage Stefano Landi’s “Il Sant’Alessio.”

The world had not seen much of this mystical music-drama since 1634, when its third and most elaborate version was produced at the Palazzo Barberini in Rome.

The UCLA forces wouldn’t be content just to stage the singing antique. They would stage it in a painstakingly authentic manner.

The decors would replicate the courtly originals. The action would embrace stately gestures and sprightly period dances. The bitter pill of religiosity would be sweetened with such archaic devices as a triple deus ex machina who glides down from theatrical heaven, a basso-profondo devil who is transformed into a traipsing bear and a multi-legged clown who steals the scene at the inevitable peasant divertissement.

Although reasonable facsimiles of authentic 17th-Century flourishes are very much in vogue these days, Los Angeles hasn’t paid much attention. Michael Milenski revived two Monteverdi masterpieces--with the selfsame McGegan enforcing stylish accompaniment--but the staging concepts in enterprising Long Beach looked stubbornly forward to post-mod iconoclasm.

For this ambitious restoration project, UCLA insisted on looking backward to Barqoue innocence. The result, applauded by a sparse crowd Thursday night at the first of three Royce Hall performances, turned out to be a mixed blessing.

It was a decisive success as a museum piece. It posed problems, however, for those who seek dramatic vitality even in ancient rituals.

Running three languid hours, it also represented something of an endurance test. Landi’s set pieces follow Giulio Rospigliosi’s formula libretto respectfully, vacillating endlessly between the mundane and the sublime, with the decisive accent on the former.

The ornate score shifts from heroic impulse to comic, from folksy to mythic, from earthy to spiritual with mercurial nonchalance. The level of musical inspiration varies, and the focus tends toward the fuzzy.

McGegan--who doubled as harpsichordist and tripled as co- regisseur with Catherine Turocy--seemed content to unravel academic knots and to sustain precise momentum. Landi, he suggested, could take care of himself.

One wonders.

The cast piped and peeped, for the most part, with admirable but timid accuracy while striking artful poses. After a while, one longed for a little blood, and for some thunder beyond that built into the naive sound effects.

Strict stylization accommodates the static nature of the piece, to be sure. It also can alienate contemporary sensibilities. The moral dilemma facing the incipient Saint Alexis fails to grip the emotions when the sounds are merely pretty and the sights quaint.

Since vocalists of the castrato persuasion are in short supply these days, McGegan and Frederick Hammond, who is credited with the performing edition, had to make some difficult adjustments. They chose female sopranos to portray the titular hero and the multiple spirits from on high. They used a gutsy tenor for the knightly Adrasto and a countertenor for the comic Martio. The contrasting timbres and conflicting images proved mildly unsettling.

Still, “Sant’Alessio’ emerged as a graceful concert in costume in spite of the contradictions. Bonnie Kruger’s history-book costumes actually looked lavish. Scott Blake’s symmetrical flats revealed thoughtful research and, apart from a cartoonish illustration decorating the apotheosis, painterly splendor. David Kruger, the production manager, kept the houselights up and the stage dim, hoping, no doubt, to re-create the glowing palatial milieu.

The New York Baroque Dance Company enlivened the proceedings at the end of Act I--and not a moment too soon--with commedia dell’arte revelry choreographed by Charles Garth and Catherine Turocy. The Philharmonia Baroque of San Francisco, augmented by local players, toiled mellifluously in the pit on theorbos, violoni, lira, lutes and the like.

The generally deft “all-star cast” (UCLA’s immodest description) included Judith Nelson as the passive, sweet-toned protagonist, Mary Rawcliffe as the descending deities, Frank Kelley as the aged senator, Jeffrey Thomas as the knightly tenor, Drew Minter and the virtually inaudible Catherine McCord Larsen as the cutesy pages, Miriam Abramowitsch as the hero’s hectoring mother, Julianne Baird as his long-suffering bride and Kari Windingstad as the de rigueur nurse.

The most amusing portrayal, however, came from David Thomas as the gleeful devil with the subterranean snarl.

Resurrecting “Sant’Alessio” was indeed a lovely idea. It reflected a triumph of resource and reverence for the distant past. The impact of the second coming, however, may be limited.