Halfway through the second act of Bravo, Caruso!, which opened this weekend at Next Act Theatre, Enrico Caruso recites his holiday gift list. It’s Christmas Eve, after all, and the legendary tenor expects a few dozen well-wishers to visit his Metropolitan Opera dressing room after his performance. He has a small gift for each one, and wants to be sure none of his friends and associates are forgotten. The list is long, but in David Cescarini’s hands, the names is as musical as a Puccini aria: “Martino Ceccanti, Guiseppi de Luca, Giulio Gatti-Casazza …” If you ever wondered why Italian was the official language of opera for two centuries, there is your answer.
And if you ever wondered why Caruso was such a beloved figure, William Luce’s play offers some entertaining answers. It takes place before his final performance, playing a rabbi in Fromental Halévy’s La Juive, an opera that was popular in the 19th century, but is little remembered today. As is usual, his admiring dresser and assistant, Mario Fantini (Christopher Tramantana) is on hand to help with every little thing—from laying out his dinner (pasta, of course) to ironing his costume (several times).
Luce has made a career penning dramatic portraits of the fascinating and famous (John Barrymore, Lillian Hellman, Moliere, Charlotte Bronte and Emily Dickinson). Unlike some of his solo shows, the key to Caruso’s emotional punch lies in the intimate relationship between two characters: Caruso and Mario.
Director Edward Morgan understands this, as do both his actors. Caruso will go on this evening, but he has been plagued by dramatic health problems in past months. He spends much of the evening charmingly recalling signature moments of his life and career, but it is clear that his days are numbered. Caruso’s coughing fits are telling signs of his mortality, and Cescarini plays them with restrained, but palpable resignation. They register on Mario as well, and Tramantana gives the play its most poignant moments—subtle reactions that testify to his loyalty and his love for this patron saint of Napoli.
Set in Rick Rasmussen’s meticulously appointed dressing room, Bravo, Caruso! is a charming and tender look at one man’s passionate embrace of his music, and the loss felt by those who had been touched by his art.
