Part of a series of dilettante at large reviews by theater critic Toby Zinman.
Spoilers puts it mildly: She dies. He dies. They die.
Everybody dies in Joseph Keckler’s witty and often splendid collage of mortality culled and quoted from many many operas. His gorgeous bass baritone and surprising counter tenor allows him to sing a duet with himself, while his talking persona ranges from stand-up comic with a handheld mic to profound philosopher, ranging from from the existential to the metaphysical.
Similarly contradictory, his costume suggests the dour antique —a black many-buttoned tunic, think Hamlet—and the cool contemporary—black cowboy boots, skinny black jeans. He is, in a word, adorable.
After providing us with a vocally illustrated lecture on death scenes, Keckler announces, “But enough talk”; he then turns his lectern over, revealing a satin-lined casket, and, Dracula-like, settles into it for the show’s second act. This allows three fine singers (Augustine Mercante, Natalie Levin, Veronica Chapman Smith), accompanied by a violinist (Lavinia Pavlish) and a pianist (William Kim) to take over, as they perform bits of operas ranging from Puccini to Satie. The chilling and silent finale is performed to great effect by a dancer (Saori Tsukada).
Despite the apparent inclination to the morbid, Keckler tells us—shows us— that of all the uses for human breath, “singing is the best.”
Part of the 2019 Fringe Festival and Opera Philadelphia’s Festival O19