Wait a minute. The first sound you hear is a minor chord. Minor chords announce tragic opera. This is “Jane Eyre” presented by Seattle Musical Theatre, underscore “Light.” What’s up?
A feminine sensibility as heroic as Elektra, as human as Julia Roberts and as independent as a suffragette.
This is meaty light opera abbreviated from Charlotte Bronte’s pioneering 19th century, novel. Yet, Paul Gordon composed the music and lyrics, John Caird wrote the book and Gregory Magyar directs the production. A British woman provided the inspiration. American men provided the perspiration.
So what difference do geography and gender make?
Absolutely none.
The marvel here is the mix of gothic elements, Dickensian fictional devices, theatrical conventions, tumultuous romance and self-actualization. It adds up to an experience as universal, personal and current as the romantic spirit “Eyre’s” opening last weekend.
Remember? Valentine’s Day? When you looked over at him or her and it hit you? Our differences don’t matter. What counts is us.
Then, pray tell, how does SMT go about such an undertaking?
In a cagey, sneaky and not un-underhanded way.
After the overture, which sets you up for doom, gloom and anything but a Hollywood ending, a brilliant Danielle Barnum in the title role, addresses you directly and in a British accent you are totally unprepared for. Crash, it takes awhile to catch up. But when you do, you put yourself in Barnum’s hands and, by journey’s end, appreciate the high-mindedness she brings to the role. Barnum singing and acting justify full attention.
Leading man and self-torturing love interest with a dark secret, James Padilla, reveals the fragile and, by men, stubbornly defended core of manhood’s ego. Talk about women being tough on the inside. Padilla spells it out. A man’s pride can get him into trouble.
Waylayn Sharples head housekeeper and friend to Jane Eyre adds light, bright moments into her master’s otherwise sinister, brooding household. Sharples’ portrait of an aging woman in the early stages of Alzheimer’s is wonderfully disarming.
Child abuser with a heart, Jenni Taggart’s Mrs. Reed poses and resolves the paradox, convincingly. Funny thing about villains, they can fool you.
Jenny Shotwell’s fortune-seeking husband-hunter is easy to see through and a total delight. Shotwell charming her prey is not to be missed.
The cast is strong. Paul Linnes’s musical direction enriches the story’s many moods. Surprises abound. Suspense and foreboding hang in the air. SMT could turn down the volume some. Line deliveries and music sometimes get a little loud.
This is finely textured light opera sometimes sounding a tragic tone. It engages. It entertains. Great for a date night out.
Reactions? Comments? E-mail Dale Burrows at entfeatures@heraldnet.com or grayghost7@comcast.net.
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