Hitting High Notes: "Lend Me a Tenor,"
at the Clinton Area Showboat Theatre through Saturday, July 7
Written by Mike Schulz
Wednesday, 27 June 2007
This is why I love live theatre.

In the Clinton Area Showboat Theatre's production of Ken Ludwig's Lend Me a
Tenor, Will Morgan plays Tito Merelli, an egocentric and wildly passionate
Italian opera star. Late in Act I, the character discovers that his equally
tempestuous wife is leaving him. Merelli subsequently launches into a fit of
hysterically inconsolable grief, and on Thursday night, Morgan wailed and moaned
with peerless comic abandon.
Yet at the very moment the actor began his tirade, there was an enormous
thunderclap, and the evening's rainstorm - which had been percolating for an
hour - significantly grew in intensity. For three minutes, the squall outside
seemed to echo the personal tsunami that Morgan was enacting on-stage, until
finally, with Joshua Estrada's hapless nebbish Max calming him, Morgan's Merelli
collapsed on the bed, devastated and exhausted.
And outside, as if on cue, the storm began to subside.
It was a sequence of perfect theatrical synchronicity. (The Lend Me a Tenor
program should have credited: "Sound effects by God.") But what amazed me even
more than the weather's timing was its futility; here Morgan was, battling for
the audience's attention against thunder and a violently loud downpour on the
Showboat roof, and I'm pretty sure the actor won. Morgan's laugh-‘til-you-cry
portrayal is a maelstrom of energy and confidence and invention, and in director
Craig A. Miller's marvelous, door-slamming farce, it's far from the only one on
display.
Ludwig's Tenor is one of those cleverly constructed, unashamedly contrived
contraptions that would completely fall apart without directorial precision and
impeccable timing. Yet from its first scenes, it's clear that not only will
Miller lend the proceedings considerable wit and finesse, but that he's
surrounded himself with some positively topnotch farcical performers.
Morgan is so over-the-top funny, especially in that Act I breakdown, that he
could easily steamroll over a lesser actor. Joshua Estrada, though, is not a
lesser actor; from the evidence here, here's a fantastically fine one.
Initially, Max appears so meek and mild that he seems on the verge of vanishing,
but Estrada himself is buoyantly assured, and by the time Max is forced into a
full-scale Merelli impersonation, there's no mistaking the actor's control or -
considering his sharp comic timing and rich singing voice - his talent.
As Merelli's wife, Alison Nicole Luff shrieks heavily-accented epithets and
never wilts against Morgan's bellowing; she matches her co-star laugh for laugh.
Jennifer Gilbert enters her scenes with such spectacular comic confidence, purrs
her lines with such suggestive playfulness, and looks so ravishing in Sonia
Elizabeth Lerner's costumes that you can barely take your eyes off her. I heard
an audible, happy murmur in the crowd when Showboat veteran Nicole Horton first
appeared, and I was pretty damned happy, too; as usual, the actress is a
splendidly subtle, polished comedienne. And Kelly Ann Allman is both hysterical
and wholly believable as Max's seemingly prim, secretly lascivious sweetheart;
her attempts at seduction - which lead to a series of incredibly awkward poses -
are dementedly original, and unfailingly funny.
Thursday's only real disappointment was Mark X. Laskowski as the dyspeptic
theatre manager Saunders, as the actor tripped over too many lines to develop a
satisfying rhythm. (Dialogue that should have elicited belly laughs received
polite chuckles instead.) But his virulent spit-takes, in particular, were
beautifully timed, and Steven Piechocki provided good-natured mugging as a hotel
bellhop.
Miller helms Lend Me a Tenor's escalating hysteria with dynamic inventiveness -
Act I's capper is classic - yet he and Ludwig save their greatest inspiration
for the finale: A dialogue-free, musically-accompanied reenactment of the entire
show in just under three minutes. It's a jaw-droppingly hilarious conclusion,
but incredibly, no more hilarious than the two-hour version that precedes it.