REVIEW: The Turk In Italy
Image: L-R: Adrian Tilby, Teresa Leggett and Michael Gardiner dressed as “fluffy bunnies” for their first Mardi Gras in 2004.
Rossini’s The Turk in Italy directed by Simon Phillips, is a colourful frolic of mistaken identity, slapstick humour and brazen innuendo. Set in a seaside town near Naples in the 1950s – it’s all sunny days, sandy shores and short lived romance under the roof of the Joan Sutherland Theatre.
Prosdocimo, a self aware poet slogging it out as a barman, pieces together the plot for his play inspired by the marital problems of grumpy Geronio and his bored younger wife Fiorilla (any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental, the poet reassures us). The foreigner Selim, steps foot on shore, sets his eyes of Fiorilla and is immediately smitten. However, gypsy Zaida who happens to be the ex-lover of Selim, is also in town. Shenanigans ensue, the women fight over the sleazy and supposedly irresistible Selim (which is frankly puzzling) and the whole shebang is resolved with a rather sudden denouement.
The centrepiece of Gabriela Tylesova’s set, the revolving two storey Bar Geronio evokes the nostalgia of an ice cream parlour, decked out with a juke box and the Jetsons-esque decor. Vintage purple suits, gaudy blue drinks, snake skin boots and bright bathing suits make for a whimsical visual romp, pairing seamlessly with the series of lighthearted romantic mishaps.
A few familiar faces return to reprise their roles from the 2014 production; bass-baritone Paolo Bordogna flaunts Selim with bravado and showmanship, Samuel Dundas returns as Prosdocimo scribbling the plot of each unfolding Act with post-modern wit, and Anna Dowsley’s love-sick Zaida is clean and measured. Stacey Alleaume booms with power and passion as Fiorilla and Warwick Fyfe who plays opposite as bumbling Geronio snags the laughs.
As a product of its time, the story draws on tired gender stereotypes and the outdated trope of women fawning over incompetent men who don’t particularly treat them very well. The characters appear consciously superficial and anachronistic in 2018. Geronio laments that it is “impossible to find a woman not riddled with flaws” and though in jest, the insults “Turkish terrorist! damn doner kebab!” don’t sit as being all that clever or funny. Nevertheless, the production is propelled by the energetic performances of the cast and the playful score under the baton of Andrea Molino.
Expect boisterous farce, a colony of jiving Elvis and Marilyn impersonators and the feeling of almost getting a tan even though you’re at the opera and no where near an Italian beach.
Until 1 Sep. Sydney Opera House, Bennelong Point, Sydney. $46-$348+b.f. Tickets & Info: www.sydneyoperahouse.com
Reviewed by Shon Ho.
