Israeli Opera’s Pagliacci review – Tel Aviv’s operatic scene springs to life

Venture Cap guys in the hot Israeli software/tech start-up arena don’t “do” opera. 

In Israel for the first time, ostensibly on business, referencing my Sunday night sortie to the opening of Ruggero Leoncavallo’s Pagliacci at Israeli Opera in downtown Tel Aviv, seemed a good opening gambit after bumping elbows, or boldly shaking hands, in glitzy offices overlooking the Tel Aviv skyline. Courteous ice breaker for a Brit. 

Mistake. Mostly, it evoked a glance of uninterested, disdainful sympathy from the tyros of tech. “Er, ….. operas go on too long. Never been”. “Nothing there to interest me”. “They’re all about the past.” “Poor you.”

Well, start clicking on the booking button, because Israeli Opera has a riposte aimed squarely at your several ennuis. This innovative production of Pagliacci takes on opera sceptics like you. Yes, you in the Microsoft, Google, RedHat, tower blocs.

As innovative as any life-transforming wellness app, as sharp to the eye as a viral TikTok video and crafted to fit the short attention span of a teen browser, this Pagliacci is reaching out to grab your attention. 

Almost always, Pagliacci is unthinkingly twinned in a double presentation with Pietro Mascagni’s Cavalleria rusticana. I know, I know, the yin and yang, different sort of violence argument. Compare and contrast. 

But here, staged in its own right, Pagliacci leaps into life with more substance than the usual simple story of a sad clown whose real-life experience with his fellow comedienne adulteress wife, Nedda, leads him to murder her and her lover, Silvio, in a final cataclysm. “La commedia è finita!!” Pagliacio/Canio growls at the audience.

This opera needs no supporting double-bill event, just because it is a short one-acter. The theme deserves total focus. We should all leave the auditorium reflecting on this 80-minute masterpiece of late 19th-century verismo. Not head for an interval ice-cream chattering about the upcoming Cavalleria rusticana being different.

Israeli Opera’s production has been elevated by clever use of dance routines from a conventional mime-based structure, deepening understanding of the potpourri of characters. Spectacular costumes catch the eye. The comedia dell’arte elements are subtly exaggerated. 

At one point, an enormous Jack in the Box shoots towards the top of the stage. The audience is sucked into a virtual world that any high-tech VR-gamer with his 3D helmet would be proud of.  

Here’s the plot. 

Pagliacci is divided, like Gaul, into three parts – a Prologue and two Acts. Conventionally the character who is the malformed drudge of the troupe, Tonio, announces the author’s purpose, to revive the traditional customs of the commedia dell’arte.

But that’s not all. He tells us they are trying to show “a slice of life,” and he warns the audience will learn the people seen onstage are flesh and blood. 

I can’t think of any production I have seen (many) where the Prologue is, well, a prologue. Sung simply and directly to the audience. Here, it was accompanied by a simple faux film device, to Tonio’s right, hand-projecting moving, beautifully crafted, line-drawn images of the characters we were about to encounter onto a small screen.

Act I

Crowds welcome a troupe of actors arriving in town. Canio, the head of the troupe, invites everyone to come to their show that evening. 

Canio and Beppe, an actor, head to the tavern for a drink, leaving Tonio alone with Nedda, Canio’s wife. Now she dishes the dirt. She muses on the fierceness of her husband’s jealousy. She dreams of her freedom. Not until her song is finished does she notice troll Tonio watching her. 

Clumsily, he declares his love for her. Bad move. When he tries to kiss her, she whacks him. Screaming revenge, Tonio leaves, just as goody-goody Silvio, Nedda’s lover, appears. Silvio is a Matt Hancock, “I’m really in love, so anything goes”, sort of guy.

As they talk lovingly, Tonio sneaks back, eavesdrops, and overhears Nedda and Silvio’s plan to elope that night after the show. Tonio goes to fetch Canio.

When Canio returns, he threatens Nedda, trying to force her to reveal to him her lover’s name. She won’t squeal. Beppe has to restrain Canio. They have a show to perform. Left alone, Canio muses bitterly about the hard life of the clown who has to hide his pain behind his makeup.

This is the famous Vesti la giuba/Put on the costume aria, which here was performed before an imaginary mirror flanked with light bulbs. A simple trick, but the audience was looking through the glass at Canio, totally involved in this most private of private moments.

Canio, whatever the state of his relationship with Nedda, is layering on his white, masking make up. Regardless of reality, the show must go on. 

Act II

The audience arrives, and the play begins. Harlequin (Beppe) serenades his beloved Colombina (Nedda), who knows that her husband Pagliacio (Canio) will not return home until late. 

Taddeo (Tonio) appears and declares his love for her. Harlequin arrives, throws Taddeo out, and the lovers sit down to eat. Taddeo returns to warn them that Pagliacio is coming. 

Pagliacio (Canio) comes in, right on cue, to hear Colombina say to Harlequin the same words he heard Nedda tell her lover earlier that afternoon. 

Canio blows it, is unable to remain in the Pagliacio character. He insists on finding out the name of Nedda’s lover. This is great stuff. Better than the play. The audience loves it and whoops them on.

She improvises, trying to keep things on track. Broken, Canio cries out he is not Pagliacio anymore. When she again refuses to reveal her lover’s name, the jealousy–mad Canio stabs her. As Silvio rushes from the audience, Canio stabs him as well. 

“La commedia e finita”. (The comedy is over). 

As they might opine in Glasgow, “Too right pal! That Silvio had it coming to him, by the way”.

Inbal Pinto, the choreographer’s contribution to the production is immense. She also directed. She resisted the temptation to overdo it, the movement of crowds and circus performers flowing into the action.

In 2013 she directed Janáček’s The Cunning Little Vixen – Bergen Nasjonale Opera, Norway. 

That was a stunning visual and dramatic success, too, and brought a smaller opera house, perhaps seen to be on the periphery of the opera world, centre stage. The same goes for Israeli Opera. Pioneering work of this sort plants an artistic stake in the ground.

I think there is huge potential in seeking co-production agreements for this opera. It really leaves other productions currently on the circuit dripping bad make-up. The individual dancers and The Masloof School of Contemporary Dance together pulled off an entrancing ensemble spectacle. 

Often, smaller houses find difficulty in attracting top name singers. Zach Granit, the General Director, circumvents that by getting in on the ground floor – grab great voices before they become great and unaffordable names. The principals in this Pagliacci could not be faulted. 

In talent spotting Israeli Opera has form. An unknown tenor sang with them for three years. Only after that did Placido Domingo gain world renown.

The Friends Party afterwards was a highly networked affair. It rapidly became apparent that military service is a strong glue that helps hold Israeli society together. Almost every introduction was prefaced by – “Who served with me when I was doing my military service”. 

The same goes for the world of finance and high-tech innovation. Israel doesn’t need an “old boys” network, because everyone is an “old comrade”. 

No, Captain Mainwaring, I’m not advocating a return to National Service, but I am wondering if our dwindling sense of community is blunting our competitive edge. 

It’s impossible to conclude a review of Pagliacci, the pinnacle of the hard-hitting verismo tradition, without reflecting on a current former exponent of comedy and impersonation, today courageously wearing his mask of military uniform, Volodymyr Zelensky, President of Ukraine. 

Onstage in Tel Aviv, Israeli Opera delivered a brilliant portrayal of the melding of the real world and the face we are often obliged to assume as we turn towards its turmoil.

I left the stunning Tel Aviv performing Arts Center reflecting soberly that, not far away, the formerly light-hearted leader of a tragic nation was keeping his public sang froid in the face of overwhelming butchery, so his people could hold onto what remains of their sanity.

This wonderful Israeli Opera offering provoked that reflection. Opera doing its job.