Lend Me a Tenor

Reviewed by Jenny Lower

RECOMMENDED

Moose Drier’s tightly directed revival of Lend Me a Tenor at the Actors Co-Op offers an impeccable orchestration of Ken Ludwig’s Tony-winning 1986 comedy. Driven by an energetic, talented ensemble and flawless comedic timing, this backstage tale hums along on its own momentum, offering an amusing window into a time when opera singers provoked the kind of sexual rapture usually associated with rock stars.

Set in a hotel suite in 1934, the farce follows world-famous opera star Tito Merelli’s (Floyd Van Buskirk) arrival in Podunkville, USA— aka Cleveland — to perform in Verdi’s Otello. With a full house and the city aflutter, the opera company’s general manager (Bruce Ladd) is determined to avoid complications by heading off the notoriously libidinous star’s indiscretions.

He entrusts Merelli to the care of his milquetoast assistant Max (Nathan Bell), an aspiring singer unfortunately wooden as a bedpost and in love with his boss’s daughter, Maggie (Tannis Hanson). When an argument with his hot-tempered wife (Gina D’Acciaro) leads to Merelli’s apparent overdose on phenobarbital, the two schemers contrive an alternative to disaster: Max must carry the show.

Though it demands a great deal of its actors, Lend Me a Tenor doesn’t ask much of its audience beyond a good-natured acceptance of its premise and a willingness to have a good time. And while that premise might seem fusty (until you consider the breathless marketing campaign that accompanied Gustavo Dudamel’s entrance on the LA Philharmonic scene five years ago), it’s a pleasure to give yourself over to this able gang of players. Under Drier’s skilled direction, they deliver elegantly controlled chaos and muscular comic chops. Bell’s Max is an endearing nerd who needs to get intoxicated in order to impersonate a suave Lothario; Van Buskirk captures the bluster, confidence and eventual bewilderment of a man assured the attentions of nubile opera groupies. D’Acciaro offers a commanding turn as Merelli’s histrionic missus, while Stephen Van Dorn steals his scenes as an insolent fanboy bellhop gunning for an autograph. Wendell Carmichael’s luxurious gowns complement the divas and ingenues alike. 

Actors Co-Op, 1760 N. Gower St., Hollywood; Fri.-Sat., 8 p.m.; Sun., 2:30 p.m.; May 3, 2:30 p.m. (no perfs April 18-20); through May 4. (323) 462-8460, www.actorsco-op.org.