Opus
In the beginning of the play, Dorian, the violist (expertly portrayed by Daniel Blinkoff) speaks directly to the audience. In a humorous way he brings to our attention the fact that each member of the string quartet assembled on the stage could have a very different intent for being present, and a very different feeling toward music and his instrument. With a laugh we become aware of one of the major themes of the play—how people, working together intently over a long period of time, can easily develop hostilities and clash with one another. Dorian goes on to describe the great esthetic joys to which chamber music can rise, one instrument relating to another as a lover in the most intimate embrace; sounds merging and diverging so that one eventually can’t distinguish where one note begins and anther leaves off; an intertwining of expressions culminating in the creation of something greater than the sum of its parts.
With such an introduction, expectations are indeed heightened. We anticipate an organic development and resolution of these themes. We know that Opus is the recipient of the Barrymore Award for Outstanding New Play, received a Steinberg New Play Citation from the American Theatre Critics Association, and was nominated for the Lucille Lortel and John Gassner awards for Best New Play. Unfortunately, in spite of the good reviews it has received and its awards, it is the opinion of this critic that the play falls far short of what it promises in its opening speeches, and ultimately does not fulfill itself. The play is fragmented; a series of scenes that do not, in the end, add up to something greater than the sum of its parts. This becomes most evident in the end when a shock device is used instead of words or emotional upheavals resulting in greater insight, perspective, contact with reality, or depth in understanding the human experience.
The best thing about the evening, besides the glorious music regularly interspersed, is the performance of Daniel Blinkoff. One feels his great yearnings and sorrows, his inner struggle and the love he experiences for his art as well as his lover, Elliot, the arrogant, power-hungry first violinist (Christian Lebano). The most successful scenes in the play are those in which he confronts Elliot, a character I wish had been more multi-dimensional rather than striving only for self-aggrandizement and satisfaction.
Christian Lebano is very successful in his rendering of the extremely powerful and domineering Elliot. Perhaps he, as well as most of the other actors, projected too loudly for the small house, shattering the intimacy needed to humanize some of the intellectual banter, as well as foster the impression of a tightly knit group who had worked together for many years.
Gregory G. Giles as Carl, and Cooper Thornton as Alan are good actors, but, probably at the behest of the director, play their parts rather blandly. They complete the fictional Lazara String Quartet, which is based on the real-life Audubon Quartet, and its horrific breach ending in disastrous outcomes for all its members.
Jia Doughman, as Grace, is perfect as the brilliant graduate just entering the professional music world. She enters the scene when Dorian is fired for erratic behavior. The string quartet is suddenly given the opportunity to perform its highest-profile performance ever—a television ceremony at the White House. Grace is quickly hired but rehearsals are full of tension and ill will.
I am highly appreciative of the work regularly accomplished at the Fountain Theatre, but this project, in spite of its glorious music and good actors, left me unsatisfied. I blame the play; I don’t feel it is a finished piece.
Fountain Theatre
5060 Fountain Ave, Los Angeles
323-663-1525
Fountaintheatre.com
Thurs.-Sat. 8 pm; Sun., 2pm through July 25
Tickets: $25-$30