The Turk in Italy – Opera Australia

Overview

Encircled with golden hula-hoops, splashed with pink neon and baring all in bikinis, The Turk in Italy (Il Turco in Italia), as directed by Simon Phillips, is opera about as bright, bold and downright funny as it gets.

In 2014, the seldom-performed opera buffa celebrates its 200th anniversary, having been written by a 22-year-old rock star Rossini and debuted at La Scala, Milan in August 1814. Its last Sydney performance was 40 years ago.

Phillips, in league with designer Gabriela Tylesova, transports the action to a flamboyant, stylised 1950s on the seaside. La Dolce Vita aesthetics blend with pop culture references; vintage fashion cuts take on brilliant hues and larger-than-life dimensions. Think ruffled swimsuits, fluoro inflatable mattresses, Dior-inspired dresses, snakeskin boots and Elvis lookalikes. A spectacular, skewed-angled, ice-cream cone-shaped double revolve serves as beach, house, bar, nightclub and hillside.

Enter would-be poet and playwright (and barman) Prosdocimo (Samuel Dundas). On the prowl for a comic plot, he’s delighted to discover that his rather rotund, much-anguished boss Geronio (Conal Coad) is plagued by suspicion of his wife’s infidelity. The hunch is abysmally well-founded: the moment we meet Fiorilla (Emma Matthews) she is looking out to sea, binoculars in-hand, investigating the talent on an incoming Turkish ship. Captain Selim (Paolo Bordogna) presents more than she bargained for; however, their hot and heavy banter spiralling into infatuation. The catch (apart from Geronio, of course)? Selim’s first love, and one-time sex slave, Zaida (Anna Dowsley) rumbles onto the scene in her gypsy caravan.

In the best possible way, Phillips squeezes every conceivable comedic moment — physical, linguistic and musical — out of the work. He goes so far as to offer a bold translation of Felice Romani’s original libretto, slipping in Aussie slang and substituting monosyllabic expletives for more poetic expressions of rage. Double entendres drive home slapstick humour; Benny Hill-style ‘tits and bums’ jokes abound. It’s silly, ridiculous, absurd at times, and utterly, utterly hilarious. It’s opera that makes you laugh. Really laugh. Out loud.

Matthews steals the show. Not only is her coloratura magnificent, she plays the sexpot to give Brigitte Bardot a run for her money. She’s irresistibly fun and outrageously flirtatious. Bordogna — sufficiently suited-up, facially haired and charismatic enough to pass for Prince — meets her with his fluent baritone and ladies’ man appeal. Coad embraces Geronio’s fragility and eccentric hilarity in equal measure, while tearing through an array of technically tough bass lines.

Young mezzo and member of the Moffatt Oxenbould Young Artist Program, Dowsley makes her main stage debut as Zaida. Her singing is warm and agile, and she’s magnetic to watch. It’s a performance charged with promise. Dundas — the loveable, roguish barman — displays on-the-mark comedic timing and consistently powerful, articulate vocal lines.

Finally, there’s Luciano Botelho, who plays peripheral character Narciso. As marginal to the main plot as his part might be, his resounding tenor places him very much at the centre of attention when he’s in solo mode. A particularly funny scene involving wriggling into an Elvis costume while in a minute, makeshift changing room has the audience in stitches.

The verdict? Go! The good news is that standing room and student rush tickets, both available on the day of each performance, are just $44.