House Afire

Heard any Haydn recently, or any light opera? Seen any bizarre comedy, or a touch of burlesque? If you have or haven't, it's no matter. There's a little of everything in the Lowell House production of Haydn's House Afire, and it makes for one of the most delightful evenings of entertainment to hit Cambridge in a long while.

But a word of explanation is needed. Haydn's Die Feuerbrunst was first performed in the late eighteenth century, when minuets were minuets and a man knew his place in society. Something happened, however, and the manuscript for the opera was lost. It turned up at Yale in an obscure collection several years ago, music and lyrics intact, but with the libretto missing. Some Yale graduate students promptly translated the songs and wrote a libretto around them. As might be expected of Yalies, they produced a real abortion--twentieth century humor built on eighteenth century rhymes, with an incredibly intricate plot in between.

Director Joel Schwartz did what he could with the script, and all things considered, he did a lot. Judged professionally, House Afire would rate low grade B, but the production is meant to entertain, and it does so beautifully.

The opera takes place in a small Austrian village in the middle of the eighteenth century. Hanswurst, a chimney-sweep, is madly in love with Columbina, whose father is Odario, the town money-grubber. Odario tries to wed his daughter to the richest man he can find, and he picks priggish Fleandar, a wig-curler in the guise of a nobleman. From there on, the plot takes every traditional turn imaginable, with ghosts peering from balconies and men dressed as women. By the end, of course, the good Hanswurst gains the hand of the sweet Columbina, Odario wins the coveted Stone of Saxony (a jewel of gigantic proportions), and the cast applauds its own fortunes in the rousing finale ("I love happy endings, they are rather nice").

Haydn's music itself is rather unexceptionable. The entire opera contains well over twenty-five songs, many indistinguishable. Conducted by Joel Lazar, the surprisingly large orchestra (26 pieces) plays sprightly, but much too loudly for the singers. Their timing is occasionally ragged, and one always hopes for a bit more voice from on-stage to cover their mistakes.

The key to the cast's performance is the ribaldry Schwartz has injected. The greatest ham, and consequently the most enjoyable performer, is Walter Swap, who plays Hanswurst. He cavorts in five different disguises, and his impersonation of a crackly-voiced beggar woman in "I Beg of You" nearly steals the show. Sandra Robbins, as Columbina, sings the eighteenth century melodies beautifully, if a bit too softly, but she has trouble warming to the sex-ridden requirements of the twentieth-century script.

The rest of the cast sings much less impressively, but follows Schwartz's intricate stage directions to good effect. Randy Lindel, who plays Steckel, a town oaf, is often tiresome in his buffoonery: his eating scene at the beginning of the third act, however, is a wonderful replica of Squire Western's gluttony in Tom Jones. Lucian Russel, as Odario, sprinkles an appalling covetousness into the otherwise romantic script, grabbing for jewels and selling his lovely daughter. Randy Pyle, who plays the ghost of Steckel's father, conveys slightly more the circus clown parodying Hamlet than the spectre, although he fits both parts equally well.

Most delightful of all is the quaint, marvelously painted village set, designed by Bill Buckingham. The stage itself is slightly small for the size of the cast, but at least it reminds you of Lowell House. As if one could ever forget. The spirit of the notorious Lowell House Christmas plays is ever-present, and ayone who wants to read sex into the lines will have exceptionally meaty material ("You are round and ample/Let Leander have a sample"). Oh yes! Former Master Elliott Perkins' initials are inscribed above a door-way. What else could provide a more appropriate setting or such an enjoyable performance?