Das Barbecu

A country-fried 'Ring' cycle

BYLINE: PIERRE RUHE

Staff
DATE: October 8, 2004
PUBLICATION: Atlanta Journal-Constitution, The (GA)
EDITION: Home; The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
SECTION: Movies & More
PAGE: H6


THEATER REVIEW

"Das Barbecu"

8 p.m. Thursdays-Saturdays; 2:30 p.m. Saturdays-Sundays. Through Oct. 24. $18-$25. Aurora Theatre, 3087-B Main St., Duluth. 770-476-7926, www.auroratheatre.com.

The verdict: Brunnhilde goes honky-tonk.

In the hilarious opening minutes of the country-and-western opera spoof "Das Barbecu," Aurora Theatre crams our confused heads with Wagner's 16-hour "Ring" cycle. That's the four-opera epic where fat singers traditionally wear horned helmets and belt their lungs out about everything from gods and giants to drugs and incest. It's really about the meaning of love.

There's a lot of plot to cover. So in a madcap rush of information, the "Barbecu" cast, under David Crowe's whip-smart direction, uses flashcards, gold hula hoops and a lecture on narcolepsy to force-feed us the story.

Very funny, but it's still too complicated.

So they start over, beginning a comically sentimental Texas-style musical about an arrogant man who has a house built and can't make the payments and so steals a golden ring -- the power of the universe -- for payment, then tries to steal it back. When his daughter disobeys him, he puts her to sleep inside a magic circle of fire, which is broken by his heroic grandson, who instantly falls in love with her (his aunt) till he (the young hero) gets tricked by a family of dastardly schemers who want the ring for themselves, but -- even the best plans can go awry -- the world is set on fire, then flooded. Curtain.

Summarizing the outrageous story is the point. Commissioned by the Seattle Opera to help novices understand Wagner's "Der Ring des Nieblungen," "Barbecu" is based on Wagner's plot but not his music. Scott Warrender's score is all easy-flowing pop-country -- with nods to honky-tonk, Western swing and Hank Williams -- highlighted by hummable tunes like "A Ring of Gold in Texas" and "Makin' Guacamole." Jim Luigs' book and lyrics are saucy and sly. His jokes are hit-or-miss, but there's a warm glow when he shapes his words for romantic exchanges. He gives the characters, for all the absurdity, flickers of humanity.

The real delight comes from the Aurora's alert cast, with five actors covering some 30 roles. It helps, too, that the fiddle-guitar pit band, led by Ann-Carol Pence, gives sure-footed musical accompaniment.

Brandon O'Dell, with a light, pleasant singing voice, plays the gawky hero Seigfried, the dwarf villain Alberich and a cancan-dancing soothsayer in drag, among other roles. His chemistry with Marcie Millard, as Brunnhilde, in the Texas two-step number "Slide a Little Closer," is surprisingly intimate.

Sandra Benton, authoritative in voice and given some choice lines addressed directly to the audience, holds the show together. As the long-suffering wife Fricka, she plays to stereotypes, both sassy and tormented. As hippy-dippy earth mother Erda, she's just serene enough to be believable. It doesn't matter that Anthony P. Rodriguez (Aurora's artistic director) can't hold a tune: He plays all his characters with rude, crude bluster. The energy level soars when he's onstage.

Then there's Aimee Diane Ariel, who has the least to sing yet is perversely charismatic as the love-starved Gutrune, a trashy, big-haired pipsqueak who runs around in cowboy boots and a wedding dress. More than the others, she owns her biggest role in "Barbecu" -- and gives this alternate-universe "Ring" cycle an oddly compelling reason for being.


Photo: Sandra Benton and Anthony P. Rodriguez in Aurora's wacko summarization of Wagner's opus. / Aurora Theatre