Backstage @ New Rep

Master Class

In New Rep’s production of Terrence McNally’s Master Class, Amelia Broome accomplishes something that, quite frankly, I would have said was impossible. She becomes Maria Callas, one of the most compelling theatrical artists and greatest singers of the twentieth century. It’s not just an impersonation – no one could impersonate Callas for two and a half hours. It’s far deeper than that. I never had the privilege of seeing Callas in person. I’ve only heard the recordings and the tales and seen the faces of those who did hear her sing when they talk about the experience.

Even if one knew nothing about Callas, watching Amelia Broome be Callas would be an unforgettable experience. She takes command of the stage from the first moment, gripping the audience by the throat, demanding our absolute attention and then winning it. She holds the audience under her control so completely that we are unable to applaud when the young students sing beautifully, powerfully. Madame says, “No applause” so there is no applause, no matter how much the students deserve it. (I felt I wanted to find them after the show and tell them how much I enjoyed their singing.) Callas is in every movement of her hands, every facial expression, her striding across the stage, her snarl, her courtesy.

McNally plays against the stereotype of the narcissistic diva. The audience giggles and sometimes laughs out loud at the excesses, the disingenuous false modesty, the flirtatiousness. But then Broome makes us understand why we put up with it, relish it even, from an artist of Callas’s power and mastery. We believe her when she shows us that despite the self-centeredness and the drama queen antics, it is, in fact, all about the art, about music.

The simple setting is entirely appropriate and opens up to represent the opera state as Callas experienced it. Brendan Shapiro who plays Manny, the accompanist, is perfect in his professionalism and nervousness. The students, Lindsay Conrad, Erica Spyres and Darren T. Anderson sing well, though one wishes that the two women had been less feckless – though singing for Callas could understandably cause one to lose one’s cool.

At the time the master class takes place, Callas was no longer performing. The play is artfully arranged so that the actress need not sing – though Broome lets loose a powerful note or two. On a least two occasions where the present fades and Callas reminisces about her past we hear Callas recordings faintly in the background. Perhaps the most remarkable moment of Broome’s performance is when she speaks the lyrics of an aria from La Somnambula, on her knees, with piano accompaniment behind her. I had the illusion that I had heard Callas sing and that I understood the essence of her legend. (Yet another moment when applause was called for but the cowed audience remained silent).

I came to the theatre with considerable skepticism, thinking mostly of the chutzpah required for an actress to pretend to be Callas. I came away knowing that I had been in the presence of a great artist, perhaps even Callas herself.

~ Johanna Ettin, with Shauna Shames, New Rep Reviewers