Aida

Reviewed by Holly Bartges

Once in a great while, an actor looks straight into the eyes of a character spread out on a page. From an inked outline, once in a great while the character stares back magically coming to life. Once in a great while the merging of the two becomes so profound it is impossible to distinguish where one begins and the other leaves off. It is always the hope and dream of every director and actor who take to the boards, this process will happen. Often it comes very close. When the meeting and the minds of the two do merge into one, the result is sheer, total, unadulterated magic.

Peter James Zielinski (Radames) and Soara-Joye Ross (Aida) in the Arvada Center’s production of Aida. Photo: P. Switzer

The Arvada Center’s production of Aida accomplishes the miraculous. The program says it is Soara-Joye Ross playing the role of Aida. Don’t look for Ross. She isn’t there. With every move, every gesture, every heartbeat, every decision, Aida comes to life. Centuries melt away, time and space disappear and Aida’s story emerges before our very eyes.

Under the perspicacious direction of Rod Lansberry, the Arvada Center’s holiday production of Elton John and Tim Rice’s portrait of Aida is about as mind-blowing and awesome as a production can get. Somebody’s muse must have been sitting on somebody’s shoulder to inspire somebody to produce Aida for the holidays. For a different twist and a different flavor to celebrate life, hope, determination, faith, belief, and love at its finest, Aida’s story lays it all at our feet with provocative pokes along the way.

Aida, the Princess of Nubia, takes a much cherished canoe ride with several of her handmaidens on a river separating Nubia and Egypt. Captured, Radames (Peter James Zielinski) and his soldiers return to the Egyptian Palace in victory with their treasured prize. Aida blends in. She doesn’t want anyone to know she is the Princess. Something about her catches Radames’ eye, and he makes her a gift to Amneris, (Julie Reiber). A marriage has been arranged by her father the Pharaoh (Marcus Waterman), and his father, Zoser (Darrel Blackburn) for Amneris and Radames. When the Pharaoh dies, Amneris becomes Pharaoh. Wealth, power, authority trickles down into Radames’ hands. Zoser likes that idea a great deal. So much so, he is slowly having the Pharaoh poisoned.

It doesn’t matter if Radames believes Aida to be a slave. He falls head over heels in love with her, first with her beauty, then with her fiery determined disposition, which amuses him, and finally because of her depth and wisdom.

When he discovers who she really is, and their relationship is discovered, Egyptian law requires they both be put to death.

It’s a bigger story than an operatic-outline of thrilling music.

From the beginning, Amneris is a ditz. Spoiled rotten by an over indulgent father, she has the finest jewels and clothes to wear. Her song “My Strongest Suit” spells it out and says it all. Reiber doesn’t allow the song to speak for her. She wears it with character and bounce. Before the music paints her portrait, Reiber displays Amneris’ inside dizzy thinking. She sets this up well for the astounding transformation pivoting the story into its magnificent climax.

Although on stage only a couple of times for short periods, Marcus Waterman gives a great deal of attention to the role of the Pharaoh. Slowly growing weaker from the secret drip of poison, much to Zoser’s anxious delight, Waterman deliberately calculates the onslaught of weakness. He has so mastered this debilitating stance there was a moment I actually held my breath, thinking he would collapse at any second. This takes tremendous skill and timing to neither over do nor under do the technique. Waterman so perfected the Pharaoh’s brief appearance he exemplified the importance of his place in the story.

Blackburn gives Zoser a humanity of great pride and hope for his son, under=scoring his own place in his history. Deceit and treachery certainly shows its glowing embers within him, but he is not evil personified. He is a man tempered with ambitious hope who just wants to move history faster than it chooses.

The one and only glaring glitch in the production’s fabric, comes when Radames, having returned from battle, takes off his red shirt enticing the reluctant Aida to scrub his dirty back. Under his red shirt, Radames is squeaky, clean white. This is not the body of a man who just returned victorious from battle. This is the body of a man who has snuggled inside the palace away from conflict and dirt of any kind. A touch of make-up would dissolve the jolt into nothingness. Otherwise, Zielinski’s rich voice and ability to delve into Radames’ character stands alarmingly strong.

Mereb tickles the fancy with delicious wiles of conning convenience. A Nubian slave, who knows how to play the game, has worked his way inside the upper echelon of the Palace. Except for his place in the story, of recognizing Aida as the Princess, and inspiring her to assist her people enslaved by the Egyptians, this role easily could be treated as an almost nothing part. The lines could carry his import. His presence could carry the message. Either Mereb wouldn’t allow it, or Arthur W. Marks wouldn’t let it alone. Marks expands Mereb into a refreshingly delightful, hopeful and encouraging personality. He’s cunning, conniving, sneaky, determined, and more fun than a bowl of monkeys. His serious streaks crunch the reality of the danger lurking around every corner. His pleading also inspires Aida to take a stand for her people. Loyalty breeds trust, but never once does Mereb forget he is first of all Nubian. And never once does Marks forget he is Mereb.

Days away from the arranged marriage, Amneris discovers where and how her riches in clothes and jewels come from. Reality kicks her in the head. The little girl grows up. Luxury looses its luster. Reiber determines the quality of transformation with deliberate expertise.

The muse of design certainly sat on the head of Joseph J. Eagan when he drew up the plans for the Egyptian set both as a contemporary museum and as a place in faraway history. Lighting designed by Gail J. Gober shines, its own light enhancing the scenery, enhancing each moment with brilliant significance without directly calling attention to itself. Sheer genius brought the muse of design and the muse of light together.

Kitty Skillman Hilsabeck’s choreography merged forms, grace, and thought reflected from the mood of the music into visual pronunciation of visual rhyme and movement. No typical Egyptian moves here. She went directly to the heart of the music asking it to stand up, and it did with sound execution.

Susan Draus’ musical direction epitomizes the intent of John’s flamboyant music. The orchestra flashes some of Denver’s finest and most prized musicians, namely Keith Ewer, Donna Debreceni, Martha Yordy, Harry Grainger, Scott Alan Smith, Jon Cullison, and Brian Knott.

John’s music tells the story. Rice’s lyrics shade the tone with soft pastels, bright primary colors, dark hues, and changing attitude.

Nearly every song is memorable, moving the story smoothly along its track. “Every Story Is A Love Story,” “Fortune Favors The Brave,” “The Past is Another Land,” “Another Pyramid,” “My Strongest Suit,” “The Gods Love Nubia,” and “How I Know You.”

Beginning in a contemporary museum of Egyptian relics, the eyeball to eyeball meeting of two people, the melting back to ancient Egypt, and the transportation back to the present provokes warm heartrending thoughts of perspective peace, hope, and knowing not only for the condemned Aida and Radames, but for the world as a whole. What better way to celebrate the Season than knowing “Every Story Is A Love Story,” even when someone says “I don’t think so,” which in fact contains its own love story to tell.

I wait with eager anticipation for the Arvada Center to announce Aida will return next year, and the year after that. It creates community celebration at its finest.