Theatre in Review: Passion (Classic Stage Company)

	Ryan Silverman, Melissa Errico, Judy Kun. Photo: Joan Marcus

In the family of Stephen Sondheim's musicals, Passion is the crazy aunt who lives in the attic; it won't go, and it can't be ignored. Sondheim has had bigger flops, to be sure, but Anyone Can Whistle and Merrily We Roll Along have legions of dedicated defenders. Passion, which won the Tony Award for Best Musical (and still only managed a disappointing six-month run) continues to divide even his most ardent admirers. Love it or hate it, it contains some ravishing melodies and three star roles that are irresistible acting challenges; you can also make the case that James Lapine's libretto is an original and literate piece of work. The good news about John Doyle's production is that it makes the best possible case for Passion -- possibly even more than the Broadway original. Nevertheless, this is still Passion, in all its relentless, almost studied, darkness, and if, like me, you have trouble accepting the relationship at its core, it is likely to seem a curiously chilly affair.

The minute the lights come up on Melissa Errico and Ryan Silverman as Clara and Giorgio, lovers enjoying a moment of post-coital transcendence, you know this production is in masterly hands. The song that follows, "Happiness," is ravishing, given a powerful undertow of longing by Jonathan Tunick's simple, yet stunning, arrangement. Gone are the fiendishly intricate lyrics of Sondheim's younger days, with double or triple internal rhymes proclaiming their cleverness; these words are simple, direct, and powerful in their economy and plainspoken emotion. Errico, looking gorgeous in a 19th-century gown designed by Ann Hould-Ward, and the handsome Silverman spin the number into vocal gold; the experience of hearing them in CSC's intimate space, aided by an uncannily sensitive sound design by Dan Moses Schreier, is just right for a musical that sets out to probe its characters' deepest feelings.

Even more impressive is Judy Kuhn as Fosca, a neurotic invalid living in the rural outpost where Giorgio, a soldier, has been sent. (She is the colonel's spinster sister, who, we learn in a flashback, has been cruelly deceived in love, stripped of her dowry, and left to the kindness of relatives.) Not that we see her right away -- our first awareness of her is triggered by a series of unearthly screams from offstage, rather like Edward Rochester's first wife in Jane Eyre. Kuhn's Fosca is a wraith out of a Charlotte Brontë nightmare: Her lifeless hair is pulled back to reveal circles under haunted eyes and a face marked by a deathly pallor; her dark clothes are funereal. Her introductory number, "I Read," is both an unsparing depiction of her arid, loveless existence and a furious rebuke of Giorgio's attempts at amusing her with small talk. Whenever Kuhn enters, Jane Cox, the ingenious lighting designer, switches from golden sunlight to an ice-cold wash, like moonlight in a graveyard. It's a brilliant touch, but in a way it's not necessary; Kuhn carries a chill all her own. By any standard, it's a remarkable performance.

As Giorgio falls into an uncomfortable companionship with Fosca, who fixes upon him with a stark, unyielding desire, there are other moments to treasure, especially Kuhn's delivery of "I Wish I Could Forget You," and "Loving You," which lay bare the torments of a love that cannot be appeased, and "Is This What You Call Love?," in which Giorgio lashes out against Fosca's constant and suffocating attentions. There are also solid contributions from a supporting cast that includes Stephen Bogardus as the colonel, Tom Nelis as the doctor who innocently draws Giorgio into a relationship with Fosca, and Jeffry Denman and Will Reynolds as fellow soldiers. (The latter is effective in a flashback appearance as Fosca's faithless, swindling husband.)

But if Passion is going to succeed, you must come to believe that Fosca's pursuit of Giorgio -- which is marked by hysterics, fainting fits, accusations, and a stalking episode -- is the expression of a love so deep and authentic that his affair with Clara is like a schoolyard flirtation in comparison. (Clara, we learn, is married, and her affair with Giorgio consists of stolen afternoons in a rented room; that theirs is not a love for the ages is beyond question, but next to the paralyzing emotions offered by Fosca, it seems like sanity itself.) We are asked to accept that Fosca's passion cracks Giorgio wide open, introducing him to an entirely new awareness of love. To say that this is hard to accept is putting it mildly: Giorgio is a stranger when she conceives her grand passion, and she is so busy declaring her devotion that she never bothers to learn anything about him. When she sings of "A love as pure as death/Implacable as stone/A love that like a knife/Has cut into a life," it sounds almost as if she is casting a malediction against her beloved. I cannot call this love; it's obsession, all-devouring and unappeasable. And if you think Passion is a comforting story about a handsome man who discovers a beautiful person inside a homely woman's bod, think again; if anything, Fosca's soul is even more forbidding. (Every time I see Passion, I think it's a good thing that, by the time Giorgio is ready to return Fosca's love, she has one foot in the grave; two weeks with her and Giorgio, if not reduced to basket-case status, would be heading for the hills.)

Passion is based on Passione d'amore, a 1981 film, which, in turn, is based on Fosca, the 1869 novel by Iginio Ugo Tarchetti; both are fairly obscure, so I can't say if Lapine and Sondheim have been faithful to their source material or if they have put it to their own purposes. But, to my eyes, despite its many seductions, Passion remains an attempt to dramatize a hypothetical situation rather than an accurate reflection of lived reality. It's a Gothic horror romance, a carefully arranged tableau of madness and desire that is difficult to take seriously. (To Doyle's credit, there is no unwanted audience laughter, something that the Broadway production never entirely avoided.)

As you can see, Passion evokes passionate responses, and I would be remiss if I didn't report that many in the audience at the performance I attended were visibly moved. And all three stars will surely be covered with acclaim in the coming weeks; if this doesn't bring Judy Kuhn to our stages on a regular basis, I cannot imagine what will. So let me put it this way: If you're a fan of Passion, then this production is unmissable. If you've never seen it or are on the fence about it, you'll never see a better staging. If it leaves you cold, expect a touch of frostbite.--David Barbour