LONG TAB VERSION : BORGE ON THE PODIUM FOR ‘CARMEN’

Under the guise of bringing opera to the masses, Victor Borge, a comedian/musician now developing his wings as conductor/narrator, began a mini-tour of Southern California--three performances of his tab version of Bizet’s “Carmen”--at the Orange County Performing Arts Center on Thursday night.

Borge brought this narration-heavy, partially staged production to a large and friendly crowd gathered in Segerstrom Hall in Costa Mesa; the official body count in the 3,000-seat auditorium was 2,273.

As for converting the unconverted, Borge alone, in pre-performance interviews, insisted that Orange County needs operatic awareness. He might have known that the last, bona-fide, legitimate “Carmen” performance in Segerstrom took place just four months ago (by New York City Opera); he might also have been told that the precursor organization to Opera Pacific gave “Carmen” in Laguna Beach as long as 25 years ago.

Nevertheless, what the large Segerstrom audience seemed to have come for was not operatic enlightenment, but Borgeian laughs. At the beginning of the long evening, when the house lights dimmed, came up and dimmed again, the audience, suspecting a comedic ploy, laughed heartily--though it probably was no ploy. The folks continued to laugh, not at the performance, but at Borge’s very funny narration, until the end--at 10:45.

The operatic chunks filling in the gaps in the comedian’s talk proved to be only intermittently entertaining, and below standard for any legitimate staging of the work.

On a narrow, raised playing area behind the (already raised) orchestra, nine singing principals and three dancers enacted the drama, while a chorus of more than two dozen singers sat, choirlike, below the platform, standing only to sing.

A tall unit-set, abstractly representing the ramparts of Seville, surrounded the performers. The lighting scheme, sometimes harsh, often shadow-making, always inconsistent, became effective only infrequently. David Kneuss was credited with the staging, which looked cliched when it was not merely awkward, though that awkwardness seemed as much due to the small stage and to the singers themselves as to any movement plan.

With the disadvantage of poor sound dispersal--some of it emanating from superfluous body mikes on the principals--in a room that needs no amplification of trained singers, the musical performance was severely hampered. But the mediocre caliber of those singers did nothing to rescue the proceedings.

Wendy White sang reliably as a street-tough Carmen, though the bottom octave of her voice has neither richness nor gutsiness to recommend it; she moved, flirted and played the castanets competently. Under the physical restrictions of the stage, she was probably lucky not to fall off the platform.

Stephen Plummer, rough of voice but definitely promising, impersonated Don Jose with fewer facets than one might have hoped for, but sang fervently, and never flinched at the top. Nickolas Karousatos made a beefy-looking, woolly-sounding Escamillo.

The best of the lot, though the amplification system also hampered her efforts, was Stephanie Conte as Micaela; she seems to be a soprano of legitimate and solid achievement, and a full and resonant voice. One would like to hear her in this room with the microphones off.

The rest of the cast sounded distant, tired or hoarse--sometimes all in the same measure. Holding its scores tightly, the chorus seemed underprepared, sounded weak in both tone and word.

Dancing on that nightclub-size stage, Lola Montes, a veteran of countless “Carmen” productions--and here assisted nicely by Roberto Amaral and Daniel Ramirez--added the only authentic Spanish touch to the production. The touch was limited, of course, by a lack of space.

Borge, when he was not talking and being funny, conducted gently and gingerly, missing some cues, taking slow (if perfectly justifiable) tempos, even getting ahead of the singers--momentarily. It was not a relaxed performance, but it finally ended.