Whether you think of Maria Callas as “La Divina” or just another talented, tempestuous diva, you’ll find much to like in Terrence McNally’s “Master Class,” the third in his trio of plays about opera at the Kennedy Center. With a knockout performance by Tyne Daly as Callas, “Master Class” portrays the glamorous outer shell of the American-born Greek soprano tempered by moving scenes in which Daly reveals some not-so-glamorous memories of the losses and low points of Callas’ career.
‘Master Class’
Where: Eisenhower Theatre, Kennedy Center, 2700 F St. NW
When: Tuesday to Sunday; through April 18; see Web site for times
Info: $25 to $80; 202-467-4600; kennedy-center.org
Inspired by master classes taught by Callas at New York’s Juilliard School of Music in the early 1970s, “Master Class” takes place on a nearly empty stage: a grand piano, a desk, a tall chair. The accompanist enters, adjusts the piano stool, waves at his friends in the audience. There goes the pretense that this is a conventional theater piece.
Then Callas enters and curtly reiterates the fact that the audience is part of the action: “We’re here to work. You’re not in a theater. This is a classroom.” And so begins a thrilling theatrical ride, during which Daly’s Callas is razor-sharp, ferocious and demanding, a brilliant comedic character who continually offers quick flashbacks to her own past, then swerves away from them again.
Callas deals with three students, all of them extraordinary singers: Sophie (Alexandra Silber), Tony (Ta’u Pupu’a) and Sharon (Laquita Mitchell). Callas overwhelms them with life lessons, as well as singing advice. McNally’s Callas doesn’t talk of technique but of the nature of opera itself, insisting that a singer can’t succeed without truly understanding the character he or she is playing, without knowing the music and thinking deeply about the words.
The process of teaching affords a perfect opportunity for Callas to insert details about her own life. When Sharon has trouble accessing her character, for instance, Callas recalls her own appearance at La Scala, feeling a direct line through herself to the composer to the characters of Medea, Electra and Lady Macbeth. “These people really existed … or don’t you believe that?” Callas challenges Sharon.
McNally mixes the brief references to Callas’ life that occur while she teaches with extended monologues, when Callas pauses to remember her moments of triumph and tragedy. Those extended soliloquies stop the action, functioning as spoken arias, as Thomas Lynch’s turntable set whisks away the classroom and David Lander’s dramatic lighting takes Callas to other times, other places.
Director Stephen Wadsworth skillfully integrates the rapid-fire lessons — full of wickedly acerbic remarks about Callas’ students and old rivals — and the more serious reveries. Interestingly, Wadsworth does not paint a portrait of a pitiful diva-without-a-voice in this “Master Class.” In the one place where Daly sings outright, her voice is strong, not broken.
In addition to the three singers, the cast includes Jeremy Cohen as the respectful and accomplished accompanist and Clinton Brandhagen as a grumpy, disrespectful stagehand.
In her impassioned lessons about the meaning of opera and her heartfelt monologues about everything from motherhood to sex, McNally’s Callas is a force of nature. In Daly’s rich, nuanced performance, she’s an extraordinary woman with plenty to teach about the business of survival and the importance of art.
