In a pop culture saturated with sequels, spin-offs, and extended IP universes, one hopes that a theatrical retelling has something new to say to justify its existence. That is not the case with Lend Me a Soprano, which opened at Olney Theatre Center in Maryland on Feb. 10—though the play certainly is fun.
Lend Me a Soprano is the gender-swapped adaptation of Ken Ludwig’s Tony-winning 1986 Broadway comedy, Lend Me a Tenor, but this is not the first time changes have been made to the script. Until 2019, the opera featured in the play was Giuseppe Verdi’s Otello, with blackface featuring prominently in the second act as part of a mistaken identity caper. Wisely, the featured opera in the officially licensed script is now another tale of jealousy, adultery, and domestic violence: the clown-themed Pagliacci. While now less overtly offensive, the revised script still includes an accidental overdose, buffoonish and ineffectual suicide attempts played for laughs, and plenty of sex.
In 2011, a musical adaptation of Lend Me a Tenor flopped in the West End, with a run of only two months. Ludwig was not part of the musical artistic team, but he would write a gender-swapped version of his play, bringing us at last to Lend Me a Soprano, which premiered in September 2022 at the Alley Theater in Houston. One may ask then why was it necessary to create another adaptation, with the gender swap seeming, at first glance, to be a lazy bid at expanding the Lend Me a Tenor Theatrical Universe.
It wasn’t necessary, but at least Lend Me a Soprano is full of laughs if nothing new to say?
In 1934, all Cleveland Grand Opera Company general manager Lucille Wylie (Tina Stafford) wants is for the evening’s gala performance to go off without a hitch. Unfortunately for Lucille, the star of the evening, internationally famous Italian soprano Elena Firenzi (Carolann M. Sanita), comes with a jealous husband (Dylan Arredondo), a liking for liquor, and a weakness for men. Despite Lucille enlisting her meek assistant Jo (Rachel Felstein) to help keep Elena in line, essentially babysitting her in an opulent hotel suite, things inevitably go south. Jo’s attempt to tranquilize Elena with a phenobarbital-laced martini results in an overdose that initially seems fatal—but still the show must go on. Lucille then coerces Jo into assuming Elena’s identity to take on the role the daring sex Carmen. Meanwhile, the real Elena wakes up from a deep sleep and rushes to the theater.
The second act is a maelstrom of romantic entanglements, mistaken identities, and the meddling of opera aficionados and obsessive fans, with hotel room doors opening and closing riotously as both the real and false Elenas rush in and out. The set by Andrew R. Cohen, a cross section of a two-room hotel suite, is impeccable, with beautiful molding, plush furniture, and 1930s pieces such as a wood-bodied radio. The artwork on the walls features fin de siècle women in their opera boxes and a portrait of Carmen composer Georges Bizet—thoughtful touches that reflect the narrative. The costumes by Sarah Cubbage are similarly opulent and perfectly calibrated, whether it’s the stereotypical flamenco dress for the twin Carmen costumes or Lucille’s covetable purple period evening gown.
The play’s most disappointing point is that it closes with Jo reconciling with Jerry (Maboud Ebrahimzadeh), her sometime boyfriend and Lucille’s son, who previously had written Jo off as boring and unromantic. When Jo assumes Elena’s identity, Jerry immediately shows an interest in her as an artist and a woman. At the end of the first act, Jo weeps before going onstage when she realizes Jerry only wants “Elena.” She takes the opportunity as “Elena” to seduce him in the second act, in which he is an eager participant. Minutes later, however, when she reveals herself as the singer and lover he so enjoyed that evening, all is well, they reconcile, and Jo is okay with being treated as insignificant and replaceable. This is especially unbelievable after the earnest, sparkling, and strong portrayal of Jo by Felstein. Her scenes with Stafford’s hysterical Lucille carry the show.
In sum: Lend Me a Soprano has a beautiful set, great quips, and fantastic performances by all—but its plot is derivative and hard to take seriously, even for a farce.
Lend Me a Soprano, written by Ken Ludwig and directed by Eleanor Holdridge, runs through March 10 at Olney Theatre Center. olneytheatre.org. $45–$85.