Change partners and dance

DESPITE the Mozart reference in its title, Stephen Sondheim's A Little Night Music is scarcely grand opera. But neither was it slumming by UNLV Opera Theatre to turn its sights to a Broadway musical, as it did Nov. 14-16. Calling Sondheim a "Broadway composer" is like saying Haydn wrote a few symphonies (more like 104).

Top-notch musicianship and verbal acuity are required to successfully essay this score, an adaptation of Ingmar Bergman's comic masterpiece Smiles of a Summer Night, composed entirely in multiples of waltz time. Sondheim, an avid solver of puzzles, acrostics and crosswords, writes tongue-twisting lyrics layered with erudite allusion and wordplay.

And while Sondheim can write some of the most sublimely straightforward melodies -- like "Losing My Mind" from Follies -- he also delights in an elaborate latticework of counterpoint that puts even the best musicians through their paces. However, since his realm is musical theatre, he writes for actors who sing -- so young singers like UNLV's need not fear being caught out with vocal lines as exposed as those of Mozart or Verdi.

UNLV Opera Theatre wasn't skiing the bunny slopes, but neither did its reach exceed its grasp. There are a plethora of good voices in the UNLV program and no one in the Night Music cast was less than enjoyable to hear. If there was any prevalent shortcoming, there was more "opera" than "theatre" in the performance style, with Sondheim's lyrics subordinated to maintaining a plush flow of tone. (The hall, awash in reverberation, compounded the foible). Likewise, nearly everyone was more at home in song than speech, with the frequent dialogue passages apt to sound arch and some cast members approaching their verbal badinage as though it were a live grenade.

Statuesque Mahina Johnson had the requisite presence and voluptuary qualities for Desirée Armfeldt, first lady of the stage and boudoir, but was often frustratingly subdued -- until a quietly heartbreaking "Send in the Clowns." Making that thrice-familiar number sound new-minted, she also brought the entire relationship between Desirée and once-and-future lover Fredrik Egerman (Brandon Teal) to life in one song.

Standouts in the large cast included sophomore Sarah Fulco, accomplished beyond her years. Totally convincing as Desirée's young daughter, she sang with a beguiling smile in her tone and made skipping around seem the most natural behavior imaginable. (She and Johnson looked for all the world like mother and child.) Equally unaffected was Lamia Porter as Petra, the Egermans' free and easy maid. Her expansive and vibrant delivery of Petra's ode to sensual indulgence, "The Miller's Son," was the evening's high point.

Teal's uncomfortable-looking, one-gesture Fredrik was starchy beyond the script's requirements and gave Johnson little off which to play. His pleasant, buttery lyric baritone was also the worst offender when it came to turning the lyrics into pudding. April Rose Drohn, as his child-bride Anne, was too much the all-purpose nag but Grant Davis's dragoon, Carl-Magnus Malcolm -- Fredrik's rival for Desirée's affections -- was a paragon of timing, walking a tightrope between comedy and farce.

Also vying for top honors were Mackenzie Gallinger (Henrik Egerman) and Kailee Ann Albitz's unloved Countess Charlotte Malcolm, the dragoon's wife. As the gloomy, seminary-bound son, Gallinger's incisive diction, voice and stage presence struck the perfect tragicomic chord. Exuding sophistication, Albitz wielded dialogue like a rapier and achieved pathos with a gorgeously phrased "Every Day a Little Death."

Stylistic lessons were the province of UNLV Opera Theatre founding mother Carol Kimball (Mme. Armfeldt, retired courtesan and Desirée's mother), who nailed the sought-for balance of music and words. Talk-singing her role, she imperceptibly shaded speech into cello-like song. Given much tricky ensemble work, the show's five-voice Greek chorus acquitted itself with poise and great charm, especially in "The Sun Won't Set."

Circumstances beyond the control of director Serdar Ilban forced a shoestring production upon UNLV. That meant making do with Doc Rando Recital Hall (dominated by a mammoth pipe organ) instead of the Judy Bayley Theater, imposing limitations we needn't belabor. Sets and costumes were generated through a collective effort of cast and crew. Clothes and haberdashery showed inspired improvisation, providing welcome visual panache.

Mme. Armfeldt's advice to young Fredrika -- "practice your piano, preferably with the soft pedal down" -- went unheeded by music director Richard Weiss, who laid a heavy, beclouding hand upon Sondheim's score. A few delicate passages aside, there was little sense of what Weiss himself described as "the often complex interplay between the Sondheim lyric and his [comparably] intricate accompaniments."

Call Night Music a "qualified success" ... with emphasis on "success."