Describing music-making and depicting its creative process is an elusive task, but Michael Hollinger successfully manages it in "Opus," his 2006 play about the struggles and artistic triumphs of a string quartet.
Playmakers Repertory Company's production of this funny, insightful piece is highly polished and warmly appealing, one of its finest offerings in several seasons.
The Lazara Quartet, a fictional foursome with lauded performances and Grammy-winning recordings, is facing a crisis with its violist, Dorian. Despite his brilliant playing and probing interpretations, his testy personality and wounding criticisms have been straining the group's close-knit cooperation. This also has precipitated the breakup of his romantic relationship with first violinist Elliot. Dorian's increasingly unpredictable behavior gets him canned.
Elliot, second violinist Alan and cellist Carl hold auditions to replace Dorian, then hire inexperienced but talented Grace just as the quartet is asked to play at the White House. In the pressured rehearsals, Grace witnesses bickering and side-taking, but also the glorious music that occurs when all play as one.
Other issues threaten the group: Alan is attracted to Grace; Carl deals with a serious illness and Elliot loses sleep over Dorian's sudden disappearance. Dorian's later reappearance brings several surprises that forever change the quartet's relationships.
Hollinger, a former violist, layers his script with clever observations ("a quartet is like a marriage -- only with more fidelity") and adds just enough about the art of playing ("our work is ephemeral but gives the illusion of immortality"). He balances gritty music business realities with the heady realms of musical inspiration. He employs insider terms and academic references but makes them clear through shrewdly wrought dialogue, conveying the powerful hold that music has over us.
Five familiar company members turn in some of their most impressive work.
Ray Dooley makes Dorian's eccentricities frightening yet sympathetic, a recognizable portrait of a mentally disturbed genius. Scott Ripley astutely embodies Elliot's obsessive control and intense quest for perfection. Jeffrey Blair Cornell gives subtle dimension to Alan's ironic humor and budding desire for Grace, who is portrayed with amusing innocence and endearing spunk by Marianne Miller. Jimmy Kieffer plays down-to-earth family man Carl with winning heart, especially moving in the production's climax. All demonstrate an amazing ability to mimic proper bowing technique, playing to recorded music that seems to emanate from their instruments.
Director Brendon Fox masterfully orchestrates his players in a satisfying staging that flows smoothly through an unbroken 90 minutes. Adding to its charms are James Kronzer's elegant wood panels suggesting musical notation and the burnished glow supplied by lighting designer Pat Collins.
This gemlike production is a prime example of what "professional theater" truly means.
