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Much as I hate to start the New Year on a carping note, the Toronto Operetta Theatre production of Candide that opened on Saturday night really doesn't give us "the best of all possible worlds" when it comes to the musical version of Voltaire's classic satire. As always, there's plenty of fine singing to be heard and the chance to experience Leonard Bernstein's glorious score live shouldn't be passed up. Just be aware that there are minuses as well as pluses all the way down the line. At the top of the positive side of the ledger are two smashing performances from James McLennan as Candide and Jean Stilwell as The Old Lady. McLennan offers us an 18th-century Charlie Brown, with a sweetly smiling face no matter how grim the world gets. He also radiates considerable charm and sings with a strong yet pure tenor that does full justice to Bernstein's arias. And the amazing Stilwell, with a sharply shorn shock of mahogany-hued hair, dominates the stage whenever she's on it. As the cynical Old Lady, she's comic gold and, while always giving complete value to the music, she knows how to spit out the lyrics with total clarity as well. There's also a nice comic turn from Bryan Estabrooks as Maximilian, perhaps the first boy-toy in all of musical theatre. Carla Huhtanen is a vivacious minx of a Cunégonde, marred from perfection by a tendency to sound a bit shrill on her top notes and a habit of making far too many faces when she sings. But then we get into trouble. Ian Funk plays the pivotal role of Voltaire, who not only narrates the action but keeps popping in and out of it as Dr. Pangloss. Funk sings adequately, but his dialogue delivery is dishwater-dull and many of the script's delicious ironies slide right out the window. The supporting cast are also – how can we put this kindly? – far stronger vocally than dramatically. Every time one of them has to speak, the heart sinks and there was also an embarrassing section where one soloist forgot his lyrics for a painful length of time. Julian Wachner conducts the 14-piece orchestra with brio and they sound lovely in the score's mellower sections, but the brilliance and accuracy of attack needed for the more upbeat moments just aren't there yet. Guillermo Silva-Marin has staged most of the piece with an inventive vivacity and Mireille Vachon's costumes are pleasingly elaborate. But the overall satirical thrust of the show fails to come through and it seems to be lacking a concept. I don't expect Silva-Marin to go as far as Robert Carsen recently did in his Paris production (which had an actor in a George Bush mask cavorting in his underwear), but some kind of point of view would have been nice. The best? No. Good enough? You go and decide.
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