WA Opera’s La boheme wins hearts & minds at The Maj with Elena Perroni, Paul O’Neill, Rachelle Durkin

Theatre has no more poignant cry than Rodolfo’s lament for his lost love, Mimi, sealing WA Opera’s searing rendition of Puccini’s La boheme at His Majesty’s on Thursday. Soprano Elena Perroni enthralls as Mimi, the consumptive femme fatale who wins hearts and minds, and tenor Paul O’Neill carries all expectations as the love-lorn poet Rodolfo — down to that last despairing sigh. The WA-raised stars are matched with another in soprano Rachelle Durkin — a tour de force as Musetta, the coquette who weaponises charm. Samuel Dundas rounds out the principal lineup as painter Marcello, a mellow baritone complemented by Lachlann Lawton’s crisp tones as musician Schaunard and the rich bass of Jake Bigwood as philosopher Colline. Male voices and characterisations blend especially well, perhaps a testament to time working together during COVID curbs which also brought Durkin home from New York, where she and Perroni both blazed a trail. Add to the mix a WA Symphony Orchestra cohort under Chris van Tuinen’s baton, note-perfect and agile, plus a young production team of director Matt Reuben James Ward and assistant Laura Hansford, with design by Charles Davis and lighting by Christine Felmingham, for a compelling, immersive experience. At the start, a crystal palace in a forest defies the dark mood of northern winter; light and shade hinting at the mystery of Christmas Eve. Stark chords summon action as Rodolfo comes out to smoke and a woman catches his eye. Marcello, Colline and Schaunard join the fray and a revolving stage turns the palace inside-out to reveal their Paris attic apartment where smoothly woven orchestral lines turn furtive when the landlord Benoit (Brett Peart) comes knocking for the rent. Slick scene changes using the revolve sustain a smooth narrative flow, knitting together La boheme’s jump-cut plot with an illusory unity of place. The boys bilk the landlord and make off to party, but Rodolfo remains to finish work and a flute summons romance. Mimi’s slight, pink-clad form at the window suffuses the stage with warmth; a virginal figure with hints of a Spring they will not share. Rodolfo is a willing foil to her wiles, helping to search for a “lost” key then unleashing the sublime aria, Che gelida manina ( What a frozen, tiny hand); Perroni’s velvet soprano meeting O’Neill’s lithe lyric tenor. Her answer, Mi chiamano Mimi (They call me Mimi), soars serenely over the audience on a cushion of strings, turning back to flute as her voice rises in crescendo for “April’s first kiss is mine”; the rose scent she savours reflected in her dress, her flowering all too brief. The three amigos catcall from the street; suddenly light is everywhere and love dare speak its name in dramatic duet. Snowflakes glisten over scintillating harp as hero and heroine break into octaves — Puccini’s shorthand for passion — then fade offstage in wonder. Act II introduces the chorus in festive mood. Furs and fedoras speak of the 1920s setting — a time when tuberculosis was terminal — while bright brass and children’s games channel Christmas as the revolve switches from attic to marketplace to the Cafe Momus; Puccini’s dramatic mood swings reflected in shape-shifting scenes. All is sweet until Marcello proposes a toast and his erstwhile love Musetta pounces, bouncing Santa’s table guests to be close to the action. Formidably physical, Durkin flaunts and flouts passion, taunting the sugar daddy Alcinodoro (Mark Alderson) and Marcello in equal measure. Musetta’s waltz, Quando m’en vo’ (When I go walking) starts almost imperceptibly, the century-old MeToo anthem gradually taking over the stage, dripping with intent. Dramatic and comic by turns, she summons celebration in cast, chorus, orchestra and on-stage band in a rousing send off to the interval. In Act III, the crystal palace is a closed-off tavern; fogs carpets the darkened stage. Mimi and Marcello meet, their duet full of tenderness laced with tragedy. Then Mimi hides in the night as Rodolfo confesses his failing trust and confidence to Marcello. When she emerges, a premonition of the final scene breaks through in Rodolfo’s broken cry — “Mimi”. Like star-crossed lovers each cannot escape the other’s orbit, and the revolve transports them to their shared abode; the magic carpet sustaining drama and amplifying emotional impact. Puccini’s octaves again summon passion: this time doomed. In Act IV, fate casts the couples asunder. Romantic distemper runs through so many musical forms, from opera to jazz and blues to rock’n’roll, but is rarely expressed so organically as by Rodolfo and Marcello, back now in their Paris attic. Enter Colline and Schaunard and the Act I bonhomie returns, this time tinged with grief. Musetta ushers in Mimi, a pale reflection of her former bloom; her pastel shades anything but “in the pink” as vocal frailty mimics her pallor. Musetta is ominously distraught and a whip round for medicine with its small sacrifices — earrings, a winter coat — is pitifully poetic. One last duet sums up Rodolfo and Mimi’s plight — “Beautiful as the sunset” — and they remember the lost key; symbolic to the last. Horns herald the end as Musetta prays in vain. Rodolfo tries but fails to find hope, and tolls out the night in despair: “Mimi, Mimi . . .” La boheme is at His Majesty’s Theatre until October 28. www.waopera.asn.au.