Figures in a chase like funambulists on their tiptoes, that’s the Clair way, mime and song in intricate, continuous play. The chorus is a cry for debtors… or an underworld anthem, even cocked pistols sway to the music. The centerpiece merrily shades artifice into romance, or vice-versa: The juveniles reconcile in the ersatz forest while Signore Sopranelli and his prima donna pitch fraudulent woo by the footlights, a stagehand blesses it all from above with a shower of rose petals.
Fernando F. Croce
April 17, 2017