Playwright: Terrence McNally . At: Theo Ubique at the No Exit Café, 6970 N. Glenwood Ave. Tickets: 800-595-4849; www.theo-u.com; $25-$59 . Runs through: Nov. 24
How often have we been told the tale of a poor, but talented, girl who struggles to achieve success, never forgetting the hard times even as she enjoys fame, wealth and lucrative marital attachments, only to become a martinet to her subordinates? For Maria Callas, the diva ( a title not bestowed casually in grand opera ) who was as internationally celebrated as any Hollywood star, this wasn't merely another dramatic role in a genre of 19th-century vintage, but the story of her own life.
Playwright Terrence McNally introduces his subject in her retirement, conducting one-on-one classes at the famed Juilliard academy for advanced students, whom she bullies like a drill sergeant. Her vituperation is not based in petty temperament ( as one of her pupils accuses her of doing ), but a determination to instill in her pampered charges the uncompromising standards she, herself, cultivated, and to steel them for the anguish they will endure in pursuit of this perfection. They don't take well to this abuse—though some, like the cheerfully crass tenor who freely admits his ambition to be rich and famous, emerge artistically enlightened after responding to the passion fueling her excoriation.
This isn't a longhair version of a revue-style biodrama, however. We don't hear Callas' unmistakable voice except in recordings and one swiftly aborted trill exposing the laryngeal damage that rendered her voice distinctive initially and later, silenced it irrevocably. The scenes with her three students serve chiefly to set their professor reminiscing about the hardships and triumphs shaping her career: poverty, illness, wartime deprivation, parental neglect and sibling rivalry, a boring husband who adored her, a callous lover who deserted her to marry an American president's widow, years of public mockery and humiliation ending in 1977.
Master Class is typically performed in large touring productions showcasing "name" actresses, not tiny neighborhood cafés with non-equity casts. Ironically, Theo Ubique's cozy room reinforces the illusion that we are participating in a tutorial. Fred Anzevino directs an ensemble led by multiple Jeff winner Kelli Harrington, who recites lyrics with such mellifluous relish that you swear she's actually singing. Filling out the stage picture are Ashlee Hardgrave, Rachel Klippel and Kevin R. Siembor ( who warbles a fine "Recondita Armonia" ), in addition to accompanist Jeremy Ramey and real-life stage manager Page Keedy.
Callas' first words are "No applause"—an exhortation we cannot help but disobey. See if you don't shout "Brava!" at the end of an evening spent with La Divina.
