At a moment when genders, as we’ve known them for eons, are beginning to proliferate—a moment when, uh, men and women are asking that different pronouns be attached to them, a moment when adhering to being cis-gender can seem dully unadventurous—a special stage gift has arrived tied with a figurative red ribbon.
Practically an emblem of the current day and age—a synecdoche, if you will (or won’t)—this glittering (often literally) package is Only an Octave Apart. In it the seemingly mismatched Justin Vivian Bond (they, them) and Anthony Roth Costanzo (he, him) prove within minutes that together they couldn’t be righter.
The outing, which sadly has a shortish run (although the recorded version is here forever), might best be described as a cabaret revue feeling its oats. During it, Bond with their gravelly contralto/baritone and countertenor Costanzo (back at the Metropolitan Opera House shortly in Akhnaten) mix and mash their vocal ranges in a series of goofily on-it duets.
Imagine the two on “Me and My Shadow,” featuring Bond as Me and Costanzo as My Shadow. No need to imagine it, here it is with Bond delivering the Al Jolson-Dave Dreyer melody and Billy Rose lyric and Costanzo as shadowy back-up. At another delectable instance, Costanzo sings Henry Purcell’s “One Charming Night” while Bond intones “There Are Fairies at the Bottom of Our Garden.” The latter used to be one of Bea Lillie’s signature songs. As Bond intones it, suddenly their elaborate upswept coiffeur resembles the jeweled yarmulke-type caps the piquant Lillie favored.
Oh yes, Bond and Costanzo have plucked their repertoire from the greats of long ago and very near. One highpoint among the high-point plethora is their swapping words on the superlative “Waters of March,” both music and original lyric by Antonio Carlos Jobim and with the stunning English lyric by Normal Gimbel.
Somewhat late in the dizzying program Bond and Costanzo take solo turns. Bond does a grand and heartfelt job joining “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows” (the melody derived from Frederic Chopin’s Fantasie Impromptu Op. 66, of course) to “Rainbow Sleeves.” Costanzo throws himself into a challenging bit of Mozart, singing both male and female parts. It’s “Crudel, perché finora,” the Count-Susanna duet from The Marriage of Figaro. Racing from one side of a curtain to the other, he makes this farrago the Only an Octave Apart major applause-getter.
As they cabaret along, Bond and Costanzo don’t just sing. They do a good deal of chatting as well. Bond does most of it in their familiar sometimes blithe, sometimes caustic manner. Costanzo chimes in (“chimes” being a fair-enough verb) and laughs a good deal at what Bond has to say. Since at one point, Bond says to Costanzo, “You prepare, I don’t,” it could be that their exchanges are only sketched in and will vary performance to performance, with many a mad lib.
Will Bond again say something about “My only trip to Fagtown”? Who can say? But certainly, what used to be classified as homosexual humor and is now simply mainstream humor will pop up every once in a while.
By the way, when Bond barks that she doesn’t prepare, she might be referring to their sometimes (appealingly) gravelly voice. Unfortunately, Only an Octave Apart had but one preview before opening, which may account for the few vibrato and pitch glitches. The classically trained Costanzo struts his stuff flawlessly.
All manner of other participants have gathered around Bond and Costanzo for this gay device—“gay” in the old and now much more common usage. Nico Muhly, another Met Opera name, has contributed the wonderfully oddball arrangements. Thomas Bartlett conducts a ready-for-anything group of musicians, including himself as pianist. John Torres’s lights and David Schnirman’s sound are invaluable. Zach Winokur is a director highly prepared to keep Bond and Costanzo on the move. Bond themself often talks about the importance of “keeping it moving” and “keeping it shallow.” (Shallowness is, needless to say, a dodge. Bond is anything but shallow.)
Then there’s Jonathan Anderson who designed the costumes (for JW Anderson & LOEWE), with an obvious busy bee buzzing in his head. On Bond’s and Costanzo’s arrival, they’re in, respectively, red and black gowns with what resembles a cantilevered stomach. (Bond does find a chance to suggest something else is thrusting against the fabric.) After a few more changes—feathers come into it—they finish the show in dazzling calf-length gowns. Costanzo remains ever the willing and giggling sport, perhaps because his muscular arms are almost always displayed.
When Bond and Costanzo finish their final encore, an exuberant combination of “Walk Like an Egyptian” and strains of Akhnaten Costanzo emits, they haven’t just ended a stirring stage turn. They’ve also polished off a significant sign—if this isn’t going too far—of our ever-evolving times.
Only an Octave Apart opened September 24, 2021, at St. Ann’s Warehouse and runs through October 3. Tickets and information: stannswarehouse.org
