What is the real story behind Pagliacci? It is easy to answer that—a wife cuckolds her husband, and in a jealous rage the husband murders his wife and adulterous lover. But is it really that simple? Looks can be deceiving...

I asked Garnett Bruce (the stage director for this production) how he came up with the staging for the chorus scenes. There are over 55 people on stage sometimes (I counted!), and coordinating them can be a daunting task. He said that he is inspired by the great painters—Titian, for example—and that when he looks at their paintings, there is the "obvious" scene, but along with the forced perspective there is always something going on in the corners, something that attracts your eye and gives the static image life. And when you watch Pagliacci, you see that Garnett is true to his word. The stage is filled, yet in addition to the center stage action, there is always something going on in the periphery. The women who pull theirs shawls over their heads just before they enter the church, the pairs of men who traverse the stage in animated conversation as Nedda and Tonio sing their duet, the young boy "napping" against the barrel downstage right for most of the first act, and Silvio lurking in the crowd of theatregoers in the second act—so that when Nedda is stabbed, he can rush headlong out of the horrified throng onto Canio's waiting blade. Unless you are looking for them, you never see these minutæ, yet there they are all the time, giving life to the scene.

So in looking at the corners of the story of Pagliacci, I want to share something that Kevin Patterson (Director of Artistic Administration) suggested to me: the story is really all about Tonio.

In the classic operatic tradition, Tonio is a hunchback. Although this is now very poitically incorrect, his deformity made it all the easier to hate him, and all the simpler for him to be portrayed as evil. Pittsburgh Opera made the artistic choice to portray him instead as a man with a sound body, but still with the twisted morality Leoncavallo wrote for him. The history of opera is that the tenors typically got all the good roles, but the baritone who first played Tonio got Leoncavallo to write him a prologue, upstaging the tenor. The tenor gets his musical revenge, because although Leoncavallo wrote the final La commedia è finita line for the baritone Tonio, it is the tenor Canio who now sings it (and Leoncavallo himself sanctioned this change).

But history aside, the psychology of this opera (and Pagliacci is all about the psyche), is consistent. Tonio begins the story. When the players enter the town, he is pushed by Canio, and Tonio declares (from the corner of the stage) that Canio will pay for that. It is he who first confesses a secret love for Nedda. When she spurns him, he swears by the Blessed Virgin that she will pay for that, too. And when Tonio (again, from the corners) spies the trysting Nedda and Silvio, it is he who runs to find Canio. It is he who urges Canio on and then gnaws at the corners of Canio's jealous mind, suggesting that Silvio will likely be present at the performance that night (and indeed he does lurk in the wings, watching). When Canio cracks, and can no longer maintain the charade of Pagliaccio, it is Tonio who hands him the knife (up until now, Canio has been furious, but mostly blustery. And in the final denouement, Canio stands in the middle with bloodstained hands, but it is Tonio who has mounted the Commedia stage, surveying what he has wrought. His promised retribution has been exacted, and his hands are unsullied. And while jealous Canio had kissed Nedda ere he killed her, Iago-like Tonio has orchestrated the whole murderous affair.

So what matter if he doesn't sing the last line? He has the last laugh.