Stewart Lemoine writes bloody marvelous melodrama, and his The Velvet Shock is acerbic, frothy, and satiric before spinning faster than a diva’s tremolo into the dark despair of the human heart.

It’s summer in Salzburg and chipper American newcomer Vicki (Clarice Eckford) is in town for an audience with her famous aunt–diva Margherita d’Inverno (Sheri Somerville). A hater of The Sound of Music, Vicki meets up with the ultra serious Anton (Matt Alden), music student and aspiring critic. Then there’s the mysterious Frau Kosch whose involvement with Signora d’Inverno might be a product of rabid fandom, or something more ominous.

However, as the story unwinds, part romance, part mystery–wholly divalicious–an odd spectacle begins to take shape. Instead of setting his diverse cast of characters on a romp through Mozart’s hometown, Lemoine dissects the soul-sucking neediness of the diva, and contrasts it with the outpouring of self expected of her night after night on countless concert stages. Margherita is a glittering, faceted creature. In some lights she is facile, not able to sing because of her empty heart; elsewhere, she dispenses selfless kindness. Always she demands attention, and she never fails to rise to the occasion, be it recital or recrimination.

Stewart Lemoine captivates with his direction of this remount (The Velvet Shock premiered in 1996). The production spills across the Varscona stage with a pure line and countless intricate arpeggi. The opening night performance lurched intermittently as it found its pitch, but once settled, an insistent urgency built towards a resounding climax and unexpectedly moving diminuendo. The Lemoine hallmarks are in place: utter commitment, grace, elegant quirkiness, and always-impeccable diction. The result is restrained, polished, heartfelt, and gracious.

Needless to say, the production really hangs upon Sheri Somerville in a role written specifically for her. "Diva" is her stock in trade, sometimes mined for comic value, sometimes sent up satirically. Gifted with a gorgeous role, Somerville invests herself fully. As each of Margherita’s jeweled layers are chipped away, the soul of an artist is exposed. It isn’t a pretty picture... there is great selfishness, a potentially toxic ambiguity and an almost overwhelming neediness. It’s overlaid with a need to reach out in kindness, and pain at that generosity’s abuse. Somerville doesn’t apologize in this portrayal: she explores and illuminates. She renders an exotic creature human in a very moving performance.

No diva can carry a show alone, however, and the supporting cast is excellent. Clarice Eckford skillfully enunciates some vintage Lemoine-isms in a spunky performance of superb comic timing. Matt Alden gives an unexpectedly restrained performance as the earnest Anton–it’s all the funnier for it, lederhosen and all. And, Coralie Cairns’s angular Frau Kosch provides a tragically delicate counterpoint.

Bravissimi tutti, bravissimi!