THE PLOT, such as it was, was a parade of tired parodies. Haughty, back-biting opera stars, spit-crazed country singers, an orange-juice touting evangelist and a cocaine-snorting showman all made their obligatory appearances. Few were more than tired portrayals of long-cliched characters.

The show centered on the union of the financially strapped Opera Winfrey Company and the country-western performers at the Bland Ole Oprey. The two groups join forces then stave of the assault of T.V. minister Holly R. Thanthou. Sounds stupid, huh?

A good thought, stick with it.

The beginning of Bye Bye Verdi is carried by Remo Airaldi who plays the hefty soprano Aida Lottapasta. Airaldi, who was overwhelming in The Skin of Our Teeth on the Loeb Mainstage in the fall, has captured perfectly the grotesque spirit of the Pudding parody. He is resplendent in a purple gown bedecked with link sausages and a headress of large kitchen utensils. His surreal demeanor is playful as he traipses about the stage a sneer--and a snack--always at hand.

If Airaldi and his character are the best thing that the 139th Hasty Pudding Theatricals has to offer, several other performers rise above the material as well.

Cast president Nick Weir as country singer Willie Everstop and Jon Blackstone as soprano Kiri On-Luggage (whose costume is a show-stopper) are a delightful pair of misfit lovers whose voices carry them through the show's strongest duet.

Tim Ashford creates the shallow, simple country singer Crystal Clear. His vacant stares are so absolutely empty that he steals scene after scene with barely a word.

Crystal sets up the obligatory Wellesley joke that is the biggest hit of the evening. Apart from that crack, a reference to Tommy's Lunch and a vague swipe at New Haven, the show lacked its characteristic Crimson tint. Even the presence of the Dean of Students didn't elicit the traditional Archie crack from the cast.

Duvernay also does a fine job with Holly. He is resplendent in lemon, lime and orange costumes and tells the audience "they're special" in drawl that just reeks of late-night T.V. evangelist Ernest Angely.

A particular victim of the script is George Klupko (Colonel O'Korn) who has to utter some terrible lines, but nonetheless manages to slug through the material to the bitter end. Klupko creates a manic melange of Colonel Sanders and Foghorn Leghorn, but his battle with his lines is short-lived and futile.

MUCH of the plot is caught up in replaying the simple overused stereotypes of country singers and evangelists. While Ron Duvernay (also the show's composer) plays Holly R. Thanthou in the classic style, creating an Anita Bryant-Jerry Falwell Frankenstein with a bouffant hairdo and glass of Consecrated Concentrate for everyone.

Jon Tolins, who wrote the show with Adrian Blake (Barry Tones), plays Beverly Hills, the director of the opera. His portrayal of the Jewish prima donna is the best stand-up routine in the show, although his good lines and rapid-fire timing seem a bit misplaced in the generally wooden bumbling.

Like Tolins, Andrew Gardner (Sid Down) has perfect on-stage demeanor. He, like almost everyone else, is victimized by the material, particularly in a scene with Stan Byeme (Ted Stimpson) that has to rank among the show's absolute lowlights. The two actors exchange positions across the stage never seeing one and other. This farce is unbearably long and must be the authors' idea of parody of parody.

Like several other scenes in Bye Bye Verdi, the Sid Down-Stan Byeme exchange seems utterly pointless, serving only to lengthen the production and irritate the increasingly restless audience.

The country performers in particular are completely overdrawn. None is allowed to develop a personality and after initially exchanging remarks like "six packs of tears," "backseat of the pickup truck of love," and "rhinestone cowprod" can find little else to say.