Classic Grandeur

© Beatriz Schiller 2008
Ernani

I was nervous when Peter Gelb walked out on stage before the performance given what happened on Friday. He was there to announce that the soprano, Sondra Radvanovsky, singing to role of Elvira, was not feeling well - ARGH - but that she would sing anyway - WOW - and he hoped the audience would be kind when listening to the performance - OK. It was a packed crowd, even standing room railing seats at the troposphere levels in Family Circle were sold. Everyone was waiting to see this classic Verdi opera for a long-awaited revival at The Met. It had been over two-decades since this production graced the stage and this was opening night. Marcello Giordani sung the lead tenor role, Ernani, Thomas Hampson was strikingly good looking, even from such heights, as King Don Carlo, registering in with a beautiful baritone sound. Ferruccio Furlanetto, singing bass, rounded out the quartet as the old nobleman and villainous uncle, Silva, who is set on marrying his young niece, Elvira. Conducted by Roberto Abbado.

The story of Ernani takes a love triangle and adds a fourth, a King, to make life difficult for Elvira. Ernani runs with bandit fighters since he lost his noble title and fortune. He plans to abduct Elvira, his love, to save her from marriage with her guardian and uncle, Don Ruy Gomez de Silva. But Don Carlo has a similar idea and when he tried to abduct Elvira, she threatens her own life until Ernani stops her and the two men look as if they will fight. Silva enters the scene and is shocked to find his charge with two unknown men and threatened them both until a messenger reveals he is threatening the King. He begs forgiveness and the three go there own ways until a proper place to take revenge. In Act II, Ernani arrives ar Silva's castle disguised as a beggar but soon he reveals himself and Silva and Ernani look as if they might fight. But Silva hold off upon learning from Ernani that King Carlo has romantic intensions for Elvira; the two plot their attack on the King. The King arrives and tried to force Silva into divulging Ernani's whereabouts, whom Silva has hidden. Silva refuses, even under threat of death, perhaps knowing the King needs his support to gain the church's approval. In an possible gesture of thanks, Ernani gives Silva his horn and promises to take his own life for the protection Silva has given that night. When Silva blows the horn, Ernani will sacrifice himself. Thus Acts III and IV serve to throw the three men into tension and strategic choices between power, wealth and love. Ernani may win the opportunity to marry Elvira in the last act but Silva is there with that damn horn to ensure he won't be happy. And for an operatic change, we wait for the 'fat' man to sing.

I thought all the singers did marvelous jobs. I would have never known Ms. Radvanosky was ill with the exception that during Act I is seemed like her projection of lower notes was a little weak, but I understand higher notes carry easier. All four leading singers were fabulous from the first note which hasn't always been the case at The Met. Sometimes I've noticed they don't really hit their stride until the second act but this group was ready to go. I was rather disappointed with the chorus at times, particularly the female chorus backing Elvira's librettos in Act II - woefully weak and almost pianissimo. And the sets, costumes and lighting were all delivered in glorious, classic style - velvets, sparkling crystals and all. A luxurious experience ... if only for ....

The audience!
Dang nabbit, I hate going out to live events anymore because of the extremely annoying and rude crowds! I've heard and seen most everything - clangy bangle brackets right at my ear level, purses with chain handles, plastic bag rusting, actual talking and loud arguing, people taking several cell phone calls, the annoying light screens as they check their electronic devices multiple times during a performance, flash photography during a pivotal scene, the list goes on and on. But tonight was sheer madness.

First I arrived to two bitchy NYC old ladies (I've seen and heard their kind many a time) who, when I said, "Excuse me." to indicate I was in their row, refused to get up. One turn to her friend saying, "Do you believe this?" then turned to me saying, "Can't you go around to the other side?". I was in the middle and the ushers at the opera are very good about sending you to the correct side and aisle. I simply said, "I can get over you, no problem." as I inched through the row without anyone but a tall gentleman having to get up from their seats. What I wanted to say was, "So, 10 seconds of inconvenience from you is worth 10 minutes of my inconvenience to go around? You are one selfish, nasty bitch!" But I didn't say that! Of course I didn't think of it until after I got to my seat, but I have learned not to piss off the little blue-haired ladies; they carry heavy purses!

Sure, there was the guy right behind me rustling and opening his bag of cough drops occasionally. Yes, one cell phone went off. Yep, one flash photo went off (there is a no-photo policy at The Met). But the really horrible distraction was the Russian old man right next to me. First it was his napkin rustling and hard candy clacking through all of Act I, Scene 1 and most all of Act IV. This was worse than coughing because it did not end! He just went on and on and on clacking that candy against his teeth with his mouth WIDE open and occasionally swallowing and smacking so hard I worried that a saliva blob was going to sling my way. He sounded worse than a St. Bernard chowing down on fillet mignon. Isn't sound like that louder in your own head? Is he deaf? Does he have some weird saliva producing disease? So that habit was annoying for parts of the performance but then there was one thing that bugged me through the WHOLE performance because he couldn't turn it off - his bad smell! I don't know if it was coming from his mouth, his head or his body but it produced this odor that reminded me of a combination of old nursing-home people and cat piss. Maybe it was the duality or multi factorial quality of the stench that prohibited me from ever achieving olfactory fatigue during the evening. Damn, my sensitive nose! Most of the night I was leaning to my left to try to stay away from the cloud of funk-o-rama. Luckily the young gal in the seat on that side of me leaned into her boyfriend most of the night, either sleeping on his shoulder or cooing in his neck nook as only young lovers do ... after 40, you realize that move is bound to throw your neck out the next day, if not that night. And get this, in a hypocritical move I've never seen so dramatically displayed at The Met, twice at the end of two acts, the stinky old Boris YELLED at the folks in front of him to, "SIT DOWN!" as they headed out for intermission. They were blocking his view for a split second so he couldn't see the performers during the curtain call. And he was super scary when he yelled. A poor little Japanese gal quickly dropped so fast, I thought she sat on the floor. That is more annoying that the candy smacking, saliva gargling, body-gas warfare he was producing during the opera? Big, mean, smelly, annoying jerk.