Carmen

The Met has a new production of Carmen. Gone are the traditional sets. Instead we got three rotating concentric circle stages. Was the intent to spellbind the audience like some optical hypnotic device? Didn't work. Felt nauseous instead. Instead of women rushing in, bouncing, fun, energetic, we get grumpy looking gals ascending from a dungeon-like hole in the center of the circle. Instead of a glorious mountain bandit hideout, we get a bombed-out arena. No cute donkey, no picadores on horseback. No fun-in-Spain, "I'm sure Hemingway is around here somewhere" vibe. I'm sad.

Elina Garanca was beautiful in the lead. Her voice was pure magic. She even had a lusty swagger to her performance. And I loved her costumes. Roberto Alagna was a competent Don Jose, strong voice but somehow lacking the insane passion I like. Unfortunately Yannick Nezet-Seguin started out conducting the orchestra with some weakness but luckily the musicians brought the full sound up to standards by the second Act. The female chorus was so whimpy and weak during the Act I town square frolic I thought the bullfight cheering in the final act would be dead on arrival. Luckily the chorus, too, seemed to warm up and delivered by night's end.

The dancing was a nice addition. A rock fracture is used in each curtain, backed by color, different for each Act. The effect is to reflect the evolving relationship between Don Jose and Carmen. Ashley Tuttle and Keith Roberts dance together at the start of each Act. While I think there may have been a slight lift problem in the first scene, the rest worked beautifully and passionately. There were also the fabulous flamenco-style dancers in the gypsy bandit scene. Unfortunately Garanca couldn't manage the castanets thus the percussion was added by someone in the orchestra. Guess castanets must be hard to manage.

Score one for music, another for singing, even if it was delayed delivery on both parts. Subtract two for bad staging and lack of any 'wow' factor set direction. If it weren't for the dancing, I would have appreciated the piece just as much on the radio ... with really good reception and a kick-ass sound system. But I'm glad I attended. You never really know with the Met unless you show up. Sort of like life that way.

From the House of the Dead

Wow. I started off my Met opera season with this new production of the grim and bleak story of life in a Siberia prison. Guess I'm feeling the melancholy. After close to a year of looking for a new job, I wasn't feeling either secure in my NYC footings or financially capable of my season tickets, even the cheapo Family Circle, that I opted to just buy single tickets to all the new productions. I missed Tosca, which from what I read was a good thing. Thus I started this Met season with an operatic take on Dostoyevsky's novel about tough times in a Siberian prison. Bleak exponentially.

High up in my B106 Family Circle seat, I knew this production would be cinematic and modern. No red curtain was romantically holding back big sets. And secretly the conductor, Esa-Pekka Salonen, started right in with the fabulous music. I've never seen a conductor skip the lighted entrance and obligatory pre-curtain applause. But this was one hell of an opera. Leos Janacek's music swung between strong Wagner elements and Philip Glass modernity, which was surprising and shocking to me given it's 1930 original production date. I loved the superb and dramatic use of the orchestra showing all their professional potential to spectacular results.

I've come to expect wonderful results from the orchestra but I was pleasantly surprised at how well choreographed the conductor connected the music with the stage direction, edgily pushed into new places by Patrice Chéreau. Staging was stark against three gray blocks with activity swirling mostly in the center of the stage. The Met has nicely been adding dance and movement to their works. This was best expressed in a theater play piece in the center of this 90 minute tale. The men acted out a play of sexual dalliances and the gestures were overt, which I loved given that prisoners often suffered mentally and physically from such containment so such expression seem apt. At times when the people moved rapidly around the stage, they added unexpected percussion to the piece which I didn't like. I did, however, like when stage characters placed instruments on stage as the libretto and opera called for such expression. I also liked the use of supertitles projected on the stage walls which allowed me to absorb more of the full piece without always referencing my subtitle screen. One must read the libretto translation since there are so many characters talking about their past and how they came to be in prison.

While I liked the direction and loved the music, I was unimpressed by the singers and underwhelmed by the chorus. Perhaps in Act I and II the distraction was the sound of people shuffling around stage. By Act III I could hear Peter Mattei (Shishkov) and Stefan Margita (Flika/Luka) with clarity but everything before then seemed muddled. Even the parts where I expected a pounding or reverberating chorus effect ended flat. But my ear isn't well trained and perhaps the sounds of stage movement carry to the highest levels in Family Circle with more distraction than in other parts of the Met.

Overall, I was impressed. The opera is short and forceful as it deftly it trudges out tough material and segregated story elements with the skill of a tightrope walker. Dramatic and properly contained. A dramatic way to escape for the evening into a world of haunting and unforgettable imagery, movement and sound.

SPOILER ... please don't read if you intend to see the opera!

The most startling and awakening direction, and the highlight of the opera, was the massive drop of what looked to be about a ton of scrap paper onto center stage between Act I and Act II. POW! All this crap, trash, just dumped on this encampment. LOUD and DISTURBING, even causing a cloud of pulp dust to linger like a fog. This is what prison burden must feel like. I never saw this coming and it was very effective. I just sat there wondering, "What the hell was that?" The pause was strong. The whole space was silent. Waiting to see the air to clear, I thought what is going to happen with all that? Act II has the prisoners come out and begin clearing the mess. That's life - dumps on you, someone else can cause this huge mess, even injustice, and you go out there and start picking it up, clearing it away. I was awestruck. While I'd go back, perhaps, just for that one scene, I don't think the moment would have as much impact on me if I knew it was coming. The surprise is what shook me. Sorry if you're reading this and plan to attend as I probably ruined that effect for you.

A Flowering Tree

John Adams brought his unique and surprisingly jubilant opera A Flowering Tree to the Mostly Mozart series in Lincoln Center. Lisa bought me a ticket for my birthday! I love the gifts of experience. 

The opera is a lovely take on a rather tragic folk tale of a girl, Kumudha, who can turn into a flowering tree when two pitches of water are poured over her. Unfortunately this magical talent is exploited by her family and then the prince she marries ultimately pushing her into a deforming situation. 

The stage was split with the orchestra on the left and the tiered platforms and chairs for the performers on the right. Everyone was dressed in Asia colors and textiles. The platforms were painted to look like slices from geodes. The chorus would often be seated around the platforms but ebb and flow onto the platforms for key pieces and crescendos. And if all this activity wasn't enough, the spiky-haired director, Peter Sellars, added dancers to the mix. Each of the main characters had a lithe dancer shadowing them and added an interpretative visual to the action and movements. I found this brilliant and engaging particularly during the second half when Kumudha is half human, half tree. 

I found the libretto and music wonderfully enchanting in the first half. The majority of the story is sung in English. The narrator was solid and nicely restrained in his delivery. The leads were also careful to not get too showy yet nicely sang with proper emotion. Sometimes the movement of the chorus on and off the stage seemed pushy and rushed but I liked the addition and their libretto sang in Spanish. The music in the second half seemed to not serve the story as well. It appeared Adams threw in a more percussion pieces and then ended with something more avant-garde bordering on Philip Glass. I felt the story ended with jubilance and restorative joy, not slight discords and loudness. But while I would have preferred a more enchanted ending, I loved the performance overall, particularly the wonderful addition of choreography and dancing to the storytelling.   

Satyagraha

Gandhi Performance Art
The Met gets Weird

The Met has had a wild ride this year. With seven new productions, many revivals, and the problems that cursed the revival of Tristan und Isolde, I was a bit worried something would go wrong with the much hyped Philip Glass 1980 opera, Satyagraha. I knew it involved puppets, acrobatics, and the signature strange-yet-rhythmic Glass music. I was prepared for anything. What I got was most everything including amazement and disappointment.

Satyagraha is Sanskrit translated as "truth force" or "holding onto the truth." The opera is woven together via Gandhi supported by real and religious vocal parts that include Prince Arjuna, Lord Krishna, Miss Schlesen (Gandhi's secretary), Mrs. Naidoo (Indian co-worker), Kasturbai (Gandhi's wife), Mr. Kallenbach (European co-worker), Parsi Rustomji (Indian co-worker), and Mrs. Alexander (European friend). The three acts are titled Tolstoy, Togore, and King with each character taking physical claim to an elevated view on-stage. Glass and company obviously wanted the audience to focus on the sounds, rhythms, and feel of the libretto and music. To control this more, there were no subtitles. They decided to integrate translations into the performance by projecting them onto the stage, sometimes on the back, curved wall, on papers, and on other objects moved or created on set. I liked it. It reminded me of Greenaway's film Pillow Book.

Act I becomes a clash and dance of twigs, woven baskets, and rural materials versus more English and Western materials of newspaper, suits and ties. The materials move and shift, weave together and create new things, morphed things. This texture and layering works well with the meditative, trance-like movements in Glass's score. Scene 1 is The Kuru Field of Justice. Scene 2 has one of the cast climb up two stilt-walker to take Tolstoy's place, and grow old, in a window box above Tolstoy's Farm. Scene 3 returns the cast to a more Indian or neutral place to take The Vow. Overall the scenes flow and morph into wondrous moments. The technical and layers quality of the staging, sets, acrobatics, puppetry, movement, music, and chorus all serve each other well. I was completely engrossed in the production and couldn't take my eyes off anything for fear I'd miss something. And while some might claim the opera and music a reflection on minimalism, I'd say the opposite. This production has so much texture, so many layers, it is impossible to absorb it all. We end Act I with shoes - about 50 pairs of shoes lined up in such simplicity yet so movingly representing humanity in all its forms, for all the steps it takes.

Act II follows an arch for the Bengali poet, Tagore but it seems to start in England. Scene 1, Confrontation and Rescue, opens with some very ruffian men all lined up in their dark and drag clothing with the exception of spots of garishly colored hats, hair, sideburns, and shoes - spots of orange, fuschia, purple. They're all chanting in a soft yet threatening way, "ha-ha-ha-ha-ha." A woman, Mrs. Alexander, comes to Gandhi's defense. Unfortunately I wasn't impressed with Mary Philips voice as Mrs. Alexander. Scene 2, Indian Opinion, place Tagore up in his box and we continue the path towards freedom through the press. Scene 3, Protest, shows movement leaders jailed and the people assemble in protest to burn registration cards. Again, the movements and creatures who inhabit the stage compliment the work, music, and main voices, including a beautiful use of the chorus. Highlights in staging include hangers that take many, many coats up into the air, Ganesha appearing in one of the box windows, the registration papers floating down, and Gandhi lighting the fire pit - with actual fire! What an amazing spectacle!

But wait; then comes Act III, King. Yikes! The production derails. Where there was symbolism, beauty, poetry in the strange yet compelling opera thus far turns into a mess of bizarre actions, props, and tedious music and sound. King's back is to us most of the time. New Castle March is not a reflection of the courage and strength of the Civil Rights movement. In this production, it becomes a painful and disjointed fissure in the play. Was this to reflect our own halt in progress towards a more integrated, peaceful, and unified world? Who knows? King comes out of his box to preach from a pulpit, blue skies changing color and light, Gandhi at one point below him, perhaps reflecting on who's shoulders he stands on. The horrible score grinds, and with no help from the chorus, soon starts irritating. And what the heck was the tape for? lines after line of clear tape is stretched across the stage - left to right, right to left - creating a vibrating set of lines, perhaps reflective of the lines on a music sheet? But then someone, something grabs them and bunches them up creating a monster? man? thing? and finally a big ball of sticky tape? Strange. While all the materials, most of the symbols, and the movements in Act I and II supported the story and reflected the settings, I was lost in Act III. It was like being at a bad performance art piece. Why is he doing that? What could that mean? It was all too confusing.

So my reaction is mixed. Had I left after Act II, I would have thought this the most bold, daring, dramatic, and spectacular performance I've seen at the Met all season. Then came Act III. What the $%&? It left a bad taste in my head, yes, my head. And I don't think a production that ends with such residual mucky feelings can be called great. Had it wished to leave the viewer with questions to answer, disquieting doubts to ponder regarding the fate of a harmonious future, they could have worked on that more to clarify what to do next with that perspective. Instead all that is left is silence ... and nothing to hum and take into the night.

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.

Oh, What A Night!

Tristan und Isolde
love's path isn't easy when there are so many casting changes

Wagner's five-hour epic love story of Tristan and Isolde was a bit longer than anticipated. I missed Monday night's performance due to work obligations only to feel a bit lucky since tenor Ben Heppner was replaced with John Mac Masters who received a rather harsh review in the Times. So what was supposed to be the historical paring of Deborah Voigt with Ben Heppner now turned into TBD tenors for the next additional three performances. I guess that is why the sold-out shows soon had tickets pop up and I was able to acquire a costly Orchestra seat a day before the performance.

Sitting in row D, I was a bit too close for my comfort. General Manager Peter Gelb made a rare appearance before the production to welcome a newcomer to the Met and the role of Tristan - tenor Gary Lehman. I guess, due to sour reviews from Monday, Gelb wanted to prepare the audience and soften the crowd for Lehman's debut.

Act I is more Isolde's scene. Voigt did a powerful job with the histrionics of Isolde, wound tight with the prospects of being hauled off to marry the King. She is basically held captive aboard Tristan's sailing ship. Isolde feels Tristan owes her his life since she nursed him back to health from a former battle. Isolde seeks a vial of poison from her companion, Brangäne, (Michelle De Young) who switches the vials and gives her instead a love potion which Tristan drinks followed by Isolde, thinking she is ending both their lives. We are left with two love-struck captives, clinging to each other on their way to the King.

I thought Lehman did a wonderful job with his first introduction and was comfortable enough not forcing every line and stanza, instead varying his performance to suit the act. Voigt sounded wonderful and very powerful, as this act calls for. while some were concerned about her high notes, I noticed no difficulties with her delivery. De Young as the mezzo-soprano, was at times a bit too loud and boisterous for my tastes. She also had this annoying technique of holding her body around the midriff as if she were adding force to her diaphragm. To me, it looked like she were giving herself the Heimlich maneuver.

Act II is where Tristan and Isolde must shine. They have several sustained duets where their timing and support are essential to the delivery. Voigt came out already looking radiantly softer and lovable compared to her tense and tight role in the first act. The gunwales of the bow had flattened to deliver just a simple sloping diamond-shaped stage. The mast had been replaced with a monolithic tower with doors opened to a golden shine, King and Queen in reign. Two large branches intrude on the two side of the stage, both exaggerated in proportion so their delicate leaves were actually as large as a human head. Voigt and Lehman were entrancing as they shared the stage, entwined as lovers are.

But soon something strange happened as Voigt exited stage left. Lehman was left alone, still singing, as the curtains came collapsing in on him - black, flat shades encroaching from top, left and right - leaving only the distant sound of his voice behind and the orchestra in the front. Soon Levine quieted the orchestra and Gelb reappeared to explain the problem. Ms. Voigt was ill and would be replaced with Janice Baird. This would also be Ms. Baird's Met introduction. Yikes! How unsettling for the singers and the production. So we all sat in our seats for about 15 minutes or so for the transition. Given the difficultly of the role of Isolde, I'm sure that anyone with a slight uneasiness of stomach would only make this illness worse by pushing through such a demanding piece. The Strange thing was that Ms. Voigt really showed no signs of illness right up until her exit.

Act II returned mid-duet with Lehman embracing Baird's Isolde from behind. The audience applauded before one note was delivered. Ms. Baird I'm sure looks lovely from a distance but I was way too close. Her over-bight, or perhaps her large upper front teeth, slightly distracted me but it was her method of delivery with posture that drove me crazy. Just when I thought I could put the Heimlich moves of Ms. De Young behind me, Ms. Baird arrives clenching her hands in upward cup-like motion right in front of her stomach as if holding an invisible diaphragm out in front of her just below her breast. And where Ms. Voigt's face shown love and dewy bliss, Ms. Baird's face and whole body just exudes tension and stress. Her performance was good in places of individuality but a few times her low notes seemed too low, perhaps due to her mezzo-soprano training (which I read about post-show). So while both Lehman and Baird did exceptional jobs stepping in on such an intimidating stage, they held there own individually. Where the cracks shown were when the couple needed to deliver duets. Recognizing that such deliveries take practice and timing, it was surprising to see them at least try to work together but alas, with such last-minute changes, many of Act II's lovely intertwined tenor and soprano moments were bumpy. Basically this act serves to deliver one of operas most emotional reflection of lovers as they soon are torn apart by the King and Tristan's friend Melot, who mortally wounds Tristan in the final moments on stage.

Act III lets Tristan shine and Lehman delivered a wonderful and textured performance. He first appears as a body lying on a bed backstage, slowly the bed seems to drift downhill towards stage front. Tristan is back home in his castle, very poorly represented with strange set decorations of a miniature castle along with mid-evil knights on horses and armor strewn about. Kernwel, his loyal servant and friend, played by Eike Wilm Schulte, walks about the stage looking like a giant about to squash the "toys" scattered about. Tristan sings about wanting to see Isolde; perhaps her presence will give him strength to live. Kernwel thinks he sees her on a ship coming into port. Tristan sings out in hope and Lehman delivered a rather good performance. And for the final moments, the act turns back to the arrival of Isolde, her longing for her lost love, and the King's arrival, with troops, at the scene of loss.

Ah, modern sets. While the little 'toys' popping up an down from below the stage were annoying, I did enjoy the use of color lighting and the flame, fading in and out with Tristan and Isolde's lives, presented forefront and the bow of the stage. Yes, the sets were modern. Yes, the lighting and colors were overt - red for fire and anger changing to softer pink hues for love, yellow for jealousy and society - but all that worked for me. Had they lost the trap-door entrances and miniatures, I would have been happy.

Levine conducted superbly. The sound he can deliver from such masterful musicians is truly worth the price of admission. So, while bumpy in parts as the replacements tried to find and compliment each other's voices, overall they did a pretty good job rising above the difficult circumstances. The New York audience, however, was excessively over compensating in their bravos, bravas, applause and standing ovations. Guess they just were happy to not see a train wreck. I bet the Milanese in Teatro alla Scala wouldn't be so kind, and that is why I think I like living in New York - they can be kind here when pressed.

Peter Grimes

Grey Days
trapped in a wooden box

John Doyle jumped a few blocks north from Broadway to direct the Met's new production of Peter Grimes. The results, if confined to a small stage and presented to a Sondheim crowd, may have resulted in an enjoyable evening out. Unfortunately when restrained so tightly and directly with such monotonality, the composite just doesn't work. Luckily Donald Runnicles conducted Benjamin Britten's superbly modern and strong opera so at least the music was sublimely enjoyable.

So what went wrong with the simple tale of a misunderstood fisherman with a dark side? The monolithic old barn set that turned into a giant puzzle box was the first dead fish thrown on stage. The story is set on a coastal town and the wonderful transition between Act I and Act II tosses the score around as if it were buoyant on the sea, some sections sparking and ebbing with beauty before other movements chill and build to gale-force turmoil. The set can never reflect this wavelike motion and thrill; instead it can only shift and force itself into variations on the big dark box theme. The libretto is written with understated score, sometimes becoming acapella, which can add to the isolated feeling of the character. The chorus was well used and added to the themes of societal oppression and judgment. Anthony Dean Griffey performed the lead tenor role with professionalism and quality but I wondered if his singularly brooding performance was the director's choice or his. I wish he had added more texture to the role thus making it more ambiguous as to his guilt.

Grimes is under suspicious of contributing to the death of his first seaman apprentice while both were out fishing too far offshore, trapped and lost for days with no water. The death was deemed an accident, Grimes soon turns to Ellen, the woman in town who still believes in him. Ellen and Grimes friend soon help him acquire another boy from the workhouse. Of course the town wonders if Grimes is capable for caring for the boy or if their fears will come to a deadly end. Set against the coast and sea, emotions should reflect the changing light, color, and temperment of a coastline. Instead, like the sets, the feeling are left flat and angry, just driftwood occupying space.

Il Barbiere di Siviglia

Barber of Seville goes semi-modern
Godfather meets Three Stooges

Last year The Met launched a new production of Barber of Seville. I already watched a filmed version on Channel 13 during their New Year's Day opera celebration (wonderful way to start the year!). I worried about the staging, with the singers often walking out and around the orchestra via a wrap-around platform. Up in the Family Circle, I often can't see the conductor so having the singers step that much into the foreground meant there was a strong possibility that I wouldn't be able to see them. I was right. And with the annoying woman in front of me leaning forward throughout most of the performance, this made sightlines worse.

Frederic Chaslin conducted a rather smallish sized orchestra. What they lacked in number they made up for in performance. While the singers started off rather weak in the first act, they warmed up after awhile. Jose Manuel Zapata sang the tenor role of Count Almaviva but seemed more interested in the acting and humor involved in the role. Elina Garanca delievered the mezzo-soprano notes as Rosina and her voice seemed to be having as much fun as here character, playing and bouncing around the men. Franco Vassallo filled the shoes and voice of Figaro, the barber. At first I was rather frustrated by the performances but they did seem to get better and really relish the final act. The story is a simple farce. The Count pretends to be someone else to serenade and woo Rosina. Her old fogie guardian is trying to wed Rosina and keeps her under lock and key, literally. Soon the Count is acting like her music teacher, kitchens are exploding, orange trees are getting chopped down, ladders get moved, and arrests get confused. Of course love must conquer craziness in this fun and light opera.

While the bright and spare sets still hark back to days of old thanks to doors, moulding and decor complimented by period costumes, at times all the space makes the goofy pratfalls seem loud. And I really was annoyed with all the moving out into the audience, around the musicians. But the performances and productions grew on me and I left happy, tapping my feets and humming a happy tune. Is it "Largo al factotum" or that tune from Bugs Bunny? Silly rabbit, Rossini is for kids.

Manon Lescaut

Carriage return

Since I was in San Antonio and my dad loves opera, probably more than me, we decided to go see Manon. Secretly I wanted to see how it compared to the live production. The pros to seeing the HD live show are the behind-the-scenes moments. The cons are the technical difficulties in the theater - forgetting to turn the lights down, letting folks in the theater half-hour, even an hour after the start, the dick using his cell phone to chat with his late-arriving guest and then using the glowing phone to wave to here where he was sitting! Argh!

Rene Flemming served as a wonderful and informed guide of the opera and the backstage tour. Flemming's interview with the soprano showcased her love of the role and her youthful exuberance which included her performing the splits. Yikes, I can't do that! Flemming also interviewed Maestro Levine, the conductor, the tenor and the backstage crew including the animal trainers. I was right that in the production I saw on Monday that the stage and crew was positioned to have a horse-drawn carriage come onto stage but none did; in this version, the carriage did make an impressive appearance. But the second Act, the interior of an opulent and large boudoir reminiscent of something seen in Versailles, didn't come across as lush and rich on screen; it looked more green and less gilded. And the cameras used too many closeups. The final Act is this beautiful and stark landscape on a sandy beach. The set is really designed to showcase the fabulous lighting direction from Met staff. In full view, the audience experiences a symbolic and beautiful slow transition to a Louisiana sunset, glowing and gorgeous as the couple says their final goodbyes. This is completely lost, however, in the film version since they tightly stay framed on the couple. And my dad's reaction, "It took her a loooong time to die." So obviously, this opera is not for everyone.

Manon Lescaut

Wagner inspired, Italian-passion infused

Puccini was just starting out his career with this tragedy about Manon Lescaut, a young girl on her way to a convent. She, of course, doesn't become a sister when she's so easily distracted by the love and luxuries that are offered upon her. Act I opens on a town filled with travelers. Manon arrives along with her brother to find many revelers enjoying the tavern and square sights. A young Chevalier Des Grieux catches a glimpse of Manon and sets about seducing her. But Manon's brother is quickly scheming to connect his sister with the wealthy, elderly Parisian Geronte. Manon, however, finds herself bouncing from one suitor to the next before ultimately torn between her lust for both luxury and love. Karita Mattila was great as Jenufa last year and that role is a great contrast to her youthful and silly Manon. She even performed the splits during her performing struts in Act II. But I was particularly impressed with tenor Marcello Giordani's performance as Des Grieux. Strangely, though, in Act I the chorus sings about an approaching carriage and the lovely people getting off but no carriage was in sight. Large doors were set both on the back and forward right of stage large enough to accommodate horses and a carriage so perhaps something went awry. I'll see if Dad want to go see it Saturday at the live high definition performance broadcast to see if our performance missed the carriage effect.

Otello

Live and grand ...

Verdi brings Shakespeare's Othello to the stage full of sound, schemes, and jealousy run-amok. I'm not sure where the "h" went; perhaps it's an Italian thing? Semyon Bychkov conducted superbly. Johan Botha was a resonating Otello tenor with a girth that helped him dominate the stage. What he lacked in acting, he made up for in vocal performance. It is truly amazing to hear such clarity and expression in the great singers way up in my cheap-seat section in the Family Circle. The sets and costumes were in true Met high-style. Act I has Otello's ships coming to port and the wall of the city, topped with guards and canons, descends into the floor of the stage opening the scene into Cyprus. Subsequent acts are more luxurious as we are drawn into the castle, chambers, and grounds. But the highlight was finally seeing Renée Fleming live as Desdemona. She was a delight to both hear and see as she threw herself into the role. Unlike Botha, she seemed to love the chance to move about and emote the character, not just sing her role. I was impressed but I think I still prefer Anna Netrebko but with the good news of her pregnancy, I may have to wait to hear her live again 'til next year. But I get to hear Natalie Dessay two more times this season so I can't complain too much.

Hänsel and Gretel

Opera on acid

So few operas are accessible to children. So when whimsical gem like Hänsel and Gretel cames along in this season's production line-up, I had high hopes for a fabulous treat that adults could even love. Argh! Instead I got a tripped-out adult version sure to make an LSD trip turn into a nightmare. There is a big recurring mouth-and-tongue that looks like a graphic merge of Pink Floyd meeting The Rolling Stones. Then there's the 1950's parents channeling Leave It to Beaver looks with Honeymooner attitudes, a male witch impersonating Mrs. Doubtfire complete with cake facial, and banquet hall serving as a forest with tree-headed suited men standing guard. Hansel and Gretel pick-pocket the trees for berries, apparently halucinogenic, and are lured to sleep by a crony sandman with an angelic voice. They dream of fourteen 'angels' and of a lovely table of food. Unfortunately the angels were puffy, fat-faced chefs that looked like the bastard children of the Pillsbury Doughboy and the Swedish Chef, only uglier and fatter. A fish-headed waiter also rounded out the weirdness. There was no candy house, only that weird mouth delivering a big iced layered cake on a remote controlled cart. And the insane 'cooking' sequence with the witch mushing up all the sweet treats in a blender and Kitchen Aide mixer seemed like a bad Saturday Night Live skit; Dan Akroyd channeling Julia Child shouldn't be part of this opera. Overall, the set designs and direction were so strange and perverse I was completely turned off by the production. I would have greatly prefered a more traditional approach or at least an attempt to make this enjoyable for both children and adults. If Pixar can do it, why can't The Met?

On a good note, Vladimir Jurowski and orchestra did a superb and lyrical job with the score. I love the use of so many instruments and sounds to represent all the noises and emotions of Hansel and Gretel's journey.

Die Walküre

Met - 1, Kirov - 0

After this summer's very strange Ring production by the Kirov, I was leery to try Wagner again. Lucky for me, Lorin Maazel returned to conduct. I learned he hadn't made the short journey from his main job at the Philharmonic next door over to the opera house in 45 years! Wow! What an impressive return. I've never heard the orchestra sound better, and the pit was packed with so many instruments (four harps!) that I lost count at sixty. So, off to the story of incest, Wotan and the gods of Vahalla and the Valkyries, gotta love the Valkyries! While the Times didn't like Lisa Gasteen as Brünnhilde, I thought she did a rather good job. Overall the cast was good, with solid deliveries once a few got through some warm-up notes. The staging was brilliant and the fire-filled last act was spectacular. The lighting crew was better than anything I've seen on Broadway. Seeing Wotan silhouetted on the rocky outcrop by the changing light of twilight and sunset was spectacular. Ah, brass and percussions have never sounded so thunderous and grand as when written by Wagner and delivered by the Met. If only it wasn't five hours long ... too sleepy for one evening.

New Year's Eve

Opera and fireworks

I know, I'm horrible about posting to the blob in a timely manner. Instead of writing a lot now, I'll just post pictures and quick notes.

I was back in New York City for New Year's. My Monday opera series just happened to have Romeo and Juliette scheduled for the last performance on New Year's Eve. Anna Netrebko was amazing and the set opening up on the lovers in a floating bed, stars all around, had the audience gasping.

I headed home and took the back elevator up to our building's roof deck. A few of my neighbors were there including my 9th floor neighbor's family from Italy. Sort of befitting since the San Remo building on Central Park West was directly in our foreground making a nice silhouette for the fireworks in the Park.

Aida

Old Hollywood Lives
... luckily without Charles Heston

Only the Met can pull off Aida with the full pomp and glory that Egyptian pageantry allows. Aida is an Ethiopian slave who is in love with the Egyptian military leader, Radames. But Amneris, the Egyptian princess, is jealous of Aida and longs to have Radames for her own. Off to war he goes only to triumph against all odds and returns with the prisoners, one of whom is the king of Ethiopia and Aida's father. Aida plans to run away with Radames but before they do, she is able to get him to tell her about army movements and quickly Radames is captured and sentenced to death as a traitor. The opera closes with Aida hiding in the tomb they seal Radames in while Amneris weeps above ground in mourning for the loss of her love.

Kazushi Ono conducted wonderfully, the full richness of music came through beautifully. Franco Farina as Radames took awhile to warm up his voice but by Act II, he was in fine form. The same could also be said for the two sopranos, Angela Brown in the title role and Luciana D'Intino as Amneris. While the Met attracts great talent, the audience was really impressed with the staging. The transition from the Amneris and Aida libretto to the full city square resulted in an audible gasp from the audience. The back wall descended into the floor so the guards standing atop the wall frame the foreground of the brightly lit city behind. The whole stage was filled with regal thrones, servants and guards while the procession of military platoons and treasures parade by. The same wall is used effectively in the final act when it is partially receded into the floor so as to represent the tomb for Aida and Radames. Fantastic production.

Die Zauberflöte

The Magic Flute
still great in the cheap seats

I saw Julie Taymor's shortened kid's version of the Magic Flute last year. While I found it charming and fun, I still have a problem really enjoying it when sung in English. Thus I went to the full German version as the third performance in this years season ticket splurge at the Met Opera. The house was sold out. My tickets are in the Family Circle, translates to cheap seats, thus many tourists and students reside in this section. I notice the dress goes from elegant and formal at the Orchestra and Mezzanine levels and progressively gets more casual, often too casual, once you reach the nose-bleed section I reside in. On an absurdly dressed note, the gay guy next to me, who was a good 15 years older than his date, was dressed in leather pants, red shiny shirt and black leather jacket, bald head, silver bracelets, silver rings including a pinkie ring, and biker boots. Was he auditionsing for the geriatric version of The Village People? There were a lot of Germans in attendance this night. On a positive note, the audience really appreciated the performances and was well-mannered compared to theater-going audiences.
The Queen of the Night was fabulously performed. I found the other performances rather good but not outstanding. There are several scenes in the full version which really add to the theatrics and story that I missed in the children's version including the decent up through flames and down through water. Pamina and Tamino are in a billowing sheer tube of fabric as the platform they are on rises and lowers in this glowing column, lite red for fire and blue for water with shimmering and dramatic effect. I also like the chess playing during Sarastro's discussion of how to 'play' with the hero and his journey. A few scenes cut weren't missed like the spirits and Pamina staged song (literally, a small stage with curtain brought onto the larger set) . Overall, I loved the whacky costumes, the upstart adolescent portrayal of Papgeno and the fabulous music. Mozart genius.

Kirov's Ring Cycle

Kirov's Ring Cycle
boredom at the Metropolitan Opera

As a huge opera fan I felt somehow unworthy of calling myself a true opera without having seen Richard Wagner's Der Ring des Nibelungen. When I heard the Kirov Opera conducted by Valery Gergiev with the Mariinsky Theatre in St. Petersburg would present The Ring Cycle at Lincoln Center, I bought a cheap seat in Family Circle a year ago. It was an early birthday present to myself. So I was excited and prepared for a four day marathon of over 20 hours of great opera.

Monday started with Das Reingold. The story sets the stage with the water sirens setting the whole quest into motion by losing the gold from the Rhine to the dwarf, Alberich. In the meantime, Wotan, leader of the gods, put himself into an awkward position by bargaining his wife's sister as payment to the giants whom built his idyllic castle, Valhalla. But when his sister-in-law, Freia, is gone, the gods find themselves aging without her protective powers to keep them young. Down in the underworld of dwarfs, Alberich forges a ring from the gold while bullying his brother, Mime, into making a protective helmet rendering the wearer invisible. But Loge, the fire god, tricks Alberich and takes him up to Wotan where the gods demand the Rhine gold to pay the giants and hopefully retrieve Friea. But Alberich places a curse on the ring and dramatic tragedy is foreshadowed. Die Walküre introduces us to the motals and Wotan's daughters, the Valkyries. Siegfried is the title of the third night of opera and it is also the name of the mortal Wotan plans to get the ring. But Brunhilde, his Valkyrie daughter, is siegfired's lover and Wotan's plans fall apart in Götterdämmerung, the final opera, when she returns the ring to the Rhine after Siegfried's death. With the ring returned, Alberich's curse is complete and the gods fall.

Wagner's score and detailed operas have become a collective touchstone of mythology and human journey. I was really looking forward to the grand and operatic glory of having the four pieces presented at the Met Opera; I even bought my tickets over six months in advance. With the Kirov production, I expected grand staging and performances. I was sadly disappointed at most every turn. The sets were a mess of stark pagan blandness with only a few hints of beauty and gild resigned to the Rhinegolds. These giant paper mache bodies dominated the stage through the majority of the scenes like some evil rejects from Wickerman. And the singing wasn't any better than the sets. The Valkyries were woefully underwhelming. But at least the orchestra was sublime and well directed. I just closed my eyes and tried to forget the rest. I wonder what Henry Kissinger thought of the production ... caught him dining between acts at the restaurant on the main tier.

Jenufa

Classic modern amazement!

Ah, I love this opera. I never have seen Jenufa and the Met surprised me with this wild and tragic interpretation of a young girl in love with a cad, pregnant with his child, forced into marriage with his resentful brother. Karita Mattila delivers not only a great voice to her role but also exudes a youthful bounce and introverted melancholy to pivotal scenes. The sets are stark and sometimes sterile; instead of a house and village, we see fields and rocky outcrops. Many moral critics point fingers at modern culture for bring bad behavior into our society - unwed teen pregnancy, family abuse, infanticide. And many of these moralists are standing on the false foundation of religious fortitude. Jenufa throws stones at those same moralists, only it was written some100 years ago yet still resonates with timeliness today. Like finding an important antique in the attic that just needs some dusting off, this was a gem of a find for me. Conducted by Jirí Belohlávek with just enough temperament and restraint to let the passion, and the singing, shine through. My surprising favorite from this year's season.

Mikado & The Good Shepard

New York Gilbert & Sullivan Players
Opera in Drag

Oh, the agony .... Lady Devine would have been so at home in this version of Gilbert and Sullivan's completely un-PC pop-opera, The Mikado. All the bounce and pep of the opera went to the players heads and resulted in hot air enough to make Harvey Fierstein's stage dresses turn into a hot air balloon. The plot is pure absurdity with sill names (Yum-Yum, Ko-Ko, Pish-Tush, Nanki-Poo!), a silly premis (the town leadere is Hihg Executioner but can't keep his job unless he kills someone or himself), and a goofy love triangle (the prince, the town girl, and a crazy-in-love lady of the court). The Lady is fat, the man-with-too-many-titles is fat and in drag, the town High Executioner is short and doing a Don Knotts impersonation, and the rest of the cast is kookyTechnicolor. They modernized to dialog and songs, specifically in the "list" song to refelct more modern dislikes which I found thater pandering. While I don't find it too insultive of the Japanese culture (I agree with most critics who say it was G&S criticism of English and Victorian sensibilities and riduculous relieance on royal protocol), I found the entire production lacking in new interpretaion or vigor. A good high school could have produced this mess. If only I could get those three hours back.

The Good Sheperd
so quite ..... for soooooooooooooooooo long

Reason 465 why actors should not direct: They just can't edit a film to a reasonable length! 2 hours and 47 inutes (over three hours with previews and ads! Why am I paying for a film to be bombarded by ads!) of mind-numbing inaction as we watch Edward Bell Wilson (Matt Damon) stoically go to Yale, join Skull & Bones, fall for a deaf girl, knock-up and marry is friends sister, turn in his communist leaning teacher, join the secret side of the military in WWII and then help form and drive the CIA. Any one of these moments in his life might have made for an interesting film but thrown together they induce apathy or sleep. I wanted some sort of action or explosive drama to come oput somewhere. There is the occassional female tantrum or mystery 'reveal' about what is in a hidden photo but these elements don't make for engaging stroytelling. This was one long loop of the same character piece again, and again, and again, just in different scenes. Matt Damon's performance was too monotone to even be believable. If a guy looks that innocuous, that 'normal', something must be seathing just below the surface. This film never explored that. What is left is a story that scould have just as easily been about the formation of the Post Office.

Opera Doubleheader

The Met has been really stepping out this year with some interesting programs: high definition theatrical simulcasts of several operas, updates on classics (Barber of Seville), and Tan Dun's much awaited new production The First Emperor. Results are mixed, but at least they're taking risks. Given that the average audience member is a very wealthy, white, geriatric set, new moves are needed.

The Magic Flute
still magical through children's wails
Julie Taymor knows how to WOW an audience. This abridged version of Motzart's crazy story of The Magic Flute was superbly acted and costumed, sung in English so the whole production seemed more like a theatrical musical than opera. We are thrown into a ice-carved cube of moving walls, Papageno (Nathan Gunn) and Tamino (Matthew Polenzani) leading the hero's journey through many tests of alliance. The Queen of the Night (Erika Miklosa) tries to have the duo 'save' her daughter, Pamina (Ying Huang), from Sarastro (David Pittsinger). The journey reveals, however, that Monostatos (Greg Fedderly) is the real villain, trying to have Pamino for his own and conspiring with the Queen.

I'm sure Mozart was on drugs when he wrote this. While it has all the classic elements of the hero's journey, it has goofy things like magical bells, addictive temptations, floating, singing children, and tons of Masonic symbols. Julie Taymor has such fun with the costumes. Papageno is dressed in a green, parrot-like outfit but with a childlike baseball cap for a bill, which he turns around for effect. Pamino looks like she fell from Alice and Wonderland. These huge bears come out like giant, glowing kites ready to engulf. These ballerina birds spiral about the stage for fun. The freaky child spirits are all white with long beards and spiky, icicle hair and black Masonic symbols painted on their diapered bodies - strange but effectively eerie. Monostatso is some weird hybrid of a giant bee and Danny Devito's Penguin. The set moves about to lock the crystal block faces into different formations for different scenes. The lighting worked well but during curtain closures, while characters were singing or speaking, you could hear the stage hands moving the sets about - poor direction! Overall, the whole production was so much fun, I almost forgot the obnoxious parents talking constantly with their children behind me. I simply leaned forward, cupped my hands to focus on the stage sounds, and enjoyed the production by trying to find my Zen focus. If someone finds it, please send it my way. I'll need it with these annoying New York audiences.

The First Emperor
lets all swing on the Great Wall

Argh. I want to encourage the Met to fund new operas but with this mess, I'm hesitant.

Tan Dun (composer for Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) worked with the best: Zhang Yimou (Raise the Red Lantern, Curse of the Golden Flower), Emi Wada (costumes for Ran), libretto co-writer Ha Jin, and Placido Domingo singing lead. The plot is pure melodrama typical of opera. The First Emperor using his power and physical force to unify China and force his childhood friend to write his crowning anthem of victory. But forcing his former friend to create for him backfires when the fellow falls for and sleeps with his daughter. She is miraculously cured, now able to walk but her fathers wrath drives her to death along with her lover. The ghosts follow the Emperor up the stage steps until he realizes the anthem playing is a cruel joke left to taunt him in life.

Where did things go wrong? Well, there are the horrid sets with floating Styrofoam stone blocks suspended from the rafters by dangling hemp ropes. The blocks reminded me a bit of the little Stonehenge from Spinal Tap but once the cast started pushing through them with ease, I couldn't stop thinking of the 'rocks' tossed about on the original Star Trek set. I believe the intent was to have these symbolize the building of the Great Wall as the slaves (chorus) moves and stages them about during the various scenes. I swear they used the same metal bleacher seats from my high school football days. This was unintentionally funny when, during the lovemaking scene, we see girls lite from under the bleachers gyrating and doing synchronized leg moves - just like high school cheerleaders hoping to get laid on the smelly grass under the stairs post-game. The costumes were lavish and enjoyable, tending to stay with traditional lines from the Orient with updates for modern staging. The real tragedy was the flat music and poor musical pacing. Not one song or number from the first
act was memorable or even discernible. Act II picked up and was a bit more interesting thanks to a duet for the lovers and the chorus pieces, expertly presented. Unfortunately the jarring notes from Asian tradition and ancient instruments didn't lend themselves well to the European structure of the opera. They had two narrative characters, one in more Peking opera dress and singing style, the other in more modern, Western dress and sound. This was repetitive, time consuming, and disjointed - one character would have sufficed. The orchestra was stripped down to bare essentials mostly relying on percussive instruments, including some heated ceramic glazed pots. The strings were often used percussively, lots of plucking. Overall, the sounds were to strained and forced for most to enjoy on first listening but perhaps they grow on you with repeated listening. Domingo did a great job and seemed to portray a worn ruler but man had problems with a Spanish accented English opera about a Chinese Emperor. This really was the least of my concerns given the purely ridiculous sets and strained sounds coming from the stage. Ah well, at least it was new and strange.