Two Boys, One Disturbing Opera

Two Boys
Metropolitan Opera
Saturday, Nov 9, 8PM

So I finally made it over to Lincoln Center for my first opera of the 2013-14 season, the American premier of Nico Muhly’s, Two Boys, loosely based on events surrounding a 2001 murder in Manchester, England.

First off, I gotta’ give the Met credit for trying to lure the young’ens into the opera house.  It was positively Twilight Zone-ish seeing those hallowed, red-carpeted staircases (usually overrun by gray-haired socialites and frumpy opera queens - moi included!) swarming with nattily dressed 20 and 30-somethings. 

Obviously, the subject matter (a murder perpetrated through internet fraud with homo-erotic and pedophilic overtones) is the stuff our TMZ-obsessed youth go wild over.  But as the opera unfolded, it occurred to me that this type of techno-identity crime is just a natural progression from the masked sexual hijinks of a Figaro or Così.

More amusing to me was hearing opera singers belt out strings of profanity and modern sexual slang (examples: “he just blew me” “I told you, seven and a half inches”) with such glorious tone from the immense Met stage – not to mention simulated masturbation.  I’ll admit to suppressing an occasional giggle due to the SNL skit-like anachronism of it all.

Though I enjoyed the performance as a whole and, for the most part, riveted by the bizarre intricacies of the story, I found much of the solo writing melodically unsatisfying.  The orchestrations are appropriately atmospheric and moody but too often sound like the soundtrack to an Alfred Hitchcock movie a la Philip Glass. This lack of variety in orchestral texture and musical tempi created a sometimes gorgeous hypnotic quality; but just as often lulled me into drowsiness.  But then again I’m a sucker for a big ole Puccini aria.

The full ensemble numbers, however, are just f*&cking gorgeous.  It’s in these interludes that Muhly’s gift for musical texture and harmony truly shines.  Instead of the obvious use of electronic sounds (cue "Axel F" from Beverly Hills Cop.  Anyone, anyone?  Bueller, Bueller?) to signify online chatter, Muhly uses overlapping choruses and purely acoustic instrumentation to create an almost undulating wall of sound that perfectly symbolizes the amorphous fluidity of cyberland.

Alice Coote has a warm blanket of a mezzo voice that you just want to wrap yourself up in.  She’s a great, natural actress onstage as well.

Paul Appleby had the daunting task of portraying a 15-year-old teen murderer and pretty impressively pulls off the physicality and mannerisms.  And though he’s only 30, his voice fills the Met’s barn of a theatre.  It will be interesting to see how the voice develops over the next decade or so.

A boy soprano performed the role of the 12-year-old victim which definitely upped the ick factor in some of the bedroom scenes.  But not to worry, nothing was actually simulated onstage, just a lot of innuendo and awkward intimacy.

It was nice to see the Met step into this century with the tasteful use of projections to enhance the bare, minimalist set and staging.  

The choreography was interesting, if a bit bizarre.  I mean, I get it.  Ballet wouldn't exactly be appropriate, but the jerky movement felt a tad Spring Awakening-y to me.

Addendum 11/25:  I totally failed to mention that the young boy soprano, Andrew Pulver, is a Pineda Lyric Opera Young Artist and was a featured soloist in our recent production of The Magic Flute.  Congratulations, Andrew!  And pat on the back to Pineda Conservatory.

Groping Grandpa (Sequal to Nasty Nana)

It seems I’m a love magnet to the geriatric set.  Once again, I found myself the center of some unseemly and unwanted attention at the opera house the other night.  I was set for a lovely evening with Anna Netrebko and dreamy barihunk, Mariusz Kwiecień, in the Met’s new production of Donizetti’s L’Elisir d’Amore, when the silver-haired “gentlemen” sitting next to me started making the moves. 

At first, I thought the tingling on my thigh was just my excitement over Mariusz's first entrance.  But soon I realized it was the back of my neighbors hand trying to inconspicuously brush up against my leg.  At first, I thought maybe he was just spreading out to get more comfortable.  But every time I moved my leg away, his hand somehow managed to find it’s way past the arm rest and against my thigh.  Ew, right?    

At least in the case of Nasty Nana, grandma shamelessly made her move in broad daylight and in full view of everyone in the store.  We could all later laugh and marvel at granny’s audacity and utter lack of social decorum and at the same time give her props for going out and grabbing (literally) what she wanted.  But groping someone in a darkened theatre - unless it’s “that” kind of a theatre, of course - is just a step too far…even for me. 

And before you ask, no, I did not give grandpa any weird signals.  In fact, he got to his seat just as the houselights dimmed for the overture so we didn’t even make eye contact.  I think he finally got the hint, though, after I shifted my entire body to the left side of my seat, leaving a gap between our shared armrest and my leg large enough for an anorexic model to fall through. 

Thankfully, I was able to avoid an awkward post-grope moment.  Just as the orchestra cut-off the final chord of the finale and before the ovation started, grandpa skedaddled from his seat and out the door faster than you can say “sexual harassment suit.”  I’m sure he was embarrassed enough for the both of us. 

So what did I think of the opera?  Well, that’s hard to say.  I was somewhat preoccupied trying to ignore the advances of my horny neighbor and mentally escaping to my "happy place."  I will say that Matthew Polenzani’s rendition of the second act aria “Una furtive lagrima” was captivating - at least captivating enough to pull gramp’s focus away from my leg and to the stage for at least a few minutes. 

The physical production was lovely if adequate.  A badly designed false proscenium blocked most of the action upstage and cut-off much of the set from anyone not sitting in the orchestra.  I guess that’s the Met’s way of saying “fuck you” to us cheapskates up in the nosebleeds. 

I’ve always been indifferent in regards to Netrebko, but in this production she was able to lighten up her usually dark soprano and surprised me with some well-floated top notes and mostly clean runs (though she splatted a couple of high notes towards the end of the second act).  She also genuinely seemed to be enjoying herself and was surprisingly funny.

As I mentioned before, Polenzani was the surprise of the night.  He’s always solid, but last night he nearly stopped the show (and my molester’s advances) with his “Una furtiva…”

Mariusz looked great, but his voice seemed a tad small for the house.

The chorus, as usual, sounded wonderful but was hampered by unimaginative staging. 

I’m sure the production will tape well, though, and I’m sure it will look and sound wonderful in the HD broadcasts.  

L'Elisir D'Amore

Met Opera House - Lincoln Center

Monday, Oct 1 @ 7:30pm 

Anna Bolena

The first thing you think of when you see the picture at left is probably not, "Those two gorgeous, young people must be opera singers."  I mean, where are the horned helmets?  The "healthy" midsections?  Well, it seems opera has finally caught up with the rest of society's embrace of all things superficial.  Not that that's entirely a bad thing (photo is real-life couple and opera superstars Erwin Schrott and Anna Netrebko).

Netrebko is actually a perfect combination of glamour and talent rolled up into a big, beautiful Russian package.  Who better to headline a new production of the rarely produced Donizetti opera, Anna Bolena.  On paper it seems like a no-brainer - international diva + hot, young supporting cast + new production should equal an electric performance.  Unfortunately, the production doesn't rise to the potential of its star.

There is a reason Anna Bolena is not a standard repertory work.  The first act drags along interminably and the music is too similar sounding throughout to sustain a three-hour long evening.  It takes a diva of the first magnitude to electrify the work.  Netrebko is up to the task and nearly succeeds, but she's hampered by a dull, clunky set, uninspired direction and historically correct, but unremarkable costuming. 

The gloomy lighting is sleep inducing.  The costumes are black on black against a dark set.  The direction consists of either the singers standing still or running back and forth across the stage for no apparent reason.  Thankfully, Netrebko's dark, warm voice and surprisingly flexible coloratura keep you from dozing off.

Watching Netrebko square off in the second act duet with rival, Jane (the imposing Ekaterina Gubanova), and seeing her thrillingly sung and sensitively acted closing mad scene are worth sitting through the soporific first act.

Netrebko's supporting cast all have vocally thrilling moments and were all surely cast for their good looks as well as their musical prowess.  With HD movie broadcasts to consider, how can you blame them?  Though a particularly swarthy Ildar Abdrazakov as Henry, made you wonder why Anne would ever choose the cute, but almost nebbish, Percy of Stephen Costello.  Then again, she gets to go home to real-life baby-daddy, Schrott.  Some girls get all the luck.

Thanks to Jill and Audrey (a Pineda Conservatory board member and family friend) who got in line earlier that afternoon to grab $20 rush seats - in the rear orchestra, no less!  We also got to lounge outside the opera house with hottie Dylan McDermott while I enjoyed my Lenny's sandwich.  Not together, of course.  He grabbed the free bench next to us while talking on his cell phone.  I pretended he was my date. 

Only in New York.

Metropolitan Opera House
Monday, October 17, 7:30pm performance

zombies and drag queens

After exiting the Met Opera House at 11:55 PM Monday night following their new five-and-a-half-hour production of Die Walküre, I couldn’t bear the thought of then sitting through a four-hour play.  So the next day I reluctantly called the Public box office and told them they could sell my fifth row center orchestra ticket for that evening’s performance of Kushner’s new play, “The Intelligent Homosexual’s Guide to Capitalism and Socialism With a Key to the Scriptures” - doesn’t exactly scream light-hearted family fun, does it?    

Normally, I would have sucked it up and forced myself to attend both marathon performances, but Kushner isn’t exactly Neil Simon.  And given the fact that significant brain cell wattage had been expended in the last 24 hours digesting Wagner’s gorgeous but musically dense score, I was in no mood for challenging, political theatre, no matter how brilliant. 

Instead, I stayed home and caught up on the last few episodes of my favorite reality show, RuPaul’s Drag Race.  Those queens are downright hilarious (and terrifying)!  And that’s just what I needed, some brainless lip-synching fun with a couple of bitches. 

I’ll still get to catch that “Intelligent Homo” later in the month.  As a member of the Public, I can post date my ticket and show up on another evening as long as they’re not sold out.  Membership has its privileges!

Die Walküre

Metropolitan Opera House

6:30pm performance

I guess I should talk about the Wagner.  Well, it was really, really long.  Not that I have a problem with that, but after a nine-hour work day, I wasn’t exactly at my best mentally.  I admit the nearly two-hour first act almost put me to sleep.  Not because it was boring per se, but because I was so darn tired.  I quick $5 brownie from the concession stand got my blood sugar levels back up.

The much talked about 16 million dollar production with its 45 ton set piece is impressive at first sight, but the novelty wears as the opera progresses.  The hulking piece of metal just isn’t that flexible and is surprisingly monotonous visually.  Yes, it moves and twists and you can project on it, but it’s not until the third act, with the flight of the Valkyries, that director Robert Lepage realizes the full potential of his bulky giant.  It’s here we get to see the sisters “ride” the over-sized planks like horses and then slide down their “necks.”  Until then, the structure just sort of sits there.  Perhaps he has some surprises in store for us in parts three and four of the cycle?  We shall wait and see next season.

The singing was some of the best I’ve heard on that stage in some time.  I’ve gotten used to listening carefully to the smaller lyric voices that often get swallowed up in the huge Met barn.  But it was a pleasure to hear full, dramatic voices fill that immense auditorium.  The hottie tenor, Jonas Kaufmann, sounded especially good as Siegmund, his unusually dark voice sounding downright baritone-ish in mid register.  His sister-lover-wife, Sieglinde, performed by Eva-Maria Westbroek, was a good match with a similarly thick, dark sound. 

I cannot say enough about Stephanie Blythe’s Fricka.  See her in anything if you get a chance.  That voice is just magnificent.  Terfel was solid if a little stiff as Wotan, though his voice is just gorgeous to listen to (get his Rodgers & Hammerstein CD, Something Wonderful, like buttah!). 

I was on the fence about Deborah Voigt’s Brünnhilde.  I’ve seen her perform before the gastric bypass and I have to say, I think she’s lost some of the richness in her voice.  Her top seemed a bit shrill to me, though her mid register still has the warmth I remember.  Or perhaps she needed the second act to warm up?  - because it seemed the quality of her voice bloomed a bit more in the third act.

Oh well, I’m glad I saw it but have no real desire for a second visit.  Although I’ll likely catch parts three and four next season given my completist mentality.  Or is that just my OCD kicking in again?

On a side note, my good friend, Chris, was speaking to an actor friend of his who mentioned he was going to be a supernumerary at the Met in “some opera called ‘Die, (as in “death”) Walker.’”  --  Actors are so pretty but so dumb.  Or as Chris commented - sounds like a great title for a zombie opera.  Get on that John Adams (the composer, of course, not our deceased second President). 

Preperation-H time

Wish me luck.  After work today I'm off to the Met for its new five-hour production of Wagner's Die Walküre.  I've actually never seen a live performance of any Wagner opera, so I'm looking forward to testing my stamina on this one.  Go big or go home, right?  At least The Met agrees, with a 45 ton set (they had to reinforce the stage to handle the weight) that looks sort of like a big honkin' strand of DNA.  Still, five hours is a long time.  I might have to smuggle in a red bull or two.



Idiotically, I also bought tickets to see the new four-hour Kushner play down at the Pulic, The Intelligent Homosexual's Guide to Capitalism and Socialism With a Key to the Scriptures.  I should have known better from that title alone.  Anyway, it's going to be two extremely long and intense days of theatre-going.

Wagner and Kushner, back-to-back - my head might explode.  If I don't fall asleep first.

Playing catch-up...

I’m so behind with my reviews so trying to play catch-up here, folks.

La Traviata, Met Opera

Friday, January 7

8pm performance

Time Stands Still, Cort Theatre

Saturday, January 8

2pm performance

Trish and I checked out the new production of La Traviata at the Met.  I, of course, was quite excited to see how it would compare to my highly acclaimed staging for Pineda Lyric (yes, I’m joking). 

There was some crazy shit happening on the Met stage!  Instead of a traditional approach, director Willy Decker’s stark production made ample use of symbolism, sometimes forsaking textual accuracy for the sake of emotional clarity.  For a better explanation, you can read James Jordan's review (he's also the editor of Parterre), which is far more detailed and erudite than anything I could compose. 

Decker’s modern-dress production is much more visceral and emotional than what could be accomplished through a traditional staging.  Without the social constraints of period etiquette and costumes, Violetta and Alfredo are free to be much more physical and sexual.  The textual inaccuracies didn’t really bother me.  I particularaly liked how Decker integrated Violetta into the beginning of Act 2, turning “De' miei bollenti spiriti” into a fun game of hide-and-seek.  I can’t wait to steal that little bit of staging when we revive it for Pineda Lyric.

Poplavskaya - try saying that five times fast - is a committed and thrilling actress.  She has a surprisingly dark tone (gotta' love those Russians) but her top is thin and some of the coloratura got away from her the night we watched. She and the orchestra were also at odds with tempi.  Poplavskaya would at times visibly beat time with her head to push the orchestra along and many rubato passages seemed to catch conductor and orchestra off guard (possible merchandising alert - Poplavskaya bobble-head dolls?).  Can’t be sure if it was singer or conductor at fault, but major sync issues going on.  

Polanzani’s tenor is "like buttah" - gorgeous phrasing and legato.  Nice to hear a tenor at the Met that doesn’t sound like he’s taking a shit above a high G.  He and Poplavskaya had some great chemistry, too. 

I’d like to give a shout out to Michelle Trovato, the Violetta in Pineda Lyric’s production.  I'd much rather listen to her than Poplavskaya any day.

Old Zeffirelli production...

New Willy Decker production...

________________________________

Cancer victim and now terrorist bomb survivor?  Laura Linney can't catch a break.  Someone book her a guest appearance on Glee, stat!  I love Laura Linney, but could someone cast her as something other than sarcastic, intense, brainy and/or oppressed?  Give the girl a break.  I mean, she’s expectedly brilliant in Time Stands Still, but between this and The Big C, she'll need some couch time herself with a good therapist.   

I didn’t expect anything less than brilliance from the remainder of the cast, but I was particularly impressed by Christina Ricci as the ditzy, young trophy wife.  Wednesday Addams is all grown-up and now a Brooklyn hipster.  Playing against her brooding, Indie-film persona, her Mandy is unexpectedly funny and endearing. 

I'm glad I caught this over the weekend since it's closing later this month.  I'm sure it will be clogging up regional theatre stages in the coming seasons given the small cast and the unit set.  My guess - look for a movie adaptation within the next five years.  This is ripe for expansion and would be serious Oscar bait given the political subject matter.  No doubt it will be recast with Julia Roberts (Linney role), Clive Owen (D'Arcy James role), Harrison Ford (Bogosian role) and Taylor Swift (Ricci role).  Sad. 

The new season is almost here!!!

I just spent hundreds of dollars on theatre tickets. You know what that means, kiddies. Fall, my favorite season in NYC, is just around the corner. The theatre and opera are gearing up, Chuck and Fringe are back, the weather is awesome and the underground subway stations no longer smell of pee.

My first must-see of the season isn’t until December, but it’s already the hottest ticket in town. It’s Tony Kushner’s first New York revival of his epic two-part play, Angels in America. Both parts are playing in rep at the tiny Signature theatre (less than 200 seats) and Zachary Quinto (Heroes’ evil Sylar and new Star Trek’s sexy Spock) will be spitting distance from me - so exciting. I literally spent half an hour online trying to get on their website on the first day of ticket sales. I guess the rest of New York had the same idea since the site kept crashing from the web traffic. Thankfully, an extension had been added, because the first three months of the run had already sold out by the time I was able to get through.

I also booked my tickets for the marathon performance of The Gatz at the Public, yet another two-part, seven hour play. What an odd trend. Anyway, the idea intrigued me - a group of people at an office start to read the text of "The Great Gatsby" out loud in real time. I know, it sounds like S&M for English teachers, but it got incredible out of town reviews so I’m going to take my chances.

I also jumped on a recent discount code for The Addams Family. I know, I know - but I love a good train wreck, especially when two bona fide Broadway stars headline. Since I didn’t pay full price, I thought, what the hell.

A few blocks uptown at the Met, I’m set to see Il Trovatore (which I’ve never seen live) with the dreamy cast of Racette, Radvanovsky, Zajick, Alvarez and Hvorostovsky. And for you non-opera fans, that would be akin to seeing Benanti, Baldwin, LuPone, Crawford and Hearn in…well…I guess that would never happen. But you get the idea. I’ll then be back two days later for the Met’s ridiculously huge production of La Boheme for a glimpse of new tenor hottie, Vittoria Grigolo. Between him and James Valenti (above) - yowzah - so much for the fat opera singer stereotype! And I almost forgot about Das Rheingold next Spring. It’s the first of the four Wagner Ring operas in a new production that makes even the most complicated Broadway set look like legos (check out the preview below). The stage had to be reinforced with three 65-foot girders to support the weight of the 45-ton set. It’s opening the Met’s season, but all the fall performances are sold out, so I have to settle for Mach of next year. Sigh.

Other upcoming shows on my radar: Evita (w/ Ricky Martin’s Che), Anything Goes (w/ Sutton Foster’s Reno), A Life in the Theatre (w/ Patrick Stewart and T.R. Knight), Driving Miss Daisy (w/ James Earl Jones and Vanessa Redgrave), Women on the Verge of a Nervous Breakdown (w/ LuPone, Stokes Mitchell & Laura Benanti), Elf, How to Succeed ... (w/ Daniel Radcliff) & War Horse (from London’s National Theatre). So many stars - so little time and money!

Met's double header

No, not those Mets, silly. Did you not notice the possessive apostrophe? We’re talking the Met Opera. Unless, of course, Audra takes up baseball - in which case, “Play ball, bitches!”

Over the last two weeks, Trish and I revisited two operatic war-horses, Carmen (photo courtesy of NY Times) and Turandot (photo courtesy of Met Opera). One re-emerged as a sleek and sexy Fatal Attraction-esque thriller, the other laid bloated and unwieldy as a beached whale. Yes, the story of the gypsy seductress is the most recognizable in all operatic literature and the famous “Toreador Song”, played as background music to commercials and cartoons, may very well border on self-caricature. But watch out Justin Timberlake, director Richard Eyre is bringing sexy back…to the Met stage no less! Hollah! Elina Garanca, my newest obsession (sorry Diana Damrau), gives us a Carmen whose bite is as nasty as her bark and she ain’t afraid to shake her money maker, either. Using a hyper-realism that just skirts cliché, Eyre’s Carmen is gritty, harsh and violent. Garanca is fearless and exudes a primitive sensuality you rarely see on the Met stage. The Act IV confrontation between Jose and Carmen was thrilling. Knowing full well the final written outcome, Garanca’s viper of a Carmen left me wondering if she might perhaps subdue Jose and actually get away. Alagna’s Jose was a hair shy of crazy - in a good way. “The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them” indeed! I could feel the bruises forming on Garanca’s elbows and forearms as she took repeated throws to the floor.

Granted, the production wasn’t perfect. The third act “love” pas de deux seemed superfluous. Yes, I know they were going for symmetry given the first act “seduction” pas, but it just seemed cheesy. Alagna, though generally vocally consistent (if a bit whiny at times), had quite a big vocal squawk in the third act that left Trish’s knee with the indent of my gripping hand. I’m also not quite convinced about the final tableau. I assume the bull is symbolic. Bull fighting as a metaphor for Jose’s final “conquest” of Carmen? Hmmm. It seems a bit too literal - though it does provide a visually stunning curtain closer. But these are minor quibbles. I only hope that in future re-stagings, they Met is able to capture the intensity and gritty realism of Alagna and Garanca (as well as Garanca’s hefty set of maracas - olé)!

If Garanca’s Carmen is a high-priced DC call girl, Zeffirelli's classic Turandot production is its sagging-breasted, worn out older sister. Yes, the set is ridiculously ornate and on the surface, beautiful. But after about ten minutes, the sparkles and gold dust stop distracting you and you realize just how much cover stick the old girl’s using to hide all the mileage. This revival wallows in opera cliché - meaningless and meandering stage direction and either over the top gesticulating or park-and-bark non-“acting”. I’m sure at one time the production was fresh and exciting, but now it’s just stale and overblown. When the set gets more applause than any of the performers, you’re in deep doo-doo.

And the singing? Yikes. The tenor, Frank Porretta, possesses a pleasant enough timbre, but is barely audible over the orchestra. So of course, what better way to amplify his less than ample endowment than by directing him to sing directly upstage, backside to the audience. Grazia Doronzio’s Liu, a pretty wisp of a thing, had volume but lacked emotional connection to anyone on the stage. I’d have gotten more interest and engagement listening to a good recording. In Doronzio’s defense, she seemed to warm up both vocally and emotionally around Liu’s death scene; but alas, I started caring just barely in time for the knife to slice through her gullet. The evening’s vocal saving grace lay in Lise Lindstrom’s Turandot. Her ice queen had the presence and vocal timbre to slice through orchestra and chorus. If not pretty, her voice had a steely edge that worked nicely for the character. Unfortunately, she obliterated anyone who happened to wander into the line of fire, including the poor tenor. Sensing this, Porretta valiantly and foolishly tried to match Lindstrom’s wall of sound. I could almost see the pressure building up in his head and waited for the blood-spurting explosion. Instead, we only got a few wobbles and near cracks in his upper register. Predictably, “Nessun Dorma” received applause almost before Porretta had cut-off the final note. Will I ever get to hear a thrilling performance of the aria in context? - seems highly unlikely.

Crazy night at the opera

So after all the coverage of the Met’s season opener, a new production of Tosca by Swiss director Luc Bondy that was widely booed on its opening night Tuesday, I decided to see for myself what all the hubbub was about. As the famous crystal chandeliers rose and the house lights dimmed, a distinguished man in suit and tie stepped onstage with a handheld mic. I couldn’t tell who it was, since I could barely discern any features from my cheapo seat. I thought, Oh God, Mattila better not be out tonight. That full-split, high-C-singing, vagina-displaying soprano is the main reason I want to see this production. The man speaks, “Maestro Levine has incurred an injury. Joseph Colaneri will be conducting tonight’s orchestra.” Phew. Okay, not great news, but I’ll live. Suit guy doesn’t leave the stage - Oh, Shit! “In addition, Mr. Gagnidze is experiencing a cold but will perform this evening. He asks for your understanding.” My opera date, Chris, a Met virgin, looks at me like “what the f*ck?” Then halfway through the performance, lightning strikes twice - or actually I guess this would be thrice. As the lights dim for the second act, suit guy steps onto the stage again. You can almost hear a collective audience gasp. “Mr. Gagnidze has fallen ill and can no longer sing the role of Scarpia.” Now I’m the one saying WTF. “Carlo Guelfi, who was down the hall rehearsing for Aida, has kindly volunteered to sing the role while Mr. Gagnidze continues acting the role.” Holy sh*t! There is definitely a buzz in the air as a tech guy brings a music stand out to the stage right lip.

Watching Gagnidze perform the role full out, while lip-synching to a live singer, was extremely weird. Not to mention crazily disorienting, since the unamplified voices all emanated from the “correct” bodies onstage, except his. And although I must credit Mr. Guelfi for basically running across the hall with no notice and jumping in to sing one of the most iconic bass/baritone roles in the rep, it was kind of distracting watching him hang out on the side of the stage nonchalantly gulping from his water bottle as his onstage body double dry humps Tosca on the floor. Ah well, the excitement of live theater!

Last night was the second performance of this production, and while not perfect, wasn’t the train wreck that I was secretly hoping for. I mean, nothing is worse than sitting through three and a half hours of mediocre opera (or mediocre anything, for that matter). Sure, the simplistic set isn’t particularly interesting, especially compared to the almost hyper-realistic Zeffirelli production it replaced, but I was at least hoping for “scandalous” or “outrageous” - no such luck. For most of the opera, there was just a bare stage with some tall brick walls. The second act set was just plain ugly - a 1950’s retro minimalist take on the Brady Bunch’s basement rec room. Did I mention it was ugly? It almost seemed like the second act set was meant for a different production but was accidentally shipped to the Met and they didn’t have time to exchange it. And did I mention it was ugly?

I can understand some disappointment for fans of the sumptuous Zeff production, but booing? The production frankly wasn’t interesting or outrageous enough to warrant booing. The much talked about clutching of the Madonna at the end of Act I wasn’t shocking so much as puzzling. It simply didn’t make sense for the character based on the characterization leading up to that moment. If anything, it served to wake up the old ladies in the audience for intermission. Some of the other stuff - the omission of candles and cross, Tosca’s Act 2 suicide attempt, the clutching of the knife during Vissi d’arte - just seemed like a director’s ego deciding to force change for change’s sake.

As for the performers, well, I’ve been a fan of Mattila since she gave us full frontal in last season’s Salome - not to mention the full split. I mean, she’s in her 50’s! You go, girl. I hate to use clichés, but the 3,000 audience members watched in spellbound silence during her Vissi d’arte. You could literally hear a pin drop. Oh, and someone please get Miss Thing some knee pads. I could almost hear her kneecaps crack as she hit the floor full force during an emotional collapse near the end of the aria. Alvarez sang nicely enough, and his acting was better than average for a Met tenor. The onstage chemistry between him and Mattilla was definitely palpable, especially during the flirty, intimate staging in the opening act. Actually, Bondy’s direction provided several nice moments, mainly between Alvarez and Mattila. Unfortunately, these moments weren’t enough to counteract an unwieldy set (did I mention how ugly it is?) and some random, dubious directorial choices (can you say “fellating ho’s?). Oh well, I have my fingers crossed for the upcoming new productions of Hoffman and Carmen.

Salome

The Met has certainly decided to takes its place in the R-rated, youtube generation. First, a shirtless, studly Giovanni humping Anna all over the stage last week and now a nasty Salome grinding her behind into a Hasidic Jew. It sure isn’t your grandparent’s Met, that’s for sure. I’d never actually seen a live performance of Salome, although we studied it at Conservatory, until last night. But nothing can prepare you for the antics of a middle-aged soprano (here, beautifully sung and dynamically acted by Finnish soprano, Karita Mattila) obsess “Fatal Attraction”-style over a Holy Man she can’t have. I don’t think I’ve ever, nor will ever, witness an opera singer extend down into a full split or finger herself while singing. Yes, you read that correctly, finger herself. She also dry humps her uncle, goes “full monty” in the dance of the seven veils and literally dives into a vampiric French kiss with the disembodied head of Jochanaan (the audience audibly gasped at that moment).

Shock value aside, Mattila certainly can sing. A huge voice with a seemingly endless range, she seemed to jump from full-throated top to full-chested bottom within the span of a measure. That b*tch was loud. And unlike other dramatic lyrics, her voice never seemed strident or ugly and she maintained a warm roundness of tone throughout the extreme range of her voice. However, the men (with the exception of tenor, Joseph Kaiser) couldn’t match Mattila’s instrument and were often lost in fuller orchestral moments.

The modern day Middle Eastern setting worked for the most part, hinting at the current world political climate. But the staircase to nowhere on stage right seemed wasted and could have been better utilized for staging. The black-robed angels watching the proceedings from the dunes also seemed like an interesting concept that didn’t seem fully fleshed out. But in spite of these few complaints, it was a truly thrilling, surprising and uncomfortable (in a good way) evening at the opera.

Though this is a revival (from 2004), hopefully the Met will continue producing challenging, innovative productions to balance the popular old warhorses in future seasons. It’s definitely made a difference in audience demographics at the productions I’ve attended. Trish and I both noticed groups of young men (who appeared to be - wait for it…straight!) in the audience at the last several productions we attended. Imagine that, straight young men at the opera. What next, a gay football league?

Don Giovanni w/ Netrebko's baby-daddy

I admit it. The #1 reason I went to see the Met’s current production of Don Giovanni was to catch “Hott Schrott” (aka Anna Natrebko’s baby-daddy) shirtless. I mean for Pete’s sake, it’s the Metropolitan Opera. How often does half-naked eye candy cross that stage? Sure, they have their ballet dancers, but this is an opera singer. You heard me right, an opera singer. And a straight one at that - surely a sign of the Apocalypse. I wanted proof that this unicorn actually exists. Anyhoo, the Met knows when to exploit a good thing, because we only had to wait for his first entrance to catch the shirtless baritone virtually humping poor (or lucky?) Donna Anna (a beautifully-voiced Krassimira Stoyanova) on the long staircase that dominates the first act set. And damn, he's also got a huge . . . voice - though it seemed a bit unfocused last night. He plays pompous great, but if the gossip columns are to be believed, he's just playing himself. Regardless, he was an impressive and well-cast Giovanni.

But the real surprise of the evening - oxymoron alert - was the handsome Leporello, Ildebrando D'Arcangelo. Can you imagine two hottie baritones singing at the Met in the same production? Times sure have changed. When I was studying voice at conservatory, my teachers told me it was OK to carry some spare padding around the middle for added resonance. I guess I can't use that as an excuse anymore. Regardless, D'Arcangelo was funny and charming and possesses a large, warm, round voice. Hope to see more of him in the future.

Donna Anna's bell-like soprano - pure, clear and perfectly placed - was matched by lyric tenor, Matthew Polenzani, who impressed with endless legato phrasing. He never seemed to breathe. Unfortunately, mezzo Susan Graham, in the demanding role of Donna Elvira, didn't fare as well. Although a large voice, she always seemed to be pushing and often sang under pitch. The role is definitely not a good match for her. And given her fach, I'm surprised that she even considered performing it.

The physical production was bare, but adequate. And the staging, at least the first act, was better than usual for the Met (i.e. no "park and bark"). I would even say it was clever and original. But that second act? What were they thinking. It was as if they spent all their time rehearsing the first act and all of a sudden found themselves at opening night without having rehearsed the second act. The graveyard scene was totally lame. No better than your neighbor's front lawn Halloween display. It basically consisted of a stone grave that spit out pathetic wafts of smoke every time the (offstage?) voice of the Commendatore sang. I want my big stone statue coming to life, dammit!

Giovanni's descent into hell was even more disappointing. I mean, come on, this is the Met. Where were the flames? the pyrotechnics? the excitement? They actually made the Commendatore sing behind a plexiglass wall so his entire last scene sounded like he was singing into a paper bag - all muffled and dead. And I say they made him do it, because no singer in his right mind would agree to sing behind a wall knowing he'd have to fill a cavern the size of the Met. And then it snowed. WTF? It snowed for his descent into hell? Made no sense at all. And it wasn't like he was dragged down into hell. He literally stepped in front of the Commendatore and seemed to willingly be sucked into the floor. Slowly. Really slowly. I mean, he could have totally stepped off that platform, condsidering the glacial pace it was descending into the floor, and saved himself from eternal damnation. Oh well, I guess I can't complain. Half a good production is better than nothing.

The Olympics are taking over my life!

I think my Olympic fever is finally breaking. Yes, it was exciting the first week, and being the queen that I am was thrilled the games started off with gymnastics - buff men in stirrup-pant leotards - how much gayer can you get? And did you see that embarrassing picture of the team shirtless with their medals? I mean, they look good and all, but did they have to pose together like that? It looks like the cover of some crazy sports-themed gay porn. Anyway, now I've found myself losing interest as the TV coverage marches on. I mean, how can men's trampoline - WTF!!!! - outdo Michael Phelp's eight Gold Medals?! And that tie-breaker sham on the individual woman's uneven bars? Nastia got f*cked hard up the ass with that one. The only consolation to the women's gymnastics team getting screwed over by the underage Chinese team (16 my ass) was hearing Bela Karolyi go off on the judges in those post event interviews. And that Canadian men's synchro diving team of Alexandre Despatie and Arturo Miranda, with Despatie demanding his best "bud" Arturo be his partner or he wouldn't compete? I think they're more like butt buddies if you ask me, considering Arturo ain't such a hot diver but looks damn fine in a speedo (see pic). Oh well, it will all be over in a few days and I'll have my evenings back for the new seasons of "Chuck", "Ugly Betty" and "The Biggest Loser"!

I am, however, excited for some of my recent ticket purchases: Desir (the sexy, rated-R circus show at the Spiegeltent) next week, Equus starring Harry Potter’s peter (I mean Daniel Radcliffe) in mid-September, and Billy Elliot (hopefully not in a neutered “American-safe” edition) in November. The Met also just opened its box office for single ticket sales. I’m definitely looking forward to seeing hottie Erwin Schrott in Giovanni, Patricia Racette in the gorgeous new Madama Butterfly (I caught this opening season w/ the incredibly underpowered vocalizing of Cristina Gallardo-Domâs but was blown away by the physical production) and my home girl, Diana Damrau in the title role in Lucia. All this, and I’ll begin rehearsals for both High School Musical at CDC and The Merry Widow with the newly-formed Pineda Lyric Opera Company (formerly Little Opera Company of NJ). So this fall is shaping up to be crazy busy for me! Did I also mention we’re doing a benefit concert for the opera company in October? Can you say “over-committed”? Anyway, it’s always good being busy so I don’t have time to dwell on the fact that I have no life outside of Morgan Stanley and the theatre. I guess that’s why I enjoy the Olympics so much. For a moment I can pretend I’m just a normal person. I even forced myself and - surprise - enjoyed watching a basketball game. Will wonders never cease? Soon I’ll be drinking, belching and farting on the couch with the other straighties - not. So stay tuned for some reviews and wild tales from Community Theatre land.

La Fille du Regiment and Tony Noms

Well, it was nice to see a cast of opera singers actually try to act. I will give Natalie Dessay and company an “A” for effort, but I’d have to give them about a “C+” for execution. She broke - no shattered - the golden rule of comedy, which is not to try and “be funny,” but to just play the intentions and let the comedy result from the given circumstances. She was like a little energizer bunny on crack, waving her arms and jerking around the stage as if in the throws of a petit mal seizure. She sounded gorgeous, though, especially her high pianissimos. I also had no trouble hearing her over the orchestra as I had with her Lucia earlier in the season.

Idiot me chose the one performance that dreamy Juan Diego Florez (left) was not scheduled to perform. I really have no idea how I missed that, considering I bought the ticket a YEAR ago just to see the Dessay/Florez pairing. Oh well, Barry Banks was sufficient. Nice big, warm voice (much warmer than Florez, but lacking the “star quality”) and he had no problems with the nine high-C’s. Though he received an extremely long and deserved ovation after the aria, he, unlike Florez, did not perform an encore. His acting was fine, if a bit stiff.

I’m still a little disappointed because I really expected a more grounded performance from Dessay, a self-described “actress first,” and not the spastic performance she delivered. I guess I can’t really complain. She was vocally excellent and never boring. What-ev’s, it was still a good, almost great, night at the opera and my last until next season. Damn, this year really flew.

All That Chat was buzzing this morning with Tony nom talk. I love how those catty bitches go at each other because they just can’t believe the travesty of so-and-so getting snubbed by the nominating committee. It’s so High School Musical. Get a life you crazy queens! Sadly, many of those crazy queens are probably close friends of mine. Oh well, click here for the full list of Tony nominations.

My only Tony hope is that Kelli O’Hara beats out Patti LuPone for best actress so we can see PattiLu force a smirk onto her face for the camera and feign congratulatory wishes to Kelli. Either that, or we’re gonna’ see a full on girl fight. And I’m pretty sure Patti could beat the sh*t out of Kelli. Watch your back O’Hara.

Peter Grimes or Trish Takes a Nap

I know opera is notorious for its indulgent use of the old "park & bark" technique, but last night was ridiculous. Nothing happened on stage, literally. The chorus sounded magnificent, but could just as well have been seated on choral risers at the back of the stage. John Doyle, whose recent Sweeney Todd and Company revivals employed the actors onstage carrying instruments and accompanying themselves in place of an orchestra, seems not able to occupy his actors without the crutch of trombones and accordians in hand. I do applaud the prinicpals, especially Patricia Racette (Ms. Orford), Anthony Dean Griffey (Grimes) and Felicity Palmer (Mrs. Sedley) who despite the minimalist (an understatement) direction managed to elicit characterizations from seemingly nothing.

To be fair, we left after the second intermission because Trish, as well as several people around us, could barely keep from snoring. The empty seats surrounding us after the first intermission were plentiful and understandable. I stayed hoping things would turn around in the second act, but no such luck. It was really quite a shame considering the outstanding musical reading by the orchestra, principals and chorus. But I could have just as well stayed home and listened to a CD.

As far as the physical production, the set initially impressed. But after two hours, a big wooden wall just gets monotonous. Also, everyone was costumed in black, gray or some other dreary dark color so that no one was particularly distinguishable from anyone else. In full cast scenes, I had no idea who was singing at any given moment. The blocking (i.e. everyone standing in one huge group, including principals) didn't help either.

I guess I'll have to wait 20 years until the Met decides to do another new production of this opera. There really is absolutely no reason to see this particularly boring production again. The evening wasn't a total loss, it's definitely convinced me to order tickets for Madama Butterfly with Racette next season.

What's your birth opera?

I'm passing this along from a post on parterre.com, an opera blog that I frequently read. They've posted the Met's archive page where you can do a date search of all the Met's performances. I'm proud to say that Joan Sutherland and Marilyn Horne were performing two of their signature roles in Norma the evening of my birth! Click here to check your own. Here's the full listing for my birthdate:

Metropolitan Opera House
April 14, 1970, NORMA {73}

Norma...................Joan Sutherland
Pollione.................John Alexander
Adalgisa................Marilyn Horne
Oroveso................Bonaldo Giaiotti
Flavio....................Rod MacWherter
Clotilde..................Carlotta Ordassy
Conductor.............Richard Bonynge

Joan Sutherland as Norma, Covent Garden, 1952

Pass the Preparation-H, Please

“Big” is the only word to describe it. The Met’s hemorrhoid-inducing 4 1/2 hour production of War and Peace, complete with 52 soloists singing 68 roles, 118 choristers, 41 dancers, 227 supernumeraries and 1,200 costumes (not to mention four chickens, one horse and a goat), was a mixed bag of theatrically exciting moments sprinkled throughout a rather ho-hum canvas of uninspired singing and mostly hideous set pieces. If you prescribe to the sentiment that size matters, this may be the perfect production for you. The cavernous stage at the Met housed a full-scale battle, scenes of Moscow burning to the ground, sweeping ballrooms of the Russian court, and a blizzard.

The singing throughout was adequate. Irina Mataeva’s Natasha was pleasant; large for a lyric, but bland. She appeared to be overcompensating for her lack of vocal color with extreme overacting, nearly drawing audible giggles from my fellow nose-bleeders. Vasili Ladyuk’s Prince Andrei fared better. Coming off a bit mechanical in the opening scene, his voice and acting warmed up considerably as the evening progressed culminating in a unsuspectedly moving death scene. Sam Ramey, though still a commanding presence, now possesses an uncomfortably wide wobble in his voice. Although the cast offered uniformly solid singing, there were no notable standouts. Not really a complaint I guess, considering that with so many soloists and even two covers on last night, there certainly could have been many opportunities for a train wreck. The chorus, as per usual this entire season, sounded gorgeous and precise.


















I understand that with the huge cast combined with quick, diverse scene changes, a minimalist approach to production design seems like a no-brainer. But with few exceptions, the set was just plain ugly. The enormous, raked first act turntable, painted to mirror the arched domes in Russian architecture, was impressive enough. But why then use all extremely realistic, period set pieces except for the obviously not-period, retro-70's mirrored columns in the Ballroom? The battlefield in the second act looked like a huge, garbage bag-covered tortilla chip. The large, red, cloth “Phoenix” in the second act, surely meant to be imposing and inspire patriotic fervor, resembled a giant chicken. The one truly inspired moment where singing, staging and music converged to successfully raise the arm hairs was when the cyclorama was finally lit at the end of Act 2 to reveal Moscow’s skyline burning as the oppressed hordes belted out an anthem to mother Russia.

The music was more lush and tonal than I had expected. The first act music (Peace) was appropriately sweeping in its romantic lyricism and melodic sweep. The second act music (War) certainly conveyed bombast and patriotism although perhaps a bit too literally and clunky at times. The general's hymn, later picked up as the nationalistic closing theme of the people was quite a stirring finale, but sounded oddly familiar (James Horner better watch out for pending law suit - Glory theme anyone?)

I don't want to seem as though I didn't appreciate the Met's efforts. I'm sure there is simply no way to make this sprawling, huge work anymore accessible or interesting without pouring in millions more in funding and many more months of rehearsal. So I guess this will probably be as good as it gets, which isn't all that bad.

Incidentally, I must note the mysterious disappearance of the couple sitting next to me. The two stepped away for intermission sans coats and bags and never returned. I thought for sure they would show up at curtain call to reclaim their items, but no. So Trish and I finally left at the conductor's bow since it was well after midnight and I was tired. Where did they go? Did they despise the production so much that they ran from the theater forsaking their belongings (and it was freezing outside!)? So wierd. F307 and F308, where are you???

I'm a Cheap Date

Hey LOC young artists, if you don't think you can afford to go to the Met, think again! Here are a couple of cheap deals.
From the Met website:

"Student Discount Tickets for full time students, age 29 or under, are available at 10 am on the day of the performance (pending availability), and may be purchased at the Metropolitan Opera Box Office. Prices are $25 for weekday performances and $35 for Friday and Saturday performances. A valid student ID and proof of age must be presented at the time of purchase. We are aware that some elementary schools do not provide a student ID.

Exceptions will be made when the student is present at the time of purchase.

Limit two tickets per performance."

Also, for anyone:

"The rush-ticket program returns, thanks once again to a generous gift from Met Board member Agnes Varis and her husband, Karl Leichtman. Two hundred orchestra seats are available for $20 each Monday through Thursday, excluding galas and opening nights of new productions."

Just arrive 2 hours prior to the performance (actually, you should try to get there earlier. Trish arrived 2 1/2 hours early for La Traviata w/ Renee Fleming and there were already over 200 people in line. But it was Renee).

It's Good to be Queen

Diana Damrau is a freak of nature! According to the stagebill, she pulled the Queen of the Night role out of retirement for a second farewell run (Trish and I saw last night's performance). She supposedly retired the role in 2006, but due to a scheduling snafu we were lucky enough to see one of her final Queen’s. Even more mind-boggling is the fact she sang the role of Pamina just three days prior in the same production. Sadly, I wish she could have played both roles last evening. Genia Kühmeier, as Pamina in her Met debut, sounded like a 13-year-old boy soprano - albeit a very good 13-year-old boy soprano; rarely a glimpse of vibrato and sometimes a hair under pitch on high entrances (most noticeable on the first note of Ach, Ich fühl’s). I’ll admit she did have some gorgeous high pianissimos and her acting was quite good. Although I didn’t dislike her, she didn’t really register for me one way or the other. But back to DD - after seeing so many lyric coloraturas just stand there and squeak out the role, it’s nice to see a real dramatic coloratura give us a full-voiced and well-acted Queen. Her performance was nuanced, emotional and solid. Her Der Hölle rach received a well-deserved prolonged ovation. My sister, not familiar with DD commented, “She’s crazy!” - in a good way, of course.

I'll admit that I only bought the ticket to see DD having seen the Taymor production in its original incarnation in 2004. This Flute has aged very well. It's still fresh and well executed, with audible gasps and ah's from the audience as sets revolved, bears cavorted, food floated through the air and birds danced en pointe.

Joseph Kaiser, singing Tamino, possessed a pretty, full legato voice and his top had a nice ring, although occasionally a bit nasal. I might add he's also a solid actor and easy on the eyes (although in that Cher a la 1970's wig, and geisha girl make-up, it's difficult to tell - fyi pic to the left is not Kaiser).

Stephane Degout possessed a clean, focused sound and filled out Papageno's tights quite well (if you see this production, you'll see why they're called that) and was charming and funny throughout - definitely an audience favorite. His Papagena was equally charming and effective in her transformation from old lady to young nymph but not so successful in the vocal department, all but disappearing beneath the orchestra and Degout.

It's interesting to note that last night's performers seemed to mine the book's comedy much more ably than the original cast I saw years ago, namely the three ladies and Monostatos. The whole cast seemed to be fully committed and enjoying their time on the stage. Some random thoughts: I love the dancing bears but wish I could have seen Taymor's take on other beasts; the concept of the three floating heads appeals to me, but I'm not sure it always works; the ending always seems rather abrupt to me and doesn't quite satisfy after everything that's come before it; the rumbling of the sets behind the scrim while Sarastro tried to sing his aria in one was totally distracting and seemed somewhat disrespectful to the performer.

Fleming on the Floor

So I went to see Renee Fleming in the Met's Traviata last night (11/15) hoping in the back of my mind I would witness one of those once-in-a-lifetime train wrecks that gets passed down into opera legend. I was somewhat disappointed. Now I don't like to wish ill upon anybody, especially since I'm a performer myself, but it's the undeniable draw of schadenfreude that sometimes gets the better of me. I don't know exactly what kind of crash and burn I was expecting, never having heard her live except for those ridiculous TV specials where she seems to be singing in a foreign language but then you discover, after recognizing a single word, that she's actually singing in English ("Somewhere Over the Rainbow" - anybody?).

Definitely a pretty voice, but seemed as though she was marking at times. High notes seemed to be no struggle, although there were definite "catches" in sustained notes that I wouldn't necessarily categorize as cracking, just minor "interruptions." She did some odd pre-note bleats that some may consider dramatic. I prefer a clean entrance. Yes, her sound is gorgeous, but her diction, as always, was lacking. The young lady next to me, a professed opera-going novice who didn't know RF from a whole in the wall turned to me at first intermission and commented, "Is it just me, or is her diction muffled like saran wrap was covering her mouth?" I had to agree with her.

As far as acting, she was alright. Sometimes a bit over the top for my money, but always entertaining. A few moments almost triggered an unintentional chuckle and she seemed to be channeling Lucia at times with some of her schizophrenic choices (I'll cite the crazy, "my ears are bleeding" reaction upon hearing Alfredo's singing outside during her first aria, complete with hyperextended splayed fingers pressed against said bleeding ears). I understand it's a big house but if it seemed over the top from the cheap seats you need to turn it down a notch. But I guess I prefer over-the-top to park-and-bark. One quite dramatic moment that I did enjoy was the end of Addio del passato where she ended laying nearly face down on the floor. Worked for me, although I think she may have been a bit too free with rubato.

On a purely superficial level, from my nosebleed seat RF looked as though she's been hitting the treadmill or at least been cutting down on late night slices at Ray's. She did look beautiful.

As far as the rest, I enjoyed Polenzani's solid performance both acting and singing. Dwayne Croft's Di Provenza was a highlight (and I usually nap during bass/baritone arias - no offense, just not my favorite). The chorus was solid, although small sounding, but quite lively and ribald during the first act. Oh, which reminds me of the quite passionate face-sucking between Alfredo and Violetta that caught me by surprise in the first act. Definitely worked for me. I also enjoyed Armiliato's brisk tempi throughout which made the first act literally fly by - in a good way. Random thought - does the gypsy/toreador section ever come off as anything but superfluous? I really think you could cut both numbers. Am I missing some important symbolism there? Although it is worth it just to see that gorgeous front drop.

Definitely worth the ticket price since with RF's record, she probably will not return to this role again anytime soon, if ever. Looking forward now to seeing Damrau's (second) farewell to the Queen of the Night next week. Time for a snack.