A novel about opera will itself become an opera
I was delighted to read in this morning’s papers of the coming convergence of two of my favorite art forms.
At Chicago’s Lyric Opera, preparations are now in hand to transform Ann Patchett’s marvelous novel Bel Canto into an opera. 
The project was conceived by renowned soprano Renee Fleming, who since 2010 has served as the Lyric Opera’s creative consultant. Jimmy Lopez, a native of Peru, has been chosen as composer.
Jimmy Lopez
(This would seem an especially apt selection, as the novel’s action takes place in that country.) The libretto will be written by playwright Nilo Cruz.
Nilo Cruz
And this is very exciting news: the lead role of the singer Roxanne Coss is to be sung by Danielle de Niese, whose work in the Met’s Enchanted Island was so superb.
Danielle de Niese
Bel Canto is scheduled for performance during the Lyric Opera’s 2015-2016 season.
Andrew Davis, the Lyric Opera's music director, Renee Fleming, and Ann Patchett
Click here and here for articles about Bel Canto in Chicago. (I wrote about Renee Fleming and Ann Patchett in my review of the latter’s novel State of Wonder.)
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Fortunate are those folks who live in the Windy City and can partake of its rich and varied cultural offerings. You know – folks like these:
My granddaughter Etta, daughter-in-law Erica, and son Ben
The Enchanted Island at the Metropolitan Opera: going for Baroque
The Enchanted Island is essentially a ‘pasticcio,’ or pastiche (or a mash-up, in contemporary parlance), a cobbled together mixture of music by several Baroque era composers with plot by Shakespeare. The Shakespeare component consists chiefly of The Tempest, with a soupcon of Midsummer Night’s Dream thrown in for good measure. Prospero (David Daniels) is marooned on an island, where he practices the dark arts of magic. Not having been a particularly benevolent ruler, he has managed to annoy mightily a sorceress named Sycorax (Joyce DiDonato). She’s pretty ferocious, except when she’s trying to soothe her son Caliban (Luca Pisaroni, in about a gazillion layers of dreadfully grotesque make-up). 
Prospero gives a fairly simple assignment to the good sprite Ariel (Danielle De Niese, spectacularly costumed and with a voice to match). She manages to mess it up, and all sorts of mischief results.
The idea for The Enchanted Island apparently came from general manager Peter Gelb. He thought it would be a treat for opera lovers to have a chance to hear the best in Baroque singing. Judging by the astonishing voice of countertenor David Daniels, this goal was certainly achieved. In fact, all of the singing in this production was spectacular, with special kudos going to Daniels, Joyce DiDonato, and Danielle De Niese. And the presence of Placido Domingo as King Neptune was the icing on the cake! And the staging, as you can see, was jaw-dropping. 
(For a list of the works used in this opera, click here.)
Joyce DiDonato as Sycorax:
Danielle De Niese as Ariel:
David Daniels as Prospero:
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Confirmed Romantic that I am, it took me a while to appreciate the special beauty of the Baroque repertoire. But I get it now. Many of my favorite performance videos contain music from that era:
Gloria, from Bach’s mighty Mass in b minor. The University of Warsaw Choir is conducted by the dynamic and radiantly beautiful (beautifully radiant?) Irina Bogdanovich:
Te Deum, by Marc Antoine Charpentier. (French speakers might enjoy a visit to this site.) The Parlement de Musique is led by their founder, Martin Gester:
Rondeau from ‘Les Indes Galantes’ by Jean Philippe Rameau. Marc Minkowski leads Les Musiciens du Louvre, with soloists Magali Leger and Laurent Naouri:
Winter, from Vivaldi’s Four Seasons. I Musici, with Federico Agostini:
One piece I recognized in The Enchanted Island was Handel’s ‘Zadok the Priest,’ transformed into ‘Neptune the King’ (in honor of Placido Domingo, reigning king of tenors!). “Zadok the King’ is a coronation anthem closely associated with royalty. It was played in honor of Queen Elizabeth’s Golden Jubilee in 2002. The BBC Symphony and Chorus are led by Sir Andrew Davis:
(While searching YouTube for this music, I also turned up a video of the 2004 wedding of Denmark’s Crown Prince Frederick and Mary Elizabeth Donaldson. Click here to view.
Frederik and Mary now have four children – two princes and two princesses – so the Danish succession would seem to be secure, in case you were anxious on that score….)
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When Peter Gelb, General Manager of the Metropolitan Opera, decided in 2006 to try broadcasting Met performances in movie theaters throughout the U.S and the world. there were plenty of doubters. But his bold initiative has met with resounding success, as Ann Midgette documents in a recent article in the Washington Post. We saw The Enchanted Island last week in a neighborhood movie theater, about twenty minutes’ drive from our house. Tickets were $24 (including a service charge) as opposed to $250 (or more) at the opera house. The opera house is exciting and glamorous. The movie theater was convenient and inexpensive. And I got to munch on my beloved popcorn while enjoying a fabulous world class production.
Click here for a look at what has been featured and what’s still to come in the Met’s Live in HD 2011-2012 season.
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Faust, an opera by Charles Gounod
Saturday I afternoon I went with a friend to see the Metropolitan Opera’s HD broadcast of Faust, by Charles Gounod. I am still recovering from the experience – indeed, I may never recover….
I’ve known and loved this opera for decades, ever since I first purchased this recording; 
. Listening to it over and over again, while following the libretto in French, I inadvertently committed large chunks of Faust to memory, where much of it still resides. (Having studied the French language in high school and college proved most helpful.) Nicolai Gedda as Faust, Victoria De Los Angeles as Marguerite, and Boris Christoff as Mephistopheles – what a dream cast! Saturday’s was equally so:
Rene Pape
Marina Poplavskaya
Jonas Kaufmann
Rene Pape was great as Mephistopheles, employing his rich bass voice to great effect in portraying this very embodiment of evil. (He was also good at standing around and looking faintly sardonic.) Last year, Ron and I were deeply moved by his performance in the title role of Boris Godunov.
Here’s Rene Pape singing the the aria “Le Veau D’Or” (the Golden Calf) in a production of Faust that took place in Orange, France, in 2008:
I cannot resist including Boris Christoff’s rendition of Faust’s Serenade: “Vous Qui Faites L’Endormie.” Having engineered her downfall, the Devil taunts Marguerite: “Ne donne un baiser m’amie, que la bague au doigt” (‘Do not bestow a kiss, my friend, until you have the ring upon your finger’):
(I just discovered that you can get this masterpiece of malevolence as a ringtone! Yikes, I think I’ll pass on that….)
Marina Poplavskaya, who plays the ill-fated Marguerite, is a singer new to me. I thought she was wonderful. Not only is her voice rich with a crystalline purity, but her acting was terrific. Marguerite goes through a terrible transformation, from an innocent, dreamy young girl to a woman utterly despoiled in the eyes of everyone – and in her own eyes as well. Ultimately she goes mad, and who can blame her? She has been monstrously used by the seducer Faust (and his ally the Devil), and Valentin, the brother who acts as her protector and supposedly adores her, turns on her cruelly.
Here, she sings the famous “Jewel Song” (unfortunately not presented in its entirety, but you’ll get the idea):
And as for Jonas (pronounced ‘Yonas’) Kaufmann – simply astounding. This has to be one of the great tenor voices of this age, or any age. The first video contains an excerpt of the famous showpiece aria “Salut, demeure chaste et pure,” in which Faust expresses his awe and the simplicity and purity of Marguerite’s dwelling place (which, of course, he then proceeds to defile):
Here, Kaufmann sings the entire aria. (We can readily surmise whose ghostly hand rests on Faust’s shoulder):
The production has been newly conceived by Des McAnuff. McAnuff is an experienced artistic director of musical theater; this is his first foray into the staging of grand opera. He has placed the opening action of Faust at the conclusion of World War Two, as preparations are being made to unleash upon an already battered world the horrors of the atom bomb. When Faust is made young again by Mephistopheles, we go back in time to just before the First World War. Click here to hear Mr. McAnuff enlarge further on his ideas.
Mr. McAnuff comes across as an intelligent, earnest person. But I did not care for this production. I found it incoherent. The set was quite ugly; the lighting was dim, in keeping with what is apparently the latest trend in the staging of operas. Actually, it occurred to me that the shadowy darkness made it possible to at least partially ignore the unrelenting drabness of the stage set.
At the opera’s climax, Marguerite ascends to Heaven, having been forgiven by a merciful God. At that sublime moment, I wanted to see a stage bathed in light; I wanted to see her attended by a multitude of angels. Instead, there was a single spotlight illuminating Marguerite, as she climbed what looked like the stairs of a fire escape. Worst of all, her attendants were poker faced chorus members clad in white lab coats.
What can I say? I’m a traditionalist. At least one reviewer agreed with me (always a gratifying happenstance!)
I do agree with this reviewer: the cast was superb and triumphed with ease over the problematic production. I am no expert in these matters, but it seems to me that the production of an opera should enhance and illuminate the work – not distract or interfere. In conclusion I have to say that I loved the performance and managed, with some effort, to keep the production elements from impinging on the experience.
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In the spirit of the season, here is a gift of rare beauty: Jonas Kaufmann singing “Cantique de Noel” (O Holy Night):
A story to warm the hearts of opera lovers (and lovers of Italy as well)
The original title of this post was “Riccardo Muti is my hero.” Here’s why:
An article by Alex Ross in the July 25 New Yorker alerted me to an extraordinary event in Italian opera. In “At the Brink,” Ross describes what happened during a performance of Verdi’s Nabucco at the Rome Opera in March. The conductor was the renowned Riccardo Muti. First, a bit of background information is necessary.
Written in 1842, the opera Nabucco contains the Chorus of the Hebrew slaves, “Va pensiero.” In it, the Hebrews lament their captivity and give expression to their longing for their homeland: “Oh, my country so beautiful and lost! / Oh, remembrance so dear and so fatal!” At the time, Italy was chafing under the yoke of its Austrian occupiers. “Va pensiero” became, in the words of Alex Ross, “an unofficial national anthem,” expressing as it did the desire of a nation to seize control of its own destiny. For Italy, this goal was finally achieved in 1861, the year of Risorgimento. (This is a tremendously complicated story. I was having a great deal of trouble pinning down the date of unification. but since Italians are celebrating its 150th anniversary this year, let’s just accept that date as a given and leave it at that, for the time being. Wikipedia has a fairly comprehensive entry on the subject.)
No doubt you have read of Italy’s ongoing financial crisis. One of the line items to get its budget slashed was arts funding. Finance minister Giulio Tremonti was quoted as saying, “You can’t eat culture.”
Well.
I’ll let Alex Ross take it from here:
On the opening night of Muti’s “Nabucco,” during the ovation after “Va pensiero,” someone shouted out “Viva L’Italia!” The conductor made a little speech, with television cameras running. “Si, I am in accord with that “Viva L’Italia!’ he said, in a quiet, pensive voice. Alluding to the budget cuts, he declared, When the chorus sang ‘Oh mia patria si bella e perduta!’” – Oh, my country so beautiful and lost! – “I thought to myself that, if we slay the culture on which the history of Italy is founded, truly our country will be beautiful and lost.” He then led an encore of “Va pensiero,” inviting the audience to sing along.
Ross observes that “Muti, who seldom indulges in political posturing, knew exactly when and where to strike.” There were reverberations from this extraordinary event. The aforesaid Signor Tremonti rolled back the funding cuts. Ross concludes: “Seldom has a celebrity musician intervened in politics to a more decisive effect.”
In an interview with Corriere della Sera, Muti expresses his own frank amazement at the events of that evening:
“At the end of Va’ pensiero, I heard shouts of “Viva l’Italia” and turned instinctively towards the audience. I could see groups of people getting to their feet here and there. In the end, everyone was standing, including the chorus, and singing an encore at my request. It was a steadily rising tide of participation and intensity…. It was a call for a united fatherland, in Verdi’s name. I thought I was dreaming. I’ve never experienced a thrill like that before”.
Muti goes on to assure the interviewer that the outburst of patriotic fervor was completely unscripted: “I spoke to remind everyone that the arts guide our society. Then the whole theatre sang Va’ pensiero. Some members of the chorus were in tears. A moment of outstanding Italianness.”
Riccardo Muti has had his share of health problems in recent months. He recently had a pacemaker put in. Reports claim that he returned to his conducting duties sooner than his doctors had advised. Maestro Muti turned seventy last month. Happy Birthday, Maestro – and may you celebrate many more!
A view words about the video: First, I was not able to find a word for word translation of Muti’s impromptu speech, but I think you can get the gist of it from what I’ve written and quoted above. With regard to the leaflets cascading to the floor: Muti explains what they were in the newspaper interview I linked to above.
At any rate, may blessings continue to rain down on music-loving Italians; they know what makes life worth living.
A Night at the Opera: Tchaikovsky’s Queen of Spades at the Metropolitan
Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky composed The Queen of Spades in the late 1880s. the year 1890 saw the premiere of this opera, which was based on a short story by Alexander Pushkin. The composer’s brother Modest wrote the libretto.
In this strange story, passions run high – it is Russia, after all – and supernatural elements are deftly woven into the plot. The action opens with Hermann, an army officer, professing his love for a young woman whose name he has yet to learn. By the time the first act ends, he has found out that her name is Lisa, she is the granddaughter of an aged countess – and she is already betrothed, to a fellow officer no less. While Hermann struggles to come to terms with this shattering news, he receives additional intelligence of a curious nature. This has to do with the card games that are such a popular pastime among the young soldiers and aristocrats. The countess, Lisa’s grandmother, is supposedly in possession of a powerful secret: If three cards are played in a specific order, the player cannot fail to win the hand, and all the money that has been wagered on it. Now at this point, not only is Hermann already in love with Lisa, he also perceives that despite her betrothal to another, she is likewise attracted to him. And so he thinks to himself: why not use this budding liaison to extract this valuable knowledge from the countess?
And so a plot is hatched, a conspiracy that ultimately leads to disaster. But on the way to this inevitable end, we were treated to much glorious singing, spectacular sets, and gorgeous costumes. God bless the Metropolitan Opera; they never do anything by halves!
Karita Mattila as Lisa and Vladimir Galouzine as Hermann
Dolora Zajick as the Countess, with Vladimir Galouzine
Here are two of the opera’s opulent crowd scenes:
In the scene in this video, Lisa (Karita Mattila) sings a duet with Tamara Mumford, as her sister Pauline. This was a delicate moment, perfectly executed. The audience loved it, with good reason:
I should say that I came to this opera cold: not only had I never seen it or listened to it, I had no knowledge of the story line. I like to approach a work of art in this manner, sometimes. Of course, loving Tchaikovsky’s music as I do, I was reasonably certain that I would not be disappointed. In the event, it was a thrilling evening. One of the most unexpected delights came in the Second Act. At a masked ball, the guests are treated to an entertainment with a pastoral theme featuring both song and dance. The following video is of the same production we saw, but from an earlier year and with a different cast.
Everything about this interlude is utterly lovable, from the backdrop that is unrolled at the beginning and resembles one of Fragonard’s huge, dreamy canvases, to the music which is such a charming homage to Mozart, a composer Tchaikovsky revered. Aren’t the children wonderful? And those costumes!
Click here for a full summary of the plot of The Queen of Spades. And here are two reviews of this production, one by Anthony Tommasini the New York Times’s wonderfully knowledgeable and articulate music critic, and another from Operaticus, a site new to me.
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On Tuesday I bought this collection of Pushkin’s stories; I wanted to get acquainted with the opera’s source material. It turns out that Tchaikovsky (either Piotr, Modest, or both) altered certain aspects of the original story. To begin with, Lisa is not the countess’s granddaughter. She is her ward, and she gets treated like a cross between a companion and a servant. Oddly, this put me in mind of the ingenue in the recently discussed novel Rebecca, who, when we meet her in Monte Carlo, is at the beck and call at the imperious and insufferable Mrs. Van Hopper. The countess is similar to Mrs Van Hopper, but worse:
The Countess N. was, of course, not an evil soul, but as the spoiled pet of society, she was capricious; she had grown mean and sunk into a cold egoism, like all old people whose fondest memories lay in the past and to whom the present was alien.
In Pushkin’s story, Lisa is not engaged to anyone, is alone and lonely except for the countess’s incessant demands:
Lizaveta Ivanovna was the martyr of the household.She poured the tea and was scolded for using too much sugar; read novels aloud and was blamed for all the faults of the authors; accompanied the Countess on her rides and was held responsible both for the weather and the condition of the pavement.
And on and no it goes, with nary an expression or gesture of affection toward the poor girl. Oh, she is an easy mark, poor Lisa, and Hermann has every intention of taking advantage of that fact. Love – at least, on his part – doesn’t enter into it at all.
This story is artfully wrought. It’s climax is shattering; the subsequent outcome – at least, for some of the characters – is downright prosaic, though ironically so. Pushkin’s “The Queen of Spades” serves as yet another reminder of the sheer brilliance of the great Russian writers.
Alexander Sergeevich Pushkin
The Met’s new production of Boris Godunov by Modest Mussorgsky, broadcast in HD and playing at a theater near you!
Rene Pape as Boris Godunov
Watching Boris Godunov is akin to seeing the Russian people bare their collective soul. And make no mistake about it: that soul is in torment. And that torment is personified by Boris himself. Tsar and absolute ruler he may be, but he can find no peace in this life. The reason: he is responsible for the death of Dmitri, Tsar Ivan the Terrible’s youngest son and the rightful heir to the throne. Boris’s conscience will not let him forget or forgive this sin.
Thus the coronation scene, one of opera’s great set pieces, with its opulent setting and costumes, its swelling choral singing, the mighty orchestration, the tolling of the Kremlin bells – it’s all for show. Boris sets about playing the role of benevolent despot, but he is doomed from the outset. The only question is, how long will it take to destroy him – and who or what will be the agent of that destruction?
Boris Godunov was an actual historical personage; he seized power in 1598 and ruled Russia until his death in 1605. He was part of the Rurik dynasty. Only a few short years after Boris’s demise, the Romanoffs, supplanted the Ruriks and ascended the throne of Russia. (Click here to see the genealogy of both dynasties.) Boris Godunov began his career at court serving under Ivan the Terrible. Indeed, he was present when Ivan killed his eldest son, the crown prince, also named Ivan. Throughout the opera I kept seeing in my mind’s eye Ilya Repin’s portrayal of that horrifying event:
For his source material for the opera, Mussorgsky used the play written by Alexander Pushkin.
Boris Godunov is a complex, ambitious work of art. The cast is large, the chorus is huge – I believe I heard there were 140 voices! During the intermission, you saw the ranks of costumes that seemed to go on forever. At any rate – I can’t say enough about the Met’s superb production. This opera calls for spectacle on a grand scale, and that’s what we saw. Individual singers were superb – one powerhouse voice after another. As Grigory the Pretender, Alexandr Antonenko was terrific. He may not be a great actor – at least, not yet – but he has an incredibly impressive vocal apparatus. And I’d also like to single out Andrey Popov as the Holy Fool. Popov’s singing was wonderful and his performance, equally so. He was the scary, wild-eyed man of God in the flesh.
Alexandr Antonenko as Grregory the Pretender, with the equally spectacular Ekaterina Semenchuk as Marina
Andrey Popov as the Holy Fool, whose piteous lamentations predict all too accurately Russia's dire future
Finally, there was Rene Pape. Over the years, a number of bass baritones made history with definitive performances of Boris Godunov. Pape (pronounced “poppuh”) will now surely be named be among them. In an interview between acts, Pape acknowledged that as almost the sole non-Russian principal cast member – he hails from Dresden, Germany – he had to work to perfect his “Russianness.” I hope that this production will ultimately become available on DVD, so that all can witness how completely he succeeded in this task! Meanwhile – have a listen:
From the CTPost of Bridgeport, Connecticut:
A big man with a big voice and a big personality, Pape delivers the sort of visceral operatic experience one does not often get these days. But Boris is not just big, he is complex: he must also be a loving father to his children and the reflective, concerned father to his people. Pape gives us a multidimensional character whose musings and troubles linger with us long after the performance has ended. Bravo!
Boris’s death was incredibly moving. Here is that scene, in a different staging, sung by great Finnish bass Martti Talvela:
Here is the music from the coronation scene. The still photographs convey the majesty of the setting. This was a production of the Mariinsky Theatre (formerly the Kirov, but before that, the Mariinsky!) The conductor is the great (and seemingly ubiquitous) Valery Gergiev 
, who also conducts the new Met production:
As with Das Rheingold, the theater was packed on Saturday, giving me hope for my fellow “culture vultures.” And what could be more endearingly wonderful than the fact that Boris Godunov has pride of place in an article entitled, “What’s fun in Des Moines.” (This kind of thing reminds me once again why I love this country so much!)
Modest Mussorgsky: 1839 - 1881, by Ilya Repin
HD broadcast of the Met’s new production of Wagner’s Das Rheingold
Bryn Terfel as Wotan in Das Rheingold
In between learning that I was a grandmother and jetting out to meet the delightful cause of this transformation, I went to a live in HD broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera’s new production of Das Rheingold by Richard Wagner. As I waited for my friend in the lobby, I saw folks coming in with serious looking Wagner tomes clutched in their hands and equally serious expressions on their faces. I knew then that some in the audience would be true believers, worshiping at the shrine…
By the time we entered the theater, almost every seat was taken!
Few composers elicit such single-minded devotion as does Richard Wagner. That devotion usually centers on the cycle of four operas called The Ring of the Nibelungs. Wagner not only composed the music, he also wrote the entire libretto, drawing for his source material from the Prose Edda and the Poetic Edda of Iceland, the Volsung Saga, and the Nibelungenlied.
Richard Wagner 1813 - 1883
Numerous books have been written on this subject, so I’m not going to attempt to tackle it here in any detail. Das Rheingold is the first of the Ring operas; in it, Wagner sets the scene for what is to come. It is short – about two and a half hours – compared to the three monumental works that follow it.
The Met’s new production of Rheingold has been highly anticipated, mainly because of Robert LePage’s audacious set design. This consists primarily of a 45-ton edifice, reportedly costing in the neighborhood of $16 million and referred to as “the machine.” Click here for a harrowing account of how one of the Rhine Maidens nearly fell afoul of this Leviathan of a stage device!
Here’s a brief glimpse of the preparations involved in mounting this production:
There has also been plenty of excitement over Bryn Terfel’s taking the role of Wotan. The publicity stills, with their sinister aura, gave me goosebumps. I knew I wanted to see this production of Rheingold. (And granddaughter Etta Lin, with her quirky sense of timing, made it just barely possible!) Terfel was great – when is he not – but in my opinion, Eric Owens as Alberich pretty much stole the show. (Alex Ross of the New Yorker is of the same opinion.)
Alberich is the dwarf who lusts after the Rhinemaidens. After they mock and reject him, he decides to steal the gold which they are charged with guarding. The gold is heavily freighted with symbolism: whoever possesses it must renounce love It is this theft, with all that it portends, that sets in motion the events that play out in the next three operas: Die Walkure, Siegfried, and Gotterdammerung.
My older brother is a fervent admirer of Wagner’s music. He and my sister-in-law were watching the matinée live in California (where curtain time was 10 AM!) while I was watching it here in Maryland. Naturally we had to compare notes afterward. I was somewhat hesitant to voice my reservations about this production to my brother, the ardent and deeply knowledgeable Wagnerite. And so I was surprised that we actually agreed on several points
Although both the singers and the orchestra were positively transcendent, the opera itself (or ‘music drama,’ as Wagner preferred to call it) was not – at least not consistently, all the way through. There were some slack moments when I felt impatient. The music was less than riveting, or the drama stalled – or both. The following observation, from a synopsis on the site Music with Ease, sums up my chief frustration not only with Rheingold but with the subsequent operas as well:
The chief faults of dramatic construction of which Wagner was guilty in “The Ring of the Nibelung” are certain unduly prolonged scenes which are merely episodical — that is, unnecessary to the development of the plot so that they delay the action and weary the audience to a point which endangers the success of the really sublime portions of the score.
And as for the production itself, I felt insufficiently awed by “the machine.” For what was basically an ingenious (and inordinately expensive) piece of stage craft, I didn’t think it added much to the work as a whole. Actually, I was relieved that at least it wasn’t more of a distraction. There has been a great deal of innovative staging in the Met’s new productions of late. This is all well and good and has generated plenty of attention-grabbing buzz, but IMHO, nothing – but nothing – should distract, or detract, from the music.
Finally, I had a problem with the characters themselves. Not a single one of them engaged my sympathies. Their status as gods, or at least beings with supernatural qualities, seemed to remove them from the sphere of ordinary emotion and feeling. At times, I found my self yearning for someone like Mimi in La Boheme – a real and vulnerable human being whom you effortlessly take to your heart. (As I was writing this, I felt a need to hear “Mi chiamano Mimi.” I found a video with one of my favorite sopranos, Angela Gheorgiu. I watched it with tears streaming down my face. No chance of that happening during Rheingold!)
I knew that I needed to remain patient. I knew that at the opera’s conclusion, I would be treated to an explosion of orchestral splendor rarely equaled in the operatic or symphonic repertoire: The Entrance of the Gods into Valhalla.
I had difficulty locating a sound file that was free of distortion and that captures this music in all its glory. After much fruitless searching, I settled on this version by Otto Klemperer and the Philharmonia Orchestra (1961!):
I strongly suggest that you seek out the CD or DVD version of the opera and play it on the best sound system you can find. Then be prepared to have your music-loving socks knocked off!
I can’t say enough about the fantastic playing of the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. In his nearly forty years with the Met, James Levine has transformed this orchestra into one of the world’s greatest. In his incisive (and delightfully witty) review of this performance, Dr. Neil Kurtzman declares: “The star of the occasion was the Met’s spectacular orchestra brilliantly conducted by James Levine.”
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This clip focuses on the “glitterati” who attended the opening night performance of Rheingold. At its conclusion, you’ll see some live footage of the opera.
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Plenty has been written about this production. I cited Neil Kurtzman above; I also very much enjoyed Lord of the Internet Rings by Maureen Dowd of the New York Times. She draws an interesting parallel between Das Rheingold and The Social Network, the new film about the founding of Facebook. Both, she says, address a question “…that I cover every day in politics: What happens when the powerless become powerful and the powerful become powerless?”
Dowd was wowed by Rheingold; others were more reserved in their assessment. Anne Midgette of the Washington Post calls much of the singing “pretty,” apparently using the word as a term of disparagement. She also advances the theory that the opera was “cast for the simulcast, which evens out vocal size and favors smaller voices that are easier to record–and of course, attractive looks.” The “cast for the simulcast” allegation has gained a certain amount of traction in the media, to the extent that Peter Gelb, general manager of the Met, felt called upon to refute it. In a brief letter to the Post, Gelb asserts: “Ms. Midgette was incorrect. We cast solely for our stage performances.”
For Sarah Bryan Miller of the St. Louis Post Dispatch, the production is “astonishing.”
It was gratifying to learn of the excitement generated in Europe by the Met’s HD broadcasts.
For another deeply informed review of Das Rheingold, followed by links to additional commentary and analysis, go to Wagneropera.net.
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Most people are familiar with UNESCO’s designation of certain places and structures as World Heritage Sites. While reading up on the Nibelungenlied, I discovered that UNESCO has another project called Memory of the World, whose stated purpose is “….to guard against collective amnesia.” The Nibelungenlied has been made part of this registered heritage. Other entities that have been registered are the Bayeux Tapestry (France), the diaries of Anne Frank (the Netherlands), the Magna Carta (United Kingdom), and the film The Wizard of Oz (U.S.).
Madeleine Albright invites us to Read Her Pins
On Tuesday September 14, I traveled with a small group to the Smithsonian Castle in Washington DC to see an exhibit entitled “Read My Pins.” The pins in question were collected over the years by former Secretary of State Madeleine Albright, in the course of her long and varied career in public service. We went to see the pins in the morning, as the Secretary herself was schedule to speak at the Baird Auditorium in the National Museum of Natural History at noon.
This was scheduled as a cultural outing for our AAUW chapter. Left to my own devices, I would not have attended, but I’m very glad I did – for several reasons.
Tickets to this event – modestly priced at twelve dollars per person – had been unobtainable for weeks. Sure enough, by noon the place was packed. When Secretary Albright strode onto the stage, the capacity crowd rose as one and accorded her a joyous and boisterous ovation. Madeleine Albright, the rock star!
I mean to tell you, it was one of those lump-in-the-throat Proud To Be an American moments – at least it was, for me.
Secretary Albright has led a fascinating life. Her astute intelligence and passion for issues affecting foreign policy have helped place her very close to the seat of power in this country for several decades running, starting with her 1972 involvement in the presidential campaign of Sen. Edmund Muskie of Maine. In the course of her talk, which took the form of a conversation with Smithsonian Secretary Wayne Clough, she spoke of the many distinguished – in some cases, notorious – individuals that she came to know over the years.
At the outset, she cheerfully informed us that the pin collection came into existence because of Saddam Hussein. During Clinton’s first term (1993-1997), Albright was the U.S. ambassador to the United Nations. Following the First Gulf War, Saddam Hussein was required to allow the U.N. to inspect the country without hindrance and to disclose tghe presence of any nuclear, biological, or chemical weapons on Iraqi soil. This, Saddam Hussein refused to do.
Albright then criticized his failure to comply. (Voicing this criticism, she explained, was part of her brief as ambassador.) In response to her comments, a derogatory poem about her appeared in the Iraqi press. Among other things, she was termed “an unparalleled serpent.”
Soon after this poem was published, Albright was scheduled to meet with Iraqi officials. As she brooded over what to wear, she recalled that in her jewelry arsenal, she possessed this pin:
Albright admits that she does not know quite why she ever purchased this bauble. Like many people, she has an aversion to snakes. Nevertheless, there it was, reposing serenely in her jewelry box, its potential symbolism unmistakable…
And so, on the occasion of this meeting, she wore it on the lapel of her suit. When asked later by a reporter about her choice of adornment, she responded that it was “…just my way of sending a message.”
This, then, was the genesis of the now the legendary pin collection. The accompanying book (see the cover above) is opulently illustrated and beautifully written. A copy currently reposes on the desk beside me.
(The Daily Beast features a gallery of the pins, paired, in some cases, with pictures of the occasions on which they were worn.)
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At the conclusion of her question and answer session with Wayne Clough, Secretary Albright took some questions from the audience. A woman asked which pin Albright wore to the wedding of Chelsea Clinton and Marc Mezvinsky. While I didn’t catch the specific reply to that question, I did hear Albright remark that she had a wonderful time at the wedding. Apparently she danced up such a storm that she was invited to appear on “Dancing with the Stars!” She added that her children were appalled at the idea. Apparently she wasn’t crazy about it either, as she declined the invitation. As far as I can tell, this little morsel was the only item from the program to be picked up by the press: This just in…Madeleine Albright turns down “Dancing With the Stars” appeared in the Washington Post the next day.
Interestingly, this questioner prefaced her query with the phrase, L’Shanah Tovah. This is the traditional greeting associated with Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, which fell on September 9 and 10 of this year. Madeleine Albright was born in Prague in 1937. She and her parents fled Czechoslovakia shortly before it was overrun by the Germans. They spent the war years in England, returning to their native country in 1945. They left again, three years later, to come to the U.S., where they applied for and were granted political asylum.
Albright was raised Catholic and later became an Episcopalian. In 1997, while researching her family’s experience during the war years, she discovered that both her mother and her father had been born into the Jewish faith. Moreover, many of her relations perished in the Holocaust. I was wondering whether this rather sensitive subject would arise during her time on stage, but it never did. Other than the above cited rather oblique allusion, no one made reference to her personal religious beliefs or history.
I seem to remember that when these facts initially came to light, some controversy arose. I believe this had to do with whether this information was in fact as complete a surprise to Albright as she claimed it was.
Wikipedia has an extensive entry on Albright’s life. Michael Dobbs wrote “Albright’s Family Tragedy Comes To Light” for the Washington Post in 1997. “The Thread of Time,” a thoughtful meditation by Kitty La Perriere, appeared in The Atlantic in 1998.
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Secretary Albright’s appearance was the highlight of a busy day in what we locals call “the District.” The pins themselves – some two hundred of them! - were on display at the Smithsonian Castle. This was my first visit to that storied venue. Completed in 1855, the Castle was the first building in what became a complex of buildings that today constitutes the Smithsonian Institution.
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After the Secretary’s talk, we went up to the Natural History Museum’s wildly popular Gem Gallery. The star performer here, of course, is the Hope Diamond. 
Aside from its intrinsic, almost unearthly beauty, this jewel comes freighted with a fascinating history, including a legendary curse. (Wilkie Collins used this trope to wonderful effect in his path breaking novel The Moonstone.)
As beautiful as the Hope Diamond is, there were other gems on display that in my opinion were its equal.
Amethyst necklace
Sapphire and diamond ring
Topaz and diamond earrings
Click here to see and learn more.
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Madeleine Albright was unhesitating in expressing her gratitude to her adopted country. Before a large audience, she was wonderfully frank, colloquial, and witty. And of course, those of us who belong to AAUW can feel a special pride in her accomplishments.
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For a musical interlude to accompany this post, I’ve selected one of the great soprano arias in the repertoire: the Jewel Song, from Faust by Charles Gounod. Here it is sung (rather spectacularly, I think) by Angela Gheorghiu:
Opera at the movies: Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin
Dmitri Hvorostovsky as Onegin and Renee Fleming as Tatiana
Last week, I attended an Summer Encore HD screening of Eugene Onegin by Tchaikovsky. The production, which premiered at the Metropolitan Opera in 2007, was rather eccentric, but that seems to be the way of things right now where the staging of opera is concerned. I register it as only a minor annoyance, because the singing is what really matters, and the singing was…well, judge for yourself.
Tatiana’s Letter Scene in Act One is a showcase for the soprano; in this case, the amazing Renee Fleming:
Obviously acting is also crucial, especially in an opera like this one, where the passions are at fever pitch for most of the time – certainly from the time that Tatiana realizes she has fallen in love with Onegin. Fleming’s acting in this scene didn’t completely convince me. I think part of the problem was that a mature woman was portraying a naive, star struck ingenue, a mere girl who is nerving herself to do something very audacious, all for the sake of love. But Fleming’s singing was so gorgeous, it carried the day.
The second act opens with the famous waltz. Here is Valery Gergiev conducting the Metropolitan Opera Orchestra. (It should be mentioned that in the course of Maestro James Levine’s nearly forty year tenure as music director, this orchestra has evolved into one of the world’s finest.)
The second scene of Act Two depicts the duel between Onegin and Lenski. Poor Lenski – he knows he will probably not outlive the day. As he prepares to meet his fate, he sings one of the most poignant arias in all of opera. In it, he recalls the joys of his youth and his steadfast love for (the rather flighty) Olga:
In his review in the New York Times, Anthony Tommasini professed himself astonished by Ramon Vargas’s performance:
‘A complete surprise was the Lenski of Ramón Vargas, the Mexican-born tenor who has made his reputation in bel canto roles and selected French repertory. Apparently he worked slavishly at learning this Russian part, and it paid off in his ardent singing, touched with Latinate lyricism. Bespectacled, buttoned up in a formal coat and tremulous with youthful desire, Mr. Vargas embodied Lenski, Onegin’s naïvely trusting friend, a rhapsodic, serious but not very gifted young poet who adores Tatiana’s vivacious sister, Olga….
Everyone who heard it was likewise impressed, not to mention deeply moved. The in-house audience gave him a tremendous ovation.
Act Three opens with a lavish ball being given at Gremin Palace in St. Petersburg. Several years have passed since the fatal day of the duel. The beautiful strains of the Polonaise are heard; once again, the staging is strange. Everyone – including the women – wore black. For a festive occasion, it looked distinctly funereal…
As the festivities get under way, in wanders Onegin. In search of diversion, he is suffering from a severe case of ennui. I couldn’t help thinking that someone should have warned him that this might happen if you disparage the love of an ardent, goodhearted young woman and then proceed to kill your best friend shortly thereafter. (In this production, Onegin is played by the renowned Russian baritone Dmitri Hvorostovsky. He was, as could be expected, superb. And plus which…what a hunk! Have a look at his official site.)
Onegin is in for a shock: the wife of Prince Gremin is none other than Tatiana herself. Onegin is overjoyed; he figures that all he has to do is declare his love – newly awakened, of course – for Tatiana, and she will run away with him. But his entreaties are in vain; even though she is still in love with him, she refuses to abandon her husband:
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There are three more Summer Encore HD screenings schedule for broadcast in the U.S. this month: La Boheme, Turandot, and Carmen. The schedule for the 201o-2011 season looks nothing short of sensational. Among other treats, we’ll be seeing: fabulous Welsh bass-baritone Bryn Terfel in the first two operas of Wagner’s Ring Cycle – YES!!!
Bryn Terfel as Wotan
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Here’s the Act Three Polonaise from a recent Bolshoi Opera production of Eugene Onegin. This is how I like my opera – sets: lavish! costumes: lavish! And music: sublime:
Carmen: operas make great movies
Do they ever. The close-ups alone are worth the price of admission – especially when they’re close-ups of Elina Garanca. 
In addition to having a terrific voice, this supremely gifted mezzo-soprano is a great actress, a beautiful woman – and she can dance! 
I’ve seen this opera several times in years past; as of Wednesday night, Garanca is my favorite Carmen. Boy can she smolder! It was an amazing performance. And just as amazing was tenor Roberto Alagna as Don Jose.
Here, Elina Garanca sings the Gypsy Song in concert:
In this video, also a concert performance, Roberto Alagna sings “La fleur que tu m’avais jetee” (“The flower that you tossed my way”). In this aria, Don Jose pours out his love for Carmen. It is a doomed, obsessive love that can only lead to the destruction of them both:
This is a new production of the opera, and I was afraid that it might be “sexed up.” They tried this with Tosca, and the effect, in my opinion, was not edifying. But though this was a very sensual Carmen, it was not over-the-top explicit.
In addition to Elina Garanca and Roberto Alagna, Italian soprano Barbara Frittoli imparted great poignancy to the role of the long-suffering well-meaning Micaela. And genial New Zealander Teddy Tahu Rhodes (interviewed during the intermission by Renee Fleming) took over the role of Escamillo the toreador with some three hours’ notice on the day of the matinee!
Barbara Frittoli
Teddy Tahu Rhodes
I’d forgotten about the delightful children’s chorus. This rather endearing video form the San Jose Opera will give you some sense of it:
In addition to commissioning new productions and bringing the Met online for the new century, general manager Peter Gelb is putting ballet back into opera and using today’s top choreographers in the process. The dance segments for this production of Carmen were choreographed by Christopher Wheeldon.
I admit I was not initially enthusiastic about going to see this opera. I had a snobbish attitude – didn’t I already know all the tunes, the plot, etc.? I stand corrected. There was much I did not recall from previous performances. And of course, any truly insightful production, whether of a play or an opera, will contain new revelations about the work. I had that very gratifying experience Wednesday night.
According to Steve Cohen of The Opera Critic, this film broke box office records. It’s no wonder. Before I had the chance to see it, a number of people had already told me how terrific it was. Even though the performance I attended was an encore, as opposed to a live, presentation, the theater was packed. (High culture still lives, here in the U.S. – YES!!)
Wikipedia has a wonderfully comprehensive entry on Carmen.
Here’s a promotional video from the Royal Opera – a different cast and different production, but enticing all the same:
Bizet’s music is a roiling mixture, at times exhilarating; at other times, doom-laden. I can’t get it out of my head, nor do I want to. Carmen is this composer’s most famous work, but he has written so much more, and just as beautiful. Here is the duet “Au fond du temple saint,” from Les Pecheurs de Perles (the Pearl Fishers), sung by Roberto Alagna (slight of build but vocally prodigious) and Bryn Terfel (both physically and vocally prodigious):
And here is the Farandole from L’Arlesienne, Suite Number Two. Just listen to the way that the accumulated force of the music blazes forth in a kind of frenzy at the end – I love it!
(Played by Die Deutsch-Niederländische KammerPhilharmonie, Otis Klober conducting)
Like so many of our great composers, Georges Bizet died young, having suffered a fatal heart attack at the age of 36. He is interred in Paris’s famed Pere Lachaise cemetery.
Georges Bizet: 1838 - 1875
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Click here for information about the Metropolitan Opera’s HD broadcasts. Be sure and watch the spectacular trailer; the music you’ll hear is from Turandot by Giacomo Puccini.
