Traditional production pleases, but does not overwhelm.

The Franco Zeffirelli recipe for a successful evening of opera includes the following:

1. A traditional set blown up on a monstrous scale.
2. Instantly pleasing, pretty to look at, but never hard to digest or experimental. Nothing really ‘created’, just exploited.
3. Resembling Revue or old Busby Berkley films, his productions invite too much applause, sometimes interfering with the music.

All three of these ingredients were evident last night during the Met’s 1,215^th performance of La Bohème, at least a few hundred of which have been of this Zeffirelli production, dating from 1981. I do not mean to say it was not an enjoyable evening, but after looking at the sets for a couple minutes I found more pleasure in closing my eyes and listening. As opulent as the stage was, what was confusing was where to direct my focus. In the Act II street scene with over a hundred people on stage, attention drifted much too often away from the music and to a “Where’s Waldo?” search for the soloists. The Act III snow set was pretty and simple, suiting the music nicely, but was also very darkly lit, covering up the individual performances. Acts I and IV were set in a garret, successfully representing the little space and possessions of a bohemian life, and placed in front of a hazy backdrop of industrial Paris. These two Acts were the most palatable- I felt capable of digesting the visual without loosing concentration on the music. Even though La Bohème is detail specific in terms of its settings, audiences would be refreshed by a minimalist production of this opera. Stripping the template away is a good idea every once in a while.

When they sang at their best, the soprano Anna Netrebko and the tenor Piotr Beczala were ravishing and full of emotion. Mr. Beczala’s passionate singing of the Act I aria “Che gelida mania” prompted loud ‘bravos!’ from the audience, and Ms. Netrebko’s dark and silky toned rendition of “Mi chiamano Mimi” stood out for its sensual rubato and elongated phrases. The off-stage finale of Act I (“O soave fanciulla”) was just as beautiful as any legendary recording out there. Ruth Ann Swenson was a little horse in her top register, but nonetheless she sang with conviction.

This powerhouse singing, unfortunately, was not consistent. There was no drastic drop in quality, but the soloists often took too much liberty with time, becoming too detached from the orchestra. Mr. Beczala did not sing with the same volume or fierceness during the last act as he did in the first, and Ms. Netrebko was sometimes in her own little world. The conductor, Marco Armiliato led a nuanced performance, although I thought the opera’s finale could have used more ferocity and dynamics.

At the end I left very relaxed and happy. Besides total conviction, which makes me go back to the Thomas Beecham recording time and time again, the musicianship tonight was strong. What I missed, and what has made newer productions this season turn out a success, was the director/conductor collaboration. If Maestro Armiliato and Mr. Zeffirelli had created a production together, there would have been many more magical moments on stage and in the music. Instead, the Met keeps using the same antiquated 30-year-old production. In the end, the evening was run-of-the-mill. Exiting the theatre, an audience member commented to me about how “lovely” the opera was. I simply smiled in agreement. What I really wanted to say is that you can find “lovely” anywhere. She should have been exiting the theatre in tears.

Metropolitan Opera- Les Contes d' Hoffmann

At a time when Wagner was composing emotionally exhausting and apocalyptic dramas, and Verdi was writing beautiful melodies that were unifying a fractured Italy, Jacques Offenbach’s operettas were making people laugh. Though laughter might not be considered deep enough for ‘high art’, it is important to not always take yourself so seriously. Offenbach’s operettas helped Parisians forget about the rather grim conditions around them. The largely complacent and hypocritical Second Empire of Napoleon III had let living conditions become disgustingly bad in a city whose population had doubled between 1851 and 1881. Rightly so on an evening out, people wanted to forget about the hardships of life and enjoy themselves. Paris was a “smart permissive society dedicated purely to pleasure, full of people whom a society hostess would pick up in the course of some short lived intimacy, where a duke rubbed shoulders with a crook…People wanted one thing only: to have fun” (Michael Steen).

This was the atmosphere in which Offenbach’s operetta company, Théatre de Bouffes-Parisiens, thrived. Audience members would show up late to the theatre, chatting during the overture. The theatre smelled like a combination of gas and females’ unwashed undergarments. Through all of this, people laughed, clapped, and wanted to dance. After reaching his peak in the mid-1860s, the 1870 war with Prussia left Offenbach- a German, in a difficult position, forcing him to flee to Bordeaux, Milan, and later San Sebastian. After touring to New York City in 1876, he returned to Paris exhausted. Though he could still command and impressive box office, for Offenbach “the soberer atmosphere emerging in France’s Third Republic rekindled the uneasy sense of being an outsider” (Thomas May). His longtime collaborator, Ludovic Halévy wrote in 1875 of being exhausted- “we have done too much.” Offenbach had composed an average of one operetta act every six weeks- a workaholic by any standard. Though he still composed, he also wanted to create something of more ‘artistic’ quality.

Les Contes d’ Hoffmann is Offenbach’s Magnum Opus. In it he achieved something deeper and more lasting. His operetta base grew to include a refined lyricism, examples of which are common in today’s repertoire. Many have also elaborated on the suggestion that Hoffmann is Offenbach’s doppelganger. This is the point of view taken in Bartlett Sher’s production. In the opera, Hoffmann is rejected by three successive women, each time convinced he has found the right one. It is almost masochistic how he allows others to manipulate him in this dreamlike fantasy. Offenbach himself was a foreigner, never accepted in the highest Parisian circles. This sense of being an outsider was the basis of Mr. Sher’s at times over-the-top production.

I too found myself an outsider during this production. Most of it was darkly lit and with the exception of Olympia’s almost slapstick scene in Act I, the action was restricted to a very small part of the stage. From the back of the Family Circle I felt out of the loop. Even with all the glitter and provocative overtones, I had more fun closing my eyes and listening to the star quality singing. Kathleen Kim nailed the part of Olympia with pitch perfect acrobatics. Kate Lindsey sang beautifully and enchantingly as The Muse of Poetry and Nicklausse. Joseph Calleja gave his all as a passionate Hoffmann, and Anna Netrebko was a silky smooth Antonia, yet very hard to understand. The loudest applause goes to maestro James Levine, who made his return to the podium after a two-month recovery from back surgery. He transformed Offenbach’s light and playful music into something original and refreshing. Les Contes d’ Hoffmann shows us that light music certainly has its' place.