The Bleecker Street Opera Company- Barber of Seville

What a refreshing evening! After thirteen productions so far this season at the Met, I almost forgot the luxury of being able to see performer’s facial expressions. This absolutely genuine cast reminded me that opera, and it’s performers, are not simply fantastical creations that exist beyond the daunting orchestra pit. Just like their music, they are emotional and relatable.

Though many of our beloved operas were written for smaller audiences like this one, a modern norm has developed for huge ritzy houses like the Met, which combined with standing room holds 4,019 people. 19^th century Paris, where what we term ‘classical music’ was a much more integral part of culture (Barber and countless other operas grew to fame there), had many more theatres, each with separate purposes and aspirations. The Opéra was dedicated to the advancement of French lyric art, the Opéra-Comique integrated sung and spoken dialog, and the Théatre des Italiens performed only Italian opera, not to mention many lesser-known theatres that came and went throughout the century. Today, seen amidst a much larger spectrum of entertainment and high art, opera is often perceived as an arcane and dying art form. It is forced to rely on wealthy patrons, and therefore pomp and glory just in order to survive. Furthermore, to the degradation of audience members, squinting, opera glasses, and claustrophobia have become norm. The majority of people have been reared to accept that this is how opera is supposed to be seen.

The Bleecker Street Opera Company invites people to experience the vitality, breath, and intimacy that the Met lacks. Located in a basement that looks like a jazz club, the black-box theatre does not seat many more than a hundred. As director of this playful Barber, Teresa K. Pond took advantage of this wonderful atmosphere quite effectively, (with what looked like a minute fraction of money compared to the current Met production of Barber). Bleecker Street has a down-to-earth quality to it that makes one feel right at home. Both Figaro and Count Almaviva (played by Garth Taylor and Anthony Daino, respectively) were probably past their vocal prime, but gave magnificent performances and were in sync with the audience throughout. They made eye contact with us, physically interacted with us, even walked around us. During Figaro’s first entrance, he rubbed an audience member’s bald head and even picked up an elderly couple from their seats while singing about love’s energy. Even if they cracked a note or missed a line, nobody cared. That wasn’t the point. The incredible Jordan Wentworth, who sounded better than singers I’ve heard at the Met, sang Rosina with fierce energy and tremendous power, reminding me of Cecilia Bartoli. Her 'Una voce poco fa' was ravishing, and prompted the first applause of the evening.

The chamber ensemble orchestra of 12 players was noticeably full of talent and was thoroughly led by my friend, Daniel Curtis. He showed high intensity throughout, and let the ‘Rossini crescendos’ shine without breaking the tempo speedometer. Improvising during the basso continuo that accompanies the recitative was much more popular in the 19^th century than it is today. Breathing life into this performance, David Rosenmeyer on the piano was playful and full of modern character with his improvisations, even throwing in some jazz riffs. Nothin’ better than keepin’ it fresh!

Before the opera began, David Rosenmeyer (who is also the company’s music director), told the audience that The Barber of Seville is about people finding creative ways other than monetary ones to pursue their love and ambitions. He went on to add that the same could be said about The Bleecker Street Opera Company. In the capitalistic society we live in, the Met will always take center stage. However, The Bleecker Street Opera Compay showed tonight that it is just as fabulous.

I finally figured out how to post videos.

Wild, sexy, minimalist set, faithful to the score, and musically brilliant...

HERE is a live recording of the Carmen performance I saw. You can see a photo of the red crack in the curtain with the dancers. Ms. Garanca sounds fabulous with her dark, sensual tone...

Metropolitan Opera- Carmen

From the first note in this production of Bizet’s Carmen I could tell it was going to be an exiting evening. Yannick Nézet-Séguin opened the overture (for his Met debut) at a bracing pace, reminiscent of Dan Ettinger’s breakneck conducting this past October of Le Nozze di Figaro. Is there a current trend developing among up-and-coming conductors in which well-known overtures are taken at an uncontrollably fast tempo? Cool, I guess. Regardless of speed, Mr. Nézet-Séguin was vivaciously responsive to the singers throughout, giving them ample room for personal interpretation.

Richard Eyre directed this incredibly sensual production. While staying in a mostly traditional style (he only updated the opera one century- from the 1830s to the 1930s), he managed to inject such an intense level of visual passion and sensuality (reminiscent of the 2005 Salzburg Festival’s La Traviata), that the spine-tingling and horrific finale blew away every other Carmen I’ve seen. In the overture, following the march section when the music goes minor- injecting into the audience a sense horror and impending doom- Mr. Eyre and the choreographer Christopher Wheeldon inserted a sex-charged pas de duex. The bright red vertical crack in the curtain- seen since before the opera started, and also on Carmen’s last dress of the opera- opens up, revealing the two dancers surrounded by smoke and dark-red lights. The moment is captivating, an apache, and very sexy.

The basic set for the entire opera centers around two high rings of damaged brick wall that revolve to serve different functions and locations. Through the magic of lighting, the brick rings serve effectively as a cigarette factory, a tavern, a mountain hideaway, outside a bullring, and inside the bullring. Mr. Eyre must have had a firm understanding of the varying moods presented in the music in order to match his scenic choices perfectly. The tavern scene, that traditionally has colorful and proud flamenco dancing, was more tribal than usual, including clapping, stomping, street clothes, and dark/mysterious lighting. It was a little rough, circus-like, and even primitive for this usually very elegant scene, but was a nice contrast to the countless reproductions of the same superficially cheery dancing.

For me, the final scene when Don José murders Carmen is incredibly thrilling. The duality in the music alone is enough to move anyone without seeing a staged production. The lover’s theme is heard interspersed over the matador’s song, as if attempting to hack through while Don José stabs Carmen following her refusal of love. In this production, Carmen’s black dress shows that long red crack seen at the beginning, by now obviously representing blood. After the murder by knifing, when Don José is walking away from the dead Carmen, the set rotates to show the inside of the bullring at the moment of the kill- everyone frozen, including the bull, in dark red lighting. Accompanied by the musical climax, it left me frozen as well.

Metropolitan Opera- Hansel and Gretel

Engelbert Humperdinck’s Hansel and Gretel is an opera for all ages, as proven by all the children sitting in their parent’s lap tonight. Children are the only people who can whisper or even talk during a performance at the Met without being hushed. This is not to be mistaken for kid’s theatre, as the music pleases both amateurs and musicologists alike. This beautifully mature yet playful music is Wagner-like, without the exhaustion and the apocalypse. Humperdinck’s tutorage from Wagner is evident by his use of leitmotifs, though he did not use nearly as many as Wagner. This production, (directed by Richard Jones, with sets and costumes by John Macfarlane) is a beautifully creative fairy-tale. Forest characters with tree-trunk heads, a doll-like home that utilizes only a fraction of the Met stage for the first act, a tenor playing the Witch, ridiculously bloated chefs, junk food galore - this is a production designed to please and spur the imagination. There is no tragedy, no bombastically overwhelming music, no emotionally wrenching arias. Yet this is no frivolous yet stylish operetta. Both Miah Persson as Gretel, and Angelika Kirchschlager as Hansel sang beautifully as their voices soared over the orchestra with a childlike conviction that is unique to this opera. Remember when we were children and legitimately thought we could do or be anything? This opera almost makes us believe that again. It is no wonder that Hansel and Gretel was the first complete opera to be broadcast on radio, and the first to be transmitted live from the Met. Humperdinck’s most memorable work has held a strong place in the opera repertoire since its’ premiere, and with the help of this production there is no sign of if fading anytime soon.

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.

Metropolitan Opera- Il Trittico

This has been my most enjoyable evening at the Met all season. Il Trittico- three one act operas- Il tabarro, Suor Angelica, and Gianni Schicchi, combine to form an emotionally well-rounded night of opera. Il tabarro is vivid and immediate in its portrait of adultery and murder. The orchestration makes the story come alive through a mysterious, honest, and at times horrific character. Many even consider this opera the composer’s finest work. Douglas W. Schmidt’s set reminded me of post-industrial Brooklyn, past its prime yet still beautiful. Suor Angelica is much more penetrating with it’s raw sentimentality. The story revolves around a nun in a convent who is robbed of her inheritance, shocked by the unexpected death of her son, and eventually takes her own life. Puccini thrives with the one act format and packs in some of the most emotionally mature music ever written. Mr. Jack O’Brien’s production is a beautiful sight. The set, lighting, and staging collectively made this finale one of the most beautiful that I’ve experienced at the Met. Gianni Schicchi is the composer’s only comedy. The clever musical characterization by Puccini brings to life this hilarious comedy. Mr. Schmidt’s set reminded me of the board game Clue, with its mysterious and disheveled look. Schicchi is especially refreshing coming after the first two heart-wrenching operas. Alessandro Corbelli gave us a hilarious Master of Ceremonies as Gianni Schicchi.

All three female leads were beautifully inhabited by the soprano Patricia Racette. In Il tabarro she was shockingly vulnerable as Giorgetta. As Sister Angelica she squeezed all the possible emotion out of the music and performed like one of the best. She has the ability to communicate at such an intense emotional level with the audience, and bare her soul on stage. As Lauretta in Gianni Schicchi, Ms. Racette gave us an intelligent and original version on the classic “O mio babbino caro”. Other cast members were memorable as well. Stephanie Blythe gave us her solid, warm, and huge tone along with some very nice acting. In Il tabarro, the tenor Aleksandrs Antonenko sang beautifully as the lover of Giorgetta. Stefano Ranzani’s conducting was excellent. The restrained lyricism coming out from the pit always supported the action no stage. He never gave too much. I must end by talking about the production. As beautiful as the sets were, (they each prompted applause when the curtain rose), they never detracted attention from the music and drama on stage. This was an evening without pretentiousness or divas- each element seemed to contribute towards a combined beauty.

Brooklyn Academy of Music- Kepler

Philip Glass has long ago established himself as an effective minimalist composer. His music has the power to enter ones' subconscious through overly repetitive patterns that collide with blunt and direct dissonance. Mr. Glass has shown that this style works great as film music: where its’ purpose is to dramatically enhance the visual action. The Hours is one of the saddest and most beautiful movies of the past decade, due in large part to Mr. Glass’s score. As a two-hour opera however, this becomes an easy recipe for boredom. Opera is by nature supposed to be dramatic. Drama can of course come in a variety of doses and forms, but it eventually manages to deliver. This evening reminded me of why I do not go to church- it's boring. Come on! Labeling your piece an opera entails that it will touch people’s emotions. The New York Times said that Kepler would have worked better as an oratorio. Knowing at least that, we would be sure to drink coffee before going.

The cast was formidable, and nothing more. The lead soprano was called in that evening as a replacement and read from the score for the entire performance. Nothing against her, as she did well considering the circumstances, but can the Brooklyn Academy of Music please be sure to supply proper understudies? The Bruckner Orchestra Linz seemed uninspired, and is evidently much better than they showed us. Following the performance, the audience rose to their feet in applause like a quacking herd of geese. I just woke up from my slumber and adjusted my dry contacts. Nothing more.