Champion and Other Opera Notes

©New York Daily News

Certain images are guaranteed to stay with you your entire life. For me one of the most vivid is the photo you see above, which first appeared on the back page of a New York City tabloid on March 25, 1962. This was the conclusion of a nationally televised welterweight title fight between Benny “Kid” Paret (white trunks) and Emile Griffith (black trunks). Although Paret wound up in a coma and died ten days later, there’s no doubt this photo captured the man literally dying on his feet after seventeen unanswered punches from Griffith.

Emile Griffith’s life is now the subject of Terence Blanchard’s opera, “Champion,” currently enjoying a run at the Metropolitan Opera through May 13. At curtain’s rise we see an older Emile, sung by Eric Owens, suffering from dementia and haunted by Kid Paret’s death. The road to that fight and its aftermath are inextricably tied to who Emile Griffith was—a gay, closeted champ at a time when the love that dare not speak its name was deafeningly silent in sports. We flash back to Emile in his prime (Ryan Speedo Greene) who leads us through his history as a hat designer, singer and baseball player before he departs his native Virgin Islands for New York City where he turns to boxing.

“Champion” is an interesting amalgam of jazz, Caribbean rhythm, louche dive bar tunes and especially soaring vocal lines. This last is most evident in young Emile’s aria “What Makes a Man,” though for me the more striking aria belongs to Emile’s mother, wonderfully sung by Latonia Moore, which skirts atonality and seems to float in the ether as she describes her early life.

This production of “Champion” is particularly inventive, especially in its depiction of the Paret/Griffith bout (punches are thrown but freeze before landing). At the performance I attended the singers were uniformly excellent: Eric Owens was especially touching in depicting Emile’s dementia and his quest for absolution from Kid Paret’s son, Stephanie Blythe did an amusing, jazzy turn as the owner of a gay bar, and above all, Ryan Speedo Greene was extraordinary as both singer and actor, whether as an up-and-coming fighter or as the reigning champ, eventually forced to face retirement.

I can’t leave this discussion without mentioning the excellent documentary, “Ring of Fire: The Emile Griffith Story,” which clearly demonstrates that Griffith’s furious beating of Paret after the latter had called him a “maricón” (“faggot”) at the weigh-in, was not the sole cause of Paret’s eventual death. Paret had lost his previous five fights and did not feel well prior to his bout with Griffith. Yet his unscrupulous manager wanted to squeeze the last possible dollar out of his prize money, the New York Boxing Commission should never have allowed Paret to get into the ring with Griffith, and the referee should have stopped the fight before he did, though whether this would have made any difference is something we’ll never know. “Champion” covers all of this, but unfortunately omits the words Benny Paret, Jr says to Emile when they finally meet in the most poignant scene in the film: “No hard feelings.”

“Champion” has already enjoyed a Live in HD showing (actually the performance I attended in-house). Watch for the repeat when it runs on PBS in the coming months.

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The Met recently presented an especially well-cast revival of its Robert Carsen production of “Der Rosenkavalier.” I first saw this when it premiered in 2017, and while I enjoyed the elimination of the powdered wigs in favor of a 1911 setting, I’ve got some reservations now. The cannons in von Faninal’s Vienna town house are a bit much, but over the top honors go instead to the third act set in a brothel (if memory serves the libretto calls for a “disreputable inn” for Ochs’ assignation with Mariandel). While Octavian’s selection of Mariandel’s “look” from a parade of prostitutes is amusing, the tawdriness becomes predictable, not to mention that Octavian and Sophie’s making out on a bed in view of von Faninal and the Marschallin is one big “Why?”

Fortunately the three female leads made the performance I attended just glow. Lise Davidsen, in her role debut as the Marschallin, surprised me with the sensitivity of her portrayal. Samantha Hankey was an excellent Octavian, both vocally and dramatically, and I’d very much like to see her more frequently at the Met in seasons to come. Erin Morley, who may be the best musician among opera singers today, was as always just perfect as Sophie. If I could have asked for more, I would have liked to have seen Matthew Polenzani’s egotistical Italian Singer again, as he autographs his latest record for the Marschallin with a supreme flourish.

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Once of the best Saturday afternoon broadcasts from the Met came several weeks ago with “La Traviata.” Angel Blue made a fabulous Violetta, and the best part of the performance came in the second act, when she was partnered by Artur Rucinski’s Germont. What made this so refreshing was the sound of two artists with beautiful voices playing the scene with such attention to the emotional shifts of their characters’ confrontation, and (surprise!) adhering to the written dynamics of the score. If only more artists would follow their lead.

The Hours, The Automat and Those Ohio State Murders

Happy New Year to one and all!

Kelli O’Hara, Renée Fleming and Joyce DiDonato: “The Hours” (© The Metropolitan Opera)

December at the Metropolitan Opera brought “The Hours,” based on Michael Cunningham’s novel and the movie of the same title. The source material, so grounded in inner reflection, seems an odd basis for an opera, the most expressive art form going. Nevertheless what led to sold-out performances was the audience’s familiarity with the film if not the novel, and above all, the appearance of three stellar leads: Renée Fleming, Kelli O’Hara and Joyce DiDonato.

Not all was smooth sailing. I have no idea why Composer Kevin Puts and Librettist Greg Pierce opted for the participation of a full chorus which did very little but clutter up the stage and announce the date on which the action takes place. Ditto for the dancers whose appearance only made sense in the scene where Laura Brown (Kelli O’Hara) bakes that ill-fated birthday cake for her husband—Mother’s little helpers. In terms of writing for character, I felt Puts consistently succeeded only with the music for Richard (Kyle Ketelsen) and Virginia Woolf (Joyce DiDonato)—wonderfully contemplative, and her scenes with Leonard Woolf (Sean Panikkar) were excellent. In contrast I thought Kelli O’Hara’s Laura Brown was the least served by the opera’s creators. The character is so recessive, but because this is an opera, she has to verbalize what was best achieved by the novel’s third person narration.

Despite these problems, “The Hours” works best in its second act, especially in a sort of non-duet duet, as Laura ponders her life and “Mrs. Dalloway” while Virginia relates her intent with respect to the work. Also gripping were the flashback to the summer that Clarissa (Renée Fleming), Richard and Louis (William Burden) spent together, resulting in a marvelous vocal exchange between the characters, and the last, heart-rending scene between Clarissa and Richard, culminating in the latter’s suicide.

“The Hours” is due for a return engagement at the Met next season, and it wouldn’t surprise me if some tweaking of the work wasn’t accomplished by then. Nevertheless I’m looking forward to another viewing when it shows up on the Met Opera in Demand website.

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After seeing “Ohio State Murders,” I now understand why Audra McDonald has won seven Tony Awards

There’s a bit of wordplay in that title, since playwright Adrienne Kennedy, who finally made it to Broadway with this work, makes it clear that “murders” should be read as both a noun and a verb. While there are in fact two homicides in the play, of equal import are the macro-aggressions we see the university and its white students impose on Black students, such as those experienced by Ms. Kennedy in the 1950’s. Having to request permission to major in English Lit? And almost always being turned down? Not to mention being accused of theft every time something does missing from a dorm room.

This 75-minute play alternates between a lecture delivered by a middle-aged author returning to Ohio State University to discuss the violence in her work and flashbacks to the source of that violence, stemming from her time as a Thomas Hardy-loving undergraduate. Although Kennedy envisioned the character to be played by two different actresses, Audra McDonald easily undertakes both roles. Not wanting to spoil, I can only say that the last minute of the play is heartbreaking, and how she manages to perform that eight times a weeks is astonishing.

“Ohio State Murders” is now playing in a limited run on Broadway.

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“The Automat,” a lovely documentary now available on HBO Max, revisits the world of nickel coffee and sandwiches and pie behind those little windows that popped open when you put the coins in the slot and twisted the knob. Mel Brooks acts as Raconteur-in-Chief, though if you’re Catskills-orientated, he’s really the Head Tummler, keeping things lively while recounting the joys of those Horn & Hardart restaurants. He’s joined by a number of folks who unfortunately are no longer with us—Colin Powell, Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Carl Reiner, among others, who reminisce about growing up in New York City as patrons of the most accommodating eating spots around.

In addition to that fond look back, “The Automat” is excellent sociology as it explores the origins of Horn & Hardart’s partnership, their first automats in Philadelphia and later New York City and the restaurants’ role as the great equalizer. Well-to-do or blue collar, everyone’s nickel was the same, and the ambience of the restaurants reflected the founders’ philosophy. Changing times unfortunately did the Automat in, specifically the relocation of businesses from urban to suburban, and the dwindling of lunchtime crowds. While I would have thought McDonald’s and other fast food restaurants were the final nail in the coffin, stiff competition came earlier with the emergence of Chock Full O’Nuts and their brand of java.

In addition to reminiscing, Mel Brooks also performs a song he wrote in praise of the Automat at the close of the film. He’s not alone in his musical efforts—as he earlier mentions, Irving Berlin paid homage in 1932 with his “Let’s Have Another Cup of Coffee (And Let’s Have Another Piece of Pie),” as featured in his show “Let’s Face the Music.” The Automat was quite the place to be. I miss it.

“American Pie” Meets “Peter Grimes”… and The Dude, Too

During my college days there was nothing as intriguing as a rock mystery. I still remember a 2:00 AM debate in my dorm bathroom as to whether the rumor was true that Paul McCartney was dead. We scrutinized album covers and tried to play “Revolution 9” backwards in an attempt to hear “Paul is dead,” which the circulating story maintained was possible (P.S. We didn’t hear it).

So when Don McLean’s song “American Pie” came along a couple of years later we were in absolute heaven. Who were the King and Queen? The Jester? Were the Beatles those “sergeants playing a marching tune”? But most of all we loved the imagery of the lyrics, filled with allusions to ’50’s rock ‘n’ roll—“The Book of Love,” but especially “I was a lonely teenage broncin’ buck/With a pink carnation and a pick-up truck…” All with a rocking chorus.

“The Day the Music Died,” an excellent new documentary about Don McLean, the song and how it all came together is available to stream on Paramount Plus. It’s fascinating to hear what “American Pie” means to those too young to have been around when it first aired in 1972. They see it as an optimistic affirmation of the future despite the repeated “This’ll be the day that I die,” yet the view of Ed Freeman, the producer of “American Pie,” is closer to what was intended: “A eulogy for a dream that didn’t take place,” but still “an acknowledgment of what we’d been through so we could move on.” At the end of the documentary Don McLean discusses what he had in mind as he wrote the song, yet there remain more questions than answers. He denies any references to Elvis Presley or the Beatles or “the girl who sang the blues” (Janis Joplin?)—“If I meant them, I would have said them”—yet there’s no discussion whatsoever between interviewer and interviewee about “Jack Flash” who so clearly is Mick Jagger.

But the heart of the film are the scenes in the recording studio, all demonstrating how an expert producer can make a work truly memorable. It was Ed Freeman’s idea to add a rhythm section to McLean’s guitar and best of all, Paul Griffin on piano, so that the rocking rhythm of the song could best be realized. In the end it’s not just the lyrics, but the music, too, that so well serve the man to whom the song pays tribute—Buddy Holly.

“The Day the Music Died” is well worth your viewing time.

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It’s not often that an opera performance features a singer who seems to become one with the character he or she portrays. However, the British tenor, Allan Clayton, who sang a memorable Hamlet last season, effortlessly managed to do so during his recent run as Peter Grimes at the Metropolitan Opera. While outwardly a bit of a tough character, you felt his yearning as he voices his wish to settle down—to marry the widow Ellen Orford (an excellent Nicole Car) and own a shop. Yet how he treats his second apprentice immediately made me think Grimes had been batted around more than a few times when he was that boy’s age. That’s the type of detail Allan Clayton brought to his performance. And he absolutely broke my heart during his mad scene before Grimes sails off to drown himself.

Allan Clayton as Peter Grimes (Photo © Richard Termine)

I saw the Met’s production of “Peter Grimes” when it premiered several years ago, but this time I was amazed at how well the opera plays, not just musically, but dramatically. For my money you can keep all your horror movies because there’s nothing as frightening as hearing the chorus as towns folk, assembled en masse on stage calling out “Peter Grimes! Peter Grimes! Peter Grimes!” fortissimo, as they prepare to hunt him down.

Here’s hoping the Met has Allan Clayton inked in for more roles in seasons to come.

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Mark me down as exceptionally late to the party, but I only just recently watched “The Big Lebowski” from start to finish. I had seen bits and pieces over the years as I channel-surfed, but for some reason it had never caught on with me until now. It was worth the wait because I can’t remember the last time I laughed like that. And while I love Jeff Bridges, I think John Goodman is something of a genius (not to mention the Coen Brothers). The Dude abides, man.

Jeff Bridges as “The Dude” hangs out at the bowling alley with his buddies Walter (John Goodman) and Donny (Steve Buscemi). Courtesy Universal Studios.

Welcome to the 21st Century

Eurydice (Erin Morley) in the Underworld

The Metropolitan Opera has finally turned a new leaf. This season the Met is featuring not one but three contemporary operas: “Fire Shut Up in My Bones,” Eurydice” and “Hamlet.” Fortunately Music Director Yannick Nézet-Séguin, unlike his predecessor James Levine, champions new music, so we can look forward to more of the same in seasons to come.

Last Saturday I attended a performance of “Eurydice,” with music by Matthew Aucoin and libretto by Sarah Ruhl based on her play of the same title. While there have been many retellings of the Orpheus myth in literature, drama, opera and ballet, this work has a special slant—we view the story through Eurydice’s eyes, and her tie to the Underworld ultimately proves stronger than that to her husband. Although I have some reservations about the music, there’s no doubt this opera benefits greatly from an excellent production directed by Mary Zimmerman, and above all, a superlative cast of singers headed by Erin Morley in the title role, Joshua Hopkins as Orpheus, Jakob Józef Orlinski as his double, Nathan Berg as Eurydice’s father and Barry Banks as a marvelously malevolent Hades.

One problem is apparent from the outset—Aucoin employs a large orchestra which results in a very dense sound at times. The unfortunate result is too much bombast in the first few scenes to the extent that key elements are lost in the house. It’s difficult to hear Erin Morley when she’s not above the staff, and the wonderful effect of having the countertenor sound of Orpheus’s double surround the baritone vocal lines is inaudible (It was only when I attended the encore presentation of the HD telecast that I was able to hear these singers in full during the beginning of the opera). While there are some interesting arias and set pieces along the way, especially the wedding dance and Eurydice’s scenes with Hades, it isn’t until the third act that music and libretto coalesce. The orchestration is more transparent, the music becomes more lyrical, we finally hear Orpheus’s song, Eurydice’s father says farewell to memory and most heartbreakingly, Eurydice writes a letter to Orpheus with advice to his next wife in the most touching aria of the opera. I would have liked more of this contemplative style earlier in the work.

Will Liverman as Charles in “Fire Shut Up in My Bones”

A world away from “Eurydice” (literally), Terrence Blanchard’s “Fire Shut Up in My Bones,” which opened the Met’s current season. has received much critical acclaim and rightly so. With a libretto by Kasi Lemmons based on Charles Blow’s memoir of the same title, the work is a cohesive whole, gaining in strength throughout and culminating in an absolutely perfect third act. Along the way there’s so much to admire: the embodiment of Loneliness singing with a blues-y tinge (nothing beats a good musical pun); the gorgeous ballet music that opens the second act; yes, the show-stopping step dance routine that opens the third act; the lyrical love duet of Charles and Greta, his college girlfriend; and the culmination of Charles’s journey with the line “Mama, I’ve got something to tell you,” as he finally opens up about the molestation he suffered at the age of seven by his cousin. As with “Eurydice,” Yannick Nézet-Séguin led the opera, and the singers, Will Liverman (Charles), Walter Russell III (Char’es-Baby), Angel Blue (Destiny,/Loneliness/Greta) and Latonia Moore (Charles’s mother, Billie) could not have been better (I would gladly listen to Ms. Moore sing the phone book, but I’d much rather hear her in “Il Trovatore.” Peter Gelb, you listening?)

Brett Dean’s “Hamlet” is still to come, and we can look forward to the presentation of another Terence Blanchard opera, “Champion,” during the next Met season. The good news is that audiences are responding—several performances of “Fire Shut Up in My Bones” sold out, including the one I attended, and more opera goers were in the house for “Eurydice” than at the performance of “Boris Godunov” I saw in October. Let’s hope the interest continues.

Corona Interlude

Bottom (Hammed Animashaun), Oberon (Oliver Chris) and Titania (Gwendoline Christie) in A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Production image: Manuel Harlan for the Bridge Theatre).

God bless the internet.

Weathering the lockdowns of COVID-19 may have robbed us of in-person live performance, but there is so much to see and hear online. The availability of free opera from a variety of sources has been amazing, from the Metropolitan Opera to Salzburg to the Vienna State Opera. I particularly enjoyed Vienna’s production of “Ariadne auf Naxos” featuring a very young Lise Davidsen as Ariadne and the wonderful Zerbinetta of Erin Morley. But what made it special was a particular feature that was so obvious, but which I had never seen done before. In this production which, judging by the costumes in the Prologue, appeared to be set in the early 1920’s, the Composer, sung by the excellent mezzo Rachel Frenkel, was on-stage throughout the opera proper. It makes a great deal of sense—it is the Composer’s opera after all, and while he had nothing to sing or speak, his attentiveness in “cueing” the singers was amusingly apt. The high point came when he “accompanied” Zerbinetta at the piano during her big aria. While the actual music came from the orchestra pit, Ms. Frenkel was so accurate in her keyboard locations throughout this long piece that I’d have to think she’s a pretty skilled pianist offstage. And the ending of the opera, which saw Zerbinetta and the Composer together as the earthly counterpart to Ariadne and Bacchus, was sweet indeed.

I had been thinking I wasn’t the Janacek fan I used to be until I recently saw the San Francisco Opera production of “The Makropoulos Affair.” When I last attended a Met performance a couple of years ago I longed for the opportunity to see the opera in HD. Since the springboard of the plot is a law suit involving an estate, it’s a very “talky” work that demands subtle acting that’s not always visible from the Family Circle. The SFO production certainly delivered with a uniformly excellent cast. While Karita Matilla, as the 337 year-old heroine, was a bit more Norma Desmond-ish than I would have liked, you couldn’t have asked for more musically. Bravi tutti!

Theater is thriving on the internet, and I have enough stockpiled links to performances to keep me busy for the next five decades. Some were especially enlightening—a regional production of “Fun Home” that proved this work loses its necessary intensity when performed on a proscenium stage instead of in the round as I saw it on Broadway, and a British production of Stephen Sondheim’s “Merrily We Roll Along” which I particularly enjoyed. I had never seen this musical before though I own three different cast recordings, and it was especially gratifying to finally experience the intended dramatic settings of the songs.

Of course the big event of this COVID-19 interlude was the premiere of the taped performance of “Hamilton” on Disney Plus featuring the show’s original cast. This was my second time around for “Hamilton”—I was fortunate to have seen it live on Broadway about 18 months ago by way of a win in the show’s perpetual ticket lottery. That performance’s strengths differed somewhat from the taped version—I had the benefit of a tall, handsome Hamilton who somewhat outshone the shorter, slighter, balding actor who played Burr, and while the electric give and take between audience and actors is a given in live theater, in “Hamilton” it was off the charts (Yes, the line “Immigrants, we get the job done” brought down the house). However, all bets were off at the juncture of “The Room Where It Happened” when Burr tore into that number like nobody’s business, making it the best performed part of the show. I missed that level of excitement in the taped version as well as a more consistent view of the full stage in order to see how inventively the chorus is used. Nevertheless this was more than compensated for by the superb performances of the original cast, especially that of Leslie Odom, Jr. as Burr. He had me with his melting version of “Dear Theodosia,” and it was easy to see why he, along with Renee Elise Goldsberry as Angelica Schuyler and Daveed Diggs as Thomas Jefferson won Tony Awards.

But without a doubt what I’ve most enjoyed during live performance exile was the National Theatre’s “A Midsummer Night’s Dream” directed by Nicholas Hytner. This was an immersive, anything-goes presentation with aerial stunts, the former Brienne of Tarth (Gwendoline Christie) as Titania and a quartet of lovers in which the girls seemed more interested in each other than in their interchangeable boyfriends. However, the neatest trick of this production was flipping Oberon’s and Titania’s lines so that he, not she, falls in love with the donkey-fied Bottom. It was so divinely silly, and Hammad Animashaun, braying nicely as Bottom, and especially Oliver Chris as the besotted Oberon, were simply superb. But above all, a special nod goes to whomever came up with the idea of using Beyoncé’s “Love On Top” as “their” song—he or she deserves both a bonus and a raise. Simply wonderful.

Stay safe everyone. Till next time.

Confluence

Mabel (Alexandra Socha, seated) Just Came in the Room

This past week I had the happy experience of seeing a performance from each of my current arts subscriptions, one every other day. The result? Two near misses, but ending with one smashing hit.

First up on Friday night was Jerry Herman’s “Mack and Mabel,” as presented by the Encores! series, which revisits musicals that initially flopped (rightly or wrongly) or which haven’t been revived in quite some time. Originally Encores! presented these shows in concert form, but now they’re given fully staged productions with the actors down front and the orchestra at the back of the stage.

Although “Mack and Mabel” ran for only 66 performances in 1974, it’s been kept alive in the years since via a very fine original cast album featuring Robert Preston as Mack Sennett and Bernadette Peters as Mabel Normand. The show’s flop status has been primarily blamed on the book, which in truth is unavoidably depressing, given that Mabel, reputedly a drug user (though not proven), died of tuberculosis at the age of 38. There are other problems, too, namely major departures from reality, such as showing Fatty Arbuckle making movies with Sennett at a time when he was in actuality standing trial for murder, and fingering William Desmond Taylor as Mabel Normand’s drug supplier, which is patently false.

But to me the biggest problem with the show is that Mack Sennett is a very unpleasant character, “I Won’t Send Roses” notwithstanding. It’s obvious that in its original production, the creators, including Michael Stewart who wrote the book, and Gower Champion, who directed it (the same team that brought “Hello, Dolly” to life), relied heavily on Robert Preston’s natural warmth and charm to fill in the blanks. Unfortunately, Douglas Sills, who played Mack in the Encores! presentation, failed to exhibit these traits. He alternately blustered and threw away his lines to the extent that if I caught 40% of what he was saying, it was a lot (and based on what I’ve read online, I wasn’t the only one with this complaint). Mabel’s role is better written, and she gets three terrific numbers: “Look What Happened to Mabel,” “Wherever He Ain’t,” and “Time Heals Everything,” which is even more devastating in the context of the show than I had imagined.

In order for “Mack and Mabel” to succeed, we need to be able to see what she sees in him, and unfortunately the view was of a bully who took her for granted until it was too late. It was eye-opening to see the cast perform “When Mabel Comes in the Room,” and to realize what had been missing from the show up until this point—charm and plain old love. It was a treat to see Mabel do a ballroom turn with each of the crew welcoming her back to the studio, and I wish there had been more of it.

Alexandra Socha was an excellent Mabel, but Lilli Cooper, as Lottie Ames, Sennett’s other leading lady in the role originated by Lisa Kirk, was an absolute knockout. Director/Choreographer Josh Rhodes did a terrific job recreating Sennett’s Bathing Beauties and Keystone Kops, but top marks have to go to Music Director Rob Berman and the Encores! Orchestra for their fabulous performance of the restored orchestrations. Their artistry makes me look forward to the next musical in the series, a true rarity, Kurt Weill’s “Love Life.”

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On Sunday I attended a performance of Beethoven’s Symphonies 6 and 7 by John Eliot Gardiner and Orchestre Révolutionnaire et Romantique, part of Carnegie Hall’s celebration of Beethoven’s 250th birthday. This orchestra performs on original instruments, which presented both pluses and minuses. On the one hand, hearing the strings play with taut bows made for a lovely sonority. Woodwinds were brighter sounding than their modern counterparts, if occasionally hooty, and it was amusing to see a contrabassoon, tall as a chimney, unwound to its full sixteen feet, as well as the length of the uncoiled trumpets.

While the first two movements of each of the symphonies were beautifully rendered, expecially the second movement of the Seventh, Gardiner’s tempos for the scherzos and final movements were far too fast, despite his claim of historical accuracy. Quite honestly I felt sorry for the principal horn who simply could not get her lip around the runs of the third movement of the Pastoral at the speed set by Gardiner (If I’m not mistaken, the principal clarinet also missed a couple of notes). As a former violinist and bassoonist, I have to ask: If the tempo is so fast that the musicians can’t articulate the notes, what good is it?

 

Agrippina (Joyce DiDonato) and Nero (Kate Lindsey): “Your Mother’s Got This”

The absolute winner in this sequence was Tuesday night’s performance of the Metropolitan Opera’s “Agrippina,” which the Met notes is the oldest work (1709) this house has ever performed, though you’d never know it from David McVicar’s incredibly clever production. Handel wrote it when he was 24, and while he’s far from the mature composer of “Ariodante” and “Alcina,” there are fascinating glimpses of what’s to come: Agrippina’s first big aria with its dizzying runs and oboe duet, Ottone’s lament, which closes the first half of this new production, in a string setting that seems to suspend time, and an “at the end of my tether” string-accompanied recitative for Agrippina in the second half that points the way to so many future developments in opera.

Despite the libretto, this is a modern dress production that seems to take its cue from the political skullduggery of “House of Cards,” British and American versions both. The opera covers Agrippina’s machinations resulting in her son Nero’s succeeding Claudius as Emperor (and we all know how well that turned out). Although it’s the same ground covered by the book and TV show “I Claudius,” the scheming is never boring, considering that mezzo Joyce DiDonato is onstage as Agrippina, having the time of her life. I can’t remember when I last saw an opera where all the singers were so consistently excellent, all the way down to baritone Duncan Rock and countertenor Nicholas Tamagna, who play Agrippina’s unfortunate pawns.

Although countertenor Iestyn Davies as the put-upon Ottone and bass Matthew Rose as the not-too-bright Claudius are wonderful, this production is definitely Ladies’ Day. There’s not one moment of boredom, whether it’s Joyce DiDonato, shimmying across the stage while thinking up her latest scheme, or soprano Brenda Rae as Poppea, who proves smarter than Agrippina but who’s funniest when drunk in the bar scene that begins the second half, or Kate Lindsey, mistress of physical comedy, as that bad boy Nero, who’s probably the most fun to watch. She’s got that spoiled teenager thing down so well you half expect Joyce DiDonato to bring her stage son up short with “Ya rotten kid, ya.” In addition to the pouts, Ms. Lindsey illustrates Nero’s whiny petulance by singing certain phrases in straight tone, and it’s a marvel to hear her alternate between this and her normally rich mezzo.

Conductor Harry Bicket does his usual fine work with baroque opera here. There’s also a special guest appearance by the superb Bradley Brookshire who serves as the cocktail pianist harpsichordist during the bar scene. And while we’re on that subject, kudos to choreographer Andrew George for his clever work, not only with the dancing bar patrons, but also with the soldiers, whether marching or gyrating to the strains of Handel.

“Agrippina” will be shown in movie theaters on Saturday, February 29, as part of the Met’s Live in HD series. Don’t miss it.

Brain Bits for the Shortest Day of the Year

Countess Almaviva (Susanna Phillips), Susanna (Nadine Sierra) and Figaro (Luca Pisaroni) Working on Yet Another Plot

Last weekend I had the pleasure of revisiting “Le Nozze di Figaro” at the Metropolitan Opera. As originally presented in 2014, the production, set in the late 1930’s, had major echoes of Jean Renoir’s classic film, “Rules of the Game.” This was enhanced by the casting, which featured Peter Mattei as a very suave and authoritative Count Almaviva, and the excellent performance of Marlis Peterson, the definitive Lulu of her generation, who portrayed an older and far more sophisticated Susanna than usually seen in the role. The result was a dark comedy, tempered somewhat by the sweetness of Isabel Leonard’s Cherubino. But a change of singers and a bit of tweaking has now resulted in perhaps a more traditional “Figaro”—funnier, but fortunately without the slapstick that can mar a production. In the final analysis, both views of the opera work equally well.

The current run of “Figaro” that just ended (it’s due to return with a different cast in February) had two key elements: the Figaro of Luca Pisaroni and Susanna Phillips’ Countess. After several runs as the Count, it was a pleasure to see Pisaroni in what I think is his more natural role. He’s Figaro to the life–the face, the expressions and the physicality all serve the essence of the character. Ms. Phillips, though with a lighter voice than I expected, was dramatically perfect. Her beautifully sung “Dove sono” limned the character’s emotions in all their complexity, which she describes in detail in an Aria Code podcast that may be the best in that series (What? You’re not listening? Tune in for some great insights). It seemed only Adam Plachetka’s Count fell short of the dramatic mark. There was unrelenting bluster, to the extent that I just didn’t believe him when he sang “Contessa perdono.”

In case you can’t guess, “Le Nozze di Figaro” is one of the my favorite operas, and it was a special treat to see this with such a good audience. They enjoyed themselves immensely, aided in no small measure by some wonderfully contemporary titles. A “Figaro” performance should at its end make you glad to be alive, and this one certainly did. “Corriam tutti!”

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“The Irishman,” now available on Netflix, is the summation of Martin Scorsese’s career. In short (as opposed to its length), I liked it. In its most basic sense, it’s an absorbing account of how to lose one’s soul by increments, though I doubt Frank Sheeran (Robert De Niro) would put it that way. In this regard, perhaps the most illuminating scene in the film is Frank’s conversation with Russell Buffalino (Joe Pesci), during which they discuss Frank’s experiences in World War II. He registers virtually no emotion as he describes how he followed (unspoken) orders to massacre captured Italian soldiers rather than take them prisoner. Although Buffalino doesn’t even flinch, it’s Frank’s lack of affect that’s the most chilling aspect of the story.

It goes without saying that the casting of this film is superb. Award nominations have been raining down on De Niro as well as Al Pacino as Jimmy Hoffa, but it’s Joe Pesci’s incredibly subtle performance that stayed with me the longest. I also enjoyed how Scorsese, a former executive producer of “Boardwalk Empire,” sprinkled “The Irishman” with actors from that show: Bobby Cannavale (Skinny Razor), Jack Huston (Bobby Kennedy), Aleksa Palladino (Mary Sheeran), among others, not to mention a spectacular turn by Stephen Graham as Tony Provenzano. Mr. Graham, who was a magnetic Al Capone in “Boardwalk Empire,” seems to have inherited the chameleon-like manner of the late Bob Hoskins.

Much as I enjoyed “The Irishman,” I do have one quibble: I wasn’t sold on the de-aging effects used on De Niro, Pacino and Pesci at the start of the film. De Niro, in particular, looked positively glacéed as the younger Frank Sheeran. As difficult as the casting might have been, younger actors playing these roles would have been more effective.

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Midge and Susie Toasting the Shy Baldwin Tour

The third season of “The Marvelous Mrs. Maisel,” premiered on Amazon Prime like gangbusters, complete with a USO show and a (backstage) string of dick jokes. It was especially gratifying to see Midge tour with Shy Baldwin, adapting to new types of audiences and coping with the stress of being on the road (By the way, it was no surprise that Shy turned out to be gay, since the character was so obviously modeled on Johnny Mathis). I particularly enjoyed the episode in which Midge and Lenny Bruce (Luke Kirby) spend an evening together, first on-camera for the pseudo-Playboy Mansion TV show, then dancing at a jazz club. The end of their Las Vegas encounter, when “Will they or won’t they?” infused the air, was beautifully played by Rachel Brosnahan and Mr. Kirby (I think she made the right decision to decline his unspoken invitation).

Nevertheless there were ups and downs. The best part of “Mrs. Maisel,” at least this season, was any scene with Susie Myerson (a terrific Alex Borstein), who always seems to get the best writing on the show. I had to hit my remote’s “Pause” so I could howl for two minutes straight at her line to the potential producers about their Donner Party musical; ditto for her reaction to the vocal effects via telephone of Sophie and Gavin Hawk’s coupling. Susie also had the more interesting plots—the Sophie Lennon debacle, her gambling issues and those intriguing exchanges with Reggie, Shy Baldwin’s manager (an excellent Sterling K. Brown), keeper of secrets and bad cop to his boss’ good cop. That was an exceptionally heavy anvil he dropped at the end of the last episode, when, after he fired Midge, to his own distaste, he turned to Susie with “Someday you’ll have to do this.” Given the dynamic between Midge and Susie (tits up!), you really hope not.

On the down side, much as I love Tony Shalhoub, I could have easily seen less of Midge’s parents as well as her former in-laws. Nevertheless, there were still a few rewards: Joel and his father betting on who would faint at the bris; Midge’s conversation with Moishe about buying back her apartment, in which they approach each other for the first time on equal terms as he reveals Joel was an idiot to dump her; and most of all, her confrontation with her mother over the latter’s meddling. Their shouting match revealed they may have more in common than they think, despite mama’s distaste for Midge’s comedy.

Given the time frame of the show, I would expect to see Midge on The Ed Sullivan Show next season (“Mrs. Maisel” has already been renewed). And I really hope we haven’t seen the last of Benjamin (a terrific Zachary Levi). His scene with Midge in the last episode, when they finally discuss her dumping him, was a highlight of the season. Somehow the writers have to find a way to keep him around—he’s a necessary counterbalance to the craziness.

Santa just rode by on a fire truck as I was finishing this post. May all of you enjoy whatever holiday you celebrate, and best wishes for a happy and healthy New Year.

Marnie

Marnie (Isabel Leonard) and her Shadows (Copyright Metropolitan Opera)

Luckily Alfred Hitchcock did not have the last word. In its new, operatic form, “Marnie” is an interesting work, not necessarily in spite of its flaws but perhaps because of them. Composed by Nico Muhly with a libretto by Nicholas Wright, the opera ended its run at the Metropolitan Opera last Saturday with a live HD transmission. Prior to that I was fortunate to see it in the house.

For better or worse, what consistently drives “Marnie” is the drama. The problem? What works best on the page doesn’t necessarily work all that well on the stage. The basis of both the opera and the Alfred Hitchcock film of the same title is a 1961 novel by Winston Graham, author of the “Poldark” series. Narrated by the title character, “Marnie” is the story of a thief who steals from her employers and continually changes her identity to conceal her crimes. She’s caught in the act by Mark Rutland, head of his family’s publishing firm who’s obsessed with her. He essentially blackmails her into marriage though she has an absolute horror of sex. Her refusal to sleep with him culminates in what is now legally known as marital rape. Despite this (or perhaps because of it), Mark continually protects Marnie as her past begins to catch up with her.

To say this is not your usual operatic subject is an understatement.

In resetting the work to 1958, the opera’s creative team made some alterations to the story, both major and minor. I think it was a mistake to make Mark’s mother something of a villain—I missed the cordial relationship Marnie has with her in the book, as well as her friendship with several of Mark’s tenants, all of which serve to present a warmer side of the character. Further, the original Terry is Mark’s cousin, not his brother as he is in the opera, and the corporate in-fighting between them plays a far larger and more bitter role in the novel. It’s Mark, not his mother, who’s behind a buy-out and later a sale of the company, thus triggering Terry, who knows full well of Mark’s obsession with Marnie, to retaliate by reporting her to the police. Most importantly, though, in a nod to more enlightened sensibilities, the creative team has turned Mark’s rape of Marnie into an attempt rather than a completed act, which is immediately followed by a stunning visual (in silhouette) of her suicide attempt. While this change was certainly welcome, I thought the operatic team should have picked up on Graham’s strong hint that Marnie had been sexually abused as a child by at least one of her mother’s “customers” during the latter’s time as a prostitute.

“Marnie” proves that Nico Muhly has grown enormously as an opera composer since “Two Boys.” He’s writing more closely to character now, and the music becomes more lyrical as the opera unfolds, especially in the second act. Muhly is celebrated for his choral writing, but perhaps we have too much of a good thing here. The first act chorus of office workers commenting on the storm and stress of Marnie’s life is somewhat excessive, and goes beyond just covering one of her fifteen (!) costume changes. On the other hand, his writing for the chorus at the country club dinner, and particularly at the hunt and at Marnie’s mother’s graveside, is spot on. Best of all are the Shadow Marnies, the four singers who frequently accompany her and illustrate her state of mind. Muhly directs them to sing in vibrato-less fashion, which results in an eerie sound perfectly suited to a psychological thriller. It’s an updated version of the theremin soundtrack used so often in 1940’s movies to underscore disturbed characters (See “Spellbound” and “The Lost Weekend”). The Shadow Marnies’ list of her many aliases in the opera’s final scene is particularly chilling, and they provide a great visual, especially during Marnie’s sessions with a psychiatrist, as they literally take turns on the couch.

Even the critics who panned the opera have applauded the production, and rightly so. Designed by Julian Crouch and directed by Michael Meyer, creator of the Met’s Las Vegas “Rigoletto,” this is the best I’ve seen at the Met since Robert Carsen’s “Der Rosenkavalier” of two seasons ago. Some choices seemed odd at first, especially the appearance of several male dancers in gray suits and fedoras during Marnie’s first theft—I thought they were plainclothes detectives. However, they’re put to excellent use during the hunt scene as they embody the tumult that ends in Marnie’s destroying her injured horse, Forio. Speaking of gray suits, the 1950’s costumes, designed by Arianne Phillips, were classic, and stylishly worn by both principals and choristers. What a welcome sight to see such a unified vision on stage.

The cast couldn’t have been better. Muhly wrote the opera with Isabel Leonard in mind, and the role suits her to a T, both vocally and dramatically—plus she looked fantastic in her ’50’s wardrobe (all fifteen outfits). Christopher Maltman brought some gravitas to the obsessed Mark; his besotted gaze at Ms. Leonard when she tied his black tie but continually turned his head away from her, spoke volumes. His diction was superb, to the extent that I didn’t need the titles when he sang. Iestyn Davies was perfect casting for the slippery Terry; Muhly rightly illustrated the character’s observation to Marnie in the novel that “We’re two of a kind” by scoring Terry for countertenor, thus having him share a good portion of her mezzo-soprano vocal range. The supporting cast was likewise excellent, including Janis Kelly as Mark’s mother, and Anthony Dean Griffey (Mr. Strutt) and Denyce Graves, still in terrific voice as Marnie’s mother, both back at the Met after many years.

While I think “Marnie” is a good work, as opposed to a great one, it makes me want to hear more from Nico Muhly. He’s only 37. I’m eager to see what he does next.

Encore!

Anna Netrebko in the Met HD Telecast of “Il Trovatore”

When I was growing up, one of my mother’s constant lessons was “Get value for your money.” If you’re an opera lover, one of the best ways to do so is to subscribe to the Metropolitan Opera’s streaming service, Met Opera on Demand. The site has a tremendous library featuring HD and PBS telecasts dating back to the Scotto/Pavarotti “La Boheme” in 1977, and a slew of radio broadcasts from the 1930’s to the present, with performances being added to the site on a regular basis. It’s almost an embarrassment of riches.

While I haven’t really dipped into the video component yet (It’s baseball season after all. Go Mets!), I’ve been having a ball listening to the broadcasts. It’s been both educational and entertaining. For example, I had forgotten how much I enjoyed Tchaikovsky’s “Queen of Spades” when I saw it in the house (a pity the Met doesn’t do it more often). Met Opera on Demand lets you hear both Dmitri Hvorostovsky and Peter Mattei sing Yeletsky’s big aria, and what a joy it is to savor two different approaches—the first, more dramatic, the second more lyrical.

I was present at the Met for a number of the broadcasts, and I get a particular charge out of revisiting these performances. I saw that featured “Giulio Cesare” in which David Daniels shone in his Met debut, and to hear him again, when I’m now a full-fledged baroque opera fan, is a treat. That unearthly mezzo-soprano/countertenor blend he and Stephanie Blythe produced in their duet remains a stunner. I was also pleased to discover my memory did not play tricks with respect to the length of the ovation Mirella Freni received at the conclusion of the Letter Scene in “Eugene Onegin.” This was one of the few times I ever saw an opera singer break character to acknowledge applause. Had she not smiled and nodded to the cheering audience, the performance wouldn’t have been able to continue. Speaking of Ms. Freni, while I was present for the videotaping of the excellent “Falstaff” in which she appears as Mistress Ford (available for streaming), there’s an even better radio broadcast of this opera that originally aired three years later. Barbara Daniels replaces Ms. Freni, but Paul Plishka is still Falstaff, the ensemble is tighter, Paul Groves is a better Fenton and Barbara Bonney tops her earlier performance as Nanetta by singing the final ascending line of her aria seemingly in one breath.

The earlier radio broadcasts that pre-date my opera-going, not to mention my birth, are particularly fascinating. Fortunately the quality of sound of those long ago performances does nothing to harm virtuosity—I’m currently in the middle of a 1940 “Die Walküre” with Kirsten Flagstad, Marjorie Lawrence and Lauritz Melchior that’s pure electricity. It’s a privilege to hear Leonard Warren’s distinctive baritone in the full range of his Verdi roles, and perhaps best of all, as Tonio in “I Pagliacci.” An extra-pleasant surprise is hearing what an astute vocal actor Richard Tucker was. His sarcastic bark of laughter during his confrontation with Eileen Farrell’s Santuzza in a 1960 “Cavalleria Rusticana” is chilling. And what a pleasure to experience Cesare Siepi’s gorgeous sound! On the other hand, I’ve listened to a few broadcasts that would have been better left on the shelf. They’re not necessarily terrible, but they do remind you that in addition to the stars who sang, the Met, like any other opera house, had to rely on its B and C list singers to fill out its long season.

The site is particularly instructive with respect to how performance values have changed over the decades. There’s a 1946 “Rosenkavalier” featuring the terrific Ochs of Emmanuel List, as well as the Octavian of Risë Stevens in her prime. While she’s in good form, it’s evident she was really a contralto stretched into mezzo territory. A young Eleanor Steber is a lively Sophie–I never knew she had been such a high flier. Unfortunately, their voices don’t reach that ideal blend that Strauss evidently wanted for the two characters they portray. Nor does this happen in a 1964 broadcast slackly led by Thomas Schippers. Lisa Della Casa, displaced from the Marschallin by Elisabeth Schwarzkopf, is the Octavian, Judith Raskin the Sophie, and on first hearing two things are immediately apparent: sopranos have no business singing Octavian, and the rehearsal time for this performance was probably negligible. Fortunately there are two “Rosenkavalier” broadcasts currently available that make amends. A 1969 performance with Karl Böhm on the podium (speaking of greater care for musical values), featuring Leonie Rysanek, Christa Ludwig and Reri Grist, is a stunner. The last two produce the magical vocal blend Strauss envisioned for Octavian and Sophie, and the beauty of their sound is matched, if not topped, in a 1983 broadcast in which Judith Blegen’s soprano is almost an overtone of Tatiana Troyanos’ mezzo in their duets. With the bonus of Kiri Te Kanawa’s Marschallin, it’s a wonderful performance.

I look forward to more Met broadcasts and delving into the video archive in the near future. I can’t recommend Met Opera on Demand enough.

Così fan tutte

Act I Finale: Dr. Magnetico–er, Kelli O’Hara–to the Rescue

Mozart and da Ponte’s last collaboration, “Così fan tutte,” has got to be one of the most put-upon works in the standard opera repertoire. Its very title, usually translated as “Women Are Like That,” rings alarm bells of misogyny. For well over a century its plot, revolving around a cynical fiancée-swapping bet, was variously expurgated, hashed up and outright replaced. It wasn’t until well after the turn of the last century that the opera was recognized for both the musical masterpiece it is and the sharp take on human behavior it presents.

“Così” at its best requires certain ingredients. If “Falstaff” is a conductor’s opera, “Così” is most definitely a director’s opera. On its face the plot is broad comedy: Two soldiers (Ferrando and Guglielmo) engaged to two sisters (Dorabella and Fiordiligi) are suckered into a bet proposed by their cynical older friend (Don Alfonso) who maintains that the ladies, protestations by their lovers to the contrary, aren’t paragons but instead are just like all other women—they’ll stray, given the opportunity. At the cynical friend’s direction, the soldiers fake going off to war, and return in disguise to attempt to seduce each other’s fiancée. The cynical friend is aided and abetted by the ladies’ maid (Despina) who at various times masquerades as a quack doctor to bring the soldiers back to life after a mock suicide attempt, and as a notary to perform a marriage ceremony for the swapped couples. All is eventually revealed and reconciled, and the lovebirds return to their rightful partners.

But are they? The catch to “Così” is that da Ponte tells you one thing and Mozart seemingly tells you the opposite: Da Ponte’s take on the whole work is farcical, whereas Mozart provides a number of heart-stopping moments along the way. These include the lovers’ leave-taking quartet, the trio “Soave sia il vento” which seems suspended in time, Ferrando’s love-struck aria, “Un’ aura amorosa,” and most crucially, Fiordiligi’s “Per pietà.” Her aria is the opera’s big “Hey, wait a minute” moment, when things stop being funny—this is a woman in torment. It becomes even more complicated a bit later as Ferrando in disguise seduces Fiordiligi. On its surface this is payback for Guglielmo’s successful seduction of Dorabella, but is that all? We already know he’s a romantic, and the passionate music of the duet with Fiordiligi (“Fra gli amplessi”) logically leads you to think he may not just be acting. The ambiguity of “Così” and the cruelty of Don Alfonso’s mind games, set against some broad farce, demand a director who can handle a sensitive balancing act.

I’d like to say Phelim McDermott, director of the Metropolitan Opera’s new “Così” production, filled the bill entirely, but unfortunately he failed in certain details. Let’s get some controversy out of the way first: I loved his setting of the opera in 1950’s Coney Island, I think the side-show performers are a wonderful addition and I enjoyed the clever pantomime during the overture. All of this heightened the experience and in no way demeaned the opera as some critics have complained (What a bunch of stuffed shirts). However, where I thought he fell short was in not giving certain key moments the opportunity to land properly. This was most evident when Amanda Majeski as Fiordiligi sang “Per pieta” while floating up and down on a balloon ride. The seriousness of that moment should never be undercut. Similarly, the staging of her Act I aria, the satirical “Come scoglio,” while funny, was too frenetic; give the woman a chance to breathe!

The performances were a mixed bag. Of the four lovers, honors go to the gentlemen, Ben Bliss and Adam Plachetka, whose naval officers turned Danny Zuko lookalikes were well sung, as was Serena Malfi’s Dorabella. I was somewhat disappointed by Amanda Majeski who seemed overparted as Fiordiligi. In fairness, this is a killer role, both vocally and dramatically, and it takes a great deal of stage presence to get the character’s points across. One of the best opera performances I ever saw was “Così” at New York City Opera many years ago when the company’s Mozart operas were usually sung in English. The late Patricia Brooks, who began her career as an actress before switching to opera, was the Fiordiligi. I can still remember how she emoted during the recitative of “Per pieta” to set up the audience’s laughter, before her entire physical demeanor changed to signal the very real pain the character was experiencing. The audience instantly hushed, and she had them hanging on every note until she finished. I would have liked to have seen that kind of stage savvy at the Met last night, but it wasn’t to be.

Fortunately there was energy and presence to burn when Kelli O’Hara was on stage. There was a lot of interweb disparagement when she was announced as Despina last year, and I’m thrilled she’s proven the naysayers wrong. She projects well in the house, she rattled off Despina’s recitative like a pro and she seemed to be enjoying herself immensely (I particularly loved her dancing Texas justice of the peace at the end of Act II). She and Christopher Maltman, as Don Alfonso, played well together, and here’s hoping this isn’t the end of her performances at the Met.

“Così” will be this Saturday’s “Live in HD” telecast. It’s worth the excursion to Coney Island.