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Mitridate by Mozart at the Boston Lyric Opera

My first show on my new subscription at the Boston Lyric Opera! Apparently Mozart wrote this when he was 14, so I wasn't really expecting too much, and I wasn't disappointed. It's very Baroque, I don't think there's a duet until an hour in, just straight da capo arias one after another, but with maybe a more classical approach to the instrumental music. Nowhere near as exciting and interesting as the Mozart operas we're all familiar with, but even 14 year old Mozart had a genius for melody and harmony.

Mitridate is about a weird incestuous love pentangle where the king Mitridate's two children are alternately trying to seduce the king's coerced bride to be, while one is fending off his own bride to be.

BLO decided to modernize it by making one of the brothers a sister and giving her a lesbian love story, which, OK, perfectly legit way to handle a castrato role. But the problem was that all of the love pentangle stuff was so convoluted and over the top that the BLO also decided to not take it seriously. They spent the whole first act making fun of the various courtships with broad comic moves, so that when the rubber meets the road in the final act and they want you to feel the agony of the separated lovers and the estranged family, it really requires you to stretch yourself emotionally to forget what came before. And yet... with some great vocal performances, particularly Lawrence Brownlee's Mitridate and Brenda Rae's Aspasia, they got me a couple of times in the conclusion. I got caught up in it, in spite of myself! I'm not too proud to admit it.

Anyway, not perfect but not a bad introduction to opera in Boston.

Opera 2023

Jan. 2nd, 2024 09:41 pm
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Guys, the Met is actually doing it! I saw three operas this fall, one which premiered in 1989, one in 2000, and the third in 1996. Welcome to a new kind of Metropolitan Opera. We'll see how long it lasts, but for the moment I am delighted.

I also made the decision this fall that I was going to start wearing a tuxedo to the Met. I've long been a "I'm there for the music, not the social scene, so if I show up in jeans it's fine" person, but it seemed like fun to dress up and so I'm dressing up. I was talking to [livejournal.com profile] gingerrose and she suggested it was in some way a response to the pandemic, like now when we go out in public we feel the need to be Out in Public in a way we didn't before. Anyway, a used former rental tux was only about $50 on ebay, which is less than a rental would have cost, and I've been having a lot of fun with bow ties.

Also, because I'm a Troll, I toyed for a bit with not warning Lee that I'd be showing up in a tux, but it definitely was more fun for us to both be dressed up. Also, because I'm a Troll, Lee was about a third-convinced that I would in fact show up dressed down to make him look silly, which, fair enough.

Dead Man Walking by Jake Heggie, at the Met

Seen with R. This was really intense, with beautiful gospel-infused music and a bleak story about a murderous man on death row and the naive but brave nun who tries to save his soul. It was uncomfortably Catholic in places, perhaps most egregiously when I detected what I thought was a Pieta motif with the murderer in the Jesus role. But all in all I really liked it and Joyce DiDonato and Susan Graham were amazing as usual.

X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X by Anthony Davis, at the Met

Seen with Lee. The music was fascinatingly diverse, with a lot of bebop and other jazz idiom intermixing both with Modernist classical (a composer's note cites Berg as an influence) and a variety of world music ideas and techniques. The staging had some excellent dancing, taking hip hop moves and making something more expansive out of them, and some interesting visual conceits. But the narrative was very weak. The opera took you passively through a range of settings and experiences throughout Malcolm X's life, but rarely was there much conflict in any particular scene. They were just experiences in his life to be experienced visually and sonically, to build up to an imagistic sense of how he became the man he was. And I think also, possibly more significantly, to build up an imagistic sense of how the world around him changed the way people understood Malcolm X. I felt like the opera was more about 'the times' of Malcolm X than it was about 'the life', to riff on the show's subtitle.

Florencia en el Amazonas by Daniel Catan, at the Met

Seen with Talia. I really loved Catan's "La Hija de Rappaccini", when it was staged at the Brooklyn Botanical Gardens a number of years ago. This was, likewise, a story very much infused with setting and an interest in the intersection of the natural and human worlds, in this case a boat going down the Amazon amid all of the wildlife of the rainforest. There were dancers in astonishingly beautiful costumes, as butterflies or piranhas or a host of other Amazonian wildlife making their way up and down the river.

The costumes and set were the most striking part of the show, but the music was also very good, an interesting mixture of a modern musical register with an early 20th century Puccini vibe as inhabited by the main character, an aging diva returning from Europe to make one final performance in her native Brazil. I need to hear more of Catan's music.


The spring will bring more modernity in Terence Blanchard's Fire Shut up in My Bones, as well as some new-to-me classics in Verdi's La Forza del Destino and Gluck's Orfeo ed Euridice.
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[personal profile] brainwane asked for some context to explain how to listen to John Adams's opera Doctor Atomic.

I am used to music that you might call 'songs'. Like, there is a repetitive rhythm and melody, and the lyrics scan, and usually rhyme. I feel like the lyrics and the music match each other, like a hand in a glove.

I tried to watch some of the Doctor Atomic recording that the Met is offering as free streaming. What are the creators trying to do here with specific choices of notes they're having the performers sing as they say these words? it feels arbitrary, unmatched, in a way that the songs I'm used to don't feel. So I would like help understanding how to musically listen and appreciate what they're doing.


I'm not sure I'm the best person to answer this, I know some music theory and I've seen a lot of opera but mostly I'll be describing subjective experiences, not chord structures. Also, I personally saw Doctor Atomic fifteen years ago so it's not something I remember everything about particularly clearly.

Opera has always struggled with a fundamental dramaturgical problem, which is that aria (melodic, structured song) is the fundamental building block of opera, but it's hard to tell a clear story through aria. Aria is great for telling essential character moments, it's not great for efficiently communicating "I'm going to hide behind that curtain and spy while you talk to your sister." There have been various solutions. If you aren't trying to tell a clear story, you can just build the opera entirely out of aria- that's what Debussy does in his symbolist opera Pelleas et Melisande, for example, and it works because the opera is a simple love triangle all about emotions and not about intricate plot details. On the other end of the spectrum, you can just speak the dialogue you want to deliver plot with, which is the strategy that has become the basic tool of American musical theater, and today we tend to distinguish between 'opera' as fully through-sung vs. 'musical theater' which has spoken dialogue intermixed, but that wasn't always a distinction and some operas have spoken dialogue.

In between these strategies is Recitative, the most common strategy in opera, which is sung dialogue designed to allow for the rhythms of normal human dialogue. Recitative is at its core a compromise, something that opera requires and composers struggle to do their best with. It exists on a spectrum from spoken dialogue to aria, and there is some vocabulary for the range of things in between, if that's helpful. Recitative secco is sung a cappella, as compared to recitative accompagnato, sung with a musical accompaniment. The musical accompaniment may achieve one or more of several goals: it may underscore the emotional content of the dialogue, or it may contradict or undermine it, or it may simply provide a little more musical interest. And some recitative shades into what's called arioso, which means that even the simplest dialogue is sung to a melody, but not quite as dramatic and structured a melody as an aria. But again, the point is that this is a musical compromise with theater, not a kind of music someone would just write to listen to. No opera diva does concerts offering selections of their favorite recitative passages

Recitative seems to be a particular problem for composers writing opera in English, compared to composers writing opera in French or Italian at least, where words tend to end in nice open vowels that make singing them comparatively straightforward. (I think even clunky Italian recitative has the grace of us Americans not understanding it, in any case.) There's a lot of English language opera that just has bad, clunky recitative, and my memory is that this was part of the problem with the recitative in Doctor Atomic- particularly because they are delivering dialogue that is full of abstruse technobabble and there is simply no graceful way to do it (I feel like [personal profile] freeradical42 and I were debating whether there was an intention to make the recitative sound a little clunky, either as a distancing move or a characterization move) So I think part of your problem is that this is a flaw in the opera and you are bumping on it because it is flawed, not because your ears are not trained. (And Doctor Atomic does have some memorable arias that should be more musically familiar to you, particularly the John Donne aria) I want to emphasize that in general. I think opera is something that I have found becomes more rewarding the more I understand how it works, but also at a basic level, whether or not art works is a subjective experience and you should trust your own subjectivity even if it's untrained. You are not less entitled to having an opinion about the music than a lifelong opera lover.

But I also think there are deeper structural things happening in the music that take some training and experience to understand. Baroque Opera has this kind of basic Da Capo Aria- Recitative - Different Da Capo Aria - Recitative pattern throughout, which is fine as far as it goes, I think I've referred to Baroque Opera as an Aria Delivery System, but as we move into the late Classical and early Romantic periods one of the distinguishing features is that all of the music starts to get woven together more tightly, the harmony or tonality of a piece of recitative accompaniment linking two arias is thematically linked, so that the audience experiences it all as one connected musical narrative instead of as separate musical objects. This reaches an apotheosis, in different ways, in Wagner and Verdi. Nearly all of the first act of Verdi's La Traviata, for example, is built around a waltz motif and as it moves from aria to aria and takes you to different parts of the party, the waltz never quite goes away.

My memory of how this works in Doctor Atomic is foggy, all I have is my notes in my review (which recalls a sense of attenuation of time through the whole second act), and my sense of John Adams as a composer. Adams is generally classified as minimalist or post-minimalist, he's interested in repeated simple music figures and how they can build out into a large musical structure, and I feel like one of the things this music often does is play with our awareness of time, because you come back to the same place musically and it both feels like no time has passed and also a lot of time has passed. To get this feeling, you can't just listen to a segment of the music, you need to hear the whole thing and try to process the whole structure and how you felt as you were moving through it. So part of me wonders whether your real problem is in trying to watch 'some of the Doctor Atomic recording'. What I do remember clearly fifteen years later is not any particular moment other than the detonation of the bomb, I remember what the whole experience felt like as an experience, the way the opera moves closer and closer, through intellectual struggle and against a backdrop of emotional uncertainty, to its devastating climax. The other thing I remember is that the feeling of being surrounded on all sides by the sounds of Adams's representation of the bomb was otherworldly; the recording cannot possibly capture what it feels like to hear Doctor Atomic live.
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I took the plunge and got a Met subscription this year, after skipping last season because I didn't actually end up using most of my dates the year before. But this season looked like so much fun.

My subscription:

Dead Man Walking (Jake Heggie)
Sunday, October 15, 2023, 3:00 pm

X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X (Anthony Davis)
Tuesday, November 7, 2023, 7:30 pm

Florencia en el Amazonas (Daniel Catan)
Monday, November 27, 2023, 8:00 pm

Fire Shut Up in My Bones (Terence Blanchard)
Monday, April 8, 2024, 7:00 pm

Orfeo ed Euridice (Christoph Gluck)
Sunday, May 19, 2024, 3:00 pm

La Forza del Destino (Giuseppe Verdi)
Sunday, March 24, 2024, 2:00 pm



As usual, I got two tickets- let me know if you're interested in seeing any of these shows with me.
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Wow this new season at the Met!

I skipped my subscription this season because last season I only managed to see about half of the shows I'd bought tickets for, it's just been harder for me to get into the City lately. But I really want to re-up this year!

They're staging two operas by African-American composers, the return of last season's Terence Blanchard opera "Fire Up in My Bones" which I was so sad I missed, and a new revival of Anthony Davis's X, The Life and Times of Malcolm X. There's also a new production of Daniel Catan's Florenza en el Amazonas, and I absolutely adored the only Catan opera I've seen, Hija de Rappaccini, so I really want to see this. They're also doing a new production of a John Adams opera (though it's very Christian apparently, so probably I skip it) and a Jake Heggie opera and bringing back their The Hours opera by Kevin Puts. THIS IS A LOT OF LATE 20TH AND 21ST CENTURY OPERA FOR THE MET. Nothing by a female composer, obviously women are still physically incapable of writing opera, but wow. They're also doing Gluck's Orfeo again, hopefully I will finally get to see it, and they also will have a new Carmen and a new Forza del Destino. Anyway, I am excited.
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The Impresario by Mozart

The opening act of a double bill at the Princeton Festival Sunday night, performed in English with what I'm given to understand is a fairly loose adaptation of the original. This was highlighted by the hilariously chaotic trio where the rival prima donnas argue with their mutual paramour about who should headline the show, and the whole thing was funny but not very deep.


Scalia/Ginsburg by Derrick Wang

Just as enthralling the second time around, though I think I felt a little more ambivalent about its conclusions given where the court is in 2022 without these two titans of law on the court. Scalia argues forcefully for a fixity of law that everyone can rely on, Ginsburg points out that the laws are sometimes wrong and the Constitution was written by humans who were flawed, so the courts need to push the laws on a more just path... but they converge on the idea that as long as they honestly argue their positions and push for justice, America will move forward. None of this is breaking particularly new ground, what is exciting about Scalia/Ginsburg is the form, as an opera about the courts and particularly about these two friends and lovers of opera. The opera mashes classic European grand opera, both narratively and musically, with American musical forms and narrative structures. Scalia and Ginsburg's identities as children of immigrants figure significantly into the story. That's not a coincidence. The American experiment with democracy is something that is both new and old, European and American, welded awkwardly together. It doesn't always work, sometimes it fails, but both traditionalism and progressivism need to be part of its trajectory. I'm somewhat more skeptical of that idea with the current court, but it was still beautiful and inspiring to hear it communicated through music.
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I was back at the Metropolitan Opera this week, for the first time(s) in over two years. Twice! I finally felt like it was a reasonable risk to take, and I dunno, I guess we'll see, but I really enjoyed it at least.

Ariadne auf Naxos by Richard Strauss

I dunno, I remember liking this production more the last time I saw it, but I enjoyed it a lot anyway. The premise of the show is that at the last minute, the duke has ordered that a opera seria company staging a very Important opera based on the myth of Ariadne and a commedia dell'arte troupe doing silly clown stuff perform simultaneously. Initially they are performing two different shows in parallel, but as time goes on their stories become more and more entangled. It is very, very silly and yet it has that Straussian way of sneaking up on you with profundity. Every time Ariadne sings one of her tragic arias, you are aware of Zerbinetta's mocking, you are aware that Ariadne is taking herself too seriously... but those feelings she has are still real, and Strauss makes you feel them deep in the feels.

I saw it with [personal profile] ghost_lingering, and I also was seeing her for the first time in two years, so that was great too.

Don Carlosby Giuseppe Verdi

This was... a lot. It was four and a half hours, and yes, it really needed to be four and a half hours, but also, did it really need to be four and a half hours?

I mean, it was great, no denying that. Musically, I found it a little surprising? It's definitely Verdi, but it felt closer to the Requiem than to any of his operas I know. There's so much religion in it, and that connection to the sublime and the infinite gives it a continuous, almost oppressive heft. There's so much of everything in it, it's an incredibly complicated exploration of the complexities of politics and love and family and religion, yes, it's about all of those things.

Also it is the tinhattiest history ever. Like, as far as I can tell, the actual history is that Philip II had a tweenage son Carlos and Henry II had a tweenage daughter Elizabeth and people said "Maybe marrying them in a couple years would be a good political idea" and then what actually happened is that Philip II married Elizabeth when she was 14, because yikes... In the opera version, this becomes Carlos had an all-consuming love for his fiancee Elizabeth and his father stole her from him. You keep shipping your weird RPF rarepairs, Schiller!
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I've kept rolling over my Met subscription as dates were cancelled during the pandemic. Eventually, I figured, the Met would come back and I'd still want to have a subscription, and in the meantime letting them keep the money was a small way to support the arts.

Anyway, it's looking like there will be a fall season, and I think I will feel comfortable attending. I got an email from the Met confirming my subscription, albeit cancelling Gluck's Iphigenie en Tauride for tech upgrades.

At present, this apparently is my subscription package:

Fire Shut Up In My Bones
10/19/2021 7:00 PM

Rigoletto
01/11/2022 7:00 PM

Ariadne auf Naxos
03/08/2022 8:00 PM

Elektra
04/05/2022 7:00 PM

La Bohème
05/24/2022 8:00 PM


I do not remember selecting this subscription package, but it's plausibly something I would choose. Only one of the shows is new to me- I've seen the Met's Rigoletto, Ariadne, Elektra, and La Boheme. Rigoletto and Ariadne are two of my favorite operas, La Boheme is the most tolerable Puccini, and I guess I'm giving Strauss another chance to win me over with Elektra. The Gluck opera probably was part of what sold me on the package, but oh well, it all should be good.

But I am most excited for Fire Shut Up In My Bones, a Met premiere by jazz trumpeter and composer Terence Blanchard. I saw him play a mindboggling set at lPR a couple years back, and he is going to be the first black composer to have his work staged by the Metropolitan Opera. (As usual, no cookies for Peter Gelb.)

As always, I have an extra ticket, so if anyone is interested in joining me for any of these shows, let me know.
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One Day at a Time Goes to See La Clemenza di Tita.


Syd: I am so excited. I read that the part of Annio is a trouser role, a male part played by an actress in men's clothing.
Elena: Really? So this opera is gender non-conforming! Like you!
Abuelita: You make everything gay. Even the opera is gay to you.


Oh, Abuelita... Elena did not need to make opera gay. It's been like that for centuries.
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The Ghosts of Versailles by John Corigliano as performed at the Met in 1992, which was last night's Met Opera Free Stream


The Ghosts of Versailles is a glorious clusterfuck of an opera. In terms of storytelling, I think it is more unsuccessful than successful, but I admire the ambition nonetheless, the way it mashes pieces of the Figaro trilogy together with history and metafiction and tries to make a bigger shape out of all of it.

But given the protests of the past week, I was super not into a narrative that was so sympathetic to Marie Antoinette and Count Almaviva, that argued that the French Revolution was manipulated by evil men for their own personal benefit and overthrew a monarchy that was trying for justice and a Queen who was just misunderstood and suffered for it.It was like Corigliano was trying to write an opera (WP says he calls it a Grand Opera Buffa) that encompassed all of opera's bigness, and so in addition to writing a story that was both a comedy and a tragedy, a love story and a story of lost love, both a historical narrative and a fictional artifice... he also wrote an opera that is racist and sexist and classist in truly disturbing ways.That this opera was written in the early 1990s, not the early 1790s, made it egregious. Like, obviously racism and sexism and classism are core elements of opera, but that doesn't mean you need to keep them!

Stuff

May. 24th, 2020 07:24 pm
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I had a romantic rejection earlier today. To process my emotions, I biked out on a new route. I rode to the Dismal Swamp, which is an amazing thing to have exist. It sounds like a place from The Princess Bride! The Dismal Swamp, a conservation area in Edison, is at its narrowest point near the road I was biking on, so even though it's a fairly vast open space spanning hundreds of acres, I passed through it in just a couple minutes and was back on the other side. Which felt good in a metaphor made physical way that was very satisfying, and makes me think it could become a useful post-disappointment ritual going forward.





I learned via Wiscon that Parable of the Sower:the Opera will be streaming for free tomorrow morning. 8PM Singapore time which is I think 8AM Eastern Time. I know several people expressed interest when I reviewed it a couple years ago. It is fantastic, if you can I highly recommend checking it out.
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Agrippina by Georg Handel at the Met

So Baroque opera has this thing called the da capo aria. It's one of the basic building blocks of baroque opera. The way it works it that you sing an initial theme, and then you sing a new theme, and then you go back, da capo, to the beginning, and sing the first them again.

If done right, if the A section and B section interact in the right way, and the repetition of the A section does interesting things in varying the repetition, it does amazing things for character development. The key to a good da capo aria is that the singer at the end is singing the same words but feeling something different.

In a bad da capo aria, you feel the same thing throughout. And since baroque opera tends to have a lot of da capo arias, in a bad baroque opera, the emotional work just feels tedious and endless. Aimless da capo aria stacked on top of aimless da capo aria. This was the case for a lot of Agrippina, Handel's satirical opera about the internecine politics of the Roman Empire during the reign of Claudius. Particularly in the first act.

But there were a lot of really cool things anyway! Post intermission, the show opened on a set dressed as an upscale modern bar, the kind of place where the bartender wants to be called a mixologist. (Where is this opera being set? I asked [personal profile] freeradical42 at intermission. In Gilboa, from the show Kings, he replied.). And a set of arias set in the bar provided an amazing combination of personal humor and emotional development from what could have just been standing around yelling at each other. Dancers danced rock 'n roll dances to the baroque arias, an amazing choreographic juxtaposition that made the scene feel so startlingly specific. Brenda Rae's Poppea carries this sequence on her back, lurching wrenchingly from thoughtful self-doubt to drunkenly out of control and finally landing on a determination to learn from her mentors and seek revenge over reconciliation.


Also, Kate Lindsey's dissolute youth Nero was an unbelievable physical presence the likes of which I've never seen on an opera stage, as much a dance performance as it was a singing performance. And Joyce DiDonato was obviously brilliant as the compulsively backstabbing Agrippina, and Matthew Rose's Claudius was forceful but convincingly flawed.
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Porgy and Bess by George Gershwin at the Met


The Met Opera Orchestra swung, Gershwin and the Heymans' complex, beautiful opera shone, and I had a really great night out.

Figaro

Dec. 4th, 2019 12:03 pm
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"So the plot of the Marriage of Figaro," says [personal profile] ghost_lingering during the intermission between the second and third acts, "Is that the CEO has supposedly implemented a new sexual harassment policy, and he wants cookies for having done it, but he doesn't think he actually has to follow it."

"Yes. That is it. That is exactly the plot," I replied.



"I think I would like Cherubino less if he were sung by a tenor, but because he was sung by a mezzo I kept thinking of him as a lesbian, and I liked him that way," she later added, concluding that between Cherubino and Figaro this was in fact the first opera she'd ever seen where she didn't hate all the male characters.
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Akhnaten by Philip Glass, staged at the Metroplitan Opera


This was definitely an experience. Like Satyagraha, Akhnaten sits somewhere between opera and oratorio, light on plot and heavy on the viewer imposing narratives and meanings on it. I think it may be slightly more abstract feeling because Satyagraha gains immediacy from its relatively recent historical setting, whereas Akhnaten is about ancient history, and legacy, and generational transmission and loss of knowledge and heritage. All definitely themes I love, and I loved how the opera fleshed them out.

In Glass's orchestral music here, with its typical repetitive forms, everything is about timbre. The orchestra has no violins, and thus has a lot of room for the low end of the orchestral repertoire, lots of cello and bass and bassoon sounds. Anthony Roth Costanza's countertenor voice, as Akhnaten, floats beautifully on top.

I see in my Satyagraha review I emphasize how busy the set was with micronarrative. That wasn't the case this time... To fill time instead, the director used SPECTACULAR JUGGLING. It was a masterpiece of pure pageantry, and I loved it.

I definitely drifted in and out of paying attention a bit in the third act because it was late and the Met was stiflingly hot and the music was repetitive and sleep-lulling, but mostly I found the whole thing thrilling, and I look forward to [personal profile] bironic's thoughts to compare notes.
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Oh, I forgot to write about Verdi's Macbeth in all the hullabaloo of holidays.


Macbeth composed by Verdi, at the Met

I saw this with [personal profile] roga two weeks ago. It was great. Also, seeing [personal profile] roga again was great. After the show a bunch of subway stations were closed for late night service, because the MTA is a trash fire, so we got a nice walk together down from Lincoln Center to Times Square.

Domingo was supposed to be singing the role of Macbeth, but... yeah, about that. It turns out that if you have a man, with a position of power over other people, there's a pretty good chance that he's been abusing that power for decades to harm the women he holds power over. Huh. Whodathunk. Zeljko Lucic sang the role in his place, and he was really good. He's not as magnetic a performer as Domingo can be, but I'm much less happy seeing art when I know the artists are abusers, so I'm glad for the change. Anna Netrebko was opposite Lucic as Lady Macbeth, and she was fantastic. Though of course Lady Macbeth's arc is the classic one of a woman being punished for wanting things too much, so... yeah. We all live in the patriarchy, what can you do? I mean, besides burn it all down. My friend has an article out the day after the show about why Peter Gelb should be gone at the Met given repeated evidence that his first impulse is to believe the abuser.. I disagree with none of it.

Verdi's Macbeth strips back a lot of the political elements of Shakespeare's play, reducing the character count a bunch and focusing on two things: the Witches, and the Macbeth/Lady Macbeth relationship. Macduff and Malcolm don't appear at all until the last act, Duncan has no lines whatsoever, and signs of the supernatural are everywhere. The witches are occasionally three distinct figures, but are more often three large choral sections, which amplifies the general sense of them as otherworldly.creatures, not quite human. And the Met's production, full of flashy effects and eerie green lights and projected stormclouds, enhances that further. This a story about the collision between the mundane world of politics and the world of faith and mystery. It does not turn out well for the mundanes.

Musically, I don't have much to say. It was Verdi, there was nothing objectionable and plenty enjoyable, but there was also nothing that was particularly memorable. I found the choral writing for the witches more interesting than I found a lot of Macbeth and Lady Macbeth's arias, but I liked everything.
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My Met subscription 2019-2020:

Verdi's Macbeth, Oct 1, 2019 (Rosh Hashanah, mental note to swap tickets to a different date)
Glass's Akhnaten, Nov 19, 2019
Mozart's Le Nozze di Figaro, Dec 3, 2019
Berg's Wozzeck, Jan 7, 2020
Gershwin's Porgy and Bess, Jan 28, 2020
Handel's Agrippina, Feb 25, 2020
Massenet's Werther, Mar 31, 2020
Puccini's Manon Lescaut, May 5, 2020
Janacek's Kat'a Kabanova, May 6, 2020


Excited about everything except the Puccini, as usual. Let me know if there's anything you'd like to join me for
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La Boheme composed by Giacomo Puccini, staged by Opera Philadelphia

Actually the first time I've seen a staged La Boheme live- I'd previously only seen it live in a concert performance by the New York Philharmonic in the park. It wasn't high on my list of ways to spend my time, but it's Puccini's least objectionable opera and it was part of this year's three-opera day alignment, where Opera Philadelphia has a Sunday matinee and Curtis Opera has a double bill of short operas highlighting a variety of their student performers, so I went.

And, like, it's definitely Puccini's least objectionable opera?

Rodolfo is terrible, but that's okay, he loves Mimi and Mimi loves him, and so it's all kind of sweetly terrible. Musetta and Marcello are locked in a terrible game together, but they most give as good as they get. There is no rape whatsoever that the narrative tries to convince us isn't really rape, so... definitely the least objectionable Puccini. Although I could've done without Marcello's little fits of domestic violence in this staging. Very textually unnecessary. I super-cringed when Marcello threw a shoe at Musetta, after previously hurling her to the ground in a fit of jealousy, and the audience laughed.

Philadelphia Opera's unique contribution to the opera was a set-dressing based on animations of famous Impressionist paintings, some of which Marcello is ostensibly actually painting. He waves his hand in front of the video screen and the painting comes together, stroke by stroke.

The idea seemed to be to remind the audience that the Impressionist masterpieces that have so suffused our culture today were at their time the work of avant garde artistic revolutionaries, much like the characters portrayed in La Boheme. It's a bold strategy, trying to convince us that Rodolfo and Marcello actually were artistic geniuses suffering for their genius, rather than simply romantic fools suffering for their 'art'. It does change how you read their stories, to some degree, but it also felt kind of silly.

Riders to the Sea composed by Ralph Vaughan Williams after the Synge play, staged by Curtis Opera

A very striking piece. There's no aria whatsoever, and it makes use almost entirely of Synge's original text, notably the heavy Irish dialect. The music sits underneath, largely warm but foreboding legato strings. The language is so important to this work, in a way that I'm usually not able to access in foreign-language opera. Curtis's singers did more or less creditable jobs of singing with the required accent.

It's a tragedy, but not in the classical sense. It's not a story about agency and human failing. Instead, it's a fatalist tragedy, a doom foretold seen inexorably to its crushing end. Poor Maurya lives with her two daughters and a son in a sea-side hovel in rural Ireland. She has lost four sons, a husband, and a father in law to the sea, and as the opera begins, a fifth son is rumored to have also drowned. Maurya sees her son's ghost, and knows that it foretells the death of her last son, leaving her all alone with her daughters and no way of managing the family farm. It's brutal, but there's an austere beauty in the story's unrelenting brutality, and in the way it speaks of love and our ability to survive it.

Empty the House composed by Rene Orth, staged by Curtis Opera

A new opera, and a local one- Orth is presently composer in residence at Opera Philadelphia, and she composed this opera while a student at Curtis several years ago.

Orth sets the story in 1990s suburban Houston, and it was staged as vividly in its specific setting as Riders to the Sea was. It's a two and a half hander between a conservative Christian mother and her rebellious daughter, and the ghost of a son whose memory stands between them. (The program note connected Empty the House to Riders to the Sea by asserting that they are both in their fashion ghost stories, as well as stories about mothers connecting with daughters.)

Orth's music is for electro-acoustic orchestra, an at times stunning mixture of strings and winds with drum machines, synths, and samples. A recording of water dripping from a leaky sink motif recurs, taken up in later passages and improvised on as an electronic fantasia. The rhythms from the drums were particularly striking and percussive in many places.

I read the synopsis in the program beforehand, as I usually do when approaching opera, and was uncertain how much certain things were supposed to be taken as 'twists'. It's revealed most of the way through that the ghostly son was a gay man who had died of AIDS in the mid eighties on his sister's couch, as his mother refused to help him. But up to this point, they had only spoken of him in the past tense, so it was unclear to me if it was supposed to be a surprise to us that he was a ghost.
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I drove down to Wilmington Delaware early morning after davening. I don't think I've ever been to Wilmington before! The opera was at 2PM, I got there around 10:30. I really enjoyed Wilmington. It's not that far away, I want to make more plans to do stuff there.

First I went to the Delaware Art Museum, which was small but interesting. They have a labyrinth in the back! I kind of want to run a D&D adventure set there. The main special exhibition was on children's story illustration, the private collection of a local doctor. Particularly neat was a set of different illustrations of the Pied Piper. There was also an interesting 'experimental' recuration of the exhibition rooms dedicated to the museum's Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood collection, with easel paper hung on the walls with sharpied colloquial explanations of the revolutionary anti-establishment significance of some of the artistic choices. And some stunning Rossettis. I also liked the Howard Pyle gallery of late 19th century adventure story magazine illustrations. And a portrait of Absalom Jones was a pleasant surprise.

There's an entrance to Alapocas Run State Park right behind the museum, and I'd brought my bike along for the purpose of going for a ride in the park. The main trail through the park opened with a fairly long, steep climb and so I wore myself out earlier than I'd anticipated, but it was a pretty trail and I enjoyed myself, though I didn't enjoy the reminder that I'm not as fit as I'd like to be.

I then drove to Wilmington's only kosher restaurant, a vegan place on the riverfront where I had my first bread since erev Pesach. Yum bread. :D

Then I biked to the opera house to meet [personal profile] ghost_lingering and [livejournal.com profile] gingerrose for the show.

Trial by Jury by Gilbert and Sullivan

The premise is that they're trying a case where the defendant was engaged to the plaintiff, but he backed out and the putative bride is trying to force the nuptials to go forward or be paid for breach of contract. Everyone spends the whole playing shouting about lack of bias, and then being utterly shameless about their biases, and it is screamingly funny. The final resolution is that the Judge, having divorced the 'elderly, ugly daughter of a rich attorney' he married to attain his judgeship, agrees to marry the plaintiff.


Scalia/Ginsburg by Derrick Wang

Jews Dance in this Opera!!!

The music, and the plot for that matter, was super-pastichey. Very little of the music was original. But that was very forgivable both because the new contextualization was so extreme, and because there seemed to be an idea behind the pastiche: The opera was interrogating the way in which opera formed part of the basis for the inexplicable friendship between Scalia and Ginsburg, and using the operatic tradition to help explore that question. At the end, the story reconnects to the idea of the power of opera and music and story in fulfilling their dreams- specifically, Scalia and Ginsburg's dreams, not some generic idea of the power of opera.

The opera opens with Scalia in his chambers, criticizing other judges for their limited vision of the force of Constitutionality. He is greeted by a statue come to life a la the Commendatore from Don Giovanni, the "Commentator". After some faffing around, the Commentator tells Scalia that he is subjecting him to three Trials a la Sarastro's trials from The Magic Flute.

That Don Giovanni/Magic Flute combo was interesting, I'm still thinking about it. [personal profile] ghost_lingering and I concluded that it worked because of the combination of Scalia's Catholicism and his devotion to Enlightenment-style Constitutionality.

In general the opera was very aware of the silliness of an opera about constitutional theories, but it was also serious and fully committed to its premise, and it used an awful lot of their own words and citations to the cases they have been involved with. The drama at the heart of the opera is in taking Antonin Scalia and Ruth Bader Ginsburg, these two absolute fucking heavyweights of the American experiment, and setting them against each other and ultimately in support of each other, because both of those things are true. American constitutionalism works on good faith opposition, even extreme opposition. And that drama works. It works so well.


Afterward I drove [personal profile] ghost_lingering back to Jersey, giving us lots of time to rant about all of our issues with Endgame.
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Rigoletto by Verdi at the Metropolitan Opera


There was some sort of mixup with tickets and maybe I wasn't supposed to be at last night's show even though I had emails saying it was part of my subscription package? I'm unclear on the details, possibly I didn't get the exact subscription package that was my first choice? Possibly I made an exchange when purchasing the tickets because I've already seen this Rigoletto, and lost my notes about the swap? In any case I showed up at the opera house and they didn't have me on the list, but since I'm a subscriber and they had some extra tickets available, they gave me a couple of comp tickets. Orchestra level, waaaay more expensive than the seats I normally get. :) [personal profile] ghost_lingering and I were pretty pleased about the upgrade, though I should probably up my donation to the Met next year. I've probably seen about a hundred shows at the Met and this is my third time seeing one from the orchestra level. It was nice to be able to get more of a sense of actors' expressions than you can from the family circle.

Director Michael Mayer moves Rigoletto to the 1950s mafia-run Las Vegas. The Duke is a mafia don, his courtiers including Rigoletto are his soldiers, who do stunning cruel things to other people because who will stop them? Sparafucile's sister Maddalena is a stripper. The set is largely neon, starting with the delightfully realistic and visually overhwelming Strip of the first act and becoming increasingly abstract toward the stunning blue and white neon lightning storm of the third act. It's a fun setting for a story about morality going out the window, colorful in all senses of the word. I'm not sure how deep the things the re-setting says are, but at minimum it says that just because we live in a democracy and not a semifeudal duchy, doesn't free us from the questions of power and autonomy and faith that Rigoletto asks, because many of the systems of power and obligation still operate, just at different societal layers.

Verdi's music is at its most amazing here. I love the way he reuses "La Donna e mobile" throughout the third act as a theme that says everything we need to know about the Duke and the social power of his charisma. I love the way a cappella resurfaces again and again as a way to strip these figures down to their inner essences. I love how interconnected the score is. In total, "Rigoletto" remains amazing.

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