Hamilton Comes to The Met!

It's finally happening. Peter Gelb has scrapped plans for this season's opening of TRISTAN UND ISOLDE, and, in an effort to draw in younger audiences and raise ticket prices to truly ungodly levels, has announced its replacement: Lin-Manuel Miranda's hit, hip-hop musical HAMILTON.

Though Mr. Gelb could not yet be reached for further comment the cast list has been released as follows:

Alexander Hamilton: Jonas Kaufmann
Aaron Burr: Johann Botha
Eliza Schuyler Hamilton: Maria Guleghina
Angelica Schuyler Church: Renee Fleming
Marquis de Lafayette/Thomas Jefferson: Juan Diego Florez
George Washington: James Morris
King George III: Franco Farina
Peggy Schuyler/Maria Reynolds: Deborah Voigt
John Laurens/Philip Hamilton: Richard Bernstein
Hercules Mulligan / James Madison: Thomas Hammons

Condctor: Nello Santi

Tickets go on sale at midnight and the run is expected to sell out.

p.
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It's a Sad, Sad, Sad, Sad World: Goerne's Surprise Wozzeck at the Met

My jaw hit the proverbial floor yesterday when I heard the announcement that, for opening night of the Met's revival of Alban Berg's masterpiece, "Wozzeck," Matthias Goerne was stepping in at the last possible minute for an ailing Thomas Hampson. Goerne agreed sometime late afternoon for a performance (in a staging he'd never done and seen only once) to take part in the performance that would begin only 3 or 4 hours from his decision. (On a side note, I'm certain I wasn't alone in wondering "will he/won't he?" regarding Hampson and this Wozzeck.) Hopefully Mr. Hampson recovers and we get to hear his take on the role, but what a treat to hear one of the 2 or 3 leading Wozzecks of our time in his role debut at the Big House - even if I couldn't be there, thankfully it was carried on Sirius/XM Radio.

First off, having Levine back in the pit was a joy, despite his naysayers who complain of his treating Wozzeck as though it were The Merry Widow. The nuances, beauties, subtleties and in-your-face horrors of Berg's tremendous
score came crashing through, revealing just why this opera is one of the few 20th century operas to have gained such a stronghold on audiences and an obsession for so many (myself included). The celeste music that opens the first scene between Wozzeck and Marie always tears me up, its gentleness like the faintest ray of light peering through the darkest, densest and frightening forest - and Jimmy made this moment truly shine.

Some complain that Goerne is too much of a lieder singer and not enough "oomph" but I love his throaty brand of singing found him to have the perfect mix of beauty and roughness that makes Wozzeck the most pitiable (and oddly loveable - in an entirely different way) character The scenes between Wozzeck and Marie were heartbreaking - right up until his knife takes her. I would have loved to have been able to have been there to see him in this production.

As Marie, Deborah Voigt started off pretty rough and there is almost not a drop of beauty anywhere left in that once most beautiful of voices. Lower, unforced passages, the faintest glimmer of its former beauty tried to leak out, a sad
reminder of what once was. Her commitment, however, seemed total and, some horrifying (and unnecessary) shrieking sounds aside, she was able to create an effective portrayal of this poor anti-heroine. I'm certain seeing her would have made the effect even more powerful.

Peter Hoare was terrific as the Captain as was Mr. O'Neil as the Drum major . . . though his singing made me glad they swapped out Parsifal for Wozzeck as I can't imagine that voice - at least as heard last night - as the new Grail King,
less so, Ms. Voigt as Kundry. Clive Bailey kept the Met tradition going of offering really fine singers as the Doctor in this opera ... they luck out every time, and so do we.

Once again, Levine and the band were the real stars -along with Herr Berg. The interludes did everything the composer wanted them to and maybe just a bit more in offering relief from the brutality of Wozzeck's sad, sad, sad, sad world!

As a "bonus" here is a dress rehearsal shot of Mr. Hampson finishing off Marie!

Magnificent Götterdämmerung

I had to miss Act III, but listened to it this morning and remain entirely overwhelmed by the experience.

Hans Peter Konig thrilled me as Hagan, his "Hei ho" bit having nearly the same snappy, snarl and oily blackness of Matti Salminen who (for me) remains the greatest interpreter of the role in my experience. Just marvelous.

I really (really) liked Jay Hunter Morris, but still feel he was nearly "too pooped to pop" in Act III, and yet his intensity and natural feel for the role won me over. I get a sense he will learn to better pace his Siegfried and be terrific in the role in the future. I really hope I'm right!

Debbie . . . Debbie had me in tears during the Immolation Scene. Maybe it's lack of sleep on my part, but I was electrified throughout and, while, at several moments, I may have wished for more of a way with the words (though very few moments, actually), and a less curdly-note here and there,Voigt's feel of the role overwhelmed me. Magnificent. I think she shocked the pants off rather a lot of naysayers and predictors of doom. Brava, Madam Voigt, brava!

Maestro Luisi's handling of the entire act (and the entire evening) was propulsive in a way that recalled, for me, Boulez in Bayreuth. While some may complain about the "excessive" speed of the final 20 or so minutes, I found this to be one of the most riveting, thrilling (jaw dropping, in fact) finales in my entire "Ring" experience. Wagner's amazing score truly SOUNDED like water with the aural equivalent of waves and swirls, rapids and falls violently tumbling across the earth. It was shaped so perfectly I am still sitting here, entirely amazed, but the opposite of numb. Before anyone takes sniper shots at me and labels me a heathen, idiot (or worse), let me answer: YES, I've heard, and am a fan of, Furtwangler, Knappertsbusch, Böhm, et al., but this was a unique, wonderful (modern?) reading (despite some blemishes from the band I expect will smooth themselves out over time) that held me as if spellbound.

By the end, I was completely overwhelmed and loved hearing the audience response and the nearly deafening ovations. That made the horrible booing for LePage and Co., all the more horrifying. I really didn't expect it and could not believe the bloodlust of the booing. That it continued straight through,through the rest of the ovation (save the final individual bows - but returned) made me a bit sick. While it may have failed to live up to the expectation and hype, could this have been THAT horrible a production to deserve such a violent interruption to an otherwise emotionally satisfying evening? All I could think, was, "what ill-bred monsters these booers be". I must say, listening to it over the airwaves (ether?) I was startled Margaret and Will didn't mention the booing during their post-performance narrative.

I'm going to listen to the finale again . . . but will stop just short of Maestro Luisi's bow! What a thrilling, wonderful performance and I envy those who were in the house. Bravo a tutti to the Met, Maestro Luisi, the cast . . . and most of all,
to that ol' devil, Wagner!

p.

Remembering Lorraine Hunt Lieberson: Les Troyens in a Blizzard

One of my most cherished Met memories was during the President's Day blizzard of 2003. The storm was hitting hard and my flight from Maine was cancelled the day before. I hopped on a Greyhound and watched as the storm seemed to follow me all the way down to Manhattan. I arrived just in time for an event at Alice Tully Hall and upon exiting at concert's end, walked into a virtual white out. (I'd end up stranded in NY for days - happily so!)

The next day - as the storm raged on with snow falling at a reported 4 inches per hour, I attempted to call to the Met to learn whether that evening's performance of “Les Troyens” (my sole reason for visiting New York) was still scheduled. Not able to get through, I schlepped the several blocks to the Lincoln Center and made it through the revolving door. The place seemed entirely empty. I was soon informed by the surly (and lone) box office attendant "The Met never closes, we only closed once because of weather in the company's history, so yeah, there's a performance tonight,” he handed me my tickets and I resisted the urge to not thank him, but politeness (and relief) prevailed.

Some hours later and dressed for the storm rather than a night at the opera, (I felt a bit self conscious, but ultimately didn‘t care) I slugged through several feet of freshly fallen snow which was blanketing an almost entirely a deserted Broadway, finally feeling an already strange sense of accomplishment, as I entered the crammed, (and unusually loud) lobby. A sense of occasion I’d not before felt in the house filled it . . . A palpable and communal sensation of "Phew! We made it!" and I watched joyously as elated friends and strangers smiled at one another, laughing unselfconsciously as salt and snow melted off of boots leaving muddy puddles everywhere while people pulled off their snow encrusted parkas, furs, hats and gloves.

The performance - the third of the run - was magnificent in nearly every way; one of the finest of many evening's I’d spent in that house. Deborah Voigt seemed transformed as Cassandra, singing lower and deeper than I'd ever heard (or believed possible) as well as digging more physically into a role than I could remember seeing from her . A newly slimmed Ben Heppner (who had cracked at the prima) began sturdily, growing better all night, while looking almost del Monaco-like, and, like Voigt, up to his acting challenges. The standout performance however, was that of Lorraine Hunt Lieberson, a somewhat late replacement for Olga Borodina as Didon. This was one of the most vocally intense, beautifully sung performances I'd heard from this singer - or any singer - before or since and a very long opera virtually seemed to fly by. Early reports of Francesca Zambello's production had produced some light controversy about its strangeness, but this audience seemed so animated and in tune with it I believe most of us could've sat through the whole thing again as soon as it had ended. A comanding, electricifying and theatrically satisfying evening of French Grand Opera.

Recently, with the mention of a release of this performance to celebrate James Levine’s 40th anniversary with the company, I perused my notes concerning Lorraine Hunt-Lieberson's performance and memories washed over me to the point of being overwhelmed all over again by the experience. Upon arriving back at my lodgings I’d written the following:

To go a notch above greatness requires a certain magic and that is precisely what Lorraine Hunt Lieberson provided tonight. This was a performance for the ages; with a singer radiant in visage, form and voice. An operatic wonder, she deploys her voice with with such intelligence and strength revealing an innate and almost unbelievable ability to endlessly pour out such pointed singing, wedding text to music with such body and heart it was no wonder the audience seemed to adore her as much as Didon's Carthaginians. Reports of a pinched note at the top of the range on opening night showed no evidence Monday evening - every note secure and beautifully sung (though an A# toward the end had a slightly strained, quickened vibrato which only added further excitement). A unique combination of stately grace and natural ease making her at once part of, yet apart from, her subjects added even deeper dimensions to a performance already begun with intensity and sense of purpose. I (and I imagine everyone else) smile during her scenes with Enee as they nestled together during the divertissements; the looks of love each cast upon the other was indeed touching and romantic. She and Heppner sustained such a level of electricity throughout the duet I was caught up in it instantly (mostly ignoring the odd aerialist ballet above that threatened a stage accident of immortal proportion) and my face ached from smiling so much at their joy.

All of this loveliness made Didon’s tragic, downward spiral into despair and anger riveting, bone chilling stuff. Pulling, that great crude curtain across the stage and wrapping herself within it (as had Cassandra before her) it became a visible sign - a shroud of her queenly grief which extended far beyond mere self-pitying. Then, shock as she chillingly screamed out how she should have served Enee the limbs of his son, Ascagne in some macabre feast - so fearless was her utterance here I didn't for a moment doubt this new, dark creature before to be in the least incapable of such dark actions, so believably gruesome was her descent into dark despondency. Then another profound change - Didon’s death; resolved and broken, this Didon was truly touching . . . profoundly heartbreaking. This seemed no longer mere performance, but rather a channeling of spirit reaching all the way back to Virgil himself.

After a sustained ovation of cheers and bravi, I walked out onto the Plaza - the snow had, at least for a time, ceased falling, the air felt - and smelled - cleaner than before, and the sharpness of the cold made me feel both alive yet as if in some great waking dream. As I walked back down Broadway, it was, as it had been before, empty, desolate - no buses, no cabs, only a few others who, like me, felt as though we were walking on clouds.

Elektra at the Met: Susan Bullock's Triumphant Debut

Well, I was surprised to read much negative blogging about the Metropolitan Opera Company debut of soprano Susan Bullock in her most famous role: Richard Strauss’s Elektra. Despite these negative remarks (mostly from people who heard the Sirius broadcast – and admitted to not being in attendance) the house – including me – seemed to have a wicked good time. Bullock was formidable in the role, singing it with a loveliness of timbre rarely encountered in this voicebusting warhorse. I loved her dance at the beginning and was worried she wasn't going to dance at the end, but then she stalked awkwardly up the stairs grabbed the ax and began waltzing with it until she danced herself into a frenzy. One blog referred to her dancing as ridiculous and risible? Not to me ! It was (if you’ll pardon the pun) - Elektrifying! Witness the fact that she was brava-ed to pieces when the lights came back on for one of the best bows in opera (you have to look to the Minghella Butterfly for a better solo bow!) If one wasn’t moved by this performance, she's simply not your cup o' tea, but wow.

Many commented that Ms. Bullock simply "is not an Elektra for the Met" - a statement I simply don't understand. I was in standing room under the overhang and the voice filled the house - beautifully. It's a softer-grained voice than usually heard in the role, but it carried over the orchestra EASILY and I never once strained to hear a note from her. The highest notes seem to be a bit of a trial for her - more willed than sung - but I didn't mind that for a minute because the rest was so beautifully shaped. I couldn't stop crying during the Recognition Scene, which she shaped and phrased with exquisite control.

And what about Debbie Voigt? My jaw dropped - this is easily the BEST singing I've heard from her in . . . I'd bet five or six years. Big, gleaming, the top notes don't have the spin they once did, but they were formidably sung and HUGE. She and Bullock played nicely off each other.

Felicity Palmer was wonderful throughout – her voice rich with sound and she sang (rather than shoved her way) through the role in a manner I’ve not heard really since Christa Ludwig. Even so, the pacing in the middle of her long (long) monologue needed some help which conductor Fabio Luisi didn't provide, seeming to indulge the singer rather than taking the proverbial bull by the horns and moving it forward. Here was (for me at least) the only moment where the drama seemed to sag. By the way, if that Palmer screaming at the end (which I doubt): then Wow!

Maestro Luisi shocked me with the attention to detail he brought out - and which I did not expect at all (I like him generally, but would never have imagined him for Strauss - particularly THIS Strauss!) What a pleasant surprise and I'd like to hear him after he's figured out a couple of the pacing issues.

Though I preferred the previous “director” of stage action in the Met’s last go ‘round with this beast (Polaski, Mattila, Lipovsek and Held) I also rather loved the slight changes David Kneuss brought to the blockings (many of which were identical when this production was new and with Behrens - still MY favorite Elektra ever). The best change came in the staging of the Recognition Scene – the entirety of which was profoundly moving, acted well by both brother and sister, and gorgeously sung by Ms. Bullock.

The Serving Maids were (as they tend to be at the Met) sounded good, improving as the scene went on but with some real stand out singing from Jennifer Check and Maria Zifchak.

Wolfgang Schmidt should not be singing. Not even Aegisth. Wow, was he bad. Just awful, actually.

Evgeny Nikitin was also something of a major disappointment. Decent actor, but the sound is rather unlovely. I still liked what he did physically, and the falling down as his sister calls his name - followed by her falling to the ground felt exactly right.

Everyone around me had a ball, and it was WONDERFUL hearing Voigt sound this good again. I hope it continues going this way for her and not as it's been for too long now. The older couple to my left – long time Wagnerites and Met supporters were attending their first Elektra – said the Mrs.: “I’m coming back to see this one a few more times . . . it’s so short – and so wild!”

All in all a welcome debut for Ms. Bullock and I hope to see and hear a lot more of her.