Rockin' the Opera: A Traviata Memory

During the summer of 1996, I attended a performance of Verdi's La Traviata at Wolf Trap. I went because Traviata is a favorite opera of mine, and I'd previously seen this New York City Opera production, beautifully designed by Thierry Bosquet and sensitively directed by Renata Scotto. I was not expecting to be as moved by the experience as I was by Verdi's classic tear jerker and it became one of the most moving participatory experiences of my life to date.

The audience was the most non-traditional I'd ever been a part of . . . even for Wolf Trap. Hundreds of multi-colored, broadly knit skull caps, clothing made from hemp, men and women in swirled, tie-dyed cotton skirts over bare legs and feet, ponytails on the men (including moi), boys and girls with unkempt dreadlocks. The scent of weed and patchouli filled the air more than Channel No. 5. I half expected Jerry Garcia to make an appearance, and in some ways, he did by the sheer number of Deadheads present.

Also large in number which made my blood pumper swell with pride; a strong presence of headbangers donned in black on black, Metallica and Slayer tee-shirts, ripped up jeans, combat boots. I stood up and looked around, taking it all in and could not suppress an enormous shit eating grin. Scattered liberally throughout were plenty of older folk, comfortably sipping wine in their lawn chairs, and while some appeared a little nervous, most didn't seem to mind or notice. This was an audience I had dreamed of.

At intermission I excused myself from my friends, moved up the hill to speak with one a young man wearing a Metallica-shirt, but whose girlfriend was more "appropriately" attired for the opera. These young 20-somethings told me that though they often attended and listened to Wagner (his favorite was Tristan, hers, Lohengrin), they came for an opera "fix" and were being won over by the charm and potential heartbreak of this, their first Italian opera.

We ended up talking for a bit about Tristan and then the topic of the tee shirt came up: "Metallica" and all shared a good laugh about what could be, until recently, deemed an implausible situation: discussing heavy metal during the intermission of an Italian opera. He stated he always wears his Metallica tee to the opera, putting up with glares and stares, because usually "
someone finds me and strikes up a conversation" but at Wolf Trap don't feel out of place, and had already met quite a few interesting people before the opera even began. Tres cool.

Seconds after Violetta expired, as the house lights came up, the row of Deadheads in front of us rose immediately to their feet. My friend Kathy poked me in the arm pointed at them, smiling, all these kids were in tears, standing and cheering long before anyone else rose or a single curtain call had begun. Normally I'm loathed to stand (unless it's truly warranted) but Kathy and I stood in solidarity, nodding our heads, and smiling could taste my own salty tears. When the Violetta came (a then young, quite remarkable soprano from Ukraine) there was a roar more typical to a rock concert. I wouldn't have been surprised to see the gentle blaze of
cigarette lighters extended skywards. I was as moved by the reaction of this youthful mass as I was by the wonderful Violetta.

They may have been metalheads, punks and hippies, but they came because they wanted to experience real opera. That's exactly what they got.

Dresden's New Traviata: Next Stop The Met?

Can you even imagine this production playing at any house in the U.S.? Blood Will Be Shed!

Harteros: My New Violetta!

Having been impressed by hearing her Violetta several times on Sirius, I knew what I was going to do my last night in New York. See Harteros at the Met. Holy moley. Hers is unlike any Violetta I've heard in a long, long time. It's a big voice and she knows exactly what to do and how to do it. Violetta has now no difficulties, no hurdles that Harteros doesn't simply obliterate. To hear a voice of such healthy proportions navigate perfectly through Verdi's bravura ending to Act I is thrilling. I mentioned to a friend that most Violettas (even many i have liked in the past) have a certain phony quality, a kind of "Look at me, I'm playing a courtesan . . . ha, ha ha!" Harteros convinced me from the very first moment she appeared that THIS was Violetta.

I'm embarassed to admit I don't believe I've ever even heard of Paolo Carignani before this run, but I will not forget him and race for tickets to anything he conducts again. His work with the orchestra was exemplary, particularly in the two famous preludes. He begins this music so tenderly I felt as though I'd walked into the middle of a performance already in progress. It was magical. He paces well for his singers, even numbers like "Di Provenza" which can sometimes be milked and dragged out to within an inch of its life, were perfect, allowing the singers to revel in beautiful sound, but never at the sacrifce of the drama at hand.

Speaking of "Di Provenza," what a treat it was to have Zeljko Lucic back at the Met. His Giorgio Germont was very close to as good as it gets in this role. Warm, burnished sound, with as beautiful a middle to the voice as I can recall hearing. The bottom of his voice isn't as strong as it could be, but my God the rest is so beautiful, and he sings with such passion and style that nothing is really missed. While this production doesn't require a lot of Germont dramatically, Lucic had touches that were heartbreaking and toward the end of his scene with Violetta, Lucic made me believe that Germont was going to say, "Never mind" and let his song stay with this wonderful woman. He braced himself on the back of a chair, realizing he was going too far, and when he is reproached by Violetta's "addio!" he quickly leaves before he changes his mind. You could "feel this."

Massimo Giordano is not always vocally perfect as Alfredo - but he's damned close. It's a beautiful sound, with some nice "ping" to it, and he's got a lovely tear in the voice that he doesn't overdo. Additionally, there was something about him which I liked more than many other Alfredi: the believability of youth about him both in both voice and action. This was a teenaged boy Alfredo, his mannerisms, his behavior all resembled a young man in the throws of his first love. When he reads Violetta's letter this kid was positively crushed. His face a silent sob of shock and loneliness. He had all the manic qualities perfectly. His "De’ miei bollenti spiriti” is about as good as one is likely to hear. The cabaletta was good, but I wanted him to be specatcular in it, and it just wasn't. But, considering how many tenors I've heard destroy the aria itself, to have it sung as lovely as we got it tonight - is a blessing. This guy is really good!

And back to the reason for going. Harteros has a dark, tragic beauty to her that, during the first act alternated with Violetta's sparkling qualities that made her instantly both likeable, and unforgettable. Tall, and with a dark, striking beauty (Harteros reminded me at times variously of Callas, Gheorghiu and Balsta - sometimes all three rolled into one) she moves with genuine elegance. When she collapses, faints, falls or otherwise hits the floor she appears to have had all of her bones removed, so perfectly fluid is her movement. If she gave up singing, I think this is one of the few sopranos who could make it onstage as an actress, so convincing were all of her physical gestures and mannerisms. But she DOES sing - and amazingly. To hear a voice of this size voice scale back to a mezzo voce that could make a stone weep is rare enough, but the way she can shift gears, point up the text purely by voice, her lack of "outsized" histrionics - is just amazing. Amazing. Amazing.

Outside at first intermission a man told me he did not like this Violetta and pointed out "she hasn't got high notes and didn't do the High E flat." I told him he was crazy, her top was glorious and besdies, when you've got everything else in spades: perfect diction, style, command of the voice in all of the writing its assigned, an exquisite ability to shade the text and make it believeable, not to mention good trills where they're written, and the ability to pop off 5 high C's with ease, you don't need an E flat for a couple of reasons: Verdi didn't write one; and two, half the time the E flat is included is because the soprano is going to be half inaudible the rest of the opera.

There are so many highlights to discuss and not enough time. "Alfredo, Alfredo, di questo core" in Act II, Scene ii, was just wrenching. Again, the manner in which Harteros can scale back that huge, warm sound down to a sliver of voice, andn still penetrate through through the orchestra and be heard in every corner of the house . . . is pure magic.

Convincing throughout, her third act was even better than I thought it would be (and I was thinking it was going to be really, really good). This was a tragedienne par excellence, knowing how to pace virtually every minute, and yet make it feel as though it were playing out in real time. Thankfully she didn't overdo the letter scene, didn't scream "e tardi" like she was at a college football game, and offered an "Addio del passato" that was absolutely exquisite. A slight catch in her breath in the final
phrase kept her from getting a roaring ovation, but that would come when she returned to the stage for her bows after the final curtain. I didn't time it, but the bravos, cheers and a standing ovation from most of the house went on for a good while.

I will defend some of Zefirelli's production, but the opening of Flora's party, the set still resembles some enormous alien/monster vagina. When those "curtains" finally go up Flora's house looks like a Rococo cathedral taken over by a commedia del ar'te troupe and a gang of whores. Also, I think it is a HUGE mistake to change scenes for Violetta's death. It breaks up Verdi's drama and calls attention to the direction more than it does to Violetta's tragedy and that is unforgiveable. And ghastly. Still, not even that could detract from the magic Harteros brought to this role. I would love to hear her in more Verdi, I'm thinking Luisa Miller, Don Carlos, Ernani . . . and eventually, soon even, I would love to hear an Aida from this voice.

Okay, I've got a new soprano to obsess over!

p.

Met Opening Night Gala: A Wagnerian Length Evening of Scenes

After picking me up early from work, my Met HD Gang and I headed to the Brunswick Regal for the Met Opening Night Gala. Years ago I realized I’m not really an opera gala kinda guy – nights in “three acts” from different works not really being my cup of tea. Much preferable to me are evenings comprised of aria recitals or, even better, entire operas. But there was so much hullaballo surrounding this one there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell of missing it. It felt pretty special returning to the sold-out show (as with all of the Met HD offerings here, two or more theatres had to be opened). I must say the chaotic, disorganized hour or so before the gala proper began was a bit of a chore to sit through after a long day at work: a beer and a sandwich would have helped enormously. Still, it was pleasant enough to catch snippets of some celebrity sightings and listen to the unimportant blatherings – as we all agree – these things ain’t all about the music!

First a word on the gowns (and I’m no fashionista – quite the opposite). Renee looked sensational all night, even in that wretched, godawful, tattered Christian Lacroix deconstructed rag for the first Traviata scene. Seriously, it looked like a clown blew up and was then fed into a shredding machine. It was horrific. The next scene’s gown looked considerably better, but so too would have a dirty housedress. The Karl Lagerfeld gown for Manon reminded me nothing so much as something designed for Elsa . . . and I don’t mean von Brabant, but Lanchester - as in “Bride of Frankenstein.” Seriously. It looked particularly drab in comparison to the “lesser lights” of the costumes for the overblown Cours-la-Reine scene (which looked strangely deflated on the big screen in comparison to having seen it a number of times in the house). The final Galliano number for Capriccio was absolutely stunning (though my friends and I got unduly excited thinking Fleming had a snake tattooed on her back . . . she should!). She looked like a million bucks primping, massaging her boobies, and slinking back and forth across the stage like Veronica Lake in a bob (and did anyone get a load of the heels on her? Holy Stiletto, Batman!)

I thought Hampson started off a bit dry and stiff vocally, but my lord, he opened up for the Di Provenza. I found him to be an extremely and uniquely touching, Germont: awkward and thoughtful (and I believe these were choices, not discomfort of being in the role). When Violetta asks “embrace me as a daughter” and throws herself into his arms, this Germont simply didn’t know how to respond, which I felt entirely appropriate. As to complaints about Fleming slowing down the “Amami Alfredo!” – there is a long tradition of Violettas who have done so and I LOVE it when they do. Sills, one of the lightest voiced Violettas ever, could turn, pull and chew those few bars almost into an entire aria. Callas could bring down the pace here, as well. I think it fits the drama perfectly and though Fleming does not necessarily place among my favorite Violettas of all time, I liked what she did with the role (at least for an act) last night. Very much so. (What a drag that Vargas didn’t get his cabaletta, though!)

Throughout the night the singing would be mixed, but mostly good throughout the night, with top vocal honors going easily to Ramon Vargas. My God, I cannot wait to hear him as Des Grieux, a role I find it hard to believe he’s not yet taken on. The “Ah, fuyez” began a bit softer than I like (but hardly inappropriately so) with a slight hesitancy that had me worried he wouldn’t pour everything he had into it. I needn’t have been concerned, as he simply tore the aria up! I really think this is one of the “prettiest” tenor voices in the opera world today, and even if he’s not quite a dynamo actor, he has such appealing, genuine presence that I find myself always routing for this singer (and his Rodolfo last season was exceptional). I loved how he and Fleming kicked it up a couple of notches completely losing all inhibitions and raising the erotic quotient to . . . well, pretty damned high. People in the Cineplex gasped and tittered when Renee literally flung herself backwards over the Prie Dieu, pushing up her girly bits and striking – and holding – a “take me now” pose that was smoking hot! This really is the best scene (and music) of this opera and they did it proud last night.

I really thought Robert Lloyd pulled off Daddy Des Grieux rather nicely (loved the mocking applause and admonishment he gave his son – comical, snide, paternal . . . ). Armiliato got a good reading of the French perfume out of the Met band, moving things along nicely when necessary while still being able to luxuriate in the sound of his singers.

Though Fleming sounded good, involved (and sometimes slightly taxed by the evening) the Strauss was sung with an often refulgent tone that hadn’t been present in anything else all evening. It was a nice capper and what made it especially sweet was seeing Michael Devlin again . . . I’ve always been a fan of his and he seems to be going on forever, good for him! I was startled - pleasantly so - by how many people in our audience were riveted by the Dr. Atomic previews. I can't wait for this one!

It was fun spotting Joe Clark in an early backstage moment (funny how many people recognized him from previous cinecasts, even though he was “out” of the limelight last night) Equally fun was meeting his replacement, (can’t remember his name, but we dubbed him “Little Joe” last night!) who seems like a real charmer. Susan Graham and Deborah Voigt seemed a little odd and stiff last night, both in a sort of "charm the masses" mode that didn't feel natural from either of them.

I think Martha Stewart should've been mixing those cocktails a little earlier in the evening. It WAS funny watching Rufus Wainwright in his sparkly cowboy outfit trying to steal a bit of camera time thought mostly ignored and blocked from view by Martha and Susie. It was a ridiculously long night and not the best showing from from the Met, but as noted already, these evenings ain't all about the music; the buzz is out for the season and I think great, great things are in store for us this year! I can't wait!