Summer encores: One week in and not to be missed

Dear readers, it has been several months since I last updated this page, and I was beginning to wonder if I would ever have the time to write again.  But opera is my addiction, and I just can't stay away.  So now I'm back and ready to start writing again.  I am, however, currently in the office pretending to work, so I will be brief.

 I should have written this post a week ago, but I didn't, so better late than never, I guess.  Anyway, last week the Metropolitan Opera's Summer Encore series started with a bang, when they screened that marvelous performance of Carmen that stars Elina Garanca.  The summer series will continue tonight with a showing of Il Trovatore that is NOT TO BE MISSED!!!  I'm serious.  Don't miss it.  This performance was originally broadcast 2 years ago, and stars the four current Verdian powerhouses, Marcello Alvarez, Sondra Radvanovsky, Dolora Zajick, and Dmitri Hvorostovsky.  And it will knock your socks off.  So make sure you're at your local participating theater tonight at 7:00.  Seriously.

 

Other performances being shown this summer will include The Barber of Seville, La Traviata, Armida, and Turandot.  It promises to be a great encore season, and I hope to see as many of you there as possible. 
Ciao for now, and I'll see you all in Operaland.      
                   

Love them or hate them? What's your take on modern productions?

First published at South Florida Opera Scene on May 3, 2012

We've all been there before.  You purchase tickets to your favorite opera.  You get dressed up in your best evening clothes, and you arrive at the opera house nice and early.  You find your seat, and wait in excited anticipation for the moment when the opening strains of that glorious music finally reach your ears.  The lights go down, the conductor steps up to the podium, and the curtain rises on... Leporello, dressed as a chauffeur, driving a limousine made entirely of chairs.  And that's it.  That's the extent of the scenery.  Just chairs.  There's nothing else on stage, absolutely nothing, for the entire three hours.  You sit there watching the performance and enjoying the music regardless of the scenery (or lack thereof), but throughout the entire evening, a part of you is unable to focus on the opera because you can't stop wondering what on earth the director was thinking.
I saw that particular Don Giovanni at the age of fourteen or fifteen, at a well-known opera house that shall remain nameless.  And to this day, I can't figure out what the point of it was.  The memory brings to mind my four-year-old son making trains out of our dining room chairs.  Maybe there was some deep message there, and I just didn't get it.  Or maybe the director was just trying to be different.
Over the years, I have seen many performances with "just chairs" scenery, in opera houses from Seattle to Tel Aviv.  And the only one that has worked, at least for me, was the Metropolitan Opera's recent production of Eugene Onegin.  But maybe that was because those chairs actually belonged there, and the director was going for minimalist simplicity rather than cutting-edge who-knows-what.

Last night, I had the pleasure of attending the encore screening of La Traviata in HD from the Metropolitan Opera.  I had heard much discussion about the current production, which utilizes as its scenery an Ikea sofa and a giant clock.  When I first saw the promotional pictures about a year ago, my initial thought was, "Oh, you have got to be kidding me!"  But then people began talking about it, and the concepts intrigued me.  I listened with an open mind, and I went to the theater with quite a bit of curiosity about what I would see.  The scenery, of course, was no surprise, nor were the costumes.  What I was waiting to see were the emotional, psychological, and atmospheric effects this staging would have.  And I got it.  I understood what the director was doing, and in a way, it worked.  The production magnified Violetta's sense of isolation and despair in the midst of a sinister society that would completely consume her and cast her aside, easily replaced by the next girl to come along.  She is haunted throughout by her impending mortality and by the knowledge that she cannot escape her fate.  It was dramatically very effective, and yet I did not initially like it very much.  I tried to put my finger on what it was that I disliked, and I realized that I have spent my whole life seeking out and admiring the most realistic, historically accurate productions I could find.
This realization made me do a lot of thinking.  Even as I write this, I am reexamining my approach to modern productions of classic operas.  I understand that these operas that have been repeatedly performed over the past 200 years or so, often in very similar productions around the world,  occasionally need to be examined in a different light.  While I always feel that the music should speak for itself, fresh ideas and new perspectives have the ability to add so much depth to the operas we think we know so well.
Now there are, of course, all kinds of updates.  There are those that transport the opera to a different time period, often moving the action up a century or two in history; for example, a Carmen I once saw set in 1930s Spain, or that brilliant modern-day streets of New York-style Don Giovanni that Peter Sellars produced back in the early 1990s.



Then there are those productions that mix the old and the new, effectively removing the story from any specific time period, and thereby demonstrating the timelessness of these great works.  Then you have your varying degrees of minimalist, surreal, and postmodern production, some of which work better than others.  And of course, you have productions whose aim is to create controversy, such as Rusalka in a brothel and the so-called Brokeback Onegin.



So the question is this:  With a growing number of opera companies opting for modern productions over more traditional ones, how much is too much?  Should these traditional productions be preserved, or should they all be replaced?  And to what extent should opera be updated?  Do these new productions have to try to make some sort of point, or is it enough to just be different?  When some productions provoke thought and others leave us scratching our heads, where should the line be drawn?  For myself, I'm taking another look at my longstanding opinions.  Where do you stand?  I would love to hear your opinion!

Opera birthday parties? Why not?!?

First published at South Florida Opera Scene on January 10, 2012

Hello again, everyone!  Welcome back from a rather extended holiday break!  The kids are all back in school now, and life can slowly start to return to normal.  Today, I am going to continue on the subject of passing opera on to the next generation.  I have heard a lot of chatter (or perhaps twitter?) over the last few weeks about ways to attract a younger audience.  Most of the talk seemed to be centered around the idea of so-called Tweet Seats.  While I very happily participated in last month's Tweet Seat session at Palm Beach Opera's Madama Butterfly, (a dress rehearsal, I should add,) I don't believe that simply letting people play on their phones during the performance is going to get them to want to attend.  Rather, honest exposure, ideally at a young age, whether at home or in school, is the surest way to spark interest in opera.
This, of course, is in no way a new idea.  I have said it before in previous posts, and I will doubtlessly say it again.  But today I am going to write about a (brilliant?) idea I had about one way of doing this.  Opera birthday parties!!!  Now, I know some of you may be scratching your heads and thinking that I must be crazy, but just hear me out! 

The idea came to me this morning, as I was trying to plan my son's ninth birthday party.  I was looking online at all the different options available in the area: bowling, arcades, science museums, even the local animal shelter!  There were a lot of venues offering sports parties, cooking parties, arts-and-crafts parties, and dance parties.  And then it occurred to me: Why not do opera birthday parties?  If one enthusiastic child chooses ten or twenty of his closest friends to share opera with, it could trigger a whole chain reaction of spreading an awareness (if not outright love) of opera to a group of children who might otherwise never give it a fair chance.
Now, how to do it?  I had some ideas there, too.  There are a couple of different options to be considered: the do-it-yourself party, which would require a bit of homework and planning on the part of the parents, and the party organized by a local opera company's Young Artists program, or some such organization.  "But wait a minute," you might say.  "There are no opera companies offering children's birthday parties!"  And you would probably be right.  But why shouldn't there be?  After all, almost every other type of theater, museum, and miscellaneous entertainment outlet offers several party packages.  And while I recognize that these other options may be more popular among children, it would be a wonderful experience for them if such a thing were available.

So here is what I propose to any opera company out there that may be reading this: give it a shot!  If no one takes you up on it, what have you lost?  And if they do, think of what you have gained: a doorway into the hearts of the next generation.  So what might an opera company offer as part of a party package?  Well, a package could include one or two young artists who would give a brief background of what opera is, followed by a short performance.  These performances could range from some of the more action-packed scenes for boys' parties to the more romantic ones for the girls' parties, or any combination of the two.  Afterwards, young party goers could be given the opportunity to participate in recreating the drama and singing the music.  Fancy foods and Martinelli's sparkling cider served in plastic champagne flutes could be served to add a celebratory feel to the event.  And at the end of the party, each child could go home with an opera-themed goody bag.
For the parents planning an opera party on their own, it might be a little trickier without the personal interaction with the singers and the hands-on music making.  But again, a brief overview of opera could be given, followed by a showing of an opera on DVD.  One possible opera to show a group of children who are new to it is Il Barbiere di Siviglia.  Most of them will probably have heard at least some of the music, the story is highly entertaining, and there is nothing in it that any parent could possibly consider to be objectionable material.  (Something like Tosca, on the other hand, might not go over so well with all of the parents.)  After the performance, the children could be given an opportunity to talk about their impressions of what they have seen.  Again, fancy foods and opera goody bags could tie the whole experience together.
Now, I'm not naive.  I know something like this might take some time to catch on, or it may never catch on at all.  But if nobody even tries, it certainly never will.  And with opera audiences getting older, opera education in the classroom and at home at a low point, and opera companies around the world struggling to bring in young people, something must be done to ensure the continued survival of opera for the next generation.  And what better way to pass it on than in a fun, exciting, and celebratory atmosphere?  Today's children, who think they have seen everything, can go home from an opera party with memories of a new and thrilling experience, and a thirst to discover more.

Exploring Artists: Jonas Kaufmann

First published at South Florida Opera Scene on December 21, 2011

I owe Jonas Kaufmann an apology.  Anyone who has been following my blog from the start knows that, in the past, I have not been kind.  When I first heard him, I did not like him at all.  And it wasn't the depth or darkness of his voice.  After all, I much prefer the darker tenor voices to the bright, sunny, cheerful-sounding ones.  I would gladly listen to Domingo (my all-time favorite tenor) over Pavarotti (who I avoid in any role that isn't the Duke of Mantua) any day of the week.  Among the newer generation of tenors, I favor those who have followed in Domingo's footsteps, and greatly appreciate the voices that have baritone qualities.  So it was not the depth of his voice, although it did take me some time to become convinced that Kaufmann was not just a baritone trying to sing tenor roles.  No, I thought his voice was somewhat muffled, as if he had something in his mouth.  It may be that I had just found all the wrong YouTube videos, but there you have it.  I couldn't, for the life of me, figure out what it was that everyone saw in him.

Then last month I went to see Tosca from the Royal Opera House at Cinema Paradiso, a lovely local art-house theater.  I was hoping to be pleasantly surprised by him, but I wasn't expecting too much.  I was going because I love Tosca, and because I was excited to see Bryn Terfel as Scarpia.  I was really anticipating nothing more than a tolerable performance from Kaufmann.  Harsh, I know, but there you have it.  So when I did finally see his Cavaradossi, I was caught completely off guard.  Not only did he sing the role very well, (second only to Domingo among all the Marios I have seen and heard,) he could ACT!  I mean, really act.  He seemed to really understand what the character was all about, and then adeptly conveyed that understanding to the audience.
After I saw that performance, I decided I was willing to give Kaufmann another chance.  However, I approached his music slowly, and with some trepidation.  And, while some of what I found did not impress me, a lot of it really did.  I discovered that, although some roles really don't suit him (at least in my opinion), when he sings the right characters, he really is an exceptional singer.  His voice has all the color of a baritone, yet he deftly handles the range of a tenor.  This combination helps him provide a certain depth of character that is often missing from the tenor roles.



Jonas Kaufmann was born in Munich in 1969.  While he studied piano and sang in the school choir as a child, he very nearly became a mathematician.  However, he realized after a couple of semesters that he would never be happy with such a career choice.  So he began his vocal training at  the Academy of Music and Theatre in Munich, and upon graduation he signed a contract with the State Theatre in Saarbrücken.  It was during that time that he began to have trouble with his voice, but under the instruction of Michael Rhodes, he learned to sing more easily by simply using his natural tone.



In the intervening years, Jonas Kaufmann has sung a wide variety of roles, from Rossini's Almaviva (this, I can't even imagine!) to some of the great Verdi and Puccini parts.  He recently sang Siegmund at the Met, and has been applauded as an outstanding interpreter of Wagner's works.  He is currently appearing, once again, on the stage of the Met, singing the title role in Gounod's Faust.



Jonas Kaufmann evokes strong reactions from opera lovers everywhere.  People either love him or hate him.  He is variably called the greatest tenor alive or a baritone in tenor's clothes.  There's not a whole lot of middle ground where he is concerned.  I used to be part of the group of people who strongly dislike him.  But my opinion is changing.  While he is still not my very favorite tenor in the world, (as I have said before, that spot will always be reserved for Domingo) I am beginning to develop an appreciation for his voice that grows every time I hear him.  In a few short weeks, I have done a (somewhat) complete about-face.  Whereas once I wondered what people saw in him, I now have come to enjoy his rich, dark voice.  In time, I may become one of his die-hard fans.  Then again, I may not.  In the meantime, though, I plan on savoring his voice for its unique tones.  Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go listen to my new recording of Madama Butterfly, starring Jonas Kaufmann as Pinkerton!