Prima la musica

#operaplot 2011

As you probably know, if you're operatically inclined enough to read this blog, last week was #operaplot week. This dangerously enjoyable competition/geekfest, the brainchild of Miss Mussel (aka Marcia Adair) has been running annually now since 2009. It's the reason I joined Twitter, in fact, and still one of the best reasons to stay there. 

Celebrity judge Eric Owens will announce the winners on Wednesday, but in the meantime, here are some of my personal favourites from this year's crop.

@SamNeuman "You need anything dusted? Swept? OK, we'll just...stare at the harbor all day again," Suzuki says, mentally updating her résumé.

Queen Elizabeth I: legendary sovereign or vile lady-bastard? Mary, put your hand down, we know which way YOU’RE voting.

@frindley 1 2 3 bat on a bench 1 2 3 jailing offense 1 2 3 fancy dress 1 2 3 oh what a mess 1 2 3 silly revenge… 1 2 3 doing the batty bat!

@ppelkonen Could you maybe pull out the sword and not sing loudly while doing it? My husband's trying to sleep.

@Cyradis ALMAVIVA: Figaro, your new wife is hot! FIGARO: Dude, why did I ever help you in the first place?

@harryfiddler Macbeth: Thane of Cawdor, tick. Thane of Glamis, tick. King hereafter? Hmm. Lady Macbeth: Don't worry darling, I'm on it.

@ogiovetti "Yo, Walther. I'm really happy for you and imma let you finish, but Hans Sachs was the best Meistersinger of ALL TIME."

@1and1make1 "Wardrobe has some concerns about using glass slippers. Maybe the prince could just recognize her jewelry or something."

@funwithiago YO! That old dude had THE BEST IDEA: Let's try to make our GFs cheat on us with EACH OTHER. Bro, this can only end hilariously.

@kfpsoprano I'm not going to choose between music and poetry. Instead I'm going to stand here and have the most self indulgent moment ever.

@sohothedog Count A. in Seville: unlocked the 'Rosina' badge.

And if only for archiving's sake, the following are my own efforts. Some new, some recycled from previous years. 

"I pity." — The Fool. 

Stranger swans into town, has anonymous one-knight-stand, kills a guy, produces a child, swans out again. What a champion.

So I'm poor and crazy, and my girlfriend is a whore. I wonder how I can make our son's life even worse. Ooh, I know! *gets knife*

RT @pequod_captain ZOMG so sick of teh FAIL WHALE!!!

Self-referential, self-indulgent meditation on importance (or otherwise) of libretto sure puts the "META" in Metastasio.

Coming up on Bravo: Cross-dressing, drunken parties, partner-swapping and more, with the Real Housewives of Medieval Touraine. 

Mother-in-law from hell drives son's frustrated young wife into the arms of another, into madness, and into the Volga.

Contestant on macabre Hungarian gameshow ignores all hints from the host and opens one mystery door too many.

Noble lady trapped in harem of surprisingly complex Pasha. Will her fiancé get to her before Stockholm syndrome does?

A bromance amid the Brahmins reaches its nadir at around the same time the priestess-in-the-middle reaches hers. 

Friday, Friday, gotta get healed on Friday, everybody's lookin' forward to re-demp-tion. Holy grail holy grail (yeah). 

Just because you're coulrophobic doesn't mean the clown WON'T kill you. 

Keep yourself / Full of beans / And avoid / Bloody scenes / Give your captain / Burma-Shave 

Exultant newlywed, turned green by nihilist's strategically placed handkerchief, discovers just how moreish jealousy can be. 

Charismatic opera star maintains career, good looks & slavish fanbase for THREE CENTURIES. Could be an #operaplot; could just be Domingo.

Swiss maid discovers 9th century precursor to the Twinkie Defense. Breaks into coloratura of disbelief when it actually WORKS. 

Amatory lepidopterist traps fragile specimen among Nagasaki cherry blossoms. Fumbling to release her, he crushes her instead. 

Fine, I don't need to know who you are or where you're from, but can we PLEEASE play the Lohengrin Bridal Chorus at our wedding? 

Ten years later, Brett Dean's elaborate excuse to make Peter Coleman-Wright grow a moustache finally pays off. 

Unrequited lover's talent for maudlin poetry is dwarfed by his spectacular gift for RUINING Christmas. 

It's just like The Sound of Music, but with ghosts & Freudian angst instead of schmaltz & Nazis. And the kids are even creepier. 

o hai burrough!! im in ur vilage, killin ur prentisses. or am i? i can haz ellen? oh noes! kthxbai :( 

Able seaman and troubled soul departs gossip's gutters, stumbles into stormy seas while gazing at the stars. 

Sarah Connolly sings "In Paris with You" (by melodiaavis)

I forgot to mention, this was Sarah Connolly's second encore at Alice Tully. Yet another reason to like her. 

The Divine Sarah

Connolly, that is. Her recital at Alice Tully Hall was sensational. This was not entirely a surprise. Sarah Connolly is pretty much wonderful by definition, but I've only seen her in concert and in opera so far, not in recital, and I didn't know until Wednesday night just how brilliantly she functions in that format. 

Talk about good karma. I was supposed to see Sarah Connolly in recital when I was in London, a double act with Felicity Lott, but she withdrew due to illness and Felicity flew sublimely solo. So here I am, two months later, new country, and here's Sarah again — and the Schumann on the New York program bears a striking resemblance to the Schumann which was on her London program. For me, the chief selling point of the London recital was the chance to hear either Felicity or Sarah sing Frauenliebe und -leben. Now I've heard them both sing it, and whole recital besides from each of them. Spoilt little me.

And thank god I had the chance to hear Sarah's take on it because it's possible I may not live to see it bettered. Much as I've always loved that song cycle, I've never exactly felt riveted by it — until Sarah. This was almost the Lieder equivalent of one of those Baroque abandoned-woman cantatas, but subtler, more painful, more utterly compelling. She drew me in completely, then knocked me about a bit. Her voice has a similar effect: meltingly gorgeous, but entirely capable of delivering a slap in the face when it's called for. I loved every minute of it. I don't think I've ever heard a song cycle receive many cheers. A couple of people even stood. 

That was clearly the centrepiece of the recital, but it was all fantastic. All Schumann in the first half: a desperately pretty "Widmung", the "Hochländisches Wiegenlied", which I didn't know but fell for immediately, and a cycle for which I think she should maybe be granted a monopoly, the seriously lovely Maria Stuart Lieder. All English songs in the second half: Howells, Gurney, Bennett, and the biggest chunk was Britten's A Charm of Lullabies. Everything she's good at in German songs, she's good at in English songs, to put it boringly. The Howells and Gurney were the best surprises for me, mostly for the chance they afforded that voice to just glow and glow. The Britten lullabies were excellent of course, both the ones that sound like lullabies (sigh) and the couple that don't.

Diction so good you don't notice how good it is, a voice so warm you'd fall asleep if it weren't keeping you so enrapturedly awake, an engaging, intimate stage presence from which every gesture and word just seems to arise spontaneously — all that ideal recital stuff, Sarah Connolly has in spades. I hope she and I continue our habit of visiting the same cities at the same time, because I could definitely get used to this.

P.S. Zachary Woolfe says it properly, and better, in the New York Times. I agree with his every word.

Wort oder Ton?

Capriccio properly tonight, as opposed to a dress rehearsal, which doesn't quite count. (Also, I had had more than three hours of sleep this time, which I can tell you is a really good idea with an opera as static as this one.) To be honest, I don't think there's a huge amount I can add to the little I said after that rehearsal. Sarah Connolly is still my favourite among the cast; I also think Joseph Kaiser is very very good indeed. I think the inherent prettiness of Renée's voice comes across better in person than it has on CD in recent years.

At some level, I can't quite believe anybody thought this was a subject ripe for operatic treatment — it's the most self-referential thing ever, it's all talk, and it's hard for that final scene to come across organically with so little previous suggestion of Madeleine actually having, you know, an inner life or something. Yet it's Strauss who made it an opera, so it's ridiculously gorgeous and completely worth hearing.I think my reaction to it is also my answer to the question it poses: the music in this opera is far more important to me than the words. I would never watch a spoken play of Capriccio (whereas with Rosenkavalier or Intermezzo or Elektra, I would, so I'm certainly inconsistent) but I was happy for a long time to listen to its music before I even really knew what the plot was. And there are moments, at least, where I'd swear Strauss is with me: like when he sets Clairon's last polite platitude, as she thanks her hostess, to far more transcendent music than it could possibly deserve. 

I don't think Capriccio is ever going to occupy the same place in my heart as Rosenkav or Arabella or even Salome. It's an opera which will always attract me because of its music, and because of its possibilities as a singer vehicle. I mean, I'm flying halfway across the world in July to hear it, because my favourite soprano in the world is singing her first Madeleine. But it's Cheryl I'm travelling for — it always is; the fact that it's Capriccio she's singing is more or less incidental. 

The other highlights of tonight were my two starstruck moments backstage after the show. First, meeting Sarah Connolly, who was the first internationally famous singer I ever heard live and whom I've loved ever since. And second, seeing Christine Baranski among the group waiting for Renée to emerge. Christine Baranski!

And speaking of Sarah Connolly, I booked last night for her Alice Tully recital. Have you? 

Double duty

Today was a two opera Saturday. Le comte Ory in the afternoon, Wozzeck in the evening. I think you would struggle to find two operas with less common ground. There are no nuns or jokes in Wozzeck, no blood or expressionism in Le comte Ory. It's like having lunch with Doris Day and dinner with Alanis Morissette. (Which is not to say that Alanis Morissette is as good as Berg. Although I do think Doris Day is at least as good as Rossini.) 

The best thing about Le comte Ory continues to be the people singing in it. Frankly I think even the weakest opera ever could be halfway redeemed by the presence of Joyce DiDonato OR Diana Damrau. Having them both, plus Juan Diego Florez, is a masterstroke. Meanwhile the opera itself is too insubstantial even for me, and I love fairy floss. Among its faults: not enough music for Joyce. Honestly, Rossini. You're supposed to be the one who spoils his mezzos. She was wonderful anyway, of course; she can't not be, and Diana was not only in drop dead gorgeous voice but completely hilarious. It's all about the two of them for me, crazy talents of (new father - congrats!) Juan Diego notwithstanding. The staging has been tweaked a bit since I saw the dress rehearsal, mostly to its advantage, though I suspect a funnier production than this one is possible — and I'm still not really sure why it's staged as a show-within-a-show. (Or, more precisely, a dress-rehearsal-within-a-show.) But hey, there's probably only so much you can do with an opera like this. I want to see Il viaggio a Reims now though: a sort of morbid curiosity to find out if it's any funnier. 

Meanwhile, both Lucy at Opera Obsession and Brian at Out West Arts were also there this afternoon (along with a Met in HD audience of trillions) and I agree with great chunks of their respective blog posts, which are far more extensive and thoughtful than what I've just written, and which you should definitely read.

A few hours at home watching Star Wars (not my choice) and then back to the theatre for Wozzeck #2. A smaller audience, alas, but the show's as strong as ever. (I also blogged at Limelight about the whole début experience.) A man behind me — despite being well and truly old enough to know better — evidently considered it appropriate behaviour to ask his wife, at full volume, questions like "Is this Act Two?" (it wasn't) and "Is this the bit where he kills her?" (it was). But I managed to ignore him enough to enjoy the show. I'm still making up my mind as to whether I'll see all four, but as it's short, I suppose I might as well.

Next on the agenda: Capriccio, on Monday. This is also the date on which the 2011 #operaplot competition begins, and takes over my brain, my life and my Twitter feed. 

P.S. Brian has now also blogged about Wozzeck.

Ovation

The big début went brilliantly well. I was terribly proud. Actually it was a pretty amazing show all round: Alan Held and Waltraud Meier both on top form, and a huge reception for James Levine at the start and end, everyone clearly very happy to see him back in the house and at the top of his game. But personal bias wins out every time: I clapped loudest for the Drum Major. 

Big night tonight. The Tenor In My Life makes his Met début tonight, as the Drum Major in Wozzeck. Forgive me if I jump up and down excitedly. So proud. 

Vivaldi: O servi volate (Juditha Triumphans) (by carosaxone)

The opposite of Wozzeck. (Dress rehearsal was this morning. Very good, of course, but not the kind of thing you come away from wanting to keep listening to all day. Besides, I heart Karina Gauvin.)

Day Out

One day, two concerts, three singers and we were still home before dark. Result! 

At 2pm I saw Dorothea Röschmann and David Daniels sing Handel duets at Carnegie Hall with Juilliard415. At least, the website called it "Handel Duets" but there only three such duets on the program. The bulk of it was arias and orchestral numbers — fine with me, I'd been hoping to hear Dorothea on her own anyway. Which I did, and she was lovely, and I liked David Daniels more in person than I've tended to on record, which was a nice surprise. I wouldn't have minded a bit more variety in the repertoire — it was mostly slow, lovelorn stuff, despite the fact that both of them became immediately more exciting when they headed into vengeance territory. Three encores, too: one each and then one together, "Pur ti miro" which is of course not Handel, but Monteverdi.

Then a leisurely walk to Alice Tully to hear Matthew Polenzani and Julius Drake in Schubert's Die Schöne Müllerin. Definitely more exciting than the Handel, although it's still a maudlin Schubert song cycle, so not actually exciting as such. But I enjoyed Matthew's very sincere, engaging performance. His sort of tenor is not really my voice of choice for this kind of repertoire (gimme a baritone) but once my ears became accustomed, I warmed to him and was glad I'd risked vocal overdose and booked for both concerts. I wasn't the only one, either; I spotted several audience members at both Carnegie Hall and Alice Tully, including the delightful gentlemen (by which I mean the absolute opposite) with whom I shared my box at the Handel. Thankfully they were nowhere near me for the Schubert. And I don't think I can blame them for the faulty hearing aid which plagued Matthew's recital, although I'd sure like to try. (Yes, they were that bad.)

But the real highlight of my day? Walking past Jackie Mason in the street. Thank you, New York.