Huge tubs of popcorn gliding down the dimly lit aisles. Families in jackets and jeans scrambling for seats. Bathroom breaks two minutes before maestro James Levine was set to strike up the overture -- and immediately after the first Mozart aria.
No, this wasn't your typical Metropolitan Opera experience.
Every year around holiday season, when performing arts activity in Charlotte is lean and predictable, I migrate to the Big Apple, sample the new shows on Broadway and Off-Broadway, and report back to loyal Loafers. Into that glitzy mix of theater fare, I've tossed in two or three opera productions that I've seen at Lincoln Center.
Change was in the air this year. While I was making my annual pilgrimage to the Met, the Met's new GM, Peter Gelb, was launching an unprecedented outreach that stretched out across America -- and spanned the oceans to Europe and Japan. Live Met broadcasts, a fixture in American households -- and along American highways -- for 75 years, were no longer confined to radio. New technology was beaming hi-fi sound and hi-def video to more 150 movie theaters dotting the Northern Hemisphere.
So on the afternoon of December 30, I forsook the carpeted lobbies of Lincoln Center and journeyed to the nearest cinema where I could watch Julie Taymor's intrepid redesign of The Magic Flute on widescreen HD. The road to eye-popping high culture led me to New Rochelle, New York, where the Met's Saturday afternoon broadcast began promptly at 1:30 p.m.
It was essential for me to abandon my usual Big Apple base of operations in New York, New York, to keep pace with the folk back home in Charlotte, N.C. That's because one of the select locations receiving the Met's signal was the Regal Stonecrest at Piper Glen, off the Rea Road exit on Charlotte's outerbelt.
To keep on the cutting edge, I doubled back to Manhattan that same evening and saw the Met's production of I Puritani, featuring soprano sensation Anna Netrebko. That enabled me to make a valid Live vs. HD comparison with the sights and sounds still fresh in my head from the Regal New Roc City multiplex.
In my continuing quest for non-Yuletide programming during the holidays in Gotham, there was a timely breakthrough at Carnegie Hall. Daniel Barenboim led his provocative West-Eastern Divan Orchestra in a program of Beethoven, Mozart and Brahms on December 19. With a pointedly defiant encore of Wagner.
Comprised entirely of young Arab and Israeli musicians aged 17-25, the West-Eastern Divan was hatched in Weimar in 1998, by Barenboim and the late Arab intellectual Edward W. Said. Christmas music would be the last thing you'd expect from this ensemble. Discreetly, all religious music has been absent from the Divan's widely acclaimed discography.
The West-Eastern's latest Warner CD, a starry performance of Beethoven's Choral Symphony #9 recorded live in a Berlin concert, typifies Barenboim's thrust. A cry for universal brotherhood without religious preaching.
Altogether, three of the four operas I saw in New York are a part of the exciting first season of "The Met Goes to the Movies." Flute and I Puritani have already been shown at the Regal Stonecrest. But the Met will serve up its world premiere production of Tan Dan's The First Emperor for your matinee enjoyment this Saturday at the Regal Stonecrest and across the global network.
Diehards who missed the historic Flute broadcast on December 30 can catch an encore on January 23 at 7:30 p.m. But they'll need to journey to the Brassfield Cinema 10 in Greensboro to do it. On a school night.
With all this pertinent action going on up North, we're pushing my classical music reviews to the front of the bus this year and breaking the Loaf's annual roundup into two halves. Part 2 of our "New York, New York" series runs next week, spotlighting 11 new Broadway/Off-Broadway shows. First, we'll give you the score at suddenly-relevant Carnegie Hall and the born-again populist Met:
Don Carlo (***3/4 out of 4) -- Based on Friedrich Schiller's tragic thriller, Verdi's operatic Don is surely the Italian master's most ambitious effort. Some of the royal intrigue and the pulsating shifts in advantage that run through Schiller's script must be sacrificed -- even when the operatic version stretches to 4 hours and 45 minutes with two intermissions. But what's lacking in the sheer dynamism of the scheming nobles, Verdi nearly restores with a soaring string of impassioned arias amid tensions that keep ratcheting tighter in the Met's five-act version.
The compelling performance we saw achieved an unforgettable lift-off when the curtain rose on the famed Act 4 study scene, and bass baritone Renè Pape sang King Philip's heartfelt lament, "She Never Loved Me." Incredibly, after the long ovation died down, Samuel Ramey sustained the momentum in a role perfectly apt for the declining days of his sterling career: the granitic, purblind Grand Inquisitor of the fearful Spanish Inquisition.
Then the game was on. Patricia Racette as Philip's Queen Elizabeth, Olga Borodina as the jealous Princess Eboli, and Dmitri Hvorostovsky as the wily fence-sitting Marquis of Posa took turns in far surpassing anything they had shown themselves capable of during the first three acts. Only tenor Johan Botha in the title role remained untouched by the fires of inspiration, wooden and stolid to the end. Further demonstrating just how strong and resilient this Verdi masterwork is.
I Puritani (***1/2) -- Bellini's operas feature endless fountains of delightful melodic invention, peppered with memorable coloratura showpieces. Visually, Puritani wasn't the ideal intro to the "Met Goes to the Movies" series, lacking the audacious design concepts that distinguish Taymor's Flute and Zhang Yimou's Emperor.
Enter Netrebko, who certainly delivered the diva goods on Elvira's Act 2 mad scene -- the chaste Puritan's second, if you're keeping count -- melting my heart with her simple sincerity while impressing me with her effortless vocal exploits. No doubt about it, she has beauty and personal magnetism in abundance, a natural haven for a camera. And the voice is surprisingly strong.
My only qualm was with Netrebko's acting. Elvira whirled with giddy delight when her uncle told her she could marry Arturo, the man of her dreams. She whirled with brokenhearted despair when Arturo fled from Plymouth with Queen Henrietta, leaving her stranded at the altar. And she whirled once more when she descended her castle's great staircase at the height of her madness. Enough with the whirling, OK?
Netrebko's supporting cast were mostly outstanding, particularly John Relyea as Elvira's benevolent uncle and Franco Vassallo as Riccardo, the lovelorn noble originally promised to E. As a last-minute replacement, Gregory Kunde seemed disoriented in this production, gesticulating wildly as Arturo when a more polished savior faire would have made a better impression. Close your eyes, however, and Kunde sounded quite fine -- until called upon to match Netrebko's vocal heroics in Act 3.
Watching Netrebko had to be easier at the Regal. From Row P at the Met, I had to bob my head to catch the supertitles on the seat in front of mine. When the words blanked out during repeats, I could train my opera glasses on the beauty for a closer view.
The Magic Flute (***1/4) -- Watching a family-friendly version of Taymor's Die Zauberflote, abridged to 110 minutes and translated into English, I confess to missing some of the excised arias and repeats. Pa-pa-pa-Papageno once again, please! Much more nettlesome were the sound dropouts.
We all knew there was a problem when Peter Gelb and Katie Couric's taped intros were delivered without audio. Outcries -- plus a swift emissary or two -- quickly reached an already-alarmed projection booth. By the time sound was restored, Levine & Co. had almost concluded the overture, beamed to us under a sprightly collage of singer credits and scenic backstage wonders.
That onset of sound was nothing to cheer about. The orchestra was potted so far up that the amassed strings overwhelmed the Regal's loudspeaker system. Once again underscoring the fact that breakthrough equipment and technology are as new to operators and technicians as they are to us.
When the singers took over, I was pleasantly surprised. Potting was perfect. The Renè Pape whom I'd heard as King Philip earlier in the week was clearly recognizable now -- Yul Brynner English and all -- as the mystical Sarastro. Not only was there richness in the vocals, there was an ambience I'd never heard in a broadcast before. No, it wasn't a replication of the Met's acoustic. It was the spontaneous sound of an operatic performance reverberating through the Regal.
Aside from the popcorn parade and the heretical bathroom breaks, I found the audience remarkably well-behaved. Zero whining, zero questioning and zero gratuitous commentary. Clearly the music, wedded to Taymor's imaginative flights, held the kiddies in thrall. Along with the eye candy and ear candy, baritone Nathan Gunn showered us with comedy candy as the birdman Papageno. His antics and vocals certainly earned him a shot at the full-length Zauberflote alongside Pape.
So did the very Slavic soprano Erika Miklosa as the Queen of the Night and the lovely Ying Huang as Pamina. As Tamino, however, Matthew Pollanzani could manage little more machismo than John Lovitz. The hair bun and the silky Chinese robe were insuperable obstacles.
The First Emperor (***) -- If you're already comfortable with Asian music, Tan Dun's newly unveiled score offers abundant delights. I couldn't help but be amazed at Placido Domingo's ability to master a role in such a foreign musical idiom -- and the voice remains astounding.
But the English? Not so good. Prepare to rely heavily on the handy supertitles when Emperor Qin speaks.
I like the story of the ancient Chinese ruler who ruthlessly united his vast nation and built the Great Wall. There's real poetry in the ill-starred romance between Princess Yueyang and musician Gao Jianli, the captive charged by Qin to write a new national anthem. That poetry in Ha Jin's libretto is nicely paired with charm and mystery as a Yin-Yang Master and a Shaman share the narrative chores.
The ceremonial style works well until the denouement. Although there is plenty of color and sacrament as we reach the end of Act 2, Ha's libretto misses the melodrama that could elevate this opera to sublimity. It's all there ready to be dramatized: tragically mistimed communications between the lovers reminiscent of Romeo and Juliet. Right now, these wrenching plot points are solemnly narrated when they should be passionately enacted.
Meanwhile, you will not be disappointed by anyone in this fine cast. Paul Groves and Elizabeth Futral make a luscious couple as Gao and his princess, but do watch out for Wu Hsing-Kuo and Michelle DeYoung as the narrators. Both are as spectacular as their costumes.
West-Eastern Divan Orchestra (**3/4) -- After reading all the accolades heaped upon the Divan, I was shocked by what I heard before intermission. The "Leonore Overture #3" lacked the bite and precision Beethoven demands, and Mozart's Sinfonia Concertante for Oboe, Clarinet, Bassoon, and Horn wasn't energized enough to command attention.
Fortunately, the ensemble came back more focused and intent for the second half of the program. Divan's playing in the Brahms Symphony #1 was as sharp and thrusting as I've ever heard in the outer allegro movements. Helped by the Carnegie's fine acoustic, the richness of the slower inner movements bloomed with fresh color and detail.
The long, extended ovation for the Brahms was well-deserved. We were then rewarded with an unusually generous encore, the "Prelude and Liebestod" from Tristan and Isolde. A parting reminder that it was Barenboim who had championed the performance of Wagner in Israel some years back. The beauty and audacity of this rendition made an irrefutable argument.
Don't be scared off by the Carnegie Hall brand. Ticket prices are quite competitive, comparable to what you'd pay for prime events here at the PAC -- and notably less than what you'd pay on Broadway or at the Met.
