parterre box

39 comments

• Will says:

  I looked it up, Regina #10, and the great Simionato celebrates her 99th on May 12.

  on March 28, 2009 at 8:45 AM
• former standee says:

  I was also there at Magda’s Met debut. Let me assure you there were plenty of us Met regulars participating in one of the most fantastic ovations ever. If there was some Texas help, we New Yorkers didn’t notice. That night, Magda showed the Met Opera audience what so many others around the world already knew. Magda = One of the GREATEST of all times.

  on March 28, 2009 at 8:59 AM
• Oliverino says:

  I had the privilege of hearing Signora Olivero in Caracas in 1972 singing Manon Lescaut with Richard Tucker. Unforgettable.

  on March 28, 2009 at 9:46 AM
• Oliverino says:

  Adding to my commentary.
  I was just 21 and backstage with some supernumeraries when Signora Olivero arrived at the theater. We all commented how could that OLD LADY be Manon. Well, not only she was a young girl onstage, she sang like one too and at the end of the opera we were cheering and looking for her autograph… Really amazing singer and actress.

  on March 28, 2009 at 10:26 AM
• Regina delle fate says:

  It would be great if both Olivero and Simionato make it to 100. Licia Albanese must be that already! Amazing ladies.

  on March 28, 2009 at 10:53 AM
• Niel Rishoi says:

  Hmmm. Sigh. What a great lady, great artist. I met Signora Olivero in 1992, at the Francesc Vinas competition in Barcelona. It was a glamourous panel – Dame Joan, Menno Feenstra, Olivero, Friedrich Haider, and a few others. Edita Gruberova invited me to join her in the audience (I was there for her debut as Anna Bolena – a fabulous success). At one point in the break, I approached Signora Olivero. I had observed several people sticking programmes in her face, hardly a word, for a autograph. She was gracious, but I thought the presumptuousness of the star fuckers was rude, to say the least. But…she undoubtedly was used to this, and just obliged, without a word. I spoke to her for about 5 minutes. I told her, in a combination of bad Italian and English, how I regretted never having seen her perform. And mentioned several of her past colleagues who had spoken graciously of her in THE LAST PRIMA DONNAS. She acknowledged every name I mentioned. She could not have been more charming or down to earth. She was impeccably dressed, and her innate dignity was of a kind borne into her. It was interesting watching her as each singer performed. She sat alone, did not schmooze in animated conversation – no exchanged knowing looks with the others. She sat with her clipboard and notes, alone. Most of the time, she did not look up, except only at the beginning of each performer’s aria. To be quite blunt, most of these young singers had not a clue into the music or the style. A good deal of them were mediocre and much worse than that. Here we had one of the most celebrated opera singers, the music, fire, and blood in her soul, intimate understanding of the genre. She must have recognized, none of these singers knew what they were doing. Exposed as she was to the great singers and artists of the past, you wonder how she wondered what the art form had come to. The only singer who caused a stir was an Asian baritone who had a huge voice. He sang “Eri tu” and it recalled the great baritones of the past. But it was all brilliant vocalism – the consensus was, he had the voice, but not the soul.

  When that day had finished, I was standing outside, and Signora Olivero, with a friend by her side, walked by, and winked at me conspitorially..and I just melted.

  She is the LAST of the really great artist prima donnas. How so cool she’s still around, approaching her century!!

  on March 28, 2009 at 11:32 PM
• Voyagerx says:

  I think it was at the second Spoleto festival in Charleston that MO sang the countess in Pique Dame. She was moving but sounded like a very aged soprano and looked even older. At a party after the performance I noticed a finely dressed, apparently middle-aged woman walk into the reception hall. She had great dignity but nothing “divaish” about her. She was alone and no one can up to her. In epiphany style I realized who she was and went up to congratulate her. She was warm, elegant and friendly. Throughout the evening it seemed few took notice of this great lady and artist. It seemed not to bother her at all.

  Several years later, 1978, I think, we were in San Fran. for her Tosca. Frankly, since she was then close to 70, I expected the performance to be of the party record type. Was I ever wrong! She was mesmerizing both vocally and histrionically. Her Vissi d’arte still sits in my head for its directness; no schmaltz, no false drama, she simply stood still and looked at an icon and sang. It was breathtaking. She knew the those most important aspects of theatre, let the audience come to you and stillness.The audience went wild The only other Tosca, of the many I have seen,that I recall with such clarity is Leontyne Price in a performance in the mid-60s with the Met on tour. Viva MO.

  on March 29, 2009 at 9:40 PM
• Alto says:

  Thanks for that, No. 36. You deserved that wink.

  on March 29, 2009 at 10:25 PM
• Graciella Scusi says:

  @33 I have a tape of that Manon Lescaut in Caracas somewhere; Stefan Zucker played it long ago on his Opera Fanatic radio show. She was extremely moving in the last act, tore your heart out with ‘Sola, Perduto..’ and when the act ended there was a long
  pause before the inimitable voce of Stefan Zucker spoke in a hushed tone, “Catharsis, thy name is Magda.” I was lucky enough to see her at her Met debut in Tosca, and also Adriana and Margherita in Mefistofele in Newark. One of a kind, truly stunning singing actress, and a genuine missing link to a true verismo style. Buon Compleanno, Magda!

  on March 29, 2009 at 11:28 PM