Headshot of La Cieca

Cher Public

  • Feldmarschallin: The new Siegfried which opens on Pfinstsonntag at BSO. Funny that Lance Ryan sounds Eastern... 2:56 AM
  • MontyNostry: … and does Stemme’s voice really have a “bright sheen”? Oh, I’d... 2:55 AM
  • MrGuy1804: You are right on the money. I was not terribly impressed with any of the singing. There were a few... 12:29 AM
  • Camille: That was fun, thanks! I had completely forgotten Eastern Airlines, the Wings of Man. With a name like... 12:22 AM
  • Henry Holland: Thanks! Too bad they didn’t do Der Zwerg instead of the (wonderful) Puccini. The LA Opera... 12:09 AM
  • Camille: Thanks Blue, for the review. Lord, what are “earthy colorings”? 12:06 AM
  • Gualtier M: Here is Carmelita Pope in the actual 70′s era Pam commercial at 2:36 in: httpv://www.you... 12:03 AM
  • CruzSF: kashania, please tell us more about these performances. Who? How presented? And don’t neglect the... 12:03 AM

everything but the bloodhounds

Well, the first thing La Cieca will say about the Met’s 125th Anniversary Gala is that for all its sprawling splendor it doesn’t look quite what you’d call entertaining. Or rather let’s say it looks as if it won’t sound very entertaining. The visual element — you know, computer-animated Marc Chagall murals and Waltraud Meier prancing about in a copy of Rosa Ponselle‘s Carmen drag — will likely achieve a level of instant camp approaching that of Rosie O’Donnell‘s variety show last night. (La Cieca had no room for the phrase in the previous run-on sentence, but, anyway, good old Rosa’s “controversial” toreador pants ensemble was of course designed by “dyke, ya know” Valentina.)

Leaving aside such questions as “are there really more than a dozen people in New York iwho are really panting to hear Natalie Dessay sing Violetta,” what La Cieca wonders is: can there be a less appropriate selection for a gala than the final scene from Parsifal, and to close the first half (a la Birdie Coonan) yet? Surely someone at the Met realizes that as soon as the audience starts applauding, some heligie Kunst nut will bellow, “Shuddup! It’s a sacred festival play!”

On the other hand, La Cieca feels that in the current political climate it is a deliciously subversive act for the Met to program this music drama for its anniversary, since the company’s 1903 premiere of the work constituted perhaps the greatest example of theft of intellectual property in operatic history. Pirate-y!

l’amore di tre drag kings

Sopranos Deborah Voigt and Patricia Racette and mezzo-soprano Susan Graham made their drag king debut on Sunday night, and for once the gender confusion has nothing to do with Rufus Wainwright. The trio of songstresses donned tuxes for a spoof of the Three Tenors at a gala honoring Placido Domingo‘s 40th anniversary at the Met. The ladies quickly stripped down to “shimmering gowns in which they delivered the aria ‘Nessun Dorma’ that was a signature piece for The Three Tenors.” Photo by Ken Howard, Metropolitan Opera. [via AP]

the regieness is all

As several of you informed La Cieca (some in no uncertain terms) our most recent Regiequiz was a bit dodgy — the opera represented was hardly a standard repertory work, and the stage direction was fairly straightforward. Richard “Wallpaper” Jones directed this production of Gerald Barry’s The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant, a Bremen revival of the original ENO staging.

This time around La Cieca plays fair: here’s a standard work she is sure you will all recognize:  Read more »

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an asset to the abbey

Here’s a rousing opening number by the original company of The Sound of Music. At about 3:33 it’s hard to miss a very familiar face. Stay with the video even after glimpsing our surprise religieuse for an earful of Patrica Neway‘s “Climb Ev’ry Mountain,” with more than enough vocal goods to compensate for the “Queen Aggravain” makeup. This is one of a multitude of video excerpts from Broadway shows compiled at bluegobo.com.

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the young and the de young

Our Own Sanford reports from this afternoon’s National Council Grand Finals Concert at the Met. First things first: No hunkentenors, but Edward Parks is a barihunk, and Christopher Magiera is almost a barihunk. Now to the important stuff. There were nine singers in the final, and I would say that 10 of them deserved to be there. Patricia Racette was a charming host, who tried mighty hard to tell jokes (“How do you know a singer’s at your door? They can’t find the key and they don’t know when to come in.”)

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get me pat racette!

The author, now viewed as an early feminist, based the plot on her own difficult experience with postpartum depression, which was then diagnosed as a nervous disorder curable only by a long period of bed rest, over-feeding and withdrawal from the world of family and friends. The character in the opera ends up going mad from this treatment, while confined to a room with peeling wallpaper. You know how sometimes you read about a new opera and you think, boy, this has Francesca Zambello written all over it?

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Ohime, morir mi sento

Unfortunately, on this occasion, the text is all too apt. Fiorenza Cossotto in 2007 (!) demonstrates why it is better to quit while you are ahead.

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Rosen brach ich Nachts mir…

…am dunklen Hage. Oh, and by the way, it’s always a delight to hear news about dear Lucine Amara!

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