Cher Public

End of the line

“If the Metropolitan Opera were one of the more advanced European theaters, last Friday night’s new production of Manon Lescaut might actually have made some kind of perverse sense. . . . Mr. Eyre’s production… was just another in a series of ugly, gargantuan stagings signaling the Met’s endemic lack of imagination or artistic ambition.” [New York Observer]

Glister act

New York City Opera Renaissance’s Tosca “was opera at its most retrograde, an effort to recreate a golden age from a handful of tinsel.” [New York Observer]

Cherchez la femme

Our Own JJ’s muse Dorothy Bishop returns to New York’s plush Metropolitan Room tomorrow night with another edition of her “Dozen Divas” revue, featuring 12 diva impressions in the breakneck course of a single 70 minute show.   Read more »

Hello there, masterpiece

Fellow parterrians, my review in the Observer of this year’s PROTOTYPE festival does not appear until Wednesday.

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Tell me about the rabbits

Our Own JJ confesses he just doted on Heartbreak Express, but “You Us We All was not my cup of twee.”

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Where’s the fire?

“Everyone complains about how there is no great singing in opera anymore, but last week’s performances suggest that’s not so. The singing today is mostly fine; it’s everything else that’s the problem.”

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Man of steel

“This throwback to the golden age of opera—superhuman singing greeted with frenzied ovations—was a function of a perfect storm of excitement.”

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He-who-must-be-obeyed

Read and heed!

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Summer nights

“Those kids in Bushwick have this opera thing figured out.”

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Guilt trip

Part of what makes opera seem, at least, a camp art form is that fans of the genre have such inconsistent taste.

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