Opera took center stage on the final weekend of the Philadelphia Orchestra season.
Arnold Schoenberg’s Gurrelieder and Giacomo Puccini’s Turandot are, in their different ways, the final decadent flowering of a musical tradition at its twilight.
The Met’s revival of Turandot on Saturday night was surprisingly contentious.
There were plenty of Turan-do’s and only a few Turandon’ts at the Met’s Turandot Sunday afternoon.
La bohéme returned to the stage of the Metropolitan Opera once again last night (does it ever leave?)
From the perspective of current identity politics, Puccini’s Turandot is a disaster of epic proportions.
Mortality is ugly—it smells, it makes uncomfortable noises, it takes its time; and then there is the overwhelming sense of dread and helplessness.
A “lone voice in the wilderness” booed Barbara Frittoli’s calamitous Nedda.
Tell us: Filth or dementia?
Hasten thee to feed another quarter of conversation for The Talk of the Town!
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