Anna Bolena is one of the many works by Donizetti which, after their modern recovery in the second part of the last century, have both never fully left the stage while simultaneously never becoming a repertoire staple Lucia di Lammermoor or L’elisir d’amore.
I wonder why many New Yorkers have been led to believe that the only Handel conductor in the world is Harry Bicket.
The full title of the opera pretty much describes the plot: Il mondo alla roversa osia Le donne che comandano.
I was hopeful that my next operatic engagement would offer greater rewards: Norma at the Edinburgh Festival.
Cecilia Bartoli, the revered, ebullient, and unique mezzo-soprano, does not like to fly in airplanes. Yet she managed to journey to St. Petersburg, Russia.
Not only cursed to bear a name nearly identical to that of one of the greatest geniuses who ever lived, Leonardo Vinci also had the misfortune to die just three months after the premiere of his greatest opera, reportedly murdered with a cup of poisoned chocolate at the age of 36.
Can it be nearly a quarter-century ago that an Italian mezzo-soprano in her early twenties recorded her first recital?
The chicken or the egg?
Many American opera-lovers take the “Grand Tour”—a pilgrimage to Europe to attend opera at its great houses—Peter Grimes at the Royal Opera in London or Otello at La Scala in Milan, or perhaps for the more well-heeled a visit to the summer festivals of Glyndebourne, Salzburg or Aix-en-Provence.
Tell us: Filth or dementia?
Hasten thee to feed another quarter of conversation for The Talk of the Town!
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