Second casts in Don Giovanni and Turandot at the Metropolitan Opera offer mixed blessings.
I love it, truly, just not that much.
Let’s all cast our minds back to March of 2020. Or, better, let’s not.
One needs liberty in order to be a libertine.
Russell Thomas’s opening aria, “Del piu sublime soglio” displayed an intense attention to the text and some surprisingly beautiful piano phrasing that I’ve never heard risked before and it brought wonder and gooseflesh.
Too bad, then, that this season’s tossed flower was a bit of a wilted one.
Louis XVI, Marie-Antoinette, and a slew of their members of court are hanging out in the afterlife…
Giacomo Puccini’s final opus interruptus is and shall always remain my favorite opera. The reasons for this preference are so varied and numerous that if they were printed and bound the volume would most assuredly require its own stand.
As I leaned forward the woman in front of me turned to her seatmate and very quietly, in a voice thick with emotion and not a few tears, said, “it’s so beautiful.”
My first experience with John Corigliano’s music was in high school with the ear and mind blowing score he wrote for Ken Russell’s film Altered States.
There is a truism that there are no small parts, only small singers. Last night’s Così fan tutte has made me consider another possible truism: there are no bad productions, only miscast productions.
Saturday matinee’s prima Trovatore brought an exciting and compelling show to the Met’s stage in the revival of David McVicar’s dark, Goya-esque production.
Tell us: Filth or dementia?
Hasten thee to feed another quarter of conversation for The Talk of the Town!
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