Gertsamtkunstwerk

Tenor (and bass-baritone) Stalking

Once again, on Wednesday evening, I found myself miraculously*  transported to Floral Street and I took my position outside the Stage Door of the Royal Opera House. Sometime next week I shall reflect at length at the stupidity of people who hang around Stage Doors for a fleeting glimpse of their heroes. I am of course top of the stupid list!

I knew I had quite a wait and I did go through all this "What am I doing here," and a feeling of self-consciousness, or perhaps a glint of self-awareness that such waiting is not the most constructive or sensible use of time.

The next passage has previously been sent by email...

I couldn't actually see the Stage Door as such, but obviously there was *someone* there. I say obviously, because people were calling out 'hello' and so on, but I didn't make the analytical leap that if other people are saying 'hello' there was a chance I might want to. Then I was conscious of two people walking along the pavement, and a vague thought of "I'm in the way" followed by "that man is tall!" followed by "I know him from somewhere" followed by "it's Bryn" and by the time my jaw had fallen open he had moved on. (Bear in mind that he was so close to me I think I actually damaged my neck muscles in looking up - the angle was acute!). And the woman next to me and I just turned to each other and said "That was Bryn! and she started saying how she liked him but she really doesn't like his crossover stuff, and I have this word association thing that goes Bryn - Crossover - Faye and I phoned Faye but her phone was on voicemail, and then about five minutes later she turned up, which was sort of excellent comic timing.

But although I admire Bryn Terfel, I wouldn't leave work early and cross the city just to see him walk down Floral Street. Whereas I would do that for Plácido Domingo. Who duly obliged by walking down Floral Street...! Needless to say, Faye spotted him first. He strolled over to where we were and asked us how we were, and I took a photo

I was just about to step forward and talk to him when Faye leapt in front of me (I should have had her arrested for obstruction) and asked him to sign her CD cover. So, that was another chance gone. Sigh...

The woman next to us had been saying - based perhaps on her TV viewing of the Classical Brits that he's not looking good - gaunt in the face -  but Faye and I politely demurred. Then a few minutes later this woman agreed that he  most definitely is looking good.

* in truth, the 77A bus helped with this miracle

Cyrano de Bergerac review

I was in attendance last night, an excellent seat in the Amphitheatre. Including the Dress Rehearsal, this was my fourth time, but the chap sitting next to me was on his fifth performance - having flown in from Switzerland especially. I wouldn't bet against him being there on Saturday, either, bearing flowers...yes, I have discovered the Bringer of Flowers!.

And, as I said to Plácido afterwards, as one does, it's growing on me. I am still of the view that without such a wonderful performer in the title role it would probably fall a bit flat. There are longeurs; there are passages which are necessary to move the drama on but have no intrinsic value, and are not redeemed by wonderful music in the way that the Big Three* composers would do. There are passages that drag - notably the exchange between Roxanna and Monsieur Le Quiche. And seeing it so many times in such a short period it's easy to find bits that seem less well performed than on previous occasions - what springs most to mind is the chorus of the Gazzas at the Siege of Arras which somehow seemed less testosterone-driven than on previous occasions. But I am still unsure whether I would recognise any excerpts out of context - so it will be interesting to hear the second part of the New York Metropolitan Opera Gala broadcast on Sunday to hear Roberto Alagna sing something from Cyrano de Bergerac - conducted by Plácido Domingo!

And I remain to be convinced that the first half is at all remarkable. The Siege of Arras is good, with some almost memorable music.

But what makes the whole thing worthwhile, is the Final Act, which, as I remarked to Plácido, is wonderful. He agreed. And I suppose, in order to have the impact of the final act it is necessary to have the previous acts. The Final Act is wonderful partly because of the poignancy of the story, especially in its dignified melancholy understatedness and partly because of the sensitive convincing portrayal by all principals.

And yet this is opera. What is opera without music? Yet I am struggling to remember any of the music for the final act, except the Nuns' Chorus. And there's a wonderful passage where the piano is playing with the orchestra. But the overall effect, of reducing me to tears...again...would not be achieved without the music. Sondra Radvanovsky said at the Insight Evening - and her husband repeated to a blogger - that it is like film music; and I suppose when you see a film with proper  music you don't necessarily come away humming the tunes, but the music is vital for conveying the mood of the film.

There was a change of cast, with Anthony Michaels-Moore substituting for an indisposed Roman Trekel. I see he was also indisposed last week, and Carmelo Corrado Caruso stepped in for De Guiche, with a (very) distant relation of mine covering Raguenea - I was not at that performance.

It's interesting to see a different portrayal of a fairly minor role. Trekel's portrayal is an arrogant cocksure man, whereas Michaels-Moore is more vulnerable, of someone who is all bravado but inside is a bit lost. Vocally I prefer Trekel, but M-M was more than satisfactory. Indeed, the cast is vocally strong right across-the board. And Sondra Radvanovsky sounded better than on previous outings. I don't think I'd ever go to hear her in recital, nor go to an opera especially for her, but perhaps her presence would be weighed in as a plus factor. Although I find Raymond Very to be perfectly adequate I can't say I have warmed to him. The opera is unusual in having two tenors as Love Rivals and that is deliberately to assist the suspension of belief that Roxanna could not distinguish the voices of Cyrano and Christian. And it suddenly hit me - wouldn't be ace to have Rolando in that role, or even in just an excerpt, the Balcony Scene!

And then there was Plácido. I'm not sure that I can really add anything to what I have previously written, except that  I especially noticed his exquisitely placed piano/pianissimo notes; also, the opening declamation sounded especially bright and clarion-like. I have commented previously that he seemed to take a while to warm up on previous occasions, and I didn't notice that last night. On the other hand there was one bar where I could swear that his voice sounded under strain. But, you know, just one bar, in a relatively long role. I am being hyper-picky here!

The man to my left had got his ticket at late notice. He wasn't that much taken with the first act, and in the pause, I commented that people have made the mistake of leaving at the interval, but it gets so much better after that. It did not entirely surprise me that he did  not reappear after the interval, and the chap to his left found it highly amusing that I had specifically warned him not to make that mistake!

* Verdi, Wagner and Puccini, IMO

Met Opera Gala

The Metropolitan Opera in New York held a gala on Saturday. Reports from around the internet suggest it was a bit of a curate's egg.

There are newspaper reports in the Washington Post, the New York Post, the New York Times, which has a picture show. A couple of nice pictures on yahoo.

Update: Playbill Arts has a photojournal, including a picture of TooMuch, especially for Jane...

It's been broadcast on various radio stations, check local listings. In the UK, Radio 3 broadcasts and webcasts it Tuesday night and Sunday lunchtime.

Oh, heck, why not throw in a gratuitous photo...

Celebrity spotting...

Funny who one bumps into in the street.

Not that I had tickets for Cyrano (it was a SOSSLED evening at ENO's La Belle Helene - more of, later)

Still, I also saw him later on outside the Stage Door, and he didn't even glare at me. So when I got to the Northern Line, I just burst into tears and cried my way home.

Update: Helen sent me this:

She says "I think he is actually looking to the side slightly to where geraldine was standing."

Very nice Helen, but I'm not convinced!

Last Thursday's Cyrano de Bergerac

I went to another performance of Cyrano de Bergerac last Thursday, but because I was then away over the weekend I haven't had time to write it up. I suppose I ought to have come home and written in large, bold capitals I MET PLÁCIDO THIS EVENING

But I didn't write it, in bold capitals or otherwise. In fact I'm not sure Thursday evening even counted as 'meeting' him. I touched him, but I think 'meet' is too definite a word.

I won't write a detailed considered review of Cyrano, because I still have another performance to see.

I met up with Faye and Helen, and we were joined by Simon - that discussion of third rate but nearly second rate was very important, although as I walked...hobbled...through the market halls in Covent Garden at pumpkin time, I think I did scream rather loudly "It's a crap opera!"

It's a fabulous story full of sentimental schmaltz - and I love sentimental schmaltz. The music isn't bad, and it does have its moments. Act IV is worthwhile in itself and I wouldn't be entirely surprised to see it emerge as a standalone act at some gala somewhere in the next few years. But much of the music is verging on the tedious: the first two acts, at 87 minutes, seem to take a great deal longer than all of Gotterdammerung's six and a half (including intervals). In fact, towards the end of Act II I was thinking, this is longer than an entire Ring Cycle...

Most of the supporting characters are barely two dimensional, although praise must be given where due. I have stated that I don't care for Sondra Radvonovsky's voice, but everyone else seems to, and I can't really fault her technique and acting. Carmelo Corrado Caruso and Roman Trekel coped splendidly with indifferent material and it was nice to see Iain Paterson, a name that hopefully will crop up with more frequency on this blog.

But let's be honest, there's only one reason for going and he was splendid! I felt that he didn't sound as good on Thursday as he did on Monday but I think that was due to the difference in where I was positioned. My feet were aching - I was in a standing 'seat' and being a hot day I decided to wear summer shoes that had not yet been worn outside the house, rather than my trusty girlie Doc Martens. /stupid.

What can I say about Plácido that I haven't said already? He has an extraordinary and beautiful voice that I don't think I could ever tire of.  And it's so wonderful to hear him live, because I'm standing there enjoying this good, very good,  singer and suddenly I hear this exquisite sound that transports me to a different plane. I would be quite happy if he just 'stood and delivered' but he doesn't. When I'm watching, I don't think, even subconsciously, "That's Plácido Domingo, my hero, down there" - it's Cyrano de Bergerac. And I do so like that final act, when he hobbles in to Roxanna's convent, the shock of seeing him as a feeble old man, and that exquisitely poignant scene where he reads the court circular, and then he reads Christian's last letter (which, of course, was written by Cyrano), and then finally, he announces his own death, stands under the tree and dies a dramatic death (albeit with less tenorial rolling on the ground than I witnessed on Monday...). The balcony scene with the love duet is noteworthy too, and I'm rather fond of the bit where he meets Roxanna in the bakery and issues exclamations of delight when he thinks she is declaring her love for him, which turn to heartbreak when he realises that it isn't him she loves. Oh, and I like the fighting, too...!

After the performance Helen, Faye and I assembled outside the Stage Door. Quite a little crowd out there, as we expected, including some of the usual suspects - some people who are always outside Stage Doors, and some people I always see whenever I see Plácido. There was one woman whom I had seen at the Dress Rehearsal and on Monday night, and she was back again on Thursday...she must be obsessed...!

We waited for ages and I was getting increasingly jittery. I'm not like that with ordinary everyday singers, or, indeed ordinary everyday other celebrities that I encounter from day to day. But he's different.

And this is the bit where I get very teenagery (with apologies to teenagers who are far more mature than I am...). Imagine the scene: there's a fair crowd inside the lobby to the Stage Door, there's a fair crowd blocking  the pavement outside, crowded round the street door, there's a crowd milling outside Bertorelli's and there's more of us standing randomly in the middle of Floral Street. Not quite the queue round the block that there was at Die Walküre but more than the handful that usually assemble post-performance.

And we see him; he pauses for a while in the lobby, signing autographs and I get a fairly good view of him side on, until I lose him in the scrum of people mobbing him. Then he emerges through the scrum and I feast my eyes on him, and I am startled at how beautiful, handsome, lovely he looks. This is a man of whom I have over a thousand photos on my PC and goodness knows how many more elsewhere; a man I have in 34 different opera videos/DVDs and others of performances and documentaries; a man whose looks I fell for moments before I fell for his voice (come on, I was twelve at the time, it's allowed!). And yet...I looked at him and I could not help mouthing -  or perhaps saying "He's so fucking gorgeous...!"

And although he was mobbed, I did get pretty close to him:

Thanks to Helen for the photo! That's me in the beige suit - note how my camera precedes me by fifteen minutes, actually note how the lens is actually retracted, indicating it is switched off.../stupid

The photos I took were spectacularly unbelievably bad  - camera shake...but Helen and Faye managed some reasonable ones...

Thanks Faye

Thanks Helen

How can a man so gorgeous photograph so badly...sigh

I did speak to Plácido, but what I said was really stupid.  I do stupid well. Someone said that he looked good with a beard, and he said that he used to have a beard quite often, and he felt that it was right for the role of Cyrano, so I said something like "Oh, but please get rid of it after the end of the run..." and he gave me this look of "what is this stupid woman going on about...?".  Then a few minutes later, I asked if my friend could take a photo of me with him, and Faye was just about to press the button, when someone distracted him and he looked the other way.

So I was really upset in a childish way. Look, I was tired, achy, and wanted nothing more to go home for a long soak in the bath followed by a long sleep in bed, and yet I was stressing at all the things I still needed to do before going out to Euston eleven hours later. So I threw a complete tantrum in Floral Street "Am I bothered, do I look bothered, does my face look bothered, I'm going to sell my remaining ticket for this crap opera on eBay, see if I care..." I was overtired, overwrought, and should really have been told to grow up, behave myself and be sent to bed without any supper. Fortunately my friends gave me lots of support - pointing out that he was being mobbed, people from all angles wanting his autograph, or take a photo, or to flirt with him. And also that it's perfectly normal to feel deflated and...rejected...when one almost sort of meets one's hero.

Oh, he was in mild panic mode when he thought he had lost his scarf. I was wondering whether he was concerned at the thought of walking in the London air in a river-wards direction without his scarf (singers are like that, unsurprisingly), or whether it had sentimental value, or whether he was concerned someone might have nicked it to sell on eBay. Happily, someone found it.

He was also carrying the Official ITV Sport guide to Grand Prix 2006 - shame that he had to be onstage on Sunday when the Barcelona Grand Prix was happening...

I expect I shall return to the Royal Opera House Stage Door on some future unspecified occasion.

Lots of links

I've been away since Friday morning, and although I have had some internet access, it would have been v. rude to sit at someone else's PC posting lots of links.

The Evening sub-Standard had a photo-documentary* on how the nose is installed: Placido's one-hour nose job and a review Domingo redeems lost work

Domingo, in his mid-sixties, still has artistic generosity, nobility and control, and a capacity to spin gold from straw. Had he not been singing, I would have needed padlocking to my seat. Instead, he made the evening remarkable.

The Sunday Times says: Another Feather in His Cap - a bit acerbic, but I do like the "ladies’ hairdos apparently modelled on the heads of poodles after a dip in the pond" - the review namechecks a few of the smaller roles, including Iain Paterson as Le Bret.

Domingo dominates says the Observer, and the IoS weighs in with Sadly this opera is just a one-man show (but another positive namecheck for Iain Paterson).

And for those of you who don't read the comments, you absolutely have to check out the fantastic Cyrano de Mexico video that Raffe has unearthed - guaranteed to become a favourite with those connoisseurs of video, Faye and Favourite Niece...

* contains gratuitous chest hair

Five World Cups

I feel a caption competition coming on. There might be a prize...

Cyrano Reviews

The Independent and Times have rushed out reviews of Last Night's Cyrano. Update: Further reviews have been added to this post.

Domingo pushes back the years to keep his nose ahead of the field

But the little-known opera in which Domingo has chosen to star at Covent Garden showcases him in cruelly sharp focus: not only is his voice exposed, but also the state of his physique. Fencing at full tilt while simultaneously singing your heart out is not the kindest way to treat yourself at the ripe old age of 65...

...When Domingo comes on he's unrecognisable - straggly locks, sunken cheeks, drooping beak, a drowned-rat version of the swashbuckling musketeers who throng the stage in the pullulating opening tableau of Francesca Zambello's production. But as soon as he opens his mouth you know it's him: his voice still has that marvellous freshness and focus. And when he starts to fence and declaim, he seems deft and nimble: a theatrical illusion fostered by the deftness going on all round him...

...His little gasps of dismay as his beloved Roxane reveals her love for Christian are oddly moving; when he takes the young stumblebum she loves in hand (nicely incarnated by Raymond Very), his magnanimity becomes heart-rending. But the triangular love-scene which concludes the first half of the evening takes off like a rocket, as Cyrano's promptings are transmuted from conventional platitudes to words from the heart: for a few magical minutes...

...When the denouement came, it rose once more to the occasion - as did Domingo. All the mildly risible Les Mis moments elsewhere were forgotten, as, bleeding from his mortal wound, his voice, gestures and body language all bespoke the suppressed passion of a lifetime. This was high tragedy, conveyed with total conviction.

Domingo recently told this newspaper that he didn't expect to be treading the boards at 70. I would put money on him doing just that.

Cyrano de Bergerac

If the poet with the prodigious proboscis does turn out to be the 65-year-old Plácido Domingo’s last new role with the Royal Opera, the tenor will have signed out with grace, lyrical ardour and even a modest flourish of swashbuckling swordsmanship.

Domingo’s acting has always been several cuts above the norm for operatic superstars (admittedly not a very testing benchmark). Here he is mesmerising as the ugly-mugged but noble-hearted hero who concocts impassioned letters to the lovely Roxanne  not on his own behalf, but to plead the cause of his friend — handsome but dim Christian.

The tenor gets a wonderfully wry love duet by proxy, and a great death-scene — exhaustingly prolonged in best operatic tradition. Domingo delivers it all with understated pathos and, at the end, a touching, autumnal vulnerability. The voice may have lost power, but not its dark lustre. The artistry is undimmed.

Without Domingo it would be a supremely silly night. With him, it’s just about worthwhile. By a nose, you might say.

The Financial Times absolutely hates the opera but says:

Domingo was marvellous in (the death scene), capturing the autumnal resignation of poor, unloved Cyrano to perfection. But then he had given his all throughout. A tenor half his age might balk at having to engage in a sword- fight through his opening aria, but Domingo husbands his top notes and swashbuckles with the best of them, holding his own against the searingly strong soprano of Sondra Radvanovsky’s Roxane and trumping his rival, Raymond Very’s cleanly sung Christian, in the personality stakes.

Guardian Review

From the moment Domingo makes his first entrance - preceded by a gigantic prosthetic proboscis - he commands the stage with his usual magnetic presence, duelling his way through the first act, and composing artful, poetic ballads as he cuts a swathe through 17th-century Parisian aristocracy. His voice may not have the same consistent power that it used to but he reserves his most intoxicating, ringing tone for Alfano's most lyrical vocal lines: his first declaration of his love for his cousin, Roxane, or his paean to the Gascon cadets in the second.

The fourth act is the most impressive of all, both from Alfano and Domingo. The music, with its echoes of Debussy and Ravel, is full of elusive harmony and is scored with real finesse, an atmosphere superbly caught by conductor Mark Elder and the Royal Opera House Orchestra. Domingo's portrayal of the older, dying Cyrano has tremendous dignity; his voice captures Cyrano's vulnerability as he confesses to Roxane that it was he who wrote the letters that she fell in love with. It may not be a masterpiece, but Alfano could not be better served than by this production.

Domingo Triumphs in `Cyrano de Bergerac' at Royal Opera House

The opera stands or falls on the performance of the tenor singing Cyrano, and in this respect Domingo is the production's greatest asset. His voice is as beautiful as ever, full-bodied and shining, and he captures the heroic swagger and painful vulnerability of a man tormented by his own ugliness. He even handles the sword fighting with a swing.

The production has sold out, and the lines for returns stretch around the block. If you have an arm and a leg to spare, you could try the ticket touts. Otherwise, if you get up early and want to brave the crowds there are 67 seats available from 10 a.m. on the day. Set the alarm. It's worth it.

At 65, Domingo in no mood for swan song

Although the tenor recently said he had two to three years left of singing, after a rousing reception at London's Covent Garden late on Monday he avoided naming a date.

"Nobody knows," Domingo told Reuters in a backstage interview after the performance.

"When I feel like I feel tonight, I don't have to worry for the time being," he said, removing his giant stage nose for which the character of Cyrano is famous.

Cyrano de Bergerac

I have just come back from the UK Premiere of Alfano's Cyrano de Bergerac and I just loved it. I know that I am suspending critical judgement with that statement; it isn't a great opera, but it was a great performance where it mattered - the title role! I have had a stressful day one way and the other and I got a sudden panic attack that I'd hate the opera, or that I would find Plácido disappointing.

Yeah, right, as if that was going to happen! He was wonderful!

He is fantastic as an actor, the little nuances that were perfectly clear to me despite having lost my binoculars. I could just watch him moving around stage, so elegant so lithe. And then there's the singing! About ten minutes in, he produced this sound that was pure beauty to my ears. And there was much more where that came from. I kept pinching myself to make sure I was not in a dream. Here was this man that I adore, who dominates my CD and DVD collection, who I hear on my mp3 player many times a day, who, with the Cyrano costume...well, the nose, really...was hardly recognisable. But to hear him singing is just a tremendous experience. I've had a number of good, some extremely good singers, in the past few months, and even though I know I am privileged to have heard them, to hear Plácido is something extremely special. People say to me "You should have heard him at his prime", and all I can think is "So, this isn't his prime...?"

I was going to write a review, try and be first on the internet, but I can't get first-to-post now, so I shall hand you over to Dominic who pretty much reflects my thoughts: Cyrano de Bergerac @ Royal Opera House, London: opera review

I shall post a considered review after I attend again on Thursday.

I didn't hang around the Stage Door. There was a security guy there pointing out that as it was first night, there would be a party, which I already assumed, anyway, so I wasn't going to hang around on the off-chance and decided instead to head home and savour the memory of the performance.

I cried a lot. Wonderfully cathartic!

BTW, there were some further key operatic moments in addition to what I spotted at the Dress Rehearsal. There was furniture abuse - when Cyrano angrily struck a table in the bakery with his sword, when Christian kept mentioning the nose. And joy, there was more tenorial falling-to-the-ground, at the end of the balcony scene when Cyrano slumped to the floor in despair at the bottom of the ladder.

Sadly, no chest hair was fondled...

Afternoon tea

After the Cyrano Dress Rehearsal I went to join Faye at the Stage Door; she had been joined by Canterbella, and it was lovely to meet her for the first time.

We hung around the Stage Door for a while but then a security chap told us that Mr Domingo would not be coming out of the Stage Door: he had private guests, and he was tired, and would be leaving by another door. Of course we were disappointed but that's totally his right, and I am absolutely not complaining.

There was some joking amongst a few people, myself included, that between us we could cover all doors, and with mobile phones we could let others know. But I would not contemplate actually doing such a thing.

So, instead Faye and I went to lunch, and then shopping in the Royal Opera House shop : I bought a book that is newly published Plácido Domingo and The Royal Opera:

Plácido Domingo, one of the legendary opera singers of our time, is the subject of the first opera book in the "Royal Opera House Heritage" series. Plácido Domingo and The Royal Opera focuses on the special relationship he has enjoyed with the Company and with the Royal Opera House since his debut in 1971.

This book illustrates all aspects of Domingo's work with The Royal Opera: in rehearsal, in performance, on the Big Screen and backstage after galas. It also includes a selection of family photographs lent by the Domingos.

We also perused the delightful display of photos of Plácido in the corridor outside the shop and ticket office.

After lunch, we realised what we really needed was a good cup of tea. I know it sounds stupid but where in central London can you get a nice cup o' tea and a sit down? So we thought we would head for the Tube and see if we passed anything on the way. (At this point, I become mysteriously vague about our precise location in the Greater London area for reasons that will become apparent)

Then, one or other of us had a blinding flash of inspiration, and the other duly egged on: the best place to get a nice cup of tea and sit down in comfort is a hotel. This flash of inspiration happened as we were passing a nice hotel, and we went in, but realised that the lounge was full of people having full afternoon tea, which we didn't want, considering we had just eaten. In my case a Fiorentina Pizza and a chocolate fudge cake...

However, tables in the hotel lobby had bar menus on them, so we sat there. We sort of expected the waiter to come over to us, but when he didn't we didn't have the energy to attract his attention. And we were so busy having a nice sit down and a chat, that the need for a cup of tea disappeared.

I decided it was time that I checked out the reshuffle latest via WAP on my phone (I am far more of a political junkie than is apparent on this blog). I was busy faffing with my phone, when Faye said "Look who's just walked in...!" "Who?" I said. "Plácido!" she said. At which point I dropped my phone and she ordered me to put out my cigarette. I waved to him...I was so cool and nonchalant, you wouldn't believe! And he said "Hi there!" causing my heart to go boom-boom-boom-boom. And he smiled and waved at us both!

He is just so unbelievably cool, just strolling around. You know you get these pop stars that no one's ever heard of who have all these minders, which only serve to draw attention to themselves anyway, and he's so completely different, even though he knows full well he could be followed or approached by crazy fan women at any time.

We very quickly agreed that we would not go rushing over to him or anything silly like that - we wouldn't want him to think we were stalking him, now, would we. I'd be lying if I said it didn't even cross my mind, that I wasn't tempted. But it would have been extreme bad manners, and an intrusion of his privacy, and I wouldn't do that.

It was the perfect ending to a rather fantastic twenty four hours.

And, you know, I adore Plácido now even more than I did before. He is unbelievably wonderful in every possible way.

Cyrano de Bergerac Dress Rehearsal

It did feel a bit like the morning after the night before. It's inhumane for the audience to have to attend at 11am; it must be exponentially worse for all those involved in actually putting on the show!

I have not heard a single note of the opera, except what was performed at the Insight evening. I am really rather pleased I went to that (and not just for the obvious reason that Plácido was there) because it was pretty cool to have a few insights into the score.

As I took my seat in the Slips (restricted view but close to the Stage...) I was filled with growing excitement. I accepted that Plácido was not going to sing - he'd said so less than an hour earlier! But I was still looking forward at least to seeing him!

Oh, he's such a tease! He sang!

I am going to break the rules of discussing Dress Rehearsals but only because it's him...! I think it's probably fair to say that he took a bit to warm up (which all things considered is no surprise) but after about, I dunno, quarter of an hour, twenty minutes, he was sounding just wonderful...to my ears better than he had sounded at the Crossover Brits on Thursday night. Although that might be an acoustic thing!

I am not sure what to think about the actual opera, but I am sure I will have a better idea in three weeks time. It was written by Alfano, most famous for finishing off Turandot, and it's based on the novel by Rostand. I am not sure about the music overall, it's not exactly full of pretty tunes in the style of Verdi or Puccini, but there is some splendid music in it. The orchestra is definitely worth listening to. In the insight evening Mark Elder made special reference to the music of the Gascons, the band of brothers, the musketeers. It would be quite quite wrong to refer to them as the Gazzas...The music for the Siege of Arras is atmospheric, and I started sniffing ominously at that point.

At the start of the final act I burst into tears. It might have been because I knew how the storyline was going, or it might have been something in the music, but it didn't take me long until I was a blubbering wreck, and had to take my glasses off as they were being salted up (and when I inspected my appearance in the Ladies afterwards, I had a shiny red nose).

The production is visibly appealing and doesn't seem to do anything inconsistent with the story. I didn't see any obvious stupidities in the blockings. The production is shared with the New York Metropolitan Opera, and their database is choc full of photos, although they don't do full justice.

In the nose, Plácido is almost unrecognisable, although the twinkle in his eye is unmistakable! It was fun watching him fence, although I missed some of the fencing because of being in a Restricted View seat. He moved around stage with ease and elegance, and, of course, panache, and I must confess to spending a great deal of time gazing at his lovely thighs.

I won't comment at this point on other cast members; to be honest, other than the main parts I had a bit of trouble working out who was who, but I will say that I think I am going to enjoy it and I suspect my overall conclusion on my proper performance reviews will be positive. The orchestra as ever were wonderful.

I have no recollection of there being any furniture abuse as such, although the Gazzas were leaping around tables at one point. And I couldn't swear there wasn't furniture abuse. Lots of sword fighting, cannon fire, and a special operatic bonus, lots of PIES!!! But most importantly of all we had a splendid tenorial death with dramatic falling to the floor and dying slowly in prone agony, which is guaranteed to make me happy - especially when it's this particular tenor. And I blubbed my eyes out!

I did find it thought provoking. I found Roxanne to be a shallow person. She only fell in love with Christian for his looks; the fact that he seemed to be able to write beautiful letters did cause her to fall in love with what she believed to be his soul, although, of course, the letters were written by Cyrano.

Perhaps I shall be accused of being Eurotrashy but it did seem to have resonance for the internet age. I think that when we meet strangers in the flesh we are wont to judge them within seconds purely on their physical appearance. Poor Cyrano, with that nose, was always going to repulse women. His words were beauty, and his words were more representative of the real Cyrano than the nose, but Roxanne couldn't love him.

He then visited her for an hour every Saturday in her Convent, showing total love and devotion, which she was never able to return - presumably because of the nose. Until, she discovered, just as he was dying, that it was actually his soul that she loved...I'm welling up writing this...

Part of me thinks "Ha, serves her right for being so shallow..." but could I honestly say I would be any different. And it's easy to think of him as the romantic hero, noble and good, but I then feel frustrated at the wasted years, the unhappiness - if only he had said, if only he had seized the day. I shall ponder this one some more.

Incidentally, at the insight evening Francesca Zambello explained that in New York there had been a pantomime played at the start of the final act to show the passage of time, but she has decided it didn't really work, so she's removed it, and the Act begins with the Surtitle "Fifteen Years Later". It is rather fun to see how Cyrano and Roxanne had aged in that time. Except that it was heartbreakingly sad.

Breakfast

I have to say I was feeling rough on Friday morning. I had had insufficient liquid all day Thursday ( not of the correct variety, anyway) and I was so full of adrenaline when I went to bed at 2.15 I still couldn't sleep. And yet when the alarm went off I leaped out of bed and not even the dismal depressing Today programme could dampen my enthusiasm. Especially when the internet told me that Lambeth was now a Brighter Borough. And it certainly felt like a brighter borough as I bounced my way to the Tube station. New Labour New Lambeth a new era has dawned...

But I still felt rough and remembered I had eaten barely anything on Thursday, so I got myself a sandwich from Boots. I stuck my earphones back on, lit a cigarette and sauntered down Floral Street, with my mind only on the houmous, carrot and alfafa bean sandwich I was about to enjoy (the contents of my sandwich seem to have taken on disproportion in the telling of this anecdote, people have questioned me about the contents of my sandwich, it really isn't germane to the anecdote). Zerlina's on shuffle and I'm listening to a nice dose of Billy Bragg through my headphones (oh, the treachery, I hear you exclaim! That's what shuffle does!)

I notice a crowd hanging around outside the Stage Door, and I thought, how silly, Plácido will be in by now, I'm just going to go the terrace and eat my houmous, carrot and alfafa bean sandwich. Then I realised that the crowd were all excitedly looking past me down Floral Street, so I glanced behind me and would you believe who was walking directly behind me! Yes, Plácido. You know, I suddenly forgot about my sandwich, and I have never ripped headphones from my ears so adroitly or quickly*

My darling Pláci was looking rougher than I was feeling, which is quite an achievement, I have to say! He looked as if he had just stepped out of the shower and had only just woken up. I lingered by the Stage Door, and listened in. A few people were wanting autographs and so on, but he said "Afterwards: I'm late..." Someone asked whether he would be singing; he said no, he wasn't warmed up. I thought 10.15, he's due on stage at eleven and in between he's got to put on that nose! I shouted out,

"Plácido, you were fabulous last night..." It has been suggested to me that maybe I shouldn't have!

But you know, at that point, I stopped feeling rough, and I was better able to enjoy my houmous, carrot and alfafa bean sandwich. Organic and vegan. Washed down with water.

* I am actually very rubbish with earphones; in fact I shouldn't be allowed out in public with an mp3 player. Once, just as I was getting off the District Line, I caused amusement if not down right hilarity at having managed to wrap the chord round the pole, and, of course, in trying to extricate myself I only wrapped it round more.

Honestly, some people...

...specifically my mother, who rang me half an hoour ago. To gloat. I can only say it was to gloat.

"Did you watch the Heaven and Earth Show this morning...?"

Even as I was replying sarcastically "No Mother, you know me well enough do you actually think I'm the sort of person who watches the Heaven and Earth show," I was thinking - I know what she's going to say.

Yup, I missed Plácido on the telly. Here's a summary, which is pretty much what my mother said. Of course, the subtext of Mummy's phonecall was:

"You know you are so anti-religion so I'm just pointing out to you that this man that you Hero Worship was on Godslot Telly talking about...religion. Ha I win! I win! Nur, I'm your mother and there are no tactics to which I won't go to get you back in the embrace of religion. It's just a phase you're going through..."

Right, like I care...Do I look like I care, do I look bothered? Does my face look bothered?

Well, okay, a bit, but maybe they'll add it to the archive of celebrity interviews.

Plácido at the Classical Brits

The sole reason I bought the ticket was to see and my hear beloved Pláci, and despite the fact that I enjoyed some of the other parts of the show, it would have been worth the ticket price alone. The woman to my left had also come especially to hear Plácido, having never heard him live.

He opened the show singing Vurria, the first track on his new album, Italia Ti Amo. I have to confess I have mixed feelings. If he chose to sing the Argos catalogue, I would be happy, but a thought did go through my mind that if, instead, he had chosen to sing something like Winterstürme, I would have been ecstatic. I have to say that I have heard him sing better, a lot better. But also please understand this is all relative. A devoted fan like myself unreasonably demands perfection always; I am sure anyone who is not such an obsessive fan as I would say that he sang beautifully. And also, let's be clear, he sounded thrilling to my ears and sent pleasure surging through my body. I gazed at him on stage and thrilled at what I saw. He is looking fabulous!

He reappeared later in the first half together with Tony Pappano, to accept the "Critics Choice" award for the Tristan und Isolde set which I reviewed at some length some months ago. He made a speech; I find his speaking voice to be as beautiful as his singing voice.

He reappeared at the end of the second half to be presented with a Lifetime Achievement Award - this was presented by Tony Pappano and Darcy Bussell. The presentation was introduced by Parky. I say that because that was a very special moment for me: I first fell in love with Pláci when I saw him on the Parky show a quarter of a century ago!

Pláci made a lovely speech, saying that it's nice to get a Lifetime Achievement award and still be alive to receive it. He said that every morning he wakes up and gives thanks that he can still sing, and he hoped he would be able to do so the next morning, because he had a Dress Rehearsal for Cyrano de Bergerac. I hugged myself with the pleasure of the knowledge that I would be there. He then spun his line about having a lot of 'accumulated youth', hey it made me laugh, it's a good line! And he thanked the British public for all th elove we have given him for the past thirty five years - he was getting vry emotional. The media reported that he cried although I am unable to confirm this because I was quite some distance from the stage.

The second half finished with a rousing finale, a really special experience,  Plácido and Rolando singing together 'Non ti scordar di me', which is a memory I shall treasure for a very long time. Kvetching a bit, it would have been even more special if they had sung something operatic, but I'm not really complaining!

Picture taken from Grauniad

The Long Goodbye

The long goodbye - Music - Times Online

Domingo is back, but here and in our exclusive podcast he tells Richard Morrison about his plans for a life without singing

And Podcast

NB you don't need a pod to play podcasts, just the ability to play mp3s on your PC.

Twenty four amazing hours

A lot happened between 5.30pm on Thursday and 5.30pm on Friday, and I do want to record it all. This is the first of a number of entries that cover the Classical Brits and the Cyrano de Bergerac Dress Rehearsal. I shall combine writing on here with sticking photos over there: I'm running out of space for mmofm so need to up my storage capacity and I'm not sure how long that will take...

Sorry if you're not interested, but I do try a throw a few tangents in. And if you read carefully, you might find out exactly how thick I am capable of being. And sometimes rather bitchy...!

Guess who I kissed tonight...!

You know, there is so much I could write, and would you believe I took over 60 pictures, not just of him.
But I really ought to go to bed: I've got to be up for the Cyrano dress rehearsal tomorrow.

Culture Vulture blogged it. Fairly accurately, I think (just keep clicking the 'next' link)

Domingo dominates Classical Brits,  Brits honour Domingo for 40 years of music

Televised ITV1 Sunday afternoon

One Night Only

Photos from the LA Opera Gala a couple of weeks ago

(Thanks to Zelda for drawing my attention to the link)

Not that I'm counting, but...

TWENTY FOUR HOURS TO GO

And now I'm fretting what to wear because tomorrow's weather forecast is 'hot', and you know what the Albert Hall is like when it's hot.

Actually I've been feeling a bit weird for over a week. A bit weird like someone with a teenage crush. I had got tomorrow's date fixed in my mind for so very long, thinking "On the 4th May I shall see Plácido..." that seeing him last week was...disorienting.

Not that I am complaining, of course but before last week I had been vaguely thinking: 'Obviously he will be arriving in London before the 4th May but I don't know when, and I don't how I'd find out, so I absolutely am not going to think that way' so, seeing him last week made me realise that he is in town and possibly has been all this time (although for all I know he might a made a quick trip to LA or Washington, I wouldn't be surprised. Or anywhere, really.)

But I know, tomorrow, I shall see him. At the Albert Hall.

Insight Evening

I was on the phone to someone at work today trying to fix a time to meet. I looked at my calendar and realised that - irrelevant to work - I had an appointment tonight. Huh, I thought, I had quite forgotten. And I realised I had forgotten my ticket.

I didn't think it would be a problem, but thought I would ring the ticket office, anyway, to make sure. They were cool, and said they would have a duplicate waiting for me. Standing at the bus stop on Millbank and travelling across to Covent Garden I felt tired and a little bit uninterested. I picked up my ticket and retired to the Amphitheatre Terrace to while away a bit of spare time.

I did wonder what I was doing there, to be honest. An "Insight Evening" at the Royal Opera House. Fab, just what I want after a day at work, to sit in a lecture room and be lectured at. Yuck, yuck, yuck. Frankly, if I wasn't already here, I'd go home. I don't want insight, I just want to go to operas and enjoy them.

I joined the queue to go into the Clore Studio. The queue stretched a bit across the Amphitheatre Bar, and I really questioned what I was doing here, queuing to be lectured to about an opera that I probably wouldn't have booked to go and see except for the star.

I went into the Clore Studio and chose an 'unreserved bench seat' and perused my programme. I started reading the synopsis but it made my brain hurt. I glanced at the previous page, which I had skimmed and seen as being just the cast list for the forthcoming performances.

My eyes went lower down the page and I realised it contained a programme for the evening's "Insight". Into Cyrano de Bergerac by Alfano. Two hours, no interval. Great, I thought sarcastically and drearily. Get me out of here. Get me home.

The evening's agenda was Francesca Zambello, Director; then Mark Elder, Conductor, with Marina Poplavskaya (soprano) and Paul Wynne Griffiths (Cover Conductor) to illustrate aspects of the score.

And to finish off, a round-table discussion with Mark Elder, Sondra Radvanovsky and Plácido Domingo.

OH MY GOD!! I silently exclaimed!!! I can't for the life of me remember why I got this ticket, but, bloody hell, I'm glad I did. Frantically texting to the members of SOSSLED whose mobile numbers I have.

I'm at the Cyrano Insight Evening. Full SOSSLED report later.

I get a text back "Is Placi there?". Conscious that the woman next to me was giving me looks of complete daggers. I mean imagine, you're at an event and this chav next to you is sending and receiving texts....don't worry, my phone was firmly on silent. So all I could reply was "Will be."

It was a thoroughly enjoyable evening. Both Francesca Zambello and Mark Elder were interesting, definitely giving insights into this opera I shall be seeing four times, including the Dress Rehearsal. I won't go through the details. But I tell you, I was shocked to realise the story isn't about a Jersey-based detective, after all, which I thought it was...

There was one, or rather two, really quite funny moments. Imagine the scene. This is basically a ballet studio, with benches at one end, and a six foot high screen positioned to make the room smaller. A bit like being in a school gym, or perhaps a school hall. Affixed to this four panel screen are three framed pictures of Plácido in various roles he's played.

Mark Elder has launched forth on a detailed description of something or other, and suddenly there's a loud thud from behind him, that makes him jump. Makes us, the audience jump, too, but we can see what happened, one of the pictures had fallen down, and we've all collapsed laughing.

Mark pauses for a moment then says "One of the cast members is a Mr Caruso. So imagine the dressing rooms, the signs on the doors: We have Mr Caruso, Mr Domingo..." Dramatically, he turns round and indicates the empty space where the fallen picture previously had been. "And that must be the ghost of Mr Gigli..." Cue audience collapse with laughter.

Time moves on and Marina Poplavskaya (who's cover for Roxanne) takes her place at the music stand and launches into Roxanne's aria. Just a few bars in, another thud, another picture fallen, audience laughter and Marina also laughing. Paul Wynne Griffiths stands up and takes the third one down, giving Marina time to compose herself before starting the aria again. And very fine she sounded, too. She's a Jette Parker Young Artist, and she was a fine Third Norn in Gotterdammerung.

And finally we get to the final part of the evening, the round table discussion. Mark Elder returns with the stars of Cyrano de Bergerac: Sondra Radvanovsky and Plácido Domingo. You have no idea how excited I was. Just that, for the previous hour or so, even though I had been listening properly to what was being said, I was also thinking "He's here, I'm going to see him this evening..."

The panel took their seats at the table, and I just spent the next hour or so gazing at Plácido. He looked lovely. He was wearing a dark navy suit, a blue shirt and a navy tie that looked like it had light blue lines on it but the lines were actually rows of dots. He's looking very slender, actually a bit thin in the face. And bearded. (Sigh...).

At first he was being very serious and sensible, describing how he had first thought about singing Cyrano and so on, and I was looking at him, and thinking, I like you so much, but I'm not really feeling right now how I thought I would be feeling if I had known beforehand that I would be seeing you tonight. Then he relaxed, and was at different times, passionate, funny, cool, laid back; he sung a little (Oh! What a gorgeous voice!). There was an amusing story that he and Sondra were telling about, I think the first night, in New York. He's supposed to be throwing stones at her balcony, and she's waiting to hear the sound of stones hitting the house, but she can't. She says he was missing completely, he explained that really he wants to be a cricketer and he was aiming at a very precise spot...he was almost convincing..! Then he stood up and explained that he had changed his technique, but was considering doing a basketball throw instead - and demonstrated how. But he said he couldn't guarantee he wouldn't miss in London!

There was a chance for a few questions and somebody asked him whether he would be singing at the Dress Rehearsal. He said he might or he might not, that at sixty five the voice isn't what it is at thirty five, but he promised he'd be there on 5th May even if he would be speaking the role.

And all too soon the evening was over. I had thoroughly enjoyed myself and laughed a great deal more than I thought I would at an opera insight evening.

And it was a wonderful, wonderful, unforgettable and gorgeous surprise seeing my lovely Plácido. When he wasn't talking his eyes were scanning the audience and at one point, our eyes met. He looked intensely at me and I looked intensely back. He has beautiful passionate twinkling eyes.

LA Preview of Grendel

Photos from LA Press Conference to launch new opera 'Grendel'.

I think it's based on Beowulf, which I vaguely remember studying at school. I might even have an unread book lying around somewhere*

And a video clip from a NY Press Conference about Grendel.

* well cultured, me...

Cyrano de Bergerac

I'm well excited. Just over two weeks til Opening Night at Covent Garden. Even sooner until the Dress Rehearsal and even sooner still until the Crossover Classical Brits.

The Guardian has an article about Cyrano de Bergerac and its composer, Franco Alfano.

And an interview with Pláci in the Independent, by Jessica - actually, a rehash of the one for "About the House" but with added detail.

He'll be appearing at the Classical Brits awards ceremony on 4 May, where besides accepting the award he will sing extracts from his newest recording, Italia Ti Amo.

Hmm, I've listened to this album a couple of times, and, to be honest, if it wasn't for The Voice, I'd discard it. Indeed, I nearly wrote, "And this is what I've paid good money for, on a Local Election night, too..." but I know you would think I was complaining too much!

La Opera Gala

As Raffe has already pointed out*, the LA Times has a report and a picture from Wednesday night's Gala.

As does Variety

And Matthew from my blogroll was there.

* who's running this blog, that's what I want to know...!

Superman

PlaybillArts: News: With Domingo Double Booked, Two Opera Companies Shrug

I can see a problem here: even Mr Air-Miles can't actually sing Siegmund in both Washington and Munich on the same day. I predict he will end up in dispute with the General Director of Washingotn Opera. I'm sure he'll find a way to resolve it.

Not Take Me Out To the Ballgame

                                                

Update, sort of!

Oh, and opera singers don't need microphones

Pláci in Denmark

There was the Press Conference and Photo Call

A report (in Spanish) Ovacionan a Plácido por La Valquiria en Copenhague

And an exclusive eye-witness account from Raffe, Our Correspondent in the Frozen North:

woooooow! (we are back from Copenhagen...). The Valkyrie in Copenhagen on April 7 with our hero as the hero Siegmund (you can tell I'm feeling poetic). It was a magic evening. Plácido sounded, looked and moved like a superman half his age. Warm, rich, beautiful 'baritonal' sounds. The rest of the cast and production were very, very good too. Sieglinde (Gitta-Marie Sjöberg) was a fine match to Placi's Siegmund and the Fricka/Wotan (Susanne Resmark/James Johnsen) interchange in act 2 was excellent. Audiences applauded like they've never done before in the frozen north at the end of each act. Placi came back also for the third act curtain calls and got standing ovations (of course). I did not stalk him by the stage door, take pictures or ask him if we could elope together or anything. (I'll save that for a later occasion ;-) Now that I've seen that hero's real age is somewhere between 35 and 40, I'm sure there will be more chances. PS: There was quite a bit of furniture abuse in this production. One fine example was when Placi-Siegmund threw a chair through the french windows at Hunding's place.

Also, a report on Opera-L

I had wondered how Domingo would sound after his long illness. But I need not have worried. He sang extremely well. It is amazing that there is no trace of age in his voice at all. His voice sounded extremely even in all its range and his low notes are very impressive. His "Wälse" sounded very impressive. It is uncanny how much he sounds like on his recordings.

As the first act came to an and I wondered how the A at the end would sound. It sounded fine - but unlike what I have heard him do before he did not hold on to it at all but went almost directly from "Wäl" to "sung" and then but the stress on "sungenblut". It worked ok musically - and better than an ugly-sounding long A would have been.

I was impressed how young he looked. He must have lost weight (he looked very slim) and he moved (and fell) like a young man. His deathscene was very moving.

So Furniture Abuse and Falling on the Floor. What more does an opera need...?

Interview with Three Superstars

Oper: Der Klassik-Gipfel - stern.de

Because my language skills are negligible (I nearly said negligent) I tend to put long articles through a machine-translator. Google seems to have rendered this into passable English, better than Babelfish usually manages.

Shame that the article happens to be accompanied by some of the worst photos imaginable. The first rule of being a superstar ought to be "Never let a photo be taken from a low angle..." Even I know that one...

Oh, the superstars are Plácido Domingo, Rolando Villazón and Anna Netrebko.

Three Superstars in Berlin

According to this article Variety, German TV company Unitel will be filming the "Three Superstars in Berlin" (Domingo, Netrebko and Villazón) concert. I wonder whether it will be televised or whether fans will have to wait for the DVD (may I pre-order now).

Pláci cancels Parsifal...

...but has not given up the role, according to Playbill Arts

Plácido Domingo has cancelled an upcoming appearance as Parsifal in Zurich, his representative Edgar Vincent confirmed. But Vincent denied that the tenor has dropped the role from his repertoire, as indicated in a statement from Zurich Opera.

In announcing Domingo's cancellation on its web site, the company said that Domingo had "decided to remove the role of Parsifal immediately from his repertoire."

Vincent said that Domingo will sing the role as scheduled with Hamburg Opera in 2007.

Vincent told PlaybillArts that Domingo was forced to cancel the April 23 gala performance in Zurich due to his recent bout of tracheitis. "He was silent for three months, which is the longest period he stopped singing in a 40-year career. He is following his doctor's advice not to overdo it."

Domingo was to appear in the closing night of the production, which starts on April 13 with Jonas Kaufmann in the title role.

Concert in Leon, Mexico

A number of links in the Spanish language Press

Plácido Domingo "emocionado" por concierto

Me falta vida para grabar a José Alfredo: Plácido Domingo

Plácido Domingo nombrado 'Huésped Distinguido' de ciudad mexicana de León

Emociona a Plácido Domingo primer concierto en León

Plácido Domingo, huésped distinguido, de la ciudad de León

Elogia el fin de la política unilateral

Plácido "emocionado" por concierto

And concert reviews:

Domingo y Olivia Gorra conmueven a León

Deleite bajo la lluvia

Concierto en Guanajuato bajo la lluvia: Plácido Domingo canta con Vicente Fox

Se une el presidente Vicente Fox al dúo de Plácido Domingo y Olivia Gorra

Fox cantó con el tenor Plácido Domingo: La lluvia interrumpió el concierto

Cantan Vicente Fox y Plácido Domingo bajo la lluvia de Guanajuato

Bajo la lluvia, Fox canta Caminos de Guanajuato con Plácido Domingo

Empañan percances concierto de Plácido

And a helpful summary, in English, from the Director of the Opera Company of Sinaloa

Washington Opera Golden Gala

Onward and Upward With the Opera

Washington Opera at 50

 

Wonderful descriptive narrative from the always meticulous Alan at Opera-L.

And a reminder that the USA has two coasts: Domingo Will Sing in Los Angeles Opera Gala Benefit

Update: This gala had it all: glam, opera stars and Supremes

Update update: A blog report from ionarts

And a gossipy report