15 July 2010
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One of the many things I don't really really understand about Plácido's wonderfulness is the fact that he is very approachable. I've blogged several times about meeting him before and after performances, and even in his hotel. On previous occasions at Covent Garden, I've seen him stroll up to the theatre from a direction which makes me assume he had strolled across the Piazza. This time, for the five performances of Simon Boccanegra, he has approached from Bow Street.
To be honest, if I was in his position, and especially on the evening of a performance, I would arrive by car and be straight in through the Stage Door. I wouldn't want to talk anyone. Similarly, afterwards, I'd just want to get away, back to where I was staying, eat, drink, whatever.
And sometimes I think, it gets a bit silly, especially in my mind. Surely the point of going to an opera is to hear the music, watch the drama, applaud the scenery and so on. I do get into a frame of mind that 'meeting Plácido' is an inherent part of the show. And I love him for it!
I didn't attend the Friends' Dress Rehearsal, because I didn't have a ticket. As I knew he would be rushing away to Vienna, and I had a party to go to, I didn't even go into town to hang around, as I might have done if circumstances were different. He did appear briefly, captured on video.
On the Monday of the first performance, I had to go and buy a ticket off a friend, and I had to do that after work, and make a judgement about early I could leave the office (bearing in mind I am pathologically unable to get in before, well, I'm a late person). By the time I arrived at the Opera House, I was reliably informed that Plácido had already arrived, and had said that he would be leaving straight afterwards to go to Vienna (for Ioan Holender's final performance as Intendant at the Staatsoper Vienna, where he sang the closing of Parsifal).
On the Friday, I met up with a couple of friends for a bite to eat beforehand, so wasn't outside the Stage Door when he arrived. After the performance, a message came down that he wouldn't be meeting people that night - I later learned that Rolex, production sponsors, were hosting a reception - so my friends and I buggered off to the pub just in time for last orders (isn't Westminster dire - the one place where post-11pm drinking would be extremely useful, it doesn't happen!)
On the Monday, unusually for a Monday, I had to go into work for a couple of hours. I was a bit anxious that I would get delayed en route and would miss him, but in fact I arrived at about twenty-five to six, and he didn't arrive until quarter past. That's a long time to stand around doing not very much - although in time, friends arrived so I was able to chat with them.
Eventually, we saw Plácido strolling along Floral Street from Bow Street and I scampered over to him. As soon as I meet him, I am dumbstruck, not really knowing what to say, and fearing I might say something stupid. I mean, I have form, not just with him, or with other singers but with people in various walks of public life.
So I think I just said hello and gazed at him; he said hello and shook my hand. I think he had a look on his face along the lines of 'what stunt is she planning now'. Later a friend asked me about meeting him, and I said something like, 'he looked me up and down and noticed I wasn't wearing a low-cut top', so my friend, partly teasing, suggested that my remark was inconsistent with my claims to be a feminist. At the time I just I giggled, but later tweeted her that it's being a feminist that made me wear a round-necked top, and being a feminist doesn't stop him looking!
The Monday performance was followed by a Gala dinner which is totally not my scene, and we assumed - correctly - that there would be no Plácido at the Stage Door, so again we buggered off to a (different) pub. And soon, he was off to South Africa for the best part of a week.
The next performance was on the Tuesday after the World Cup Final* and I have already written about that, plus photo. Afterwards I waited outside the Stage Door for quite a while. First of all, Joseph Calleja appeared, but I didn't step forward to speak with him whilst he was still surrounded by a crowd, and he walked off in the opposite to direction from where I was standing.
Then I met John Tomlinson, who had been substituting for Ferruccio Furlanetto (and very soon afterwards I fell into a pothole and then the gutter and hurt my foot). At that point I wasn't really clear how my foot was hurting. I often do things like twist my ankle and it hurts like billyo, but after half an hour or so it's worn off. On other occasions it actually doesn't hurt as much in the immediate aftermath as it does the next morning - this turned out to be one of those. Even so, when Tony Pappano emerged, I didn't feel much inclined to limp over to him and risk losing my balance in the crowd. He, too, walked off in the opposite direction.
Eventually, word came that Plácido was going to be signing at the desk just inside the Stage Door, and we were invited to form a queue. One of the ROH staff said that he didn't have much time and urged us to hurry - it was about quarter to midnight, and they like to close at midnight, I've found.
I think I've written before that I don't particularly collect autographs and I don't either feel a need to get a programme signed as a souvenir nor do I feel that a signature adds to the inherent value of a programme or CD. I do think that asking a celebrity for their autograph is often a convenient and easy way to make contact, and there is a very good reason why 'signings' are so frequently organised and so popular. I also don't like it when people present dozens of items to be signed.
It also irritates me when people decide that they have to tell their life story to a star. Perhaps I am being a bit cruel, after all, there's nothing wrong in saying "I saw you in such and such in whatever year and really enjoyed it," or whatever, but when people start rambling on, and have to provide the context and back-story, too, I think it's incredibly rude - I mean, they really aren't interested, trust me, I read the body language and facial expression. So I (nearly) always try and keep it short and sweet. I asked his permission to take a photo. I have to say, I don't really like it as a photo, it's not very flattering, but here it is anyway:
I think the red scarf is in honour of Spain winning the World Cup.
I then said that my mother had really enjoyed seeing Simon Boccanegra on the TV (she specifically told me to pass on this message; I haven't actually yet told her that I did!). He seemed delighted at this and beamed in response! And I limped away.
On the Thursday, I again escaped early from work and caught a taxi over to Covent Garden. I was dropped off on Bow Street and as I limped along to Floral Street, I saw a woman I recognised. Despite her looking very familiar, for a split second I struggled to place her - was she from work? someone who lives in my neighbourhood, perhaps? And then, of course, I realised she was an opera singer. Marina Poplavskaya, I thought, she must be going to tonight's performance. Oh, wait, of course, she's Amelia. She wasn't heading for the Stage Door, that's what confused me!
Again I waited for a while, again with friends, until he arrived. He seemed to be in a hurry or at least not in much of a mood to linger. I did try hobbling over to him, but I was getting nowhere fast - I think he noticed, though. I didn't get any chance to speak to him, and only a fleeting chance to take a photograph, which again, isn't great - I simply didn't get his eyes at all!
Still, I was in the front row of the Stalls for the performance, which was a brilliant place to be. I took about 30 photos at the curtain calls and, hopefully, by the end of the weekend, I will have half a dozen or so of the better ones up on the blog.
Again I hung around again after the performance, but word eventually came that he wouldn't be coming out, which was a bit disappointing, especially because, at the time, I was utterly convinced that it was his last performance in a full opera at Covent Garden. I did get to meet Joseph Calleja again - "Oh, it's you again!" he said. I said "I am such a fan of you now" which in retrospect must have sounded all wrong. Truth is, I have rarely heard him live - only as MacDuff previously, I think, plus on CD, and the rather thrown together at the last minute 'Tony Pappano and friends' concert last year. I didn't go to the Traviatas he was in because I simply couldn't bear the thought of having to endure an evening of both Renée Fleming and Thomas Hampson - but I can tell from the excerpts which have been popping up on the BBC this summer that Joseph at least would have been worth seeing.
A friend of mine spotted Plácido arriving at the Albert Hall when she was in the queue for the arena. Also, from what I can gather from the internet, he spent some time outside the Stage Door after the Prom. But I wasn't there either time, basically because Jimmy was working until 3pm on the Sunday and afterwards, we'd agreed we would rush to get back near home and get ourselves a curry. Sometimes in life one has to sacrifice one's hero for one's partner!
So, I've written a very long blog post, largely about not getting to meet Plácido, except very fleetingly. As I said at the start, I think he's wonderful the way he is so approachable. Of course, this just leads to me having unrealistically high expectations. He's an extraordinary person. Sometimes I find it quite confusing when I do meet him. The main reason I adore him is as a singer, and alsong with the singing comes the total performance. More even than just 'acting' but the total stage presence. There were several times during the six performances of Simon Boccanegra, where I told myself "There on stage is the legendary Plácido Domingo. You are seriously privileged to be witnessing this extraordinary performance right now". I'm not sure how to describe this, but watching him in an opera - as opposed to a concert - there is nothing that makes you think 'famous, legend' except from the fact that you're watching a wonderful performance.
Outside the Stage Door he invariably comes over in exactly the way he is frequently described in the media. Unassuming and approachable, always courteous, always fairly and often very patient, in some ways quite an ordinary person and yet, even if he wasn't surrounded by adoring fans, I think you'd still know that there's something special about him. Nothing ostentatious - even though I know he has a liking for some of the finer things.
I am by nature a day dreamer, and I don't suppose I'm revealing anything by saying that I sometimes daydream about him. Setting aside fantasy scenarios, the sort of thing that fans often have about the object of their fandom, I do like to dream that maybe I'd meet him by chance. I'd love the opportunity to spend some time with him, properly I mean, get to know him a little bit. But I know I'm not alone in wishing for that, and I know realistically it's not going to happen. So, I make do with these fleeting opportunities briefly to meet him, to shake his hand, for our eyes to meet, an exchange of pleasantries and banal comments. Just for the sheer pleasure of being in his presence. It's wonderful to know that he's planning on coming back to Covent Garden, and that I've got tickets to see him in Barcelona next July. I'm going to treasure every moment of him I can get!
* He's already stated he'll have no singing engagements between 26 June and 14 July 2014 because he'll be in Brazil for the World Cup - dontcha just love him...
A whole load of links featuring Plácido Domingo and/or Simon Boccanegra I have saved over the past couple of weeks!
Late review from Bloomberg.
What a voice. He’s as stylish, passionate and authoritative as ever in the title role of Verdi’s opera, and as magnetic on stage too.
The notes are there, granted. They’re just not the most exciting notes in his range. His baritone register is rich and rounded, not goose-bump thrilling.
Still, trying to grade Domingo on stage is like trying to give a star rating to a lightning strike or hurricane. Domingo is a force of nature, plain and simple, and it’s wonderful to see him back on stage after his time in the hospital.
Domingo: I Don’t Think About What Happened to Me; Death Is Part of Life
Interview with Efe
“I love challenges and not repeating myself too much, and if I can find something new, I try to do it...the important thing is to touch the hearts of the audience listening to you, to excite and move them, make them cry when they should cry and laugh when they should laugh. That’s the privilege of being an artist...
"...I had a lot of luck and I see life from another perspective. I don’t take things so seriously and I enjoy much more what is special and what is important. It’s a privilege to still be alive and there comes a time when it all ends,
Kendal actor wins role alongside opera star
Westmoreland Gazette has feature on one of the extras in Simon Boccanegra
Boccanegra botch-up: Fiesco fiasco mars night that was meant to be all about Domingo
Very depressed/depressing review "Domingo isn't Gobbi" Oh, sorry, I forgot to go to that 1965 performance. It was three years before I was born
Domingo sara' Rigoletto in kolossal tv
Broadcast on Rai Uno on 4 and 5 September. I have subsequently read it will be broadcast in 134 countries. I can't help feeling that the UK won't be amongst those 134
Brief preview of Plácido's 7 August concert in Durango, Mexico
Regresará Plácido Domingo al estado de Durango
Football-relatedA video in which Plácido accompanies Reina Sofia to the Spanish team's dressing room following the Semi-Final victory over Germany. My mother explained to me that King Juan Carlos doesn't get out much nowadays because he had treatment for a benign tumour a few months ago. I nodded and smiled, which conveys very little over the phone...
Plácido Domingo elogia a los españoles
After they had won the World Cup!
«Plácido, por favor, no grites mucho»
What Marta said when he called her after the World Cup Final!
Yesterday evening I was waiting on Floral Street for Plácido's arrival.
I saw him approaching down the road, from the Bow Street and rushed over to greet him, just as the first drop of rain fell, rain that had been threatening all day.
A woman approached him and said that she was a friend of another singer (which, to be honest, I don't believe - more likely 'slight acquaintance' or 'met once at a Stage Door') and asked - or insisted - that she had her photo taken with him. At first she tried to do it herself by holding the camera herself at arm's length. As that, obviously, didn't work (cheap camera without a swivel screen), she thrust it in the hands of some other woman and ordered her to take a photo. The second woman, who didn't exactly come across as an archetypal geek, panicked "What button do I press? What do I look through". The camera owner pointed to a button but we weren't getting anywhere.
At this point, I felt as if everything entered a state of suspended animation. You know the cliché - you see your whole life flash in front of you: for me it was specifically every traffic jam I have ever been stuck in on a bus, plus all the French, Latin and Italian vocabulary I never bothered learning for O-Level (yeah, weird, but surreal suspended animation is like that, believe me).
No one who knows me, friend, colleague etc, would ever accuse me of being decisive or of taking control, but, sometimes when I'm in the wider world and people are dithering round, it dawns on me that if I don't take control, no one will, and we would be here all night. More raindrops were falling, Plácido was noticeably getting irritated, so I seized the camera and took the photo, before realising that I had therefore denied myself the opportunity of taking a decent one myself. I did manage to get this one, at the point he was briefly in conversation with an acquaintance.
I actually couldn't believe the woman who had claimed to be a friend of some other singer. she actually asked me if I would take another one for her. I got scowly and said 'no' in a rather truculent tone. I don't know who the hell she thought she was, though obviously some delusionist, but she was very rude and very bossy, and didn't even say thank you.
I also have to say I am always gob-smacked at people who demand an extended audience with Plácido, especially before a performance, when they ought to know better, that he doesn't like to talk before a performance, there are other people around, and, oh, it's just started to rain. Also, let's not kid ourselves - people in the public eye are really not that interested in the tedious boring detail of some dull tale being told. Of course the polite and/or PR savvy will listen politely, but that's out of politeness etc.
If I recall correctly, there was some mention on Floral Street of Spain winning the World Cup...!
Lots and lots of photos, albeit watermarked of the production (if the link doesn't work, search 'Simon Boccanegra')
Picture Perfect — Plácido Domingo as Simon Boccanegra, Royal Opera (from Opera Today)
Domingo’s authority is all the more impressive because there aren’t any florid, crowd pleasing arias in the part... Indeed the tension in Domingo’s voice at some points enhances his characterization of Boccanegra as a man ravaged by fruitless struggle.
Domingo was convincingly tender in the reconciliation scene with Amelia, but reached true heights later. His monologue “Ah! ch’io respiri l’aura beata del libero cielo!”was exceptional. Acting skills grow with experience, so even if a voice ages, a true artist like Domingo can bring out aspects in the character deeper than words alone.
Wonderful wonderful opinion piece: James Naughtie: why Placido Domingo has been the best opera singer of his time
It may be a curious word to use, but that feeling of determination has always characterised Domingo and set him apart from some others who roost near the top of the tree. There are relatively few who have been willing to take so many risks for so long. Perhaps the reason why that side of him has been underestimated is that most of them have come off...
...These human characteristics, of course, shouldn’t be remarkable: but they are, because something about the pace, the physical pressures and the emotional atmosphere of opera tends to work against them. It sometimes seems easier to be a pain.
“Placido arrived a couple of days late for rehearsals, and during the first rehearsals without him I often wondered how his approach towards this role would be, given his gargantuan experience and megastar status. Once he arrived , he came straight from the airport where he had just landed from LA and I was flabbergasted to realise that he was actually looking forward to rehearse and go through the role with the rest of the cast there. His approach still fresh and unscathed from over 45 years of rehearsing and performing."
The serious business of football has played a part too, even if the Maltese tenor managed to annoy the grand old man a little on that score . “During the first week of rehearsals he requested that no one would tell him the scores of the ongoing football matches. For some reason this ‘request’ didn’t reach me and I kept telling him. He politely didn’t tell me not to
(I was supplying Joseph with updates in the final matches of England's group, during rehearsals...!)
Did this fabled Spanish-Mexican superstar manage it? Musically, and in Boccanegra’s tricky psychological journey, yes in all respects. Yet perversely his timbre remains firmly that of a tenor, glowing best at the radiant top, with a tendency to thinness at the bottom, the precise opposite of baritone instinct. But as long as he can make an utterance called singing, displaying frailties as well as magnificent treasures, this artist will always give pleasure. His Boccanegra is a monument to an incomparable career. Watch the broadcast on BBC2 next Saturday, 7.30pm or, better still, catch the big-screen live relay on Tuesday 13 July in London, Bradford, Bristol, Ipswich, Leicester, Manchester, Plymouth or Portsmouth.
And just for good measure, some photos from the Gala in Vienna a week ago Saturday
It is so very difficult to write a personal review of a performance when you have read so many reviews by others, and participated in so many conversations.
On Friday I decided that I would write a personal appreciation of the performance by Plácido Domingo as Simon Boccanegra. That's also pretty difficult to do because I still haven't managed entirely to assimilate all the details of the plot of the opera!
I am actually quite surprised at how people are describing this as a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to experience something historic. Quite contrary to my judgement that this would be wonderful to see, but significantly less meaningful than, say, Plácido Domingo as Otello, Plácido Domingo as Siegmund, Plácido Domingo as Cavaradossi.
At the moment, these may well be his final singing performances at the Royal Opera House, and the Prom his final in London, because there is nothing else publicly announced - although Jim Naughtie has dropped a heavy hint of something big planned for his 40th anniversary in late 2011. So that's important, too.
If I have to single out one aspect of his entire performance, I must point to the closing moments, when he flings himself to the floor, dying of poison. I know I joke about him rolling on the floor and indeed, I did ask him whether he enjoys rolling around on the floor off-stage, which he mischievously deliberately misinterpreted! But he has no need to. There are other ways to portray the death. If he just slumped in a chair, no-one would complain, nor indeed if he spent the entire opera rooted to a spot merely singing. It's something he clearly enjoys doing - because he can - but it also symbolises his total approach to the role.
In the prologue, which happens 25 years before the main action, he wears a wig and has his beard dyed. It's not that great a look, to be honest; he looks so much better when he's back to his natural grey look. But I do notice that he seems physically different - much more agile and lithe. In Acts 1 and 2 he is sparer in his movements, having assumed the dignitas of office as the Doge; in Act 3 he is splendidly infirm, stooped and lame, supported by two sticks, and visibly failing.
Vocally, I am yet to be convinced. I am perfectly satisfied at the appropriateness of a tenor singing the role. No, it doesn't mean it should *always* be sung by a tenor, but all roles are open to interpretation; this is a valid interpretation, and one assumes that in future the role will generally be sung by a baritone.
I think it's worth noting that he is vocally secure throughout. It's too easy to take that for granted. I admire and like the colouring and other dramatic use of the voice to portray the character and tell the tale, and I appreciate the absence of showboating and histrionic circus-tricks, which may be the sine qua non for some so-called opera fans, but are often the desperate signs of a mediocre talent.
But I miss the characteristic Domingo sound, perhaps even more because once it really shone. I love it when he pus his head back, totally relaxes and this gorgeous velvety almost purring sound comes out. If I recall correctly, this was in the Council chamber scene, but there is so much to take in and so much to remember I may well be wrong. Part of me thinks I should be taking notes as I go along, perhaps I will when it is televised!
Talking of televising, Friday's performance was filmed for TV, as will be tonight's (Monday). This will be shown on BBC2 on Saturday and later made available on DVD. At the end, during the curtain call, I stood up, largely to take photos, and only subsequently realised that a TV camera was focused entirely on me. I assume they were filming several audience shots and will maybe cut in or two fleeting moments, but if they keep that shot, I will be pretty conspicuous! Eventually nearly everyone was on their feet.
UPDATE: Further links added 3/7/10:
From the Telegraph, where Rupert moans and nitpicks, damns with faint praise, then awards five stars!
From Music OMH
Domingo is perfect both in his paternal role and that of the tormented
ruler, his scenes with Amelia on an emotional par with anything you
might experience at the RSC, and his singing, whilst it may not please
those who prefer a deeper, darker tone, burns with commitment and
pathos. ‘Figlia!' of course tugged at the heartstrings, ‘Plebe!
Patrizi!' gave us a stirring reminder of just how to dominate a stage,
and his death scene was ample proof of the fact that Domingo did not
want to sing this role because he wants to become a baritone, but
because it is one of the greatest in the repertoire.
Placido Domingo digs deep to return to his roots (From Daily Mail)
his gloriously burnished tones have always had a darkly glinting edge. And it is that lower register that he now explores in this Lear-like journey of self-discovery.
From the youthfully dashing pirate of the opening to the tottering, poisoned old Doge of the immensely moving final scene, Domingo inhabits the role with awesome nobility and majestic power.
And he inspires a terrific Royal Opera cast to rise magnificently to this onceina-lifetime occasion.
From the Guardian
Crowning glory for triumphant Domingo (Independent)
It may indeed be a vanity project for an ageing tenor to prolong his career by singing roles never meant for a tenor. And yes, it was frustrating to listen to Domingo’s caged voice, knowing it was not going to climb those meltingly romantic heights that were for so long his domain.
Domingo doesn’t fully convince as a baritone. As we’re accustomed to a distinctly baritonal quality to his voice, for much of the time he sounds little different from his other Verdi roles and when he does force the voice down there’s a slight constriction of his usual expressiveness. While there’s nothing essentially wrong with the sound, it produces a discomforting effect and moments of tenorial flow come as something of a relief.
What we get, of course, is the singer’s magnificent and irreplaceable stage presence. As with Olivier’s late, late TV appearance as King Lear, we get a lifetime of experience from the greatest performer of a generation poured into the character; true stateliness, grace and depths of suffering that no-one else can bring to muster. What Domingo still has, which Olivier had lost by the time of an otherwise heart-wrenching performance, is sheer power.
From The Stage
decently rehearsed
From Musical Criticism
It was as the older Boccanegra that he truly excelled, however. To play
the father is something that suits Domingo's appearance now. No longer the
dashing lover or young poet, he's able to explore new emotions and
aspects to his acting by adopting a parental persona – one which is
contrasted with his responsibilities as the Doge, of course. Domingo
was absolutely in his element in the Council Chamber Scene: the centre
of attention is where he likes to be, and his communication of the
character's courage in dealing with the plebeians and patricians in the
midst of their violence was impressively compelling. Still, the death
scene was (perhaps inevitably) his real tour de force. Here, the
portrayal of Boccanegra's physical weakening as the poison takes over
his body was subtly done, matched with a high level of expressive
nuance in the voice and his unending musicality.
From Intermezzo
What matters is that regardless of theoretical vocal fit, he gave a truly monumental performance by any standard...Burdened by public duty and private regrets, the aging Doge’s wearied yet inexorable progress to his final end was magnetically charted. Cosmetically rejuvenated for the Prologue, his forced sprightliness hinted tellingly at his eventual fate.
Placido Domingo as Boccanegra, and Feruccio Furlanetto as Fiesco, formed a powerfully opposing duo, whose meetings in the Prologue and again at the end of the opera remain etched in my memory.
The acting of Domingo, Furlanetto and Poplavskaya was simply wonderful — I cannot imagine better. Add to that the singing of Joseph Calleja as Amelia’s beloved Gabriele Adorno, and this was a terrific cast — Calleja sang like a god.
Curtain call and post-performance photos (thanks to commenter Vera!)
Video (from Reuters): Domingo hits new lows
Unfortunately, the Royal Opera House has been scrupulously rationing tickets for Simon Boccanegra, so I was unable to attend the Friends Open Rehearsal yesterday. Of course, it's fair that they did ration them, but, still...In any case it means that my preview round-up is not too late!
Placido Domingo: one of history's greatest
He may be pushing 70, but tenor Placido Domingo shows little sign of
slowing
down. Rupert Christiansen looks back over his extraordinary career as
he
prepares to sing baritone at Covent Garden for the first time
Placido Domingo's finest moments
The high points in the great tenor's career.
Placido Domingo: 'If I rest, I rust'
Placido Domingo is the best-known, and best-loved,
tenor in the world. Next week he makes his Covent Garden debut as a
baritone. He may sound different but he's still the hottest ticket in
town, says Jessica Duchen
Contrary to what has been rumoured round the internet, he did not announce his intention to retire from singing before next January
An artist as complete as Domingo appears once in a generation. And a good part of it is about his personal charisma. Domingo has about him an exceptional atmosphere – call it an aura, if you like – that seems to affect the air of whatever stage or room he's in. It's not only that he looks taller than he really is (he does), or that you can't quite believe you're facing the real McCoy in person; everything near him begins to function with extra intensity and focus.
But with Domingo there's something extra: a warmth, generosity and solidity that suggests not only a great heart but a strong and sensible mind. You don't only admire him; you trust him. What comes first, the artistry or the man? I'd like to think that, indivisibly, they fuel one another.
Short clip from Floral Street yesterday after the Dress Rehearsal: Plácido Domingo's busy days.
Interview with Joseph Calleja, who sings Gabriele Adorno.
Apologies for this very belated round-up of links. I have lots of excuses for being a lazy blogger, but, whatever!
'Die Walküre' and the shifting sands of dramatic restraint
Whilst Los Angeles Opera was staging the Ring, they were also hosting the annual conference of 'Opera America'
Photograph from El Museo del Barrio gala on 27 May
(I much prefer him with beard)
Brief report (in Spanish): Plácido Domingo homenajeado en Nueva York
Fete Accompli | El Museo del Barrio Gala
(Lovely though he is, he must be a nightmare to be married to!)
I've been a bit remiss in keeping up with this blog recently. (Not enough hours in the day!)
The world-renowned tenor brought the audience to the height of their
emotions with his versatile and strong voice possessing a ringing and
dramatic tone throughout the two-hour show.
"For me, this music is my life. It's the first music I ever heard in my life. Wherever I go in the world, I always bring the Zarzuela repertoire in my concerts. When I can do a program like this of just Zarzuela, it is even more special."
The 69-year-old was back at work within weeks of surgery in New York to remove a malignant polyp from his colon.
Cantar con Plácido fue un placer
Sobre Plácido Domingo afirma que «sólo tengo palabras de elogio, es una leyenda andante, y como persona tiene una calidad humana que nos sorprendió a todos. Compartió las felicitaciones con nosotros y siempre se prestó a posar con una sonrisa para que nosotros tuviéramos una fotografía», explica la soprano. «Lo que más me ha sorprendido es su fuerza, tanto encima del escenario como fuera. Prácticamente le acaban de operar y nadie lo diría», añade.
It's such a splendid idea of having live performances transmitted (live or otherwise) into cinemas. I would also quite like a TV-Channel (Pay Per View if necessary) that did similar. But it's rather nice to treat an evening at the cinema as a bit of a night out, walking into the foyer and spotting so many familiar faces (it's not actually true that I knew everybody in the cinema, but I did recognise about two-thirds of faces!)
First of all, I must talk about the production. It wasn't the direst production I have seen but it was pretty lame. That having been said, I have seen at least four different production of Simon Boccanegra and have found them all a bit risible. Perhaps there is something inherent in the work - it doesn't lend itself to updating, and there isn't a lot of scope for anything but confrontations within tableaux.
Some aspects of the camera work were a bit dubious; perhaps worse was the direction that seemed to introduce transitions in the style of Powerpoint presentations circa 1996, often at the most poignant moments.
My greatest criticism was for the ludicrous decision to have a corps of ballet boys being sailors. I could see the point, but the way they were choreographed as a bad borderline-homophobic 1970s mincing joke. I also could not understand why a crowd of men in 19th century coats and hats suddenly emerged as background in the final scene, when the whole of the rest of the opera had been costumed in generic 'old' costumes (the opera is supposedly set in the 14th century).
Some of the scenery was very stupid. Not least in the garden scene, where there was a heap of rubble in the background. It was basically a pile of slabs arranged in a triangular or pyramidical pile; this was later reflected in a painting in the Council Chamber of rocks at sea in the pile. Why, who knows? But in among the almost plausible pile of slabs was something that strongly resembled a section of track from a model railway. Shrug. Three trees were suspended above the stage and I just kept looking at them thinking 'Why?' I would have been prepared to believe it was an attempt at perspective and distance except that they had a mass of roots clearly visible at the bottom. At some point they descended to ground level; instead of highly visible roots we had conspicuous wires holding them up.
I don't think there was much production except for scenery and crowd scenes. Very unimaginative. I felt that the singers were basically told to get on with it and act. Which was largely fine for these principals but I'm not sure it would work with singers less able to act.
I have to admit that I like the story and characters of Simon Boccanegra much more than I like the music. I don't dislike the music but for some reason it refuses to lodge in my sub-conscious, in the way that many Verdi operas do so easily (And I don't just mean the obviously hummable ones like Rig and Trav). But even with that caveat I don't really understand the booing of Daniel Barenboim (the live coverage stopped strategically before he took a bow). I don't actually rate Barenboim as that great a conductor, but I have heard a lot worse. I suspect this booing lark is as much about disturbed or insecure wankers needing the attention as an informed rational objective music judgement. My feelings about the music was that there were some good bits - most notably the sound of the sea - no obviously dreadful bits, and it seemed reasonably sympathetic an accompaniment of the singers.
Ah, the singers! What a splendid cast! Really first class. It comes into my category of operas with 'too many indistinguishable men in comprimario roles' but the leading players were excellent. Massimo Cavalletti as Paolo and Fabio Sartori as Gabriele Adorni were more than satisfactory.
But the real luxury lay in the three main roles. Ferruccio Furlanetto was superb as Fiesco. He must be my favourite bass, admittedly just on the basis of three fabulous Verdi roles. I love his voice and I love his stage presence.
I was really impressed by Anja Harteros as Amelia.I don't think I've ever heard her live. I made the mistake a couple of years ago of going to a Boccanegra at Covent Garden in which she wasn't Amelia. She's a bit odd-looking, and the camera close-ups of her rather odd facial expressions doesn't do her any favours. But vocally she was superb and I was happy at her portrayal.
But as you know full well, the only reason I was actually at the cinema as opposed to, say, watching The Leaders' Debate live on the TV was for Simon Boccanegra, the man himself - a sixty-nine year old tenor doing a passable impression of a fifty year old baritone!
I know the debate goes on: does he has the right voice for this role? My answer, no, probably not. But I actually can't think of any baritone singing now who'd I really wish to hear in this role, except for Dmitri Hvorostovsky, about whom it has also be said is vocally unsuitable! And the next question - should Plácido have retired as a consequence of his recent surgery? On this evidence, no absolutely not.
He was a bit shaky in the Prologue, but after that he was absolutely fine. I had been prepared for him being less active on the stage, mentally preparing myself for a lack of dramatic falling to the ground. Again, no problem there. He wasn't exactly leaping around the stage - the sword fight in the Prologue was pathetic (maybe because of the 'direction'?) and he looked quite awkward towards the end - but that might have been because he was playing the role of someone dying from slow-working poison. His final deathly collapse was suitably dramatic: not his finest example of falling-to-and-rolling-around-the-ground, but more than satisfactory.
Vocally, he was superb. I'm not sure there's a lot more to say. His voice never fails to thrill me. He is convincing and sympathetic in the role, especially in the one-to-one interactions with Amelia. I have no problem taking him for a baritone, although I concede that in another baritone role that I'm more instinctively familiar with, say Rigoletto, I may be better placed to notice the difference. He certainly didn't sound like a tenor.
And for the most part he looked good. Ruggedly handsome as ever, of course, even though there were odd moments when I thought 'he's looking old'. I guess when he's tired he tends to look older than when he's bouncing around, there again, refer back to my earlier comments on 'character affected by slow-working poison'
I doubt that I shall ever love Simon Boccanegra as an opera, even though I find the Garden recognition scene and the final death scene intensely moving. I am looking forward tremendously to seeing it in London - so far, only two performances booked:-(, and I salivate at the all round superbly good cast assembled. I enjoyed it in the cinema but other than it being the best cast I've seen in it, I don't think it will otherwise figure as a 'best ever'.
There were no sub-titles on the transmission. I don't know whether there was supposed to be, even though they were promised on the cast-list/synopsis sheet handed out beforehand. On the way out the manager handed each of us a complimentary ticket for a future performance of anything in any Odeon, which I consider a gracious gesture.
Plácido Domingo returns as Simon Boccanegra. It almost seems irrelevant to surf round the worldwide web looking for critiques of the performance in many languages. The most important thing that he is back.
The news broke on 22 February that he was withdrawing from Tamerlano in London in order to have abdominal surgery and would be out for six weeks, also cancelling performances of Simon Boccanegra in Berlin and Zurich. And immediately the speculation started.
I wasn't quite sure what to think of all the speculation. I suppose I am a natural optimist and have to recognise that other people's natural pessimism is no more inherently wrong than my approach. Nevertheless, I was upset and angry to overhear conversations at the ROH and to read them on the internet from people who seemed almost to take delight in writing him off and declaring that that was his singing career over. As I say, I think some were doing it merely because it's their nature to be prophets of doom, but I think there were others who were doing so out of malice, or because they are attention-seeking, and wanted to be 'FIRST' & 'I told you so'.
You read enough of the prophets of doom and you start thinking, what do I know, anyway, maybe they're right. You read stuff such as 'malignant polyp, caught early enough' and I think, 'euw, sounds nasty, glad it was caught early enough'. Then you read words like 'cancer' and 'tumour' and the thoughts turn to "OMG, that's just awful..!"
Of course I was desperately disappointed that he had to miss Tamerlano, but I am so pleased as well, for pretty obvious reasons. And I am delighted and proud that he is back so soon. I had toyed with the idea of booking to go to Milan for Simon Boccanegra, but knowing that it would coincide with the UK General Election and because of my large expenditure for his London performances, I decided against doing so. With the volcano ash, I am so glad that I didn't and I have every sympathy for anyone who did book to go but was/will be unable to get there.
But it has rather made me realise that there will come a time when he will retire.
His 131st role was something to sing about.
"It was a great evening," Domingo said backstage, after greeting the many friends who crowded to congratulate him. "It was very emotional. I was happy to be in front of an audience."
La Republicca Foto GalleryAs a PS, I refuse to link to any review that claims that Boccanegra was Doge of Venice!
Placido Domingo to undergo preventative surgery in New York
Domingo, 69, has flown to New York from Tokyo, where he has already undergone one procedure, according to his spokeswoman, Nancy Seltzer. She said that Domingo decided to fly to New York for a complete physical and that doctors have determined that the tenor needs to undergo "medically recommended preventive surgery."
She declined to be more specific about the nature of Domingo's health problems.
The surgery throws Domingo's future appearances this season into question.
Seltzer said Domingo would miss performances of "Tamerlano" in London that were scheduled to begin March 5.
She said that it was "hoped" that the tenor would be able to return to his performance schedule in about six weeks. "Hopefully, he will be back even sooner," she said.
Domingo is scheduled to perform in "Simon Boccanegra" in Berlin on March 27 and at La Scala in Milan in April. He is also set to perform in "Die Walküre" as part of Los Angeles Opera's "Ring" cycle starting May 30.
"It is his intention to honor these commitments," Seltzer said. She added that Domingo's wife, Marta, and one of his sons were with him in New York.
Musical Criticism says:
News: Placido Domingo withdraws from ROH Tamerlano
In a press release, the company stated:
'Plácido Domingo has regretfully withdrawn from the role of Bajazet in Handel’s Tamerlano at the Royal Opera House which he was scheduled to sing on 5, 8, 11, 15 and 20 March.
'Although it is not customary Royal Opera House policy, in recognition of the withdrawal of such an exceptional artist in a rarely-performed opera, we will be contacting all ticket holders with details of a 20% credit note'
Meanwhile, the Royal Opera House website remains unchanged. It's like they're pretending it hasn't happened - or isn't important. So, they've issued a Press Release - but not put it in their 'Press Release' part of the site. And absolutely nothing on the front page, the 'What's on' page. Sod the bloody paying customer. As per bloody usual.
And, just for the record, of course I am hugely disappointed. I could write screeds and screeds of emotional outpourings about how much I was looking forward to seeing him, on-stage and off-stage. But you know that. What more needs to be said.
I do so hope it's something very boring and ultimately trivial. People have sent me suggestions on Twitter such as gastric band (I don't think so) or 'prostate maybe, he is getting older'.
But I really don't like that statement 'he has already undergone one procedure' - I think that reads that that happened in Tokyo.
New York Times:
Domingo to Undergo Surgery After Suffering Abdominal Pain
As Ms. Seltzer put it in an e-mail message: “Please know he’s not having brain surgery, and, knowing Plácido, he will be working as they roll the gurney into surgery and again as he leaves recovery.”
And Intermezzo has recommended sending in the Clown Doctor
So many people have said to me how lucky I am that I was able to spend my birthday evening watching a live broadcast of Simon Boccanegra live from New York beamed into my local cinema - a performance of Simon Boccanegra starring my hero, Plácido Domingo.
I don't feel lucky. I ended up having my birthday meal at 4pm, and it was a bit rushed, and not necessarily in a place I would have chosen for a special birthday meal, but moaning about that would be churlish.
Put it simply, I drunk before, during and after. I was never steaming drunk, and wasn't even particularly drunk until much later. I was squiffy. I was able to concentrate on the performance, appreciate what was worth appreciating, and criticise that which needed criticising, but by the next day I was suffering memory loss.
In some ways I am kicking myself, but I am trying also to be wise. Better to have this amnesia now than in relation to a live performance. I know that I thoroughly enjoyed the performance (and myself), and in my 'live for the minute' philosophy that's what matters. Ultimately, it doesn't matter than I can't remember sufficient detail to write intelligently about it. It will appear on TV and/or DVD at some point, so it is not lost for ever; perhaps when I watch it again I will have my memory refreshed, or else I will be able to savour it anew. Either way, I have a future win!
I do not advocate that all good operas need a tune to hum on the way out. When they do have a tune to hum, they aren't necessarily operas (think of the number of rarely performed operas that have produced one memorable aria or duet!).
But I do think it's worth persevering with and getting to know better. I think it's on at Covent Garden this summer, so I suppose I might as well try and get a ticket for a performance or two. Although, dear reader, it will be shown on BBC TV, so I don't feel that you need bother getting tickets to see it live, when you can enjoy it from the comfort of your own home.
I found the supporting cast (ie all but the lead role) a bit ordinary. People had written that James Morris is past it, part of the voice gone, forcing him to speak the role. I noticed that and it didn't bother me greatly; he had impressive gravitas in the role . Adrianne Pieczonka was so-so. I thought her very squawky, especially when she was first singing in the garden. She got less squawky and did a decent job, but I can't see myself rushing to hear her again. Her facial acting was non-existent, her physical acting was largely a case of going through rehearsed roles.
I was pleasantly surprised by Marcello Giordani. I have never heard him live, and don't especially wish to. This was the best I have heard him in televised etc productions; I was a bit shocked to read that many people thought that this was one of his best performances ever. It was, just, okay. He hit the right notes with the right tone and dynamics, and I guess the core of the voice is essentially beautiful. But it's forgettable, and lacks subtlety, nuance, any real attempt to colour it or to project any sort of character.But I did find his diction clear and easy to follow (yes, I know he's Italian, but I don't always find Italians easy to follow in Italian any more than I find English-speakers necessarily easy to follow in English).
I thought the production was as dull as dishwater and flatter. I did like the garden scenery, but one decent set doesn't a production make. I can't really pull it apart and say - this was wrong, this was wrong, because there was no 'this' there. It was in effect a cast of characters in rather risible gowns moving fairly meaninglessly around the set, except for when they stood still. To some extent it was little more than a concert performance with scenery and costumes. (But I don't think the ROH production is any better).
I thought the Council Chamber was spectacularly tacky. In fairness, it was designed to be seen from afar within the house, rather than close up in HD on a cinema screen, but I was a bit gobsmacked when the audience applauded. I can kind of see the point of applauding the scenery on the first night of a new production, when the designers are in the house to hear it, but after so many years, such ill-timed applause simply drowns out the music which is supposed to be making an impact at the time.
I haven't much to say about the orchestral playing, and thus conducting. I had a very favourable impression at the time, but, in actual fact, notwithstanding my general memory loss, the most forgettable aspect was the music. In any case, I think this is where the cinema does fall down. Jimmy remarked, without my prompting, that he missed the sound of a live orchestra, it sounded muffled; I had already decided that the resonance of the timpani was killed.
But of course, the highlight for me was Plácido singing Simon Boccanegra. I am very much looking forward to hearing and seeing him perform this live in London - which seems a long way off. He's also doing it in Berlin (again), Zurich, Milan and Madrid, but, with regret, I decided not to book for any of these, largely for financial reasons!
There has been criticism of the idea of him taking on the role, and some criticism, mainly from 'the usual suspects' of his actual performance, but overall the intelligent comment has been very positive. I do wonder why there is such a big deal about the difference between a tenor and a baritone: sopranos become mezzos and vice-versa, and take on each other's roles. There are roles that are performed by light baritones, 'Verdi' baritones, and bass-baritones. I do accept that there is a difference in tone and even colour between what one would expect from a baritone and hear from a tenor.
I suppose if I was mostly interested in the sounds that singers make, I would have grounds for criticising. But I don't ever see opera as being a display of sounds.
What was very striking about Plácido's performance was how he gets the basics absolutely right. The right notes in the right order, on pitch, without wobble, scoop, swoop or compromise and in delightful phrasing that is intrinsically musical. And it builds from there, vocally, yes, with lots of expression and variety, but also physically.
I felt he was a natural in the role. He did joke in the interview after the Prologue - apropos the rest of the opera being set twenty-five years later - that he would be getting closer to his real age. And, obviously, that helped. I didn't think much of the Act 1 sword fight, on the other hand, the final death scene was glorious. I am in awe of the way Plácido just falls to the floor. In contrast, the rolling is easy.
So, as I say, I enjoyed it while I was there, but there's no use me trying to make out I remember more than I did, when I didn't! I wish there was a 'replay' in the UK but as far as I can tell from the web, there isn't. I'm hoping it will be on SkyArts eventually, but that won't be for months.
Do check out remarks by commenter P-Dingo on the 25 January performance live in the house.
I am sure that my many readers join with me in wishing my favourite singer and pin-up hero a very happy birthday.
He's singing Simon Boccanegra in New York tomorrow night, and I understand his party was last night: presumably taking it (relatively) easy today.
More later
I am shameless. I read a few weeks ago that this transmission would be hosted/presented by Plácido, presumably because regular presenters Susan Graham and Renée Fleming were otherwise engaged, and he's in town anyway, due to conduct Stiffelio and sing Simon Boccanegra. I understand that he also presented the Thais last season. Of course, he is not associated as a singer with either of these operas; I'm not sure it would be a good idea to get him present something like Otello, Die Walküre or Tosca.
I'm not going to pretend: I bought my cinema ticket specifically to see him presenting. I know it seems a bit petty and adolescent on my part; if you think that, you've got me bang to rights. However, I didn't cancel any alternative plans.
When I booked the ticket, I knew that Jimmy would be working, I knew that I wouldn't have been out for ages beforehand, I'm not due at another live performance for over a week. Although Der Rosenkavalier isn't my favourite opera, it's not like I was facing the prospect of Pelleas et Melisande or anything by Rossini that isn't Barber of Seville. So, although my motives are shameless, I did savour the prospect of the actual performance, too.
So, there I was sitting it Screen 2 at Brixton's Ritzy eagerly awaiting the start. the thought had occurred to me - just because I read several weeks ago didn't guarantee that he's still going to be doing it: I wouldn't blame any singer for dropping out of a talking gig if they had a bit of a sore throat, for example.
So, the lights dim, blah de blah the titles roll, all the usual stuff, and this voice "Hello, I'm Plácido Domingo!" and more than half of the cinema went "ooh, ahh, sigh" (I kid you not!)
He introduced the opera and said "It stars two of my favourite ladies - Renée Fleming and Susan Graham as the lovers" (gasps from a decidedly non-Brixtonian* audience momentarily adjusting to the concept of two women being lovers!) "they there are looking very comfortable on the bed" to giggles all round.
I don't know if he does it on purpose. I think just about everybody who has ever met Plácido will attest to his flirtatiousness. He has this knack of saying things that, from someone else would sound vanilla and inconsequential, but from him sounds laden with suggestion. He manages to couple this with an innocent, almost little boy, look.
He was looking good. In some ways he's showing his age - layers of make-up for the camera can't hide that his face looks weather-beaten, and he's not really greying so much as greyed to whiteness. But he's vibrant and energetic and enthusiastic, his eyes like pools you want to melt into. Looking trim and fit, dressed impeccably, in a shiny black suit and shiny royal blue tie.
At the end of Act 1 he interviewed Renée Fleming. As I tweeted, he's not a natural for reading off an Autocue and pretending he's ad-libbing. It's an art that few people can do convincingly. I can do it pretty well (but only in my native language!) - but you know, I don't think that makes me a better performer than Plácido Domingo!
He is a natural, however, for women positively throwing themselves at him. She really couldn't keep her hands off him. The interview was perfectly inconsequential. I don't like straight-off-the-pitch interviews in football, and I don't think they are any better in opera! I was amused when she was explaining how the Marschallin realises that she will have to let Octavian go, and it can be difficult when one realises that, but it has to be; he's nodding and empathising, and I'm thinking "Plácido, you've been married forty seven years..!"
Before the second act he interviewed Susan Graham, whom he introduced as one of his most favourite ladies. From some people it would just sound like showbiz gush, but it didn't from him. They were discussing her various roles, and he said to her "You've played my daughter in Idomeneo, my sister (in Iphigenie), when is it going to be more?" (at which point there was a general exclamation from the cinema: he's a tease, which some people get, but, obviously, others don't!). She deftly side-stepped the question by commenting that - dressed in her silver suit for presenting the rose - she doesn't look much like his sister!
Susan commented that she spends most of the opera on stage so at this point she gets jealous of Renée who gets to spend two hours in her dressing room 'typing emails'. There were splutters of laughter, perhaps as this sounded entirely incongruous coming from someone dressed in sumptuous 18th century attire.
At the end of the second act, someone from the Met broadcasting machine interviewed Kristinn Sigmundson. I thought "Oh, I see, Plácido doesn't get to interview men, cos he can't flirt with them like he can with the women!"
This broadcasting person ("wardrobe by Valentino" - gah!) was more adept at reading from the autocue but had been scripted some pretty cheesy lines. Exclaiming her surprise that Kristinn has studied Biology at University (perhaps it's unusual in the USA but in Europe it's pretty common for people to study something that isn't music before turning to singing as a post-grad), and then asking him to say hello to people watching in the cinema in Reykjavik, like it was some 70s audience participation light-entertainment show!
Then she turned to interview Plácido, largely about Simon Boccanegra (which will be in cinemas on 6 February, my birthday - I've already got tickets for Clapham Picturehouse). He repeated what he has said elsewhere, how he had planned to sing this role at the end of his career but this doesn't mean his career is ending; that he doesn't pretend to be a baritone, but he is singing it as a tenor, pointing out that certain tenor roles such as Otello combine light notes with dramatic notes; how the role enables him to age twenty five years from the Prologue to Act 1, and how it's about the father-daughter relationship which was so important to Verdi, having lost two young children at about the time he wrote it.
He made reference to Verdi's intentions to write King Lear, and implied that Simon Boccanegra has echoes of Lear. The interviewer also mentioned that he is conducting Stiffelio; what is it he likes about Verdi. He mentioned how prolific Verdi's writing was, several operas written in a short period, and mentioned the melodies that Verdi wrote. The interviewer suggested that with singing and conducting he is the busiest person at the Metropolitan Opera, so he looked straight into the camera and said "I think when you arrive at the Met in the morning it is better to stay until the evening" - which caused a few 'oohs' among my local audience.
Before Act III he interviewed Elina Garanca as a preview to next week's cinema transmission of Carmen. That was quite interesting; obviously she's very into the role (she was also Carmen at ROH a few weeks ago and I dare say she's sung it elsewhere recently, too) and he knows that opera inside out.
He then interviewed Christine Schäfer on her own and they were then joined by Renée and Susan again. Much flirting going on, and there was a discussion about whether it was love at first sight between Octavian and Sophie. Susan was of the view that it was; even though Octavian didn't actually realise in Act II, he has an inkling.
Then she turned to Plácido, looking him directly in the eye and said "I think everybody has experienced love at first sight." Not precisely flirtatious, it was heavier than that!
There was a certain amount of banter about Octavian (ie Susan Graham, in a trouser role) having to choose between her attraction to the Marschallin and to Sophie. It was all very 'innocent' but I detected that they were having a bit of fun, in a way that anyone in the audience could pick up on, if they wanted but not to offend anyone who would be inclined to offence. Plácido made some comment about the Marschallin being old at 32, although nowadays we don't consider 32 old, to laughter in my cinema which I don't think contained more than a dozen people under 40.
And then he introduced Act III by saying that Octavian (in disguise as a chambermaid) and Baron Ochs were set for a 'Hot date'.
I have to say, I don't think that Plácido is a great presenter. If I was in any doubt, this would have become clear when he was being interviewed. When he talks spontaneously about opera or about a specific opera, in this case Simon Boccanegra, he is so eloquent and passionate and enthusiastic. His English is excellent but his pronunciation and cadences are wayward, which can be disconcerting at times.
But he looked lovely, and he's bundles of fun; he's very good at taking seriously what should be, but he's also light-hearted and always comes across as being singularly unegotistical, which is very endearing.
All the same,I was rather glad I wasn't there with Jimmy. when we watch a DVD and Plácido goes into seduction mode, Jimmy has a bad habit of saying "The creep. Grrr..." and I am pretty sure that would have been his reaction yesterday!
* I'm guessing: the only person in the audience I knew is a gay Claphamite I file under "Lambeth Labour friend" rather than "opera friend". Actually, the two women in front of me were carrying copies of the New Statesman, so I'm being very unfair on audience members!
On 19 December Plácido appeared in a free concert in front at 200,000 people at the Angel de la Independencia in Mexico City (his home city between the ages of 8 and 21)
Placido Domingo nombrado huésped distinguido de Ciudad de México
with video
UPDATE, UPDATE!!!
A first hand report from Fedora who travelled to Milan from Madrid for the occasion, and because it was so cold, went for a walk round the outside of the opera house and...oh, you'll have to read it
On Wednesday evening, to celebrate 40 years of performing at La Scala, Milan - the world's most famous opera house*, Plácido Domingo his signature role (one of them!) Siegmund in Act I of Wagner's Die Walküre. I think it was well received!
Ovazione di 20 minuti per Placido Domingo
Alla Scala in delirio tutti pazzi per Placido
* apart from Sydney whose fame lies in its exterior architecture rather than its opera!
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