After last Tuesday's performance of Tamerlano, naturally I went to the Stage Door at the Teatro Real. Not immediately. I had time to check the final scores on my phone (Roma 0 United 2), nip to my hotel room for a cardigan, knock back a large glass of wine in the bar opposite and still wait for Plácido outside the Stage Door!
Of course, I wasn't the only person there but I honestly thought that there would be more. Not that I'm complaining. I was getting just a little bit cold standing outside, waiting. We could see his car and driver were there. And then I knew we wouldn't have to wait long because I saw Marta, so I knew Plácido wouldn't be far behind. (Jimmy later said he was a bit surprised that Plácido was being so blatant leaving the opera house with a woman; I pointed out, 'that's his wife'. Incidentally, we saw Alvaro on Saturday).
Plácido came out of the stage door looking lovely, but in retrospect a little less flirtatious than usual...possibly because Marta was there! Jimmy instructed me that I had to request his autograph in order that Jimmy, my cameraman, could try and get a photo of the two of us together. But I didn't have a pen, because I'm not a habitual autograph seeker. Fortunately, one person did have a pen, so Plácido used that to sign the programmes of several of us. (Jimmy later said I should have brought along Katherine Jenkins' biography and get him to sign the photo in that. As if...).
One person presented him with a hand-held to sign; which he did, but he didn't look comfortable doing so. Maybe it's just the auditor in me but I actually think it's the height of bad manners to present a celebrity with a handheld to sign. I know that electronic signature gathering is commonplace now, but I do see a difference between handing it over to a delivery company for example (or in the USA, signing a credit card slip - they don't seem to use PINs for plastic cards) and handing it to a random stranger, who might use it for forgery. Not that I think Plácido's signature actually has much monetary value, on account of him being so approachable and so amenable to signing so many things.
Anyway, I approached him and as I handed him the programme, and he was signing it, I asked him whether he would be singing that role in London. He confirmed he would, 'but not until 2010'. He sounded almost apologetic. Perhaps because he won't be at Covent Garden next season, which is disappointing, but heck, I have the travel bug:-)
Obviously I didn't get much time with him, but it's always such a pleasure to meet him. I'd hate to be one of these people who go on at great length and in boring detail about...nothing...just to keep his attention, when he'd been in the House 7 and a half hours, and his wife was in the car, and he probably just wanted to get away and get something to eat. And, anyway, I consoled myself that it's not long til Barcelona, and Die Walküre (woot! yay!)
I have a strange relationship with Handel. There is nothing of his, that I have heard, that I don't like, except for Concerto Grosso Opus 6 No 6 which was a set work at O-Level and I hated with a vengeance, only to discover years later that there's nothing wrong with the actual concerto, just a really bad recording that was owned by the music department at school that could have put me off Handel for life. For years, I was convinced I didn't like Handel, apart from Messiah, of course, and the Water Music, and Music for the Royal Fireworks, and Zadok the Priest, and the Arrival of the Queen of Sheba, oh, and all those arias, like Ombra Mai Fu, Where'er You Walk, Waft Her Angels, and, oh dammit, those operas (and operas masquerading as oratorios). Not that I have heard very many of his operas, but what I have heard, I do like.
I received a pocket Kobbé for Christmas which not only mentions Handel but also gives a summary of Tamerlano,which is two steps better than my father's old 'Complete Kobbé' which doesn't even mention Handel. For a long time, most of Handel's operas were unperformed. There is conflicting narrative about when they started to be revived; some sources mention the 1920s, some the 1960s. A couple of years ago someone remarked that seven different Handel operas were performed in one season in London, which apparently has not happened anywhere in modern times.
I encounter people almost daily on the internet who contend or imply that Handel isn't really opera or 'doesn't matter', which alternatively saddens and maddens me. I can understand why people, steeped in classical grand opera, can have difficulty adjusting to the strict conventions of opera seria, with its structure of recitative/da capo aria, with characters exiting in turn, to be replaced by another with a different plot twist. There is also a challenge in staging a Handel opera successfully; the da capo aria does lend itself to park-and-bark (although I don't think that 'bark' is quite the right term). That having been said, they also lend themselves to imaginative stagings by gifted directors - the McVicar Glyndebourne Guilio Cesare is widely considered as a 'must have' DVD. I think one of my worst nightmares would be a Met-trash Handel staging.
The plot is one of those that seems convoluted when written down but makes more sense when played out number by number - libretto, score
The staging was very simple: a white set with little scenery. It curved round at the back, the back containing several doors. High up the wall was a sort of shelf, running round the back of the stage. Suspended from the ceiling was a large ball with a foot on top of it...oh, watch this video. Most of the time most of the characters were in white, or black, costumes, with just occasional use of colour to provide a contrast.
I can't decide whether I really liked the production, or not. I thought the sets and the colour scheme worked well. Throughout much of the first act, we watched a procession of small blue elephants process round the shelf at the top; towards the end of the first act, Irene arrived on-stage astride a life-size blue elephant which was wheeled onto stage (a rare example of when scenery is worth applauding).
During the second act, the suspended ball swung round to reveal itself to be a swing-seat. And in the third act the stage was dominated by a bench or pier at waist height (or a bit lower). At various times, the turbanned dancers appeared in stage, or on the shelf above the stage.
Other than the blue elephants, the most striking use of colour was when Tamerlano appeared in a bright fuschia pink outfit together with pink stiletto ankle boots. I particularly remember this because at one stage, Bajazet was lying down and Tamerlano put his/her stilettoed foot on his back, and it stuck me as being a bit, well, you know...
I can't really make my mind up about the general direction of the opera. It seemed that some participants were more able to act than others. Of course, it goes without saying that the former category included Plácido, and also Ingela Bohlin, who played Asteria, whereas both Sara Mingardo and Monica Bacelli (Tamerlano and Asteria) seemed pretty clueless in the acting department. I have to say also, that both are of similar build, were mostly wearing similar turbans and despite one being a contralto and one a mezzo, they sounded way too similar.
Indeed, I was generally disappointed in both trouser roles. I had been pleased when I booked that the parts were not being taken by counter tenors. I have stated many times that I find counter-tenors beautiful for about three minutes then I get bored by their lack of variety in tone and volume. I also argue that Handel wrote these parts for castrati who, despite being obviously lacking in certain departments, had the torsos of adult men and thus were able to use full lung power, stomach muscles etc to create volume and colour, which counter-terrors, for all their beauty, cannot because they sing entirely in falsetto. So I was disappointed to be confronted by a mezzo and a contralto lacking any variety in volume, tone or colour. And the fact that neither could act didn't help. Although, I did notice that both showed - as far as I could tell - perfect breath control and perfect phrasing, especially of the fioritura.
I liked the soprano a lot, although she did suffer in comparison to the recording I have from France with Carolyn Sampson in that role. Ingela Bohlin has a gorgeous basic sound but I did notice that when she was upstage her voice did not really project very well. Considering that I was on the second row of the 'patio', just behind the orchestra, I did find this a bit worrying. It was also noticeable with the mezzo and contralto, and I did wonder if it was a design fault with the set. And Plácido suffered a bit, too. I tend to be quite purist with set designs. Looking good is only the third consideration, after 'ensuring all action is visible to all non-restricted view seats' and most importantly, not harming and, preferably, helping the acoustics. The other two characters were reasonably well sung without setting me alight (Jennifer Holloway and Luigi De Donato).
And as for Plácido. Well, what can I say! Obviously he has the status that he can do any role he wants to, in any opera house he wishes. He doesn't have anything to prove, and if he wished, he could retire secure in the knowledge that he has a solid unassailable reputation. Alternatively, he could spend years combining pop-style concerts with an occasional lazy reprisal of a signature role. Instead, he has decided to explore new territory - the Gluck in the autumn, and now this, in Madrid, and then in Washington, Vienna and London; he has also mentioned Monteverdi's L'Orfeo and Ritorno di Ulisee in Patria. I have read hints and suggestions on the internet that he shouldn't, or, at least, why? I guess some people see it as some sort of vanity project, and even seem to be implying that he wouldn't bring it off. He has given interviews where he has mentioned how difficult it has been to learn the role, but anyone who has ever read My Operatic Roles will know that every role is difficult!
So I actually went in with an open mind prepared to be critical if required. And I shall be critical. I thought he took a while to warm up. In his first aria in Act I Scene 1, Forte e lieto a morte andrei, I thought 'I've heard him sing better'. Even in, say, the Act II Scene 7 aria A' suoi piedi padre esangue, I didn't think he was perfect. I was deeply impressed by his vocal and dramatic performance, he sounded really gorgeous. I love it when he opens his shoulders, puts back his head and seemingly totally relaxed, this beautiful sound pours out. I was delighted by the trills, by the intelligent variation in volume and colour. He was so impressive on stage, raging around, his eyes flashing with passion, so physical. Even so, in one phrase I did a notice bit of hoarseness and slight breathlessness. Not significant, but I did get the feeling that this was a work in progress. This aria had me transfixed, just gazing at him, later realising that my mouth was hanging open...it was a bonus that I was sitting so close to the stage.
If he was good in the first act, and very good in the second act, he was superb in the third act. A great tenderness with Asteria (although I later remarked that the way they were embracing wasn't noticeably father-daughter, not that I'm complaining, and I don't think she was, either). I did think the death scene a bit reminiscent of Otello, so I was amused to read in one of the articles I linked to yesterday that that was deliberate! Every bit as searing and heart-rending as Otello.
I wasn't sure about the costumes. Plácido's especially.Most of the photos show the elegant tailed jacket, the brocade waistcoat, the open neck shirt and the ponytail, all of which were fine. I was not sure about the Moorish sandals, even if they did allow a glimpse of bare foot. And as for the trousers - harem pants is I think the technical term - they just weren't flattering. At one stage, he was sitting on the stage directly opposite me and I ought to have had a perfect view of his gorgeous thighs, but all I could think was, why waste such lovely thighs in baggy trousers...sigh
I am so looking forward to getting the DVD when it is released. Even if I hadn't seen it in the theatre, I would want it anyway, but, obviously, there's an added interest when they're actually filming it in one's presence (I'm waiting for the New York Romeo et Juliette to appear on the internet). It seemed on the Wednesday that the TV van and cables weren't moving, so I don't know if they were filming Friday's performance, too. It will be interesting to see whether a couple of bits that weren't supposed to happen will stay in. One was when Asteria produced a dagger concealed in her clothes, Tamerlano grabbed it and threw it at the swing-seat and it bounced, being a stage dagger mad eof rubber with no sharp points. Also, in his death scene, when Plácido was raging along the bench-pier thing, about to throw himself to the ground, again, (only to have to get up again, because no one dies on stage in Handel..I think, I might be making that bit up!), his hair slipped out of his ponytail and he was frantically brushing it off his face, whilst simultaneously singing and raging.
And the music. I was well impressed by the orchestra. I assume that they are not in the habit of playing in the baroque style, and I like to think I have heard a lot of period ensembles live and on record, and there wasn't once when I thought,ooh no. I had a good view of the wind, especially the wind quartet in Vivo in te, mio caro bene. Later, we were chatting someone (actually in the shuttle bus to the airport, as one does) who hadn't seen a Handel opera staged before, and was wondering what was the string instrument, like a large lute, that played the continuo. I guessed it was a theorbo, and I was a bit disappointed that I didn't see it, because I do like theorbos, even though I don't recall them getting a mention in my sister's Observer's Book of Music, from which I originally learnt the instruments of the orchestra.
Although I sometimes joke that Handel was a hack composer and that all his works sound the same, once you've heard one you've heard them all, I think they all benefit from repeat listening, such gorgeous tunes, and despite the small, limited orchestra, lots of variety in the sound-world. For the time being I shall satisfy myself with the recording off the radio, until the DVD comes out. And I am already looking forward to the performances in London in two years time.
And in the meantime, there will be other Handel operas in London: Acis and Galatea and Partenope next season at Royal Opera House and English National Opera respectively. Flavio next week at the Barbican, and next season, Samson, La Resurrezione, Arianna in Creta, Jephtha, and Joyce DiDonato in "'Furore' Scenes of madness from Handel" (not ot mention Thomas Quasthoff in Haydn's Creation...). Damn, I've just spent £350, but buying in bulk has saved me £33.50...Oh, and there's also the London Handel Festival and Lufthansa Baroque
At the curtain calls, people were throwing flowers onto the stage, so he did what he always does, spend a lot of time gathering them up and distributing them to the other cast members, including the dancers, the orchestra, the conductor, anyone, really. He's very sweet the way he does that; of course it just encourages people to throw flowers, and the more they do, the more it encourages him! And I think he spotted my camera because he was definitely flirting, with the camera, that is, not me...
On Saturday we had met Plácido outside the Stage Door at the Teatro Real as he arrived for that evening's performance. It was almost a chance encounter, although I would be lying if I didn't say - I wonder if anyone will be waiting outside the Stage Door; if there is, I'll be there, too. As we returned to our hotel we saw a group of people gathered, including some familiar faces. He arrived earlier than I expected. On Tuesday I resolved to be there again, and in good time.
It is handy being in a hotel so close to the theatre. We had decided to get ready for the evening, go out to the stage Door, and then find somewhere to eat. I was ready and Jimmy was not (which is unusual, but reflected more on his slowness than my eagerness. Honest.) He told me to get lost, that he would follow me down when he was ready. So I left the hotel and crossed over to near the Stage Door, arriving at exactly the same moment that Plácido did. I had my camera slung over my shoulder, not even switched on! Plácido was in conversation with a Spanish couple, then he turned to me and took my hand. I can't actually remember if either of us said anything; if so, it was hello or somesuch. I do recall gazing into his eyes and trembling!
He then walked towards the actual stage door and suddenly he was mobbed by an entire coach party, so I just stood back and watched, amused, as he charmed them, talking to them and posing for photos and so on, completely unfazed at being mobbed.
It was patchy. Handel was excellent, the orchestra and the conductor (Paul McCreesh) were very good, the supporting cast were...really not more than adequate. And Plácido was fantastic. Really, when he wasn't on stage, it dragged - except for the non-Plácido highlight, when Asteria and Andronico had a third act love duet accompanied by wind quartet (two flutes and two recorders). But when Plácido was on stage he was utterly fantastic. One particular aria in Act II he sang directly to me!
The performance was being filmed for DVD release, so when we arrived we were told that we couldn't have the seats we had bought on the end of the first row - a camera was there instead. So we were given seats on the second row. They were more central so it was a bit of swings and roundabouts, but I was a bit annoyed that we weren't told until we arrived. It was a bit embarrassing, considering my (non-existent) Spanish so I couldn't really understand what was happening. Just an email to explain would have been nice.
Faye will be delighted that even in a production with no furniture, Plácido managed to abuse a microphone stand as he descended into the orchestra pit (a lot of the stage exits were via the orchestra pit). I lost count of the number of times he was on the floor: he started on the floor with the weight of the world on his back. He fell to the ground three times during his mad death scene. And at various times he was on one knee or the other, or both. If anyone asks me if there's anything Plácido Domingo can't do, I'll have to say 'be a human statue' because during an aria from Asteria, he was supposed to be sitting absolutely still (back to the audience, displaying his conductor's shoulders), but every now and then he moved.
It did sound strange hearing him sing Handel, and I am not sure that the obsessive purist Handelians would approve, but I definitely enjoyed him in this role. I have to say that it's the least favourite of the three roles I have heard him sing this season, but, nevertheless, I was delighted when he confirmed afterwards that he would be singing it in London "but not until 2010..." (he'll still be a young man then). Believe me, I will be there!
I fly home tomorrow and will be at work on Thursday, so I'm not sure when I will write more, and publish curtain-call/stage door photos, but here's one for now...
I touched him, too. I was extremely ill-mannered and I took his hand, gazed into his eyes and said 'See you Tuesday'. He nodded and said, 'Tuesday'.
Jimmy took the photos. I put the camera on simple point-and-shoot, and he was trying to get a picture of me, next to Plácido in the car.Then some slightly unhinged woman started knocking on the car window, which in my book is bang out of order.
Jimmy says if there are any women on the internet who get pleasure out of these photos, he is available for weekends in various cities. We then went to a bar and Jimmy was going on about how nice Plácido is, how kind, and patient, and how he has such a pleasant smile, and isn't unapproachable and doesn't behave with celebrity ego. And I was, 'yeah, whatever...this is exactly what I've been telling you all these years'
Oh, and by the way, in case you're wondering, yes that is sunburn on my neck and upper chest. Sorry to everyone in Britain, but the weather was hot hot hot in Madrid, at least during the day. I was overdressed, and, it seems caught the sun. And we sat outside eating until 11.30, when it did start to feel chilly. And even chillier hanging around outside the stage door without coat after midnight. But still a lot warmer than Blighty. I had hoped my sunburn would have turned brown by midnight but I suppose I'll have to sleep on it.
The reason we are in Madrid is slightly complicated. The reason for coming here, at this time, is to see Plácido in Tamerlano, but that's just an excuse for a long weekend/short week, a city break, some sight-seeing and hanging out.
As we were going to breakfast we met some people in the lift from Zurich that I know slightly from hanging round stage doors, a mother and son from Zurich, so we greeted each other, and they were 'we know where you're going this evening', so I was, well, actually, no, Tuesday.
That having been said, we did go to the box office this morning just to see if there were any tickets available. The woman on the box office gave us an amused smile as she said 'sold out'. Perhaps she assumed we were naive English tourists just thinking we'd maybe pick up a ticket for the opera as something different to do.
We spent quite a portion of the day sight-seeing, basically walking up to the Jardines del Retiro and round the boating lake. Strolling, admiring the architecture, and so on. And taking just short of a hundred photos. We stopped off somewhere or other for Tapas and wandered a bit more. There came a point where we were basically lost although not really lost, so a quick look at the map gave us our bearings and I was 'if we go through here and onto ther, we'll be there in no time'. As we approached our hotel we noticed a small crowd gathering outside the Stage Door of the Teatro Real. And we had literally just got there when Plácido arrived, so I flung my camera at Jimmy saying 'here, turn it on, take photos'. He later pointed out he had never previously turned my camera on. However, he did take some photos. 
This is me waving my walking stick at Señor Domingo
This is me glowering at Jimmy while Plácido poses with a fan.
This is possibly a picture of Plácido and me together...
And this is a picture of the Teatro Real from my hotel room. He's in there somewhere. Well, by now (1907 hours), he'll be on stage, just about. As you can gather, I'm not in the theatre. I did go back to the box office at about six o'clock, but there was a long queue, and while I suppose I might have got lucky, I doubted that I would, and my feet are in a bad bad way, so I am sitting in my hotel room metres from an opera house where the greatest ever opera singer is performing. And that hurts a bit but I'm trying to be brave.
«No hay un día que no tenga miedo cuando canto»
"Ni viviendo dos vidas podría cantar todo lo que quiero"
Tamerlano opens on Wednesday. I don't suppose I shall have time to look-up reviews because after work on Thursday I shall be packing for an early start on Friday to fly to Madrid for a spot of sight-seeing and most importantly, to attend Tamerlano. I might take my lappy - there's Wi-Fi in the hotel - but I don't intend to waste valuable sight-seeing time, or even more valuable rest time in surfing the net. sigh
Five leaders of cultural Los Angeles weigh the city's past, progress and its potential
The next time Placido Domingo, the world's foremost operatic tenor, visits New Orleans, he won't have to look far for a stage.
He'll have his own.
Even though Domingo has never sung at the Mahalia Jackson Theatre of the Performing Arts, the New Orleans City Council voted 7-0 last week to name the city-owned theater's stage in his honor: the Placido Domingo Stage in the Mahalia Jackson Theatre in Louis Armstrong Park.
Such honors normally go to prominent local residents or national celebrities who were at least born in New Orleans, such as gospel singer Jackson and jazz great Armstrong.
Domingo, who at 67 is still one of the opera world's most in-demand performers, has never lived in New Orleans, though he appeared here frequently in the 1960s.
But Councilwoman Jackie Clarkson, sponsor of the ordinance naming the stage for the Spanish-born tenor, said she wanted to thank him for headlining a gala benefit concert the New Orleans Opera held in March 2006 at the New Orleans Arena. The event marked the company's revival after Hurricane Katrina flooded the Theatre of the Performing Arts and wiped out the opera's fall performances.
Clarkson said the concert, which drew more than 7,000 people, raised $700,000 for recovery efforts. Honoring the tenor "is repayment with gratitude," she said.
Continue reading "Some interviews with Plácido about Tamerlano" »
There are far too many people on the internet taking this exercise far too seriously and yet not taking it seriously enough to read the premise or the justification for the choices. Hint, it wasn't a poll on who has sang the loudest in narrow arbitrarily-selected rep at one provincial opera house during one short period of history. And some of those internet people lack the intellect to understand that while they may disagree with the final list, their own choices are no more 'correct'.
What it is is twenty 'experts' (including two token women and a token Minority Ethnic) expressing their subjective views on tenors, of the recorded age, in opera and lieder and taking into consideration factors that some other people would consider irrelevant. It has no statistical justification; a significantly larger electorate would suffer from an injection of the Ignorance Factor. 'Greatest' in Art cannot be definitive; any such attempts are only an aggrandisement or aggregate of "My Favourite".
It would seem from the front cover picture that the "Greatest" is Enrico Caruso, but he only gets second place.
The critics' number one choice written by Michael Tanner, Spectator opera critic
Plácido Domingo was born in Spain, officially in 1941, but many people claim that the date should be a year or more earlier than that. Even if the date he prefers is correct, he has preserved his voice in an extraordinarily energetic career for almost 50 years, having made his debut in 1959 in Mexico, where his family moved when he was eight. He is still singing, including such demanding roles as Siegmund in Wagner's Die Walküre, as well as in carefully selected Italian operas.
During the course of this enormous career he has always looked for new roles to challenge him, and has recorded over a hundred, performing an impressive proportion of these on stage. He begun with the usual Italian operas, primarily Verdi and Puccini, but moved back in time, the earliest of his roles being in Rameau's Hippolyte et Aricie. He has also sung a few contemporary operas, but only ones written in a fairly traditional idiom. What is most surprising is that, almost alone tenors who made their names in Italian opera, since he was about 50 he has been equally involved with German opera, primarily Wagner, some of whose greatest roles he has not risked singing in the theatre, but has recorded in part or whole. He has even sung at the Bayreuth Festival, the ultimate accolade.
Nor has he neglected either French opera, including Berlioz and Massenet, or Russian. And now he is moving into the baritone repertoire, with Gluck's Oreste already at the Met. A self-confessed workaholic, he also conducts opera, and is in charge of the Washington National Opera and the Los Angeles Opera, jobs which involve an immense amount of fund-raising. Quite apart from that, he was of course one of the Three Tenors, and has recorded Christmas albums and discs of popular Italian and Spanish songs.
With such a vast range of repertoire, it isn't surprising that we don't associate Domingo with particular roles, with the possible exception of Verdi's Otello, of which he has been the leading performer since Jon Vickers, Domingo's antithesis in many ways, retired. But even then, when one thinks of that role and the kind of voice and presence it requires, Domingo's isn't necessarily the first name to come to mind. It's inevitable that he has been criticised for giving a standardised account of many roles - but then it's hard to see how individual you could be in many of Verdi's less famous works. The fact remains that when you listen to Domingo, you are guaranteed a flood of gorgeous sound, a sensitive musicianship, the security of voice so well looked after that nothing will go wrong and, if you are seeing him, a decent standard of acting.
Warmth, taste, commitment, understanding: these aren't the first things that spring to mind when you think of a tenor, but they are when you think of Domingo. The operatic scene since the mid 1960s is inconceivable without him, and the gigantic treasury of opera recordings will bear witness to future generations of his greatness. In an age when 'celebrity' has rightly become a word of contempt, Plácido Domingo's fame is an example of how once, a huge name was built on solid foundations.
In his own words
'My motto is "When I rest, I rust".'
Greatest Recording
I've been a bit slow blogging this, but to be honest, there have been few meaningful reports coming out of Milano. And, as far as I can find, no photos.
Update: Thanks to White Rabbit for the photo links in the comments, which prompted me to seek photos in the most obvious place - the La Scala website:
But the reports that exist are worth the wait:
Domingo de Bergerac at La Scala
Cyrano: applausi per Domingo (illustrated, somewhat bizarrely, with a picture from Luisa Fernanda)
An interview: Domingo: "Il mio Cyrano? Per le opere ho buon naso" Lultimo tenorissimo riesuma alla Scala un Alfano dimenticato
And from Ed's Opera Group, posted by Ed, but (obviously...) on behalf of AN Other (registration required
Did I forget anything? Oh yes some more details There was also a male singer, he sang Cyrano. Judging from his vocal shape, his condition, his look and his movements on stage he must be one of the young, upcoming tenors of the next generation. Certainly a talent! I am sure we will hear more of him during the next couple of decades.
His name is Domingo. Plácido Domingo. And he has the license to bewitch old and young, male and female, crazy and crazier people. The more I hear of him the more I get the impression, those are right who allege that he has lied about his age. Its impossible that this man I saw on stage is 67. He cant be older than 45, maybe 50! Ok, maybe he was short of breath for one single, very short moment But is there any of us youngsters (Come on, ladies and gentlemen, my bank account number is 21.01.1941. You can send your donations right now ) could sing that demanding work, act and swordfight like that and be it only for ten minutes???
He was really convincing! Although I could hardly see a third of the stage from my seat (and therefore missed the balcony scene and wide parts of the moving final scene to count just the most important parts ) I was moved to
tears several times just by hearing the expressions in his (and her!) voice! Hmmmmmm which leads me to another conclusion maybe he is really older than we all think and Alfano had HIM, HIM and nobody else than HIM in his mind, when he wrote that opera? Yes! Must be! It is tailor-made for him! Like so many other works And to prove that I am objectively reviewing the Scala audience, which is dreaded for being very severe, sometimes even cruel towards singers or works they do not like (especially sung by Non-Italians), ALSO liked the
performance.Plácido got standing ovations, several curtain calls and loud Bravo-yells. Also some (familiar to all who were in Madrid) Plácido, te quieremo - screamers could be heard. All the singers and the conductor (did a good job!) got much applause. Most of all Plácido and Sondra Radvanovsky. Of course, he was moved and happy.
He held a signing hour later. He was relaxed and happy, but visibly tired when he came out (no wonder!!!!!!! It is really a very demanding role, even for a teenager of 45, maybe 50), but he stayed as charming and friendly as
always, when he saw the huge crowd of waiting crazies from so many different countries.
And finally, it seems, the real Cyrano de Bergerac (not actually of Bergerac) was gay: Nosing out the real-life Cyrano - CYRANO: The Life And Legend Of Cyrano De Bergerac by Ishbel Addyman. Strange, cos when we saw the opera, the only gay subtext was the bloke who had an unrequited crush on CdeB.
UPDATED!!!UPDATED
He is ?? years old today...based on his performances as Siegmund (2) in October and Oreste in December, I would guess at about mid-forties.
In comments left earlier Ester says
Hoy es el cumpleaños de nuestro querido Plácido.
¡Muchas Felicidades Maestro!.
and Madalsoofhim says
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO OUR DEAR MAESTRO
Always young, wonderful and magnificent voice
I'm still looking for a seat for Cyrano, cross finger.
Update Update
I have given each of these photos a unique letter reference (mouse-over). Just for fun, try guessing what roles they are from. No prizes, and, for a while, shall we say two guesses per person, accurate or imaginative. No prizes for guessing the theme!
If any copyright holders object to my unattributed use of their photos, please contact me so that I can rectify this
I think I just made a rash promise on Opera-L to go to Die Walküre in 2009. I don't think that will go down very well with Jimmy. And having made that rash promise, I've been emailed to asking if I'm going to Plácido's 40th Anniversary Gala. Oh sure, I can see it now "Jimmy, you know I'm intending, assuming I can get a ticket when online booking opens, to drag you off to Madrid for Tamerlano in late March in early April, well I'm also intending to go to LA in mid-April. Hope you don't mind!" To be honest, I remember a quote from someone who had a three hour wait while changing planes in LA en route to New Zealand, 'three hours is enough for anybody in LA'. And I guess, from the start of Act I to the end of Act II is just about three hours, but it's an awfully long way to go for just three hours.
Anyway, I just wanted to post that the General Director of Los Angeles Opera announced the 2008/9 season yesterday, in which I have not the slightest interest except for Die Walküre. Nope, not even The Fly which I'm not going to see in Paris even though I practically live in a banlieue of Paris*.
And really the only reason I wanted to post was in order to post this picture
which I stole from View From A Loft
The Los Angeles Music Center, which, I think is the umbrella body that includes the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, announced that the opera house will be closed for refurbs in 2013, of all years. Plácido isn't happy, not surprisingly...
Domingo appeared a bit surprised by Roundtree pinning down 2013 as the year to shut down the house. It had previously been announced for 2011 and L.A. opera was considering staging performances in other countries to expand its visibility.
"I hope its 2012 or 14," Domingo said, noting that 2013 is the 200th anniversary of the birth of Verdi and Wagner. "It will be difficult to look for an opera house to celebrate those anniversaries."
* total rubbish, of course, Paris is a suburb of London
Opera Review: Iphigenie en Tauride at the Met
Most opera is fanfic, and never more than Iphegenie which is a fix-it fanfic of Iphegenia at Aulus.
IPHIGENIE EN TAURIDE at the Met - "I've recently heard that the Met plans to bring it back in two years."
Tonight: Iphigénie en Tauride at the Met
Rare Gluck opera given marvelous rebirth at Met
I am a cultural elitist!!!!!111!
A Starry Romeo & Juliet at the Metropolitan Opera
Plácido Domingo y Angela Gheorgiu grabarán 'Fedora' en Bruselas para DGG
I didn't know this opera at all four months ago. So it was little short of lunacy to book myself, and then also Jimmy, a ticket, to go and see it, not at the opera house a bus ride away, but at one three and a half thousand miles away. As it happened, I already had a DVD, purchased as part of the seemingly ongoing Del Prado part works of Opera on DVD. Plus, I had also purchased a ticket for the Royal Opera house's production (jointly with Chicago and San Francisco) of the same opera, with some of the same cast, but not, crucially Oreste.
So, by the time the Met production opened I was not entirely unfamiliar with the opera, having in the interim downloaded two more recordings off t'internet. I did consider listening to the opening night over the web, but it was on at 1 am my time, midweek, at a time when my body was instructing me to go to bed at 8 pm (and then wake up at 5 am, but never mind that...), and there seems to be no way to set up a timed recording from the Met's streaming. So, it was only five days before Departure Day that I got to listen to this particular version, when it was broadcast on various radio stations, including BBC Radio 3 as part of the Met Broadcast season. And then I couldn't stop listening over and over again. There is a fundamental flaw in repeat listenings to a live recording, mainly that every mis-step is implanted in the brain just as surely as the music. By mis-step I mean all the things picked up by the, reportedly, very close miking, including the wheezing of the conductor, the overloud prompter, stage noise, audience noise and so on. At least I was able to satisfy myself that it was likely to be a very good performance, at least vocally, although considering the situation of my seat I was a bit worried that things like the wheezing conductor and shouting prompter might encroach on my ears, live. I also already knew that this was going to be no period interpretation, unlike at Covent Garden when it was the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment playing on proper old-fashioned instruments. In actual fact, the presence of modern instruments bothered me less in practice than it did in theory, with the strings in particular giving a vigorous work-out and abandoning the slushy 19th century approach. I did miss the period oboe though, at one key point.
I have to confess that I am thoroughly confused about the difference between the versions for Oreste as a baritone and as a tenor, and short of sitting down with both scores, or playing excerpts, almost phrase for phrase, I don't think I can work it out. Still, with baritone Keenlyside straying into tenor rep, and tenor Domingo veering to baritone, I would love to have an analysis of the crucial differences between their respective fachs.
So, I arrived at the Metropolitan Opera House at Lincoln Center NY NY way way too early but in plenty of time to pick up tickets (and additionally purchase more for the next day's Romeo et Juliette). I took my seat just minutes before the curtain was due to go up,. becoming increasingly excited, and also nervous. But so far, no suggestion that he would cancel, and why should he, but you know, I live in fear of sod's law. I assess my seat, Row A of Orchestra, not bad, not bad at all. A bit to the left, which was slightly disappointing, but I had perfect sight lines. I was next to the double basses and in line with the harpsichord.
The curtain rose, for some reason it was a red curtain, not the usual mustard-coloured one that is so familiar from videos and they seem to insist on calling 'gold'. I was utterly disappointed at the total absence of Applause for the Scenery, despite me being in the opera house that is known internationally as The Place Where They Applaud the Scenery. There are some wonderful photographs of the production which, together with the recording of the Met broadcast, will serve as a memento. To me it's a crying shame that this wonderful performance was omitted from the simulcast schedule and thus not committed to video. I see no indication whatsoever that Plácido is going to sing this role again, anywhere, but I fervently hope he does, and preferably in Europe.
I have now reached the stage where I think that this opera is quite possibly up there in my Top Ten. I am so very unfamiliar with the work of Gluck - a couple of years ago I attended the (would you believe it?) UK premier of his La Clemenza di Tito and was stunned by its gorgeousness. But Iphigenie en Tauride is even more gorgeous. I would go so far as to say that Act II is as good as any other act in any other opera.
Of course, there is a clue in the title as to who the main character is, Iphigenie, played by Susan Graham, who never left the stage during the entire performance. The other two main characters are Pylade (tenor, Paul Groves) and Oreste (baritone, tenor,whatever, Plácido Domingo). And there are some other minor characters, too.
So, the set was divided into three. Approximately two-thirds consisted of the temple, with an altar and a statue of Diana dominating, this is where the action in Act I and for most of Acts III and IV happened. Another approximate third, which was in front of me,was the prison cell where I ought to have known Oreste and Pylade would be held. The balance was to my extreme left and seemed to serve no purpose except as a place where guards and dancers etc distracted from the main action.
It was not actually until Act II, when the blokes were flung into jail that it suddenly dawned on me - directly in front of me, not more than a few feet away, my view totally unrestricted , Plácido Domingo was singing whilst rolling around the floor in chains. I'm not a bondage freak by any means, but trust me, opera doesn't get any better than that (insert big grin!). Remember, I was on Row A of Orchestra. This was pretty much the view I got. He spent a lot of time rolling around on the floor, falling to the floor, and on his knees on the floor. Looking at him throwing himself round stage, and, especially, listening to this unbelievably gorgeous voice, I did have this thought 'I can't believe he's 67 next month' and then I thought 'so what, just enjoy what is before your eyes and ears'. And actually, as is so often the case, I didn't really spend a lot of time thinking 'That's Plácido Domingo right in front of me' compared to the amount of time I was thinking 'This Oreste is bloody good'. And time and again it happens, despite me being so familiar with his voice, I hear a sound that is breathtaking in its beauty, a phrase that makes me subconsciously think 'does singing get any more beautiful than this?'. Not that he was going for constant beauty of tone; there was as much drama as beauty. Especially in the Mad Scene when he's being played by Klytemnestra's Furies. (Jimmy said he was wearing kneepads, I can't say I noticed but Jimmy is motivated by grudge or jealousy or something...). I have to say though, that I was concerned about his chest hair. I wasn't sure whether he had shaved it, or covered it with lots of make up, but it didn't seem as prominent as it had done in Die Walkure or, indeed, in the photos on the Met site (which I guess were taken at the Dress Rehearsal).
Impressed as I was by Plácido, it would not be fair to attend this and not heap praise on Susan Graham. Once or twice, it seemed that she was struggling to hit a couple of high notes, but that didn't in anyway diminish a wonderful performance, vocally and dramatically. Fiendishly difficult passages, a range of emotions coming out in her vocal acting, and an utterly convincing stage performance that never had me thinking 'that's Susan Graham' but always 'Iphigénie'. And Paul Groves also gave an excellent performance, a sweet voice, and whilst not an overwhelming stage presence, he certainly impressed.
Also worth mentioning was Diana as played by Michele Losier. Completely stunning in appearance, she had two moments in the opera, at the start and at the end. Both times she descended to the stage on a wire, the first time, she managed to take Iphigenie away with her (as they flashed back to events fifteen years earlier) and at the end she got to fondle Oreste, not that I was jealous, of course not. She sounded good and looked stunning, a bit Goth in her get-up and drop dead gorgeous. Jimmy claims that at the curtain call, Plácido grabbed her, but I think he's just making that up, motivated by grudge and jealousy, because I never noticed and I didn't take my eyes off Plácido in the curtain call.
The low point of the opera was the choreography of the dance in between Acts I and II. At one stage it seemed like the bastard offspring of the worst of Cossack dancing and the best of morris dancing, if that doesn't imply that Morris dancing has a 'best', which it doesn't. That was a shame because the personenregie was excellent (helped no doubt by the presence of excellent acting singers).
Although I was disappointed by the absence of Scenery Applause, I was delighted that a smattering of people in the audience applauded when Plácido made his entrance, regardless of the through-composed nature of the opera. Because that's another thing 'they' do at the Met - but I was a bit disappointed it was isolated culprits, not the audience as a whole ;-)
I didn't go backstage or whatever to meet Plácido afterwards. I had thought about it and decided not to, despite so many people saying that he would be delighted to see me, having travelled from London. It struck me after Die Walkure that there's actually a conflict in my mind. Seeing him on stage, not just because he's so good in that particular performance, but because of his legendary status, is a special treat. However, because he is such an approachable, down-to-earth, likeable person, with a total absence of divo mannerisms, it almost breaks the spell of him being a Legend, because he doesn't have the attitude of a Legend.
Particularly because I was in a strange city and a strange opera house, I thought it would be nice, for a change, to be in a position where he's not that nice man who is so approachable and affable post-performance but an exalted Legend appearing at the Exotic and Legendary Metropolitan Opera House. I would respect and like him less if he was any different personality-wise, yet conversely, because he's so nice, it does break the spell of the performance slightly. It even struck me the next day, when he took to the podium to conduct, appearing avuncular or maybe grandfatherly was a big big contrast from how I had previously seen him, as a warrior king (albeit in a dodgy wig).
I realise that this review is impressionistic. It's difficult to remember every detail, now at eight days' remove, and on just one viewing. I am terribly disappointed that this won't be available on video. I don't think I shall ever forget the impact of the performance, but with the inevitable ravishes of time, the clarity of my memory will fade. I suppose it was a pretty brave decision of him to take a new route in his career like this. He has nothing to prove, and potentially a lot to lose. But it was also a clever decision, I think the role suited his voice perfectly and his dramatic impersonation was lacking nothing. I realise it's entirely unfair to make comparisons with Simon Keenlyside, who was obviously under the weather when I saw him in this, but of the two performances, I would rate Plácido's above Simon's.
| Mon | Tue | Wed | Thu | Fri | Sat | Sun |
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| 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | |||
| 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 |
| 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 |
| 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 |
| 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 |
will know that every role is difficult! 
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