Perhaps even old-fashioned to the point of being conservative, traditional and fond of the literal and over-grand. These are all adjectives which have been leveled at Franco Zeffirelli and I am proud to associate myself with them and by extension with him. So imagine my delight at yesterday's Met simulcast of the Zeffirelli production of La Boheme. After the minimalist-static marathon Cornish Opera a couple of weeks ago it was such a joy to see a stage showing a scene which looked as though it had been lifted lock stock and barrel from some arrondissement in Paris - and they'd managed to do it while leaving all the people in place. Dang but that's clever! It is really no wonder that this production has been performed at the Met more than any production of any other opera in the company's entire history. Something like 350 performances. I think they got their money's worth out of this one. I know that for some opera-goers it is over the top but how gloriously over the top! Just when you thought the stage was as crowded as it could be with perhaps a hundred and fifty people doing their thing in and around Café Momus, Zeffirelli's stage directions could be boiled down to "Okay. Now we need a military band. No,no - not just a soldier or two with a trumpet...the band. And an entire platoon of soldiers should come down the steps. And a guy on stilts should lead in a group of kids. And a toy seller with his wares. Hmmm...what's missing? AHA! A horse and cart...We definitely need a horse and cart - bring 'em on stage left!" I wanted to stand and cheer and yell "Yes! This is how I want to see La Boheme! Mille grazie Signore Zeffirelli!!"
Now you can't get away with this if the singers aren't up to snuff but you couldn't have put the snuff out of the reach of yesterday's cast. Ramon Vargas as Rodolfo looked perfectly the part and by the time he was half way through 'Che gelida manina' I was totally entranced and weeping shamelessly. I had seen him in last season's production of Eugene Onegin and I was again impressed at the sweetness of his voice and his apparently effortless delivery. Angela Gheorghiou had told us her candle had gone out and she'd managed to lose her key and, by the way, she was known as Mimi but she didn't know why but do you suppose she could trouble us for some help? What are you kidding? You just sit there my dear and I shall be more than happy to crawl around on my hands and knees for as long as this search takes. Ms 'Bonnie" Gheorghiou may cause headaches for opera management but I have to say that yesterday when called upon to deliver the goods she did everything we could have asked for.
I could go on and on. The entire cast sparkled (Ainhoa Arteta was a stunning Musetta and an absolute dead ringer for Sharon Apostolou. Really.) the orchestra under the youthful Nicola Luisotti seemed not to miss Maestro Levine too much and turned in another glorious afternoon's work and if a wonderful time wasn't had by all then I cannot for the life of me imagine why not. And when this comes out on DVD Mr Gelb can expect to see my money on the barrel-head pronto.
On Saturday evening I went to Fidelio as performed by Willamette Concert Opera and I'll do an additional mid-week post here to tell you about it. That was a total of about eight hours devoted to opera on Saturday. Good stuff and all that but tonight I'm planning to watch a couple of episodes of The Sopranos and drink whisky.
As a thirteen year old boy at boarding school in the depths of the Suffolk countryside I was almost eaten up with envy when one of my chums returned from his Summer holidays to announce that he had been to see West Side Story in the West End in London. He and I had listened to the recording until we had almost worn the vinyl flat and as we did so we sang along with every note and every character. I had purchased a small paperback book of the screenplay and between us he and I could recite the entire work. Because of that musical I became familiar with the names Arthur Laurents, Leonard Bernstein and Stephen Sondheim. Those days were almost fifty years ago but West Side Story still holds a very special place in my heart and memories.
So I took no persuading by Elizabeth (a huge Sondheim fan!) to accompany her to the Schnitzer Auditorium a couple of weeks ago to see and hear Mr Sondheim interviewed by his friend Frank Rich, former drama critic of the New York Times. We were neither of us disappointed by the evening. Sondheim proved to be a pleasant, cerebral man who manages to be illuminating and articulate about his art and craft. And Frank Rich was an excellent foil- he knew just how much to ask or say to elicit an interesting answer or anecdote from Sondheim without interposing himself in an annoying James Lipton-ish sort of way. And good anecdotes there were aplenty but it was the comments Sondheim made about his approach to the writing process which interested me the most. Apparently brilliant lyrics don't crowd this man's pen just waiting for the opportunity to flow onto paper. Indeed, he called it "sweat labor". Even for Sondheim whose hallmark seems to be a deft cleverness in his lyrics, it's ten percent inspiration and ninety percent perspiration. A charming aspect to the interview was how readily Sondheim credited others for teaching him essential elements of his craft. Bernstein taught him not to worry if a song had an irregular number of measures because if what you have in mind only fills three bars then that is what you should write and not stretch it to four bars. Artur Laurents made him see that in musical theater it is not sufficient that a character should just sing a song, that song needs in some way to further the dramatic cause of the piece as a whole (apparently when Sondheim played Laurents 'Maria' the latter kept asking Sondheim "What's he doing?". The answer was that he was basically just standing around. Laurents brought home to Sondheim how there needed to be more). Sondheim spoke of a number of other learning experiences that made him the foremost lyricist of his day and it was good to hear he is writing a book. It will make fascinating reading I am sure.
After the main interview questions were solicited from the audience (Elizabeth's "May I have your babies?" didn't make the cut!). The most interesting one was "Do you write a show for a particular performer?" The answer was "no" but Sondheim then spoke about how his writing may nevertheless be informed by his knowledge that a certain actor would perform a particular part. Thus while Sweeney Todd was not written for Angela Lansbury, nor Gypsy for Ethel Merman (he gave other examples as well) he was helped in his writing by knowing the strengths and weaknesses and style of a particular actor. I couldn't help but think of Benjamin Britten and how he might have answered that question. Can one imagine that Peter Grimes was not written specifically for Peter Pears?
At the very end of the evening it was announced that Sondheim would celebrate his birthday the following week and the entire audience sang "Happy Birthday". That wasn't much of a surprise. What was a shocker was that the audience managed to stay in tune! When you consider that awful racket that can be produced by just a half dozen people crooning to Auntie Gladys on her birthday it was a rather impressive and fitting tribute.
A happy postscript to that evening with Sondheim is that a revival of Gypsy has just opened on Broadway with Patti Lupone in the main role and the ever-cranky Arthur Laurents directing (he's ninety years old!!). The critics have given it rave reviews.
Have a great week and pop back on Wednesday for my report of Fidelio.
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