Struggling to make sense of what I had just seen at the Metropolitan Opera on New Year's Eve, I walked into Lincoln Center Plaza in the pouring rain and suddenly thought Gypsy revival just opened twenty blocks south. Perhaps because the director of the new evening production Aida by Michael Mayer, Tony Award-winning Broadway writer, I thought that when I was given the task of producing Verdi's timeless masterpiece, he thought gypsy'the second show's interlude, “You've Gotta Get a Gimmick.”
How can one explain his otherwise mysterious idea of composing a captivating opera of love, war and death in ancient Egypt through the investigation of a silent group of early 20th century archaeologists? During Verdi's prelude, an imprisoned Indiana Jones descended from a pool of light to the floor of the stage and found a sword (remember that weed!) and marveled at the hieroglyphs he saw. After Ramfis and Radamès entered, the leading explorer disappeared. From then on, with one important exception, he and his fellow archaeologists became so close to the action that, for a long time, he forgot about them entirely.
Perhaps their inclusion was Mayer's feeble attempt to make his culture unique, completely mainstream Aida it is particularly relevant in association with opera's recent struggle with its long-standing interpretation of “foreign” cultures. Only once did his characters get directly into the action of the opera. During the commemoration of the Triumphal Arch, the “modern” figures display in a spectacle with various golden figures, the spoils of their journey. After the break, they retreated to the background, occasionally reappearing to witness the intense action of the opera, an arrogance that only separated them from the opera heads. Spectator dysfunction occurs in the tragic final moments of the opera when Indiana and her female companion angrily watch Aida and Radamès die in the grave and a grieving Amneris performs hara-kiri, probably with the very sword she was holding at the grave. the first minutes of the opera.
Mayer's long-postponed production replaces Sonja Frisell's much-loved 1988 vision, whose passing was deeply regretted. Its latest revival more than three decades after its premiere was plagued by actors who seemed to have little direction beyond the odd banter. Hopes that Mayer would provide a detailed guide were quickly dashed as his artists seemed to be largely left to their own devices, falling back on stock acts aimed at the Grand Tier rather than their colleagues and almost always appearing before. stage.
The lack of direction was most evident in Angel Blue's vulnerable Aida, her relatively new role. A sensitive soprano can be a convincing performer when given strong direction, as in Porgy and Bess, but here her Aida was more modest and self-effacing, offering few glimpses of the proud Ethiopian princess suffering under Egyptian rule. Thankfully, he was heard in a soft voice, sending sparkling high notes through the Met's vast space. If his middle and chest lines didn't bloom in a delightful way, he showed a strong understanding of the difficult demands of his role.
Perhaps as the run continues in the spring, Blue will bring more clarity and bite to his words, similar to his father's. Amonasro, the kidnapped king, was badly played by Quinn Kelsey, whose entrance late in the second act shocked the painful processes in his otherwise vivid life. He raged, darkening his soaring high baritone and lighting up the Greens with great urgency in their haunting, haunting music, which proved the most impressive sequence of the evening.
The wisdom of Piotr Beczala's take on the punishing role of Radamès was much debated before the opening, but those reservations were not answered as the beautiful and sincere tenor was ill at the opening and probably should not have played at all. The Met's general manager, Peter Gelb, made an announcement about his illness and thanked him for continuing, but most viewers may not have been so grateful. He continued to crack, passing the notes down an octave or simply giving them up altogether, which inevitably did not cooperate with his partners and dampened the musical effect.
Beczala must be under the lucky New Year's Eve star as he has retired in 2023. Carmen premiere and missed many other shows. The tenor, who turned 58 on December 28, was in fine form with his Carnegie Hall recital earlier in December, so his tragic Radamès should not be taken as a sign of decline. What motivated him to begin—and then continue—remains a mystery, especially in front of a modestly dressed audience paying top dollar for a gallery premiere.
Like Ramfis, Dmitry Belosselskiy also sounded sick, his bass unsteady and lacking confidence. Perhaps because of Belosselskiy's misbehavior, Morris Robinson, who will take Ramfis' place later in the season, was the one who took the bait as he doesn't usually do the King of Egypt. While Yongzhao Yu did little with the urgent story of the message, Amanda Batista brought a very promising soprano to the role of the Priest who leaves the stage.
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After his disappointing debut last season as the new misfit Preziosilla La Forza del Destino, Romanian mezzo-soprano Judit Kutasi returns to the Met as the conservative Amneris, a scorned Egyptian princess. His long-running performance has won some praise for its unflinching brilliance, especially when compared to Introverted Blue and the struggling Beczala. However, his singing was unexpected. Sometimes the high notes sounded clear and loud—often, they were annoyingly sharp. His closed middle was often swayed, and his chest notes sounded more like speech than singing.
Given Beczala's critical condition, Yannick Nézet-Séguin led with unusual caution. Aida, Although many episodes reveal a narrow, surprisingly clear view of the score. His singers responded to him with a sparkling glow. Several dance sequences again brought out the conductor's sweet side; however, Oleg Glushkov's campy ballet of bare-chested, leggy twenty-something men should be repurposed for the next edition of Broadway Bares. Donald Palumbo came out of retirement to prepare the chorus for this new play, and his men's team was in a very exciting mood.
Given the reasonable projection of Mayer's production, the Met might as well keep its venerable Frisell version, featuring Gianni Quaranto's most convincing sets. But Christine Jones's new sets, inspired by 59 Production's beautiful and colorful projections, look incredibly evocative, as do Susan Hilferty's costumes. Physical production will serve the company well, but unnecessary archeologists will wear out their welcome as quickly as Alfredo's immovable mute sister did in Mayer's “Disney.” The Traviata.
The big question that remains is why Mayer was asked to re-direct one of the Met's most beloved works when his two productions of Verdi—which became a hit in the 1950s in Las Vegas. Rigoletto (already abandoned for Bartlett Sher's highly successful Weimar mess) and The Traviata eyes—they are constantly insulted. We hope that the changes that occur later this season will help us love opera while we endure another Gelb misfire: this cast continues in HD on January 25. Christina Nilsson will make her debut as Aida, and the eagerly awaited return of Elina Garanca and -Amartuvshin Enkhbat Amneris and Amonasro are scheduled for the end of April.
