Memories of the Metropolitan Opera, 11/17/24

Ricochetti will recognize me as the gynecologist who remembers classical music concerts. Of all the shows Mrs. Doc Robert and I attend, we have come to love operas the most. Opera offers a depth of emotion, beauty and excitement that exceeds even the symphonies of Beethoven and Mahler.

We were thus excited to receive the Metropolitan Opera schedule last summer and to buy tickets for four weekend matinees. Three days ago, we attended our second show of the season, Verdi’s Il Trovatore. Briefly, the opera is a revenge vehicle in which an old Gypsy woman, Azucena, induces the villainous Count de Luna to kill the hero, Manrico, whose beloved Leonora commits suicide by poison, dying in his arms rather than accept betrothal to the Count. In fact, de Luna and Manrico were brothers separated in infancy by events that led Azucena to erroneously immolate her own son instead of Manrico. Yeah, it’s complicated, but it’s a great show. Any show whose moral, as the program put it, is “to properly identify a baby before throwing him into a fire” has got to be full of dramatic music, and Trovatore has truckloads of wonderful tunes. Wonderful tunes + world-class singers = great opera.

We bought our tickets in August. Two weeks ago my stepdaughter, a professional pop singer, asked to attend. We were delighted to see that the seat next to ours in the first row of the Grand Tier was still open 12 weeks later, so we grabbed it for her. What a bit of luck, it was kismet!

Our Sunday morning ride to NYC from western Mass. took less than 3 hours, even with the time we took to pick up my stepdaughter in New Haven. Quickest trip ever. More kismet. After brunch in the Opera House restaurant, we took our seats and the show began.

Before the overture, the house manager came on stage and announced that the singer for the role of Leonora, Angela Meade, was nursing a cold but that she would carry on. Through the first two acts (played without pause) she sang well but not superbly — there was a catch in her upper register.

After intermission (and dessert in the restaurant), the house manager came back on to announce that Leonora was hanging it up and that her part would be sung by Leah Hawkins, the winner of this year’s Met Opera Beverly Sills Artists competition. Oh, and the tenor singing Manrico, Michael Fabiano, was himself nursing a cold, but he would carry on.

Ms Hawkins fit perfectly into the production. Act 3 had her in a convent struggling with questions of morality and fidelity up to a high C. After an initial moment of uncertainty, she sang beautifully, even brilliantly, throughout the act. It was very impressive to see how flawlessly she fit into the role that Ms Meade had vacated. They shared limpid high notes, impeccable pitch and even a certain physical similarity. We felt privileged to watch her first Met Opera performance.

Act 4 followed Act 3 without pause. In Act 4 the bulk of the singing belongs not to the soprano but to the tenor, who seemed stronger voiced than he had previously in this performance. His high notes especially were wonderful. However his makeup looked odd through my 4x opera glasses. Why would the production call for a change in the tenor’s makeup? The opera ends with his offstage beheading by de Luna’s soldiers (cymbal crash!) and a scream from Azucena that she now has revenge for the death of her own baby boy. As in Bizet’s Carmen, the hero’s death in the last 10 seconds of the opera, without any musical comment or time for reflection, gives a brutal finality, like a kick in the solar plexus to the whole audience.

The curtain fell on what had been a splendid performance. But before we could erupt in horrified applause, another house manager came out and announced that the part of Manrico had been sung in Act 4 by Arturo Chacón-Cruz, as Mr. Fabiano’s ague had proved overwhelming by the end of Act 3. Mr. Chacón-Cruz is an established Mexican tenor and he sang with distinction. “We saw more relievers than at a Red Sox game,” I joked to the couple sitting next to us, and the gentleman replied that “the relievers sang better than the starters.”

How the understudies fit into the production so seamlessly is a mystery to me. Opera is not just singing; there is also blocking, acting, and dealing with other singers. It seems to me that this would require separate rehearsals for the understudies, which would get expensive.

We found our way back to the car, paid $17 less than had been quoted for parking, and drove to New Haven where we enjoyed a meal in a tiny Italian restaurant. We were home by 11 and, jazzed by the events of the day, watched TV until almost 2.

The production was based on Goyesque themes, sets and costumes which were very effective. We much prefer productions done in period costume and this one did not disappoint. As always, the secondary singers were wonderful and the Met orchestra played like suave, sexy angels. I love the sound of the Met orchestra.

What will Mrs. Doc, our daughter and I remember of this performance? It was a day full of kismet, from the ticket, to the quick trip, to the parking, to the subbing in of two brilliant artists in place of indisposed principals. We may have seen the first major performance of an important young soprano.

I will treasure this production in my concert memory, at least until it gets knocked out by a grander performance. In January we will venture to NYC again, this time to see Tosca. Perhaps you will read about it here, in Ricochet.