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Notwithstanding a very busy week which included rehearsals for Aida, the Annual dinner for Camerata members and a meeting of the Board of Directors of the Portland Opera, the General Director of the Opera, Christopher Mattaliano, took the time to sit down with Operaman and discuss some issues of vital interest to the continuing health of opera and the security of our country. Okay, I lied about homeland security. Who doesn't? But we did talk opera. When I say he sat down “with” me I use the word in its chronological rather than geographical sense. I was at home with a sheaf of notes and a beer and Mr. M was at a car wash somewhere. We had an interesting chat.

Operaman: let's start with the easy stuff, Chris. Encores - yes or no?
C.M. I think it's something you decide on a case-by-case basis. If a singer has just nailed a particularly wonderful aria and the audience wants to hear him or her sing it again and if the singer is prepared to do it and the conductor is okay with it, why not? There's a very long tradition of encores in opera. I know some houses have a no-encore policy but I don't have such a policy here in Portland. It seems to me it is a part of what can make a night at the opera a very special experience.
Operaman: Juan Diego Flórez got lots of ink last week for taking a bis of “Ah! Mes amis” at the Met. Apparently Peter Gelb contacted him weeks before the performance to arrange how they would deal with an encore and finally it was decided that there would be a telephonic hot line from Gelb's box and a red light on the conductor's podium to give him the go-ahead. Are you okay with that?
C.M. What?? There was? No! (CM took some persuading that this was widely publicized and acknowledged by Gelb. And while declining to condemn the event, C.M. did leave me with the very clear impression that he had been referring to a spontaneous outpouring of love and joy for the singer and that this rather more cynical approach to giving the audience a good time was not quite what he had in mind).
Operaman: Chris, the opera blogoshere has been all a-twitter recently over the issue of amplification of voices at the Met. I have heard you say many times that one of the wondrous things about opera is that the audience hears the natural unamplified voice. Talk to me about that.
C.M. I think they have been over-reacting. I draw a distinction between mic-ing the singing and mic-ing dialogue. As you know, when we have done singspiel here in Portland - Abduction From the Seraglio, Magic Flute and even Street Scene where there was lots of dialogue, it seems perfectly reasonable to amplify those dialogue sections. Singers aren't trained to project their speaking voices in the way actors are and when they are trying to have their spoken words heard in a 3500 seat house...
Operaman: In a sense that begs the question because the way the argument is being framed is that if the dialogue can't be heard because of the size of the house then that opera shouldn't be performed in that house.
C.M. I think that is unrealistic. The Met, Chicago, San Francisco, these are all bigger houses than the Keller… 3500, 4000 seats, that sort of size. And people want to hear Magic Flute. You can't expect these companies not to put on great Mozart opera, for instance, because it was written for a much smaller venue. The same with Fille du Regiment.
Operaman: That covers the dialogue issue. What about singing? The New York City Opera has been mic-ing singers for years.
C.M. I am sure they don't do it at the Met. As you know, I was on the directing staff at the Met from 1986-1992. Never did it. Never.
(Chris and I then had a discussion in which I told him that I have an impeccable source, Operaman's Mole At The Met, who has given me first-hand information of singers - big names - names of the bigness of Cecilia Bartoli for instance - who have been using amplification for years now. Other names of equal stature were mentioned.)
C.M. If you tell me that I have to believe you. But it's hard to believe. I believe that Peter Gelb is first and foremost a lover of opera and it's hard to believe he would lead opera down that road. If true, it would be a great tragedy.
Operaman : We know that Kristen Chenoweth will be mic-ed when she appears in John Corigliano's The Ghosts of Versailles at the Met in due course. He has said so. He said "Maybe it will start out mic-ed in her lower register where the voice doesn't project operatically. But it may end up unmic-ed in her coloratura register where it does.” This part was originally written for Marilyn Horne. Ms. Chenoweth is a Broadway star. Isn't this a case of Corigliano saying "She doesn't really have the voice for it so we'll need to pump up the volume in that big house"?
C.M. I know that opera very well. In fact I was the Assistant Director for the world premier of that opera which was at the Met with, as you say, Marilyn Horne. Her part was a cameo at the end of Act One. She was a hoot! Of course, she had a biiiig voice! I can only imagine that Corigliano is entirely rethinking the part for Chenoweth. It seems to me - and this is important - that Corigliano is making an aesthetic decision here. It's not just about bumping up the volume it's about coloring the sound in a different way.
Operaman: Like Adams in Nixon in China?
C.M. Exactly. He was trying to create a particular sound, to design the sound the audience would hear. I think you need to distinguish just increasing the volume of the singers' voices from aesthetic decisions the composer may make. Those are two very different matters. But isn't it ironic that audiences should now consider amplification of Broadway shows natural? These are small houses - 1000 seats or so. They shouldn't need any amplification but now some sound engineer sits at a board at the back of the house and produces a sound which is unrecognizable from what would be heard without amplification.
Operaman: Some people fear that opera is headed down the same road and that future generations of opera-goers will take it in stride.
C.M. That would be tragic.
Operaman: You said earlier that you think the opera blogoshere is over-reacting to these issues. How do you feel about blogs and bloggers?
C.M. Did you see in the newspaper last week that Melinda Bargreen is leaving the Seattle Times after being its music critic for 31 years? And she won't be replaced. (see her open letter to her colleagues here). She didn't blame the rise of blogging but I think in the next 5-10 years music critics, theater critics, they're all going to disappear. Blogging allows a dialogue which you can't get in the print media. Sure, you can write a letter to the Editor which may or may not be published but there isn't the instant gratification that you get from commenting on a blog and entering into real-time discussion. I like some blogs. I read Parterre Box...
Operaman: And Operaman!
C.M. Of course!
Operaman: I shouldn't let you go without asking you - how is Aida going? I am hearing that Lisa Daltirus is pretty spectacular.
C.M. I am very excited about this production. Yes, Lisa is spectacular. And Philip Webb is back. He sang Pollione in Norma for us last season and I think this current role (Radames) may suit him even better than that one. He is sounding great. And Greer (Grimsley) of course. I am a big fan of Greer. But the whole cast is coming together beautifully and, as I say, I am very excited.
Operaman : Thanks, Chris. I think I just heard someone in the background say your car is ready!
C.M. Thanks, Operaman!

I have just learned that last night (Tuesday) Juan Diego Flórez reprised 'Ah! Mes amis' his Act I aria from La Fille du Regiment currently in production at the Met. My informant tells me that his ovation was significantly more enthusiastic than that which greeted his performance of said cabaletta on Saturday. So. That's two bis in three performances - or, as patrons in two other well-known New York venues are won't to say, he's batting .667

Last Friday evening had an early dinner date at Jake’s Grill with Alexis Hamilton, Portland Opera’s Manager of Education and Outreach. She had invited me to attend the Destination Opera discussion at the Art Museum that evening and I thought it might be helpful to me if we could have a chat over a glass of Jake’s finest so that I could get an overview of what the panel and audience would be chatting about. I am so gald we did because, as you will probably have gathered by now, I am not possessed of a well-developed academic mind. My approach is usually more along the lines of “How can I know what I think until I hear what I say?” The delightful combination of sancerre and Alexis primed me perfectly and by the appointed hour I had gathered my wits into something resembling order and was ready to play with the grown-ups.

The discussion was about Exoticism and Orientalism in art. The panel comprised Bob Kingston who knows a thing or two about opera (his talks at the Keller before performances are always informative and insightful) together with an art historian and a dance historian. Alexis was the referee moderator. It was a lively and fun discussion and I plan to make a point of attending more of these. You should too. They are free and make for a very pleasant evening. Thanks Alexis!

No bis of “Ah! Mes amis” from Juan Diego Flórez at the Met. More on that later.

If you attended Saturday's Met simulcast of Donizetti's La Fille du Regiment and you didn't have a thoroughly fun time then I really think you should look for some other art form to enjoy because opera absolutely does not get any more fun than that. It's a silly opera and rather like some Shakespeare comedies it can suffer from not actually being very funny. Except yesterday. It was funny. Very, very funny. Natalie Dessay is a natural comedienne in the mould of Lucille Ball. She seems to have a natural flair for physical comedy and for comedic timing - something which cannot be taught. Whether she was ironing the soldiers’ shirts or marching or being carried aloft she was a downright hoot. As had been reported from Monday's opening night there was definite chemistry between her and JDF which came across most convincingly.

As my daughter Gracie has progressed through her teen years I have tried very hard not to overload her with parental advice on the basis that if I were to give her too much of it she would ignore or forget it. So I have restricted myself to three things which I have tried to drill into her head in the hope they will stick:

Oh, yes, ladies and gentlemen, he does.

On Friday evening I was invited St Mary's Cathedral to listen to the Choral Arts Ensemble, joined by the University of Portland Singers, a professional orchestra and some wailin' soloists, perform the Choral Fantasia and the Missa Solemnis by Ludwig van Beethoven. I first became aware of this performance when a few weeks ago Megan Elliott kindly left a comment on a previous blog entry of mine and then a few days ago I saw it advertised and, as I am currently on a Beethoven jag and still thinking about next season’s Fidelio and turning over in my mind just what I do think about Mr. van B and his vocal works, it seemed appropriate I should go hear the Mass which Beethoven himself declared to be his masterpiece. One does not often have an opportunity to hear this work performed. Why? Because it's damned difficult, that's why! Most amateur choirs can't sing it. This choir could sing it. Had to go, really.

Months ago when I became aware that Sweeney Todd would be coming to Portland as a part of the Fred Meyer Broadway Across America/Portland series I promised Elizabeth that somehow or other I would try to secure seats for us. How could I not?  She is such a Sondheim fan and knows this particular show with a degree of detail that is almost scary. Over the years, she has sung almost all of the score to me, played me the soundtrack from the Broadway production with Angela Lansbury and come with me to the recent movie version with Johnny Depp (I loved it!). And while by and large I am not really a Broadway fan I have high regard for Sondheim and know that this piece has made an appearance in the repertory of some top-notch opera companies - including our own. So when a good friend made me the beneficiary of four excellent seats I extended an invitation to Elizabeth and Holly and to Evan, a friend of ours. Sunday would be a big day.

The tension. The edge-of-the-seat nervousness and damp palms wrought by nail-biting anxiety. The guilty thrill one experiences when watching someone else's doom. Forgive me if I digress; I refer of course to The Masters which over the last four days has been unfolding on the almost too-perfect back-drop of Augusta National Golf Course. When that was over, having been won by a nice South African chap (as soon as I used that adjective you knew it wasn't Rory Sabbatini, right?) I sunk a swift Rogue Ale and met my guests at the Keller for the evening show - and the last performance of the current run here in Portland.

Let me get this off my chest right away. Fidelio is one strange opera. Until this last week I didn't know the work at all. Okay, I have many times heard the overture - known as Leonora Number 3 - which is played at all-Beethoven concerts. I have always liked it. And yet. Perhaps it's just me but when the composer has to have three cracks at the overture does it not make one wonder whether he really had a handle on the piece. I mean, if you went to a fine restaurant and the chef had to have three goes at the appetizer before it could be served wouldn't you be a tad concerned about how the main course was going to turn out? Anyway, other than the overture, I knew - nada. That of itself might not have put me off too much but then there's the fact that Beethoven didn't write any other operas. There are two ways of looking at this. One way is "He poured his entire operatic genius into this one work. Other operas would have been superfluous." The other is "Just one, huh? Not his thing , I guess. Did great piano sonatas though, didn't he?" I was inclined to the latter view so it's not like I have been sitting around and pining and waiting for someone to produce Fidelio.

And I am an unre-constructed opera fan. So when I invited Holly and Elizabeth to join me for a concert performance of this very opera I expected a chorus of "Thanks very much but we're washing our hair (doing our nails/castrating the cat) that evening". But no. Elizabeth surprised me with a very enthusiastic "I'd love to!" Umm. Okay then.

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 Signor Zeffirelli!!"

Young Opera Queen: What are those black birds circling around over there?
Old Opera Queen: Those are vultures, my dear.
YOQ: What are they waiting for?
OOQ: Tonights broadcast of T & I, my dear.
YOQ: Why?
OOQ: So they can rip it to shreds, of course.

Willym on La Cieca ( a well-known opera blog site)

So. It finally came to pass. La Voigt and Ben Heppner got their bio-rhythms in synch in time for the final performance of this present production at the Met of The Cornish Opera. The management at the Met were so excited that they decided to stream the performance live through their web site (a first for them) and the opera world spent the day wondering whether this thing would finally and actually take place. Even though I had seen the performance simulcast with Voigt but sans Heppner just a matter of days before I decided that I really had to tune in and listen because...well, you just never know, right? It could turn out to be the performance of a lifetime or a disaster beyond imagining - and either way I wasn't going to miss it. I went to La Cieca to see what she was saying about it and in addition to the comment shown above I discovered she would preside over a chat room appropriately to be named Tintagel. This on-line venue would be open to all throughout the performance allowing participants to comment on the peformance in real time. Well this was just way too good an opportunity to miss so at the appointed time I was there at my computer with a ready and plentiful supply of beer at hand (wine seemed inappropriate somehow).