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).

As an actor, it is rare to make the audience "feel" enough to cry.  I forget that occasionally the audience can get so wrapped up in the moment that they believe in the reality of the world onstage. As a young actor it is also rare to get so caught up in the moment that you find yourself weeping onstage for the girl who has just expired because her lungs have filled with a combination of blood and mucus causing pleural failure. In the event of these few and far between occurrences, the more sentimental members of the mature audience may be seen wiping their eyes, sniffing the moisture back into their noses that is the involuntary result of catharsis.
 
However, our four-year old was not watching La Boheme. The young lady was viewing an Opera Improv show on Wednesday evening. The story was our Fracture Fairy Tale option, where the Big Bad Wolf is placed at the bar for attempted murder and general disquiet in the realm of make-believe. The action began during the overture (Liszt's Totentanz), with the reveal of the Little Pig #3 being pursued by the Big Bad Wolf (yours truly). The porcine would-be victim escapes however (only to return later as the bailiff, "Officer Porker"), leaving the B.B.W. to begin the opera with a bit of improvised recitative.
 
It went somewhat thus:

"I'm the Big Bad Wolf! Though I've already had two little piggies for breakfast today, that third one will fit nicely in the fridge for a snack later. Too bad he got away! Oh well, that's okay, I like eating little children just as well!"
 
At this point, I licked my chops, hunkered down, and gazed with gastronomic yearning at the four-year old in question. She quivered, with fear, screamed, and had to be rescued by a young lady I assume to be her mother. The consolation proved effective, as her sobbing subsided, and eventually she returned to her place in the front row.
 
The remainder of the show went without issue, and our morbid audience voted for a tragic ending, where the B.B.W. is cleared of his charges due to a mistrial (Red Riding Hood was the judge in disguise, seeking revenge for her grandmothers demise).

I made an attempt at reconciliation with my four-year old after the show, but I think she had her doubts about my intent... after all, the villain won, and if a child can believe that a charming young singer could really be a wolf in human clothing, how is it any less satisfying than leaving an audience with damp cheeks for a dead Mimi?

--Sammuel "Wolfman" Hawkins

The truly gratifying part of the tour is when we perform for an engaged and receptive school audience, and they pay attention to specific details. This is true especially after we've had a long run with silent and "zombie-like" audiences who have no response whatsoever. Then when we suddenly hear the laughter and applause where we're normally not used to it, it makes it worthwhile. That signifies their sign of appreciation and that applause also counts for the time it took for us to set and strike the set (especially those 8am mornings). I'd also have to say it is rewarding when we perform for an older audience and you see and hear them tearing up. It makes the 50th performance that much more organic and engaging, and it allows us to forget how sleep-deprived we all really are.

The most amusing part of the tour has been: signing autographs for kids, getting hugs from them, and having the kids tell me their honest observations. They seem to like letting me know that I look like someone they know or they can get very personal. Here are a few examples:
 
"You're pretty. You look like Mulan."

"You look like and act like London from Disney's "The Suite Life of Zack and Cody."

"How old are you? You look like you're 18."

"My mom's as old as you."

"Are you married?"

"We know someone who'd be good for you. Our teacher."

"Do you really like Marcello? Are you guys going to stay together?"

(Ha...Ha...Ha...Hilarious!)
 
Written by Sarah Kim