The New York Times has an absolutely glowing review of the revival of Tchaikovsky's Eugene Onegin at the Metropolitan Opera, starring Dmitri Hvorostovsky, Renee Fleming and Ramon Vargas, conducted by Valery Gergiev. I love this staging, and happen to have been at the premiere in 1997. The production team was soundly booed on opening night, apparently for not providing a Zeffirelli-esque series of opulent dioramas. I thought the stark simplicity was incredibly beautiful, and the moment during the famous Letter Scene when Tatiana stepped outside of her "room" and ran around in circles in the autumn leaves covering the stage was unforgettable.
Alas, something has gone subtly but hilariously awry in Anthony Tommasini's review. He wrote, "[T]he powerful Russian bass Sergei Aleksashkin was very moving as the decent older Prince Gremlin."
The character's name is Gremin.
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I can only guess that the Grey Lady's columnists have to make do with spell-check these days, because the real live human editors with eyes and brains have been stricken from the paper's shrinking budget. Lamentable.
LOL! I have to say, I got to the end of your post and saw "gremlin" and thought... but what does that have to do with feeding a fish after midnight. OOOOHHH! Bass... not bass. I guess I fish more than I listen to opera.
I caught you a delicious bass.
I know this adds nothing, but I saw "bass" and that's what occurred to me.
I think it'd be an enormous help if Andy were to catch himself a delicious bass, or at least a baritone... ;-)
Ew, no singers! NO SINGERS! Especially not one from my own fach, ew ew ew. I'd prefer something more like a cellist. Mmmm, cello.
Ah, I was just thinking perhaps another singer could convince you to go back to doing what you're supposed to do.
Andy - there's always room for cello?
Oh my gosh! I can't believe I totally forgot the equally awesome joke.
All your bass are belong to us.
:D
Too played this month?
Well, I thought it was funny! As was room for cello.
why do the masses insist on zefferelli wedding cakes? Everything slatherd in gold and mold? ugh. give me robert wilson anyday.
Oh, do we have to have a discussion about Robert Wilson? Aesthetically, I frequently love what he does. In fact, I have a giant Die Walkure poster in my bedroom from his Der Ring des Nibelungen in Zurich. The opening of his Rheingold was thrilling and one of the most inventive, beautiful things I have ever seen.
BUT. I also had the opportunity to observe him during the initial staging rehearsals. I'll leave his temperament out of the discussion for the moment. What bothered me was that here he was, directing the Ring, and he had no idea what it was about. The Ring is incredibly, incredibly complex and sophisticated. Wagner, who was undeniably a genius of the most superior variety, worked on it for thirty years. You'd think if someone were going to direct it, they'd at least familiarize themselves with the plot before they show up for staging rehearsals. (But of course, as anyone remotely familiar with the Ring knows, the plot is absolutely the most superficial level of understanding of this work; knowing the "plot" doesn't mean you know the Ring.)
Anyway, so he'd have someone play a few minutes of a CD recording of the opera, then he'd stop and say, "Okay, what's happening here?" and an assistant would explain. Then he'd think for a bit, and tell the stand-in (he has to devise the staging long before the singers arrive to rehearse) to do some random gesture.
Now, his gestures are derived from classical Chinese theater, as I understand it, where there is a repertory of subtle gestures and movements that represent specific emotions and so forth, a very stylized form of theater. This would be absolutely BRILLIANT for the Ring if you could tie these gestures to the leitmotivs. But of course Robert Wilson wouldn't know the curse motive from the fire motive if it came up and circled him on a rock.
So what he got on the stage was visually arresting, and yet heartless and ultimately meaningless.
Zeffirelli wasn't always a hack. Just somewhere along the way he started doing these productions that were so elaborate they eclipsed the singers. And lavish, realistic productions have their place. Anyone who tried, for example, to do a minimalist or modern production of Ernani should be shot.
NB: I am not defending Robert Wilson, merely making an observation.
Yes, some of his gesture derives from classical Chinese theatre, BUT Wilson (like David Lynch) sometimes (often?) presents image for the sake of image, irrespective of meaning. The whole Theatre of Images aesthetic (and one of the reasons that it has such a difficult time working) is based on this concept of stripping preconceived or established meaning from the image, allowing it to stand on its own and create a whole new language/vocabulary. Wilson rarely seems to give much time to what anything actually means. (The Theatre of Images could, then, be seen as an outgrowth of Dadaism...Oh, someone spent too much time dissecting theatrical theory in college.)
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