[Note: I am re-reading this fascinating book about a distant relative of mine who was an acclaimed concert pianist, the god-son of Mathilde Wesendonck, a student of Hans von Bülow, a friend of Debussy, and a lover of Isadora Duncan. The book has become even more intriguing for me since discovering another quite obscure – but delightful – connection within my extended family.
Here is my original article:
It took me several readings of Isadora Duncan’s biography over the years before it sank in that pianist Walter Morse Rummel and I are distantly related. Walter Morse Rummel’s mother, Cornelia, was the daughter of Samuel F B Morse, inventor of the telegraph. My mother, Nancy Morse Gardner, also descends from Samuel F B Morse, and she sustained the connection by giving my brother Jeffrey the middle name Morse.
One aspect of Walter Morse Rummel’s life that particularly intrigues me is his rather obscure but fascinating connection to Richard Wagner: for Rummel’s god-mother was Mathilde Wesendonck (above, click on image to enlarge), from whose poetry Wagner drew for his gorgeous Wesendonck Lieder. Details of the life of Mathilde Wesendonck were not widely known, but that situation has now been at least somewhat remedied by the appearance of this book. The exact nature of the relationship between Wagner and Mathilde – whether it was sexual or merely spiritual – is unclear, but their mutual interest was the proximate cause of Wagner’s separation from his first wife.
But, back to the matter at hand: currently I am reading Prince of Virtuosos, a biography of Walter Morse Rummel by Charles Timbrell.
Walter Rummel was born in Germany in 1887. His father was the then-well-known British pianist Franz Rummel, and his mother – as noted previously – was American. Walter studied piano first in Washington, DC, and thereafter in Berlin where he trained with Leopold Godowsky. Walter Rummel held American citizenship, although his career was entirely in Europe.
By 1908, Walter Rummel was in Paris, where he belonged to Debussy’s inner circle. As a pianist, Rummel toured the countries of Europe, becoming well known for his cycles of ‘one-composer’ recitals which he repeated at many venues across the continent. He was especially admired for his Chopin and Liszt interpretations, though critics were divided sharply over his artistry. As a friend of Debussy, Rummel premiered ten of the composer’s piano works. He performed as soloist under the baton of many famed conductors, including Felix Weingartner and Reynaldo Hahn. Renowned as a pianist of immense creative power, Rummel specialized in the music of J S Bach; he transcribed several cantatas by Bach, as well as many pieces by Bach’s forerunners.
Charles Timbrell’s book is thoroughly and lovingly researched, especially in its detailing of Walter Rummel’s career as a major star in the pianistic firmament of his day: what he played – and where – is painstakingly cataloged. Against this factual background we read reviews of Rummel’s performances that veer from lauds worthy of a god to stark dismissiveness. It’s seems clear that Rummel was an erratic performer, which accounts for the wide range of critical reactions; audiences, however, tended to idolize him.
Above: Antoine Bourdelle’s fanciful depiction of Walter Rummel and Isadora Duncan; click on the image to enlarge
Rummel’s affair with Isadora Duncan began in 1919 when he signed on as musical director and accompanist for her frequent tours. Their collaboration resulted in some of Duncan’s best work, but when the pianist became enamoured of one of the Isadorables, Anna (Denzler) Duncan, things became very rocky between Walter and Isadora, and they went their separate ways.
Walter had a reputation as a womanizer, and one young lady seems to have committed suicide when she found her passion for the pianist was unrequited. In 1932, following two failed marriages, Walter Rummel married Francesca Erik, a Russian poetess who claimed to be a daughter of the last tsar. Francesca subsequently became the mistress of King Leopold of the Belgians; their liaison lasted five years during which time she remained married to Rummel, returning to him as the first winds of impending war began sweeping across Europe.
Above: Walter and Francesca Erik Rummel
Rummel’s unfortunate lapses of judgement in the late 1930’s and early 1940’s, when he performed in Germany and in Nazi-occupied France during the war, did serious damage to his career. He even filed for German citizenship, giving up his American citizenship. In 1944, venturing to Austria with Francesca, their papers were confiscated and he became a man without a country.
He thereafter had considerable difficulty explaining to Allied officials that he was apolitical and had performed during the war years wherever he was invited because music was his life. Eventually, he resumed his career but he was already experiencing the onset of spinal cancer from which he eventually died in 1953. Francesca, suffering from Parkinsons disease, went insane but lived on until 1976, dying in Montreux at the age of eighty.
One story recounted in the Timbrell biography which I found particularly moving was of Rummel’s encounter with Bernard Gavoty, critic of Le Figaro, who, in 1949, had given the pianist a severe review for what turned out to be his last concert with orchestra. Gavoty wrote years later that he had received a phone call from Rummel following the publishing of the review; Rummel asked the writer to meet him.
When they met in a small cafe, Gavoty was shocked by the appearance of the once-handsome pianist. Rummel began by saying, “Your review hurt me because it was correct, and it hit me at a time in my career and in my life when I have reason to doubt both. At certain moments, nothing is more unbearable than the truth.”
Gavoty felt uneasy, but said nothing. Rummel went on: “I once was an artist, of that I am sure. You were hearing me for the first time, weren’t you?” Gavoty nodded. “What a pity you hadn’t heard me earlier. I’m sure you would have liked my sound, which pleased Debussy…yes, it’s too bad…it’s too late.” Rummel then signed to the waiter and paid for Gavoty’s cup of tea, which the writer had not touched. He shook Gavoty’s hand and slowly walked away.
“The memory of my article burned my eyes…” Gavoty wrote, “…and I remained there in a stupor, prey to a vague discomfort, and understanding – a little late – that, between a cruel duty and an inadmissable compliance, there are cases when one should prefer silence.”
Walter Morse Rummel’s mystical recording of the Liszt transcription of Wagner’s Liebestod seems to me an ideal summation of my distant but curiously thrilling connection to him, and to Isadora. It is also – reportedly – the last piece of music he ever played: for Francesca, just before his final hospitalization. Listen to it here.
Lithuanian-born soprano Lilian Sukis (above) emigrated in 1950 to Canada with her family. From 1962, she studied voice at Toronto with – among others – Irene Jessner. In 1964, she appeared as Lady Billows in Britten’s Albert Herring for the opening of the MacMillan Theatre at the University of Toronto. Later that year, Ms. Sukis made her Canadian Opera Company debut as Kate Pinkerton in Madama Butterfly.
Moving to New York City in the mid-60s, she was contacted by the Metropolitan Opera where she debuted in 1966 and sang small roles in Parsifal, Frau ohne Schatten, Rigoletto, Elektra, Aida, and Peter Grimes. On March 17, 1967, Ms. Sukis created the role of Helen Niles in the world premiere of Marvin David Levy’s Mourning Becomes Electra at The Met. Thereafter, she was Woglinde in the Karajan Walkure, and sang Gluck’s Euridice, Nedda, and Pamina before leaving The Met in 1972.
I met Lilian Sukis after a performance of Mourning Becomes Electra; soon after, I found myself sitting next to her at a Sills evening at New York City Opera. She remembered me, and we chatted thru the intermissions. We kept in touch, and when she made her New York Town Hall recital debut in 1969, she invited me:
(I took the photo of her at the top of this article after the recital.)
Ms. Sukis had told me (see letter above!)that she was going to be joining the Munich State Opera; for a couple of years, she sang at both Munich and The Met. At the Munich Olympic Festival (1972) she sang the title-role in the premiere of the Korean composer Isang Yun’s opera Sim Tjong, which had been written for her.
Following that success, her career centered in Europe, and we eventually lost contact. During the 1970s Ms. Sukis sang at the opera houses in Bayreuth, Frankfurt, Graz, Hamburg, Munich, Salzburg, and Vienna. Her roles included the Countess in Strauss’s Capriccio, Fiordiligi in Cosi fan tutte, Miss Jessel in The Turn of theScrew, Leila in Les Pêcheurs de perles, Mélisande in Pelléas et Mélisande, Micaëla in Carmen, Mimi in La Bohème, Pamina in The Magic Flute, Servilia in La Clemenza di Tito, Violetta in La Traviata, and the title roles in Strauss’ Daphne and Dvořák’s Rusalka. In 1977 she played Frau Fluth in a film version of Nicolai’s Merry Wives of Windsor. In 1979 she sang Lisa in The Queen of Spades at Festival Ottawa. Her career continued into the 1990s as a leading soprano with the Bavarian State Opera.
Above: Lilian Sukis in a film of Der Graf von Luxembourg
(This article was a labor of love; it didn’t make the jump from the Grove to the Glade in the big transfer, but I’ve copied and pasted it to the Glade, in memory of Marvin David Levy, who I had the great please of meeting and getting to know. Thank you, Marvelo!)
Please click on each photo enlarge.
Above: Marie Collier and Evelyn Lear in MOURNING BECOMES ELECTRA at the Met, 1967
Author: Oberon
Marvin David Levy’s MOURNING BECOMES ELECTRA is, for me, the great American opera. Everything about the work is American: the composer and librettist (Henry Butler) were Americans who based their opera on the epic drama of the same name by the great American playwright Eugene O’Neill, and the opera is set in a small New England town, during the years 1865-66.
Above, the Met’s MOURNING team: Boris Aronson (designer), Marvin David Levy (composer), Michael Cacoyannis (director), Zubin Mehta (conductor), and Henry Butler (librettist)
MOURNING BECOMES ELECTRA was premiered at the Metropolitan Opera House on March 17th, 1967 during the first season at the new opera house at Lincoln Center. Though often described as a ‘failure’, audience enthusiasm ran high both times I saw it, with extended ovations; and I’ve found many positive reviews.
The Met put forward a powerful cast of singing-actors, especially for the two diva roles: Marie Collier as Christine and Evelyn Lear as Lavinia, both in their Met debuts. These two sopranos provided plenty of vocal and dramatic fireworks. It was a production that gave Sherrill Milnes, then a relative newcomer to The Met, a great opportunity in the role of Adam Brant. John Reardon made a striking impression as the hapless Orin, teetering on the brink of madness. Bassos John Macurdy and Raymond Michalski excelled as General Ezra Mannon and the servant Jed respectively; and I fell in love with soprano Lilian Sukis, who sang Helen Niles (read more about Lilian, further down). The young lyric baritone Ron Bottcher made his mark as Peter Niles, Lavinia’s hopeful suitor. On the podium, Zubin Mehta brought out the melodic aspects of the score as well as the eerie themes associated with a family on the verge.
The score contains themes that might almost be thought of as leifmotifs. They have remained in my mind over all these years, associated with the words from the libretto: “Adam, my love, your face…so pale…so strange…”; “How death becomes the Mannons…”; “You bring the gift of love, Christine…”; “No, Adam, no…not like this…”; and “A long and lonely life…”. These melodic fragments, often cinematic in feeling, are first heard in the prelude, after which the story – of an ongoing duel between mother and daughter – begins to unfold.
[Note that the colour photos below – from what appears to be a costumed rehearsal at The Met – were given to me by Marvin David Levy. No photographer was credited. The composer wrote notes in the border of each photo.]
The opera opens before the facade of the Mannon house, which looms up out of the shadows as the curtain rises. General Ezra Mannon is returning home from the Civil War. His wife Christine has been having an affair with the sea captain Adam Brant, who comes to the house under the guise of courting the Mannons’ daughter, Lavinia. Lavinia, who adores her father and hates her mother, knows about the Christine/Adam liaison:
A key factor in the drama has been revealed by the servant Jed: that Adam Brant is the bastard son of Ezra Mannon’s brother David and a servant girl, Marie Brantôme.
After Lavinia tells her mother and Brant that they must renounce their affair or she will tell her father of it, she leaves the lovers to say a final goodbye. But Christine has a plan in mind, and tells Brant that she will find a way to come to his ship so they can plan their escape together.
Ezra’s return home is celebrated by the townsfolk with a torchlight gathering. When Ezra and Christine are alone that night, she reveals her love for Adam. Ezra is stricken with a heart attack. He cries out for his medicine, but Christine gives him poison instead. As Ezra dies, Lavinia rushes into the room in time to hear her father accuse Christine of murder.
Christine (Marie Collier) reveals her deceit to Ezra (John Macurdy).
Above: Watched by Lavinia (Evelyn Lear, far right), Orin Mannon (John Reardon) returns home for his father’s funeral and is lovingly greeted by his mother, Christine (Marie Collier). Orin has sustained a head wound in battle. Christine is thrilled to see her son, as are his young friends Helen and Peter Niles (brother and sister).
Lavinia draws her brother away from the amiable chatter and sends him into the library. Orin stands stands before his father’s coffin, torn between guilt and hatred:
Orin: “How death becomes the Mannons… My duty is to pray for you but not to mourn. You taught me that a soldier does not weep. How death becomes the Mannons. You never cared for me, nor I for you… but we might meet as friends now that you are dead.”
Lavinia tells Orin about the poison; she places the empty vial in her father’s dead hands. Entering, Christine sees it and goes berserk. She collapses, muttering “…cast me down, but Adam must not die…Adam must not die…!”
Orin adores his mother, but now sees her as an adulteress and murderer. He and Lavinia secretly plan to follow Christine to a rendezvous with Brant aboard his ship.
Waiting for Christine to arrive, Brant sings his tormented aria “Too weak to kill the man I hate”; Sherrill Milnes later recorded this aria, and as far as I know it is the only commercial recording of any part of MOURNING. (It seems Naxos recorded the entire opera from a live performance – possibly the Seattle production – but Mr. Levy had misgivings about one of the singers as did not approve its release).
Above: the shipboard quartet: Christine arrives; she and Brant go below as Lavinia and Orin listen thru an open hatch from above. They hear their mother describe Ezra’s murder to Brant. The lovers plan to meet when things have settled, and sail away.
This scene contains two of the opera’s most haunting musical moments: when Adam tells his beloved, “You bring the gift of love, Christine…the rest is simple price.” And later, as she departs. Christine turns to Brant and, looking at his face in the moonlight, sings: “Adam, my love…your face, so pale…so strange. If I leave you, shall I ever see you again?” Listen for these motifs below:
Once Christine has departed, Orin goes below and stabs Brant to death. Lavinia sends Orin into the adjoining cabin to ransack it, so that theft appears the motive. Alone, she gazes at Adam’s body and realizes her feelings towards him. The music becomes almost cinematic as she sings, “No, Adam, no…not like this!” Then she curses him – “May the soul of our cousin Adam Brant rest in peace…and burn in Hell!” – and then flees with her brother into the night:
Returning home with the first light of dawn, Orin finds his mother pacing restlessly in front of the house. He callously tell her that Adam Brant is dead.
Christine (Marie Collier, above) goes mad with grief, enters the house, and shoots herself:
After a year, Orin and Lavinia (Evelyn Lear and John Reardon, above) return from a long sojourn in the tropics. Lavinia comes back rejuvenated, having cast off her inhibitions among the islanders; but Orin is consumed by guilt…
…and longing. He tries to force himself on his sister sexually (above). Lavinia’s resistance drives Orin mad, and he shoots himself with the gun she has handed him:
A few days later, after Orin has been buried, Peter Niles comes to ask Lavinia to marry him. She accepts, and clings to him passionately. But then, she accidentally calls him “Adam”, and Peter withdraws.
Here’s my cast page from the first time I saw the opera:
It’s lovely to have Lilian Sukis’s signature from that performance. Although the role of Helen is quite brief, the young woman is coaxed by Christine to sing a favorite song of Orin’s when he has returned from the war…to which Ms. Collier harmonized:
Lilian and I met by chance not long after at a Beverly Sills performance at New York City Opera, where she invited me to her New York solo recital debut, which I attended. I took her photo there:
Singing Helen in MOURNING put Lilian on the map with some of the Met fans in my circle. She eventually left the Met and became a popular artist at the Bavarian State Opera at Munich.
The Met thought well enough of MOURNING BECOMES ELECTRA to give it in a second season, and I attended what turned out to be the last performance (to date) of the opera at The Met. During the prolonged applause and numerous curtain calls, I was at the orchestra railing with Matthew Epstein – who went on to become a major force in the opera world as a manager of singers – and we agreed that the Great American Opera had been written. I believe Matthew attended every performance of MOURNING given at The Met.
Above: the cast page from my second MOURNING performance, signed by Mssrs Reardon and Milnes, and by the composer. That evening, the two prima donnas signed the photo that appears at the top of this article. Mr. Levy had made major revisions to his opera for this second Met run – and he would continue to do so over the ensuing years. Myself, I remained faithful to the original.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ It would be thirty years before MOURNING would be staged in the United States again, but it did have its European premiere at Dortmund, Germany, in 1970 (production poster above). While I could recall that soprano Colette Lorand sang Lavinia, I could not find more information about this production on-line. I contacted the Dortmund Opera to see if they could provide cast and production details. I received a gracious reply from the Company’s librarian, Kerstin Witt, who sent me what little was available in their archive about the production.
Madame Lorand, who gained fame singing Mozart’s Queen of the Night, later took on a vast repertoire that included many 20th-century works. How I wish I could have met her and talked to her about singing Mr. Levy’s opera; having had such a busy and eventful career, I wonder if she would have remembered it at all. She passed away in 2019.
Above is the cast of the Dortmund production. Most of these singers names are completely unfamiliar to me, though I know that Joy McIntyre was a leading soprano with major opera houses in Europe during the 1960s and 70s. She sang at Munich, Vienna, Salzburg, Rome, Berlin, Hamburg, Düsseldorf, Geneva, Barcelona and Copenhagen; her portrayals of Ortrud, Kostelnicka, and the Dyer’s Wife were praised. Ms. McIntyre sang under such conductors as Wolfgang Sawallisch, Marek Janowski, Bruno Maderna, Christoph von Dohnanyi, Leopold Hager, Carlos Kleiber and Olivero di Fabritis, and was acclaimed for her Ortrud in a production of LOHENGRIN staged by the composer’s grand-daughter, Friedelind Wagner.
Seeing the name of Guillermo Sarabia listed for the role of Adam Brant brought back memories of the very fine performances I saw him give: twice as Wagner’s Dutchman – in semi-staged concert performances in Houston (1972) and at Springfield, Massachusetts (opposite Klara Barlow’s Senta) – and as Verdi’s Macbeth, with Cristina Deutekom and Ferruccio Furlanetto, at The Bushnell in Hartford in 1982. Mr. Sarabia died at the young age of 49 in 1985.
Above: some rehearsal images from the Dortmund production of MOURNING..
Above: more Dortmund rehearsal images; I believe that’s Ms. McIntyre on the left and Ms. Lorand on the right, directly above.
Above: set design for the façade of the House of Mannon, for the Dortmund premiere
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In 1998, the Chicago Lyric Opera mounted a gorgeous production of MOURNING, which the composer had revised still further. It was a big success with press and public alike, and there was renewed interest in the piece. The Chicago cast featured Lauren Flanigan as Christine, Cynthia Lawrence as Lavinia, Randolph Locke (a tenor) as Orin, Jason Howard (Adam Brant), and Kevin Langan (Ezra Mannon).
Here are some images from the Chicago production:
Lauren Flanigan as Christine and Cynthia Lawrence as Lavinia
Mother and daughter (Lauren Flanigan and Cynthia Lawrence) nearly come to blows
Jason Howard as Adam Brant and Cynthia Lawrence as Lavinia
Jason Howard as Adam Brant and Lauren Flanigan as Christine. Here is the scene from Act I where Christine tells Adam of her plan to kill her husband, Ezra. Lauren Flanigan is at her most thrilling here:
On the verge of homicide: Lauren Flanigan as Christine goads her husband Ezra Mannon (Kevin Langan) with the truth about her affair with Adam Brant.
In the opera’s final scene, with her parents and brother dead, Lavinia is on the verge of accepting Peter Niles’ proposal of marriage (Brett Polegato and Cynthia Lawrence, above); but when she inadvertently calls Peter, “Adam…”, that plan is undone.
1998 was the year I moved to New York City, and thru my job at Tower Records I met someone in 2001 who was a great MOURNING enthusiast; he gave me a cassette of the Chicago performance of MOURNING. This prompted me to locate Mr. Levy’s website; there was a mailing address on the site, to which I sent a long fan letter. After some months, I received this reply:
We e-mailed back and forth for a bit; at that time I had no idea of the terrible health issues he was dealing with, so when he stopped writing I simply figured he was busy. The New York production was to be shared with Seattle Opera, and I knew he was doing some revisions.
Then one day in late February 2004, I was paged to pick up a phone call in the opera room at Tower. “Philip! It’s Marvelo!” Long pause. “Marvin David Levy!” He was coming to New York for rehearsals of the NYC Opera production of MOURNING. It was a 2-minute conversation we had that day: he asked about my work schedule and said he would see me ‘soon’.
Sure enough, one March day, he came in to meet me. From my diary: “…he is a wonderful, kind man who is unfortunately suffering from a terrible disease that is affecting his spinal column, causing severe nerve damage and excruciating pain. But he stood and talked with me for several minutes about his opera that I love, and about the NYCO cast and production. Despite his upbeat chatter, his pain was so evident that I dismissed my idea of taking him to lunch. Instead I helped him down to the main floor, and got him a cab. ‘Which performance will you be at?’ he asked me as he slowly sank into the cab’s seat. I told him the dates. ‘Twice!! You are a good man!’ “
As the cab pulled away, I thought to myself that I might not ever meet him again. But I was wrong.
Above: Lauren Flanigan as Christine at the New York City Opera
The City Opera’s production was visually impressive, though lacking in the dark, brooding feeling that made the Met’s staging so effective. Lauren Flanigan was simply magnificent as Christine, using her intriguingly flawed voice to optimum emotional effect. She made the character overwhelmingly sympathetic. Emily Pulley was likewise very fine as Lavinia; she had been singing at The Met, but nothing she had done there prepared me for her riveting performance in Mr. Levy’s opera.
Jason Howard’s handsome Adam Brant made the spell he was able to cast over the Mannon women thoroughly understandable, and Kurt Ollmann as Orin sang beautifully though he did not quite find the expressive colours of dementia in his vocalism that made John Reardon so mesmerizing in the part. Stephen West was a splendid Ezra Mannon, and NYCB veteran Don Yule scored yet again with a strong portrayal of Jed. As the Niles siblings, Tonna Miller and Richard Byrne did what they could with the roles, which in this revision have been marginalized. The orchestra played very well indeed under George Manahan’s baton.
I attended the New York City Opera’s production of MOURNING twice; at the prima, I did not see Mr. Levy until he appeared onstage for a bow at the end of the performance. I brought my friend Rob Scott to the second performance (we sat in the front row!), and Mr. Levy saw us in the lobby as we entered the theatre. He made a beeline for us, and chatted us up delightfully.
In all honesty, I did not like most of the revisions that Mr. Levy had made to the score. Especially disappointing were the interjections (both vocal and dramatic) of Christine and the Mannon ghosts into Lavinia’s chilling final aria, which Evelyn Lear had sung so tellingly. But it was truly exciting to hear MOURNING again, and with an excellent cast.
Marvin David Levy’s MOURNING BECOMES ELECTRA was performed for the last time – to date – in 2013 by the composer’s “home” company, Florida Grand Opera. Lauren Flanigan (above) repeated her searing performance as Christine, and the production – and the opera itself – drew very positive critical response.
Marvin David Levy passed away at Fort Lauderdale, Florida, in 2015.
Something I had not known at the time I met Mr. Levy: a few years after the Met’s performances of his opera, Marvelo had been convicted of serving as a bag-man for a drug syndicate, and he served time in prison. He told an interviewer that the experience changed his view of life completely.
Thanks to both Kerstin Witt, archivist of the Openhaus, Dortmund, and Clark Rahman of the Metropolitan Opera Guild who provided valuable documentation about MOURNING.
So here, dear Marvelo, is the article I have been working on (for over a year) about your thrilling opera. I hope that – wherever you are – you will find it, read it, and recall the conversations and correspondence we shared. And I hope that you are writing song cycles for Evelyn and Marie, and enjoying champagne brunches with those Mannon women.
(Continuing to bring articles from Oberon’s Grove forward to the Glade. Many items were somehow skipped in the initial transfer. I am racing against time to copy-and-paste stories that are especially dear to me.)
Above: Ermonela Jaho as Violetta; photo by Jonathan Tichler/Met Opera. Click on the images in this article to enlarge.
Sunday January 8th, 2023 matinee – One of the most thrilling Met performances in recent years, today’s matinee of LA TRAVIATA centered on the mesmerizing Violetta of the Albanian soprano Ermonela Jaho. Her colleagues – the Spanish tenor Ismael Jordi and the Mongolian baritone Amartuvshin Enkhbat – aligned perfectly with the beloved diva, and a strong supporting cast joined the stellar trio to make Verdi’s masterpiece come vividly to life.
Ms. Jaho’s voice sounded rather dry and throaty at first, but by the time the Brindisi was being sung, she had found her vocal footing, and she sent her incandescent, spinning upper notes gleaming into the hall. In “Un di felice” Mr. Jordi proved himself a perfect partner for the soprano; their timbres blended to spine-tingling effect, their sustained, tapering harmonies displaying a shared gift for piano/pianissimo colourings. A wonderfully intimate atmosphere was created.
Now alone on the great stage, Ms. Jaho drew us deep into the character’s thoughts with the hushed introspection of her “Ah, fors e lui” in which the lines were spun out to delectable effect. Her “Sempre libera” was subtle rather than extroverted, the silvery top notes lingering magically in the air, the final note sustained until the curtain fell.
In Act II, Violetta’s fragile happiness is shattered by the intrusion of Alfredo’s father. Throughout their long scene together, Ms. Jaho made every note and word count; in phrase after phrase, the soprano put up a valiant fight to keep her world from from falling apart. The whispered desperation of “Era felice troppo,..“, the terrified uttering of “Gran dio!” when Germont tells her that her love for his son is hopeless, the bitter resignation of “Cosi alla misera…” were all part of the Jaho magic, leading to her surrender with the hushed tracery of “Dite alla giovine…” upon which her fate is sealed.
In Amartuvshin Enkhbat, Ms. Jaho had an ideal vocal partner, for the rich-timbred baritone could scale his tone down to a fine piano. And even though he is winning, this Germont could not help but be touched by Violetta’s suffering, since Ms. Jaho’s expressive vulnerability could move a heart of stone.
The plaintive clarinet solo as Violetta writes her farewell letter to Alfredo has never sounded so forlorn. Despite the conductor’s bungling of the accompaniment, “Amami, Alfredo…!” made its usual heart-breaking effect.
The tension at Flora’s party was palpable, and even while arguing, Ms. Jaho and Mr. Jordi could not stop themselves from embracing. But she keeps her resolve and bravely faces his denunciation. Mr. Jordi’s instant realization of the damage he has done was indeed touching, and as Ms. Jaho sang to him of her enduring love in “Alfredo, Alfredo, di questo core” she slowly crossed the stage and knelt before him where he sat, shunned by all, and tried to comfort him.
The crushing sadness of the opera’s final scene seemed more poignant than ever today, with Ms. Jaho’s hypnotic reading of Germont’s letter, and the alternating currents of despair and of a passionate desire to live that pulsed thru the soprano’s multi-hued singing of “Addio del passato”, gnawed at my heart. The fleeting joy of their reunion, the sweetly harmonized, desperate hope of “Parigi, o cara…” and the bitter realization that it is all too late felt so real, and so devastating, today.
Throughout my sixty years of opera-going, having seen so many memorable Violettas – from Albanese to Zylis-Gara – I must say that Ermonela Jaho has assumed a unique place in that pantheon. Meeting her briefly after the performance, all I could say to her was “I love you!”
Above: Ismael Jordi as Alfredo and Amartuvshin Enkhbat as Germont; photo by Jonathan Tichler/Met Opera
Mr. Jordi, tall and slender, was a truly convincing Alfredo both vocally and dramatically. His ardent, pleasing lyricism made his duets with Ms. Jaho so appealing, and his singing of the Act II aria was most beautifully and persuasively phrased, although his sustained top-C in the cabaletta was ungraciously covered by Armiliato’s thoughtlessness. A handsome and compelling actor, Mr. Jordi captured the youthfulness, rebelliousness, wild jealousy, and desperate remorse of the young man to perfection.
Mr. Enkhbat sounded glorious in the big hall. One of the many voices to emerge triumphant from the Cardiff Singer of the World Competition – he won the Audience Prize there in 2015 – he is most welcome at The Met. Displaying a rich, darkish, and powerful sound, Mr. Enkhbat showed a natural affinity for the Verdian line, and brought to the music a wealth of dynamic nuance. His great aria, “Di Provenza“, was gloriously sung, and he even made me like the ensuing cabaletta, “No, non udrai rimproveri ” which I normally find holds up the action; today I found myself wishing for the second verse, the better to savour the Enkhbat voice. The baritone won a huge volley of cheers at his curtain calls, and we can only hope that we shall be hearing him here again very soon.
Edyta Kulczak made a lovely impression as Flora, with Christopher Job as her admirer d’Obigny. Paul Corona was a powerfully-sung Dr. Grenvil, and Scott Scully a lively Gastone. Patrick Miller actually made something out of Giuseppe’s lines, and Jonathan Scott delivered Violetta’s message firmly. Mezzo-soprano Deborah Nansteel created a moving Annina, singing handsomely as Violetta’s faithful maid. I had been looking forward to hearing John Hancock as Baron Douphol, but Dwayne Croft stepped in and sounded very impressive. In the silent role of Mlle. Germont, my dancer/friend Allegra Herman was a poignant witness to Violetta’s death; I was moved by the moment when Alfredo embraced his sister, showing that he bore her no ill will in the end.
In the pit, Marco Armiliato’s pacing was very fine, and he allowed the singers leeway to sustain lines and to introduce piano effects at just the right moments. But he also sometimes covered the singers, which seems to be pretty commonplace at The Met these days.
It was a great pleasure for me to join in the ecstatic ovation for Ms. Jaho at the end. I felt a curious need to go to the stage door and thank the singers personally, but with my innate shyness I was unable to express myself adequately once I stepped up to meet them. Of course, after they had all left, I thought of so many things I should have said.
Ms. Jaho was so kind, and so understanding:
The tenor was very friendly; my pen unfortunately ran out of ink as Mr. Enkhbat was signing:
Above: Ermonela Jaho and Ismael Jordi as Violetta and Alfredo; photo by Ken Howard/MET Opera
(Souvenirs of a beautiful dance memory, captured by my friend Kokyat.)
Click on each image to enlarge.
Monday March 14, 2011 – OtherShore’s Sonja Kostitch and ABT soloist Sascha Radetsky (above, in Kokyat’s photo) team up to dance a duet from Edwaard Liang’s dramatic work LIFT for the upcoming performances of Dancers Responding to AIDS: Dance from the Heart, an annual benefit which this year features a powerhouse roster of dancers in many genres who will converge on March 21st and 22nd at Cedar Lake theater for these special evenings.
In February, Kokyat and I went to Brooklyn to watch a rehearsal for one of the pieces to be performed at the DRA programmes: VESPERS, a duet by David Grenke. It was great to meet David who I remember vividly from his days dancing with Paul Taylor Dance Company. Kokyat loved photographing dancers Shannon MacDowell and Brian Runstrom in the late-Winter light of the studio.
After this, I decided to see if Sonja would like us to cover her rehearsal as well; we’d been to OtherShore’s showing of THE SOCIAL BAND which Kokyat photographed and we had connected with her there; she graciously invited us to watch her and Sascha rehearse today. The frosting on the cake was that Edwaard Liang would also be there, a peerless danseur and now firmly ensconced in the choreographic pantheon.
OtherShore premiered LIFT in 2008 and I really enjoyed it. Since then, Edwaard Liang’s choreographic career has taken off like crazy; whenever you check in with him on Facebook he’s in a different city working on something. Luckily today he was home in New York City (just back from Singapore and Washington DC, and leaving again in a few days) and was at the studio to work with Sonja and Sascha on the duet.
The music for LIFT comes from Clint Mansell, the noted film composer whose most recent score for BLACK SWAN was the best thing about that uneven film.
When we arrived, Sonja and Sascha had the pas de deux down in terms of movement and partnering; they did several more run-thrus both with and without music, ironing out elements of placement, perfecting the nuances of gesture and expression, and giving the dance the seamless flow of motion that Edwaard was seeking. Both Edwaard and OtherShore co-founder Brandi Norton were able to suggest slight alterations which Sonja and Sascha immediately filtered into their work.
The two dancers look beautiful together, and I’m looking forward to seeing this piece next week at Cedar Lake where it will be danced at both the 6:30 and 8:30 PM showings on the 22nd.
Edwaard Liang retired from dancing a year-and-a-half ago, much to my dismay; observing him demonstrating some of the elements of his pas de deux today reminded me keenly of how much I simply love watching him move. While Sonja and Sascha took a break, Edwaard worked a bit on a solo he is devising as a compulsory element for the male entrants in the upcoming Boston International Ballet Competition; although he modestly said that as a retiree, his dancing was rusty he looked perfectly wonderful to Kokyat and me.
Although in recent months I’ve met some of the greatest dancers on the planet in studio settings, I’m still starstruck and a little nervous in their presence. Meeting Sascha Radetsky today was a genuine pleasure: he’s sincere, down-to-earth and truly committted to what he’s doing. It was a real privilege to watch him and Sonja working together at close range.
Here are a couple more of Kokyat’s images from the rehearsal:
Above: Lisette Oropesa as Violetta in LA TRAVIATA, photo by Richard Termine. Click on the image to enlarge.
~ Author: Oberon
Monday March 9th, 2020 – Cuban-American soprano Lisette Oropesa has been enjoying a great success as Violetta in the Metropolitan Opera’s production of LA TRAVIATA; Wei and I attended tonight, and it’s clear that this role suits her to perfection: both vocally and dramatically, she is outstanding.
TRAVIATA is the opera I’ve seen more than any other. My Violettas have included everyone from Albanese to Zylis-Gara; the last time I counted (a few seasons back) I had seen some sixty different sopranos in this opera, not to mention those experienced on recordings and videos. I know most of the words and all of the notes, and I have very definite ideas about what I want to hear in a performance of this demanding role. To date, Patricia Brooks, Anna Moffo, and Diana Soviero have been the most memorable of my many damesaux camellias, and now Lisette Oropesa enters this elite echelon.
The Met’s production would be much more attractive if the Dinseyeqsue techni-colour schemes were toned down. A large bed smack in the middle of the stage means everything must be played around this piece of furniture. The set is otherwise sparsely furnished – desk, piano, a couple of chairs – and these remain onstage throughout. Thus at Flora’s party, the men play cards on top of Violetta’s pianoforte which in previous scenes had been in the courtesan’s Paris townhouse and her country retreat.
The bed is also the site of part of Violetta’s interview with Germont père, providing that gentleman an opportunity to make a pass at his son’s girlfriend. Frank Corsaro’s 1970 production at NYCO also featured such an incomplete pass. But probably the biggest defect in the current Met production is the introduction of Germont’s daughter as a silent presence. It doesn’t make sense for the upright Germont to bring his virginal teenaged daughter into the presence of a whore: the girl might get ideas. Later, Mlle. Germont witnesses Violetta’s death; I kept hoping Alfredo would smack her.
Of course, both preludes are ‘staged’, but in a way this was not really off-putting. One aspect of the production I really liked was the ‘change of seasons” subtly depicted as the story evolved. The ballet, on the other hand, suffered from hideous costumes and awful choreography; still, it was nice to see Barton Cowperthwaite on the Met stage, as a shirtless matador.
The conducting of Bertrand de Billy was dutiful but not inspired, and there were minor failures of communication between him and his singers; usually, I felt, those onstage wanted faster tempi than the maestro was serving up.
For all these misgivings, the overall effect of the evening was of being much more than the sum of its parts: the opera stood emphatically on the power of Ms. Oropesa’s interpretation of the title-role. She was extremely moving.
As Lisette began to sing, my mind wandered back to the night I first heard her, in a tiny role in Mozart’s IDOMENEO, in 2006. At that time, it was just the intriguing sound of her voice that captivated me; I could not have predicted then all that would transpire for her…all I knew was: this was a voice to love.
Lisette’s voice fills the cavernous Met with clarity of tone and a remarkable range of vocal hues; her way with the words captivated me all evening, and she brings numerous individual touches to the music that make it very much her own. In this role, she darkened the tone in certain lower passages – understandably – for dramatic effect, though she really didn’t need to as her voice speaks so perfectly in the House without over-emphasis. It almost goes without saying that the coloratura of Act I was delivered with brilliance and a feeling of desperate gaiety as she tries to block out the offstage voice of Alfredo reminding her that “…love is the heartbeat of the universe”.
How I missed, at this point, the emblematic solo bow that all the great Met Violettas of the past have always taken after “Sempre libera“…the bow lights coming up, the gold curtain parting, the soprano – usually both exhausted and elated – stepping out…roses being flung…the roar of the crowd. Sometimes, an especially beloved Violetta would be called out three or four times. But those days will never return; nowadays, audience members rush up the aisle immediately at the curtain’s fall, checking their cellphones.
I’m sure everyone expected the Act I scena to be a tour de force for Ms. Oropesa, but it was in the remaining scenes of the opera, as Violetta’s world collapses and her doom is is sealed, that the soprano revealed depths of feeling and emotion that moved me to the core. At “Dite alla giovine…”, the phrase with which Violetta capitulates to Germont’s demand that she give up his son, Lisette sustained the long note that leads into the phrase, as if knowing that by speaking these words, her fate would be determined. Throughout the duets with Luca Salsi, the evening’s very impressive Germont, Lisette made every word and note count. Later, bidding what she believes is her final farewell to Alfredo with “Amami Alfredo…”, Lisette poured out the iconic melody with great lyrical intensity.
In the Gambling Scene, where – unfortunately – Alfredo ‘showered’ Violetta with franc notes rather than hurling them scornfully at her, Lisette’s reply to her errant lover’s tirade was so simply and directly sung, so full of pain yet also of understanding: Alfredo simply doesn’t know what he has done.
In the entire final scene of the opera, Lisette’s interpretation of every phrase and gesture ranked with those of the most compelling singing actresses I have watched move though this character’s resignation, momentary elation, hope, terror, and despair. Ever the scrupulous musician, Lisette perfectly etched in the written trills at “Ora, son forte…vedi?…sorrido.” which are so often glossed over.
Now we come down to the ultimate heartbreak that opera can inflict on us: Violetta gives Alfredo her miniature portrait and bids him find a new love, marry her, and that she – Violetta – will watch over them in heaven. I was actually trembling in my seat. But then, Lisette sent me over the edge with the most poignant speaking of Violetta’s final words I ever heard: “È strano! Cessarono…gli spasimi… del dolore…In me…rinasce…m’agita.. insolito vigor! Ah! ma io ritorno a viver! Oh, gioia!!”
The ensuing ovation was huge, as ovations go these days. I had a momentary vision of Lisette, in her white nightgown, kneeling before a gold curtain in a shower of white roses. That’s what she deserved.
Piero Pretti as Alfredo and Luca Salsi as Germont are beloved colleagues of the soprano, so this was in a way a family affair. Both gentlemen were well-cast – with the tenor displaying lovely nuances in the tender passages, fierce (yet musical) fury in his denunciation of Violetta, and a long and ringing top-C to cap “Omio rimorso“, whilst the baritone made a perfect duet-partner for Lisette, and brought interesting dynamic shifts and powerful feeling to his expressive “Di provenza“. Being from Sardinia and Parma respectively, Pretti and Salsi sounded beautiful in their native language.
Among the rest of the cast, Maria Zifchak and Kevin Short as Annina and Dr. Grenvil stood out. Both are longtime associates of The Met (though Mr. Short was absent for over a decade, returning in 2018 in ELEKTRA) and both were touching and vocally “on” tonight. Baritone Dwayne Croft continues to make his mark at The Met in smallish but important parts; tonight he was the patient but ultimately fed-up Baron Douphol.
Metropolitan Opera House March 9th, 2020
LA TRAVIATA Giuseppe Verdi
Violetta.....................Lisette Oropesa Alfredo......................Piero Pretti Germont......................Luca Salsi Flora........................Sarah Larsen Gastone......................Brian Michael Moore Baron Douphol................Dwayne Croft Marquis D'Obigny.............Jeongcheol Cha Dr. Grenvil..................Kevin Short Annina.......................Maria Zifchak Giuseppe.....................Patrick Miller Messenger....................Ross Benoliel Germont's Daughter...........Kendall Cafaro Dancer.......................Barton Cowperthwaite
(An unexpectedly great WOZZECK at The Met. This review from the Grove was over-looked in the mass transfer to The Glade. I have copied-and-pasted it to the Glade in honor of Thomas Hampson and Deborah Voigt.)
Above: baritone Thomas Hampson
Monday March 17th, 2014 – When the Metropolitan Opera announced that Thomas Hampson and Deborah Voigt – as refugees from a forsaken revival of PARSIFAL – would be heading the cast of this season’s performances of Alban Berg’s WOZZECK, alarms went off throughout the operatic world. The vast majority of opera buffs seemed to think this was the most blatant case of double miscasting imaginable. Someone went as far as to send an open letter to Sarah Billinghurst, currently in her final season at The Met, asking her to remove Voigt from the cast so opera fans everywhere could breathe easier. The notion of Gelb paying off a high-fee singer like Voigt and then hiring someone to replace her was laughable, especially given the current state of The Met’s finances…and the fact that WOZZECK is not really a box-office draw no matter who sings.
While I agreed from the start that Voigt was a very unlikely candidate for Marie, after some initial thought I decided Hampson’s Wozzeck would not be such a bad thing after all. In the event, Hampson missed the first two performances due to illness; he was replaced at the prima by Matthias Goerne (a lucky catch for The Met), and at the second performance by Daniel Sutin. Tonight was Hampson’s second performance in the role, and he firmly dispelled any doubts about his capabilities in the role. He was, in fact, thoroughly impressive both as singer and actor.
As Wozzeck, Hampson’s imposing physique is beset by stiffness of stance and gait; he is a man worn down by the callouness of those with whom he comes in daily contact and his vacant stare and hesitant gestures reveal the depths of his inner emptiness. Marie is the one solace in his life – how poetically Hampson spoke her name in the scene where the doctor is prodding him (both physically and mentally) and how expressive that passage where Wozzeck gives Marie his earnings. Jealousy of the Drum Major and Wozzeck’s shame at having been beaten by his rival send the hapless soldier over the edge. The entire third act was vividly declaimed and acted by Hampson. A trace of roughness on a couple of notes may have been an after-effect of his recent bout with bronchitis; otherwise the voice sounded firm and secure. James Levine sometimes gets carried away with his orchestra and unleashes great torrents of sound; Hampson wisely didn’t try to outshout the music. Overall Hampson’s Wozzeck was a fine addition to his gallery of roles, and his performance adds to a long list of evenings in which he has impressed me both vocally and in his sense of commitment. In a long career, he has stayed at the top of his game.
Above: Thomas Hampson as Wozzeck and Deborah Voigt as Marie; a Met Opera photo
Overall, tonight’s performance was thrilling. Much credit goes to Maestro James Levine who draws out the cosmic beauty of this music in all its brutality and warped lyricism. The orchestra is simply magnificent, and the opera – down to the one-line character parts – was most impressively cast.
As Marie, Deborah Voigt pulled out all the stops tonight, giving a blazing vocal performance and digging deeper into the character than she had at the prima. Blistering top notes – not pretty by any means, but jaw-droppingly intense – rang out into the house, and she seemed far more at home in the lower range/parlando passages. Freed from the demands of a 4-hour Wagner role, Voigt spent the voice freely while embracing the character’s lust, guilt and maternal tenderness in a convincingly acted performance.
There were performances of surpassing excellence from Peter Hoare (Captain) and Clive Bayley (Doctor) who have both somehow upped the level of their already-fabulous interpretations during the run. Every word and note counted for these two masterful singing-actors. Simon O’Neill’s Drum Major was another tour de force, and Russell Thomas (Andres) and Richard Bernstein (First Apprentice) were superb. Beauty of tone is not a pre-requisite in this music, but Tamara Mumford’s opulent singing (and her vivid portrayal) as Margret were a special element in this evening’s presentation: we should hear her more often at The Met, and in larger roles.
This is opera – as good as it gets.
Metropolitan Opera House March 17, 2014
WOZZECK Alban Berg
Wozzeck.................Thomas Hampson Marie...................Deborah Voigt Captain.................Peter Hoare Drum Major..............Simon O'Neill Doctor..................Clive Bayley Andres..................Russell Thomas Margret.................Tamara Mumford Apprentice..............Richard Bernstein Apprentice..............Mark Schowalter Fool....................Philippe Castagner Soldier.................Daniel Clark Smith Townsman................Raymond Aparentado Child...................Anthony Reznikovsky Piano Solo..............Bradley Moore
(I fell in love with Rebecca Krohn when she danced a small role in a now mostly-forgotten ballet. Her farewell to New York City Ballet was an event I’ll always remember. I’ve brought this review over from the Grove, since it eluded the mass transfer to the Glade.)
(Click on each photo to enlarge.)
Above: Rebecca Krohn, photographed by Paul Kolnik
Saturday October 7th, 2017 – Watching Rebecca Krohn dance with the New York City Ballet was a favorite experience of mine during the years when I was seeing the Company often. She joined NYCB as an apprentice in 1998, the year I moved to New York City, and became a member of the corps de ballet the following year. In 2006 she was promoted to soloist, and in 2012 to the rank of principal.
Thru the passing seasons since I started going to New York City Ballet in 1975, I’ve developed several serious ‘dancer crushes’; Marnee Morris was the first, and then there was Pauline Golbin, and then a select group of others. Rebecca Krohn had been dancing there for a year or two, sometimes catching my eye, when in 2001 she made a great leap onto my radar screen in the Peter Martins ballet BURLESKE. This beautiful ballet, with its surprise ending, is set to a Richard Strauss score; I often hoped to see it revived, but – as with so many appealing ballets – it seems to have vanished into thin air. But it did serve as an entrée for Ms. Krohn – I recall she wore a violet-coloured frock – and after that I was always on the lookout for her.
I save everything: here’s the cast page from the night when it all began:
As her career progressed, Rebecca Krohn took on a wide range of roles, excelling as both Arabian and Sugar Plum in NUTCRACKER; as both the Lilac Fairy and Carabosse in SLEEPING BEAUTY; multiple roles in SWAN LAKE; in sleek leotard ballets like STRAVINSKYVIOLIN CONCERTO and MONUMENTUM/MOVEMENTS; as the Queen in THE CAGE; in IN G MAJOR, GLASSPIECES, and ANTIQUE EPIGRAPHS. She was sublime in the Élégie of BRAHMS-SCHOENBERG QUARTET, charming as Helena in MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM, sultry in ‘Summer‘ from THE FOUR SEASONS, and a born Princess in FIREBIRD. She made an especially fine impression as the Dark Angel in SERENADE. The one ballet I wished she’d danced that she apparently never did was EMERALDS.
Balanchine’s NUTCRACKER with Zachary Catazaro
At a later revival of RUSSIAN SEASONS, Rebecca took on the role of the bride; photo by Paul Kolnik
Balanchine’s SERENADE; photo by Paul Kolnik
Balanchine’s SERENADE with Janie Taylor, Ashley Bouder, and Ask LaCour; photo by Paul Kolnik
Balanchine’s SERENADE with Jenifer Ringer and Ask LaCour; this Paul Kolnik photo is one of my all-time favorite dance images
Balanchine’s SERENADE; photo by Paul Kolnik
Balanchine’s Davidsbündlertänze; photo by Paul Kolnik
Jerome Robbins’ GLASS PIECES with Adrian Danchig-Waring; photo by Paul Kolnik
From Justin Peck’s gorgeous BELLES-LETTRES, with Taylor Stanley and Anthony Huxley; photo by Paul Kolnik
BELLES-LETTRES with Tyler Angle; photo by Paul Kolnik
Looking back over these pictures, so many memories spring up. Rebecca’s career began just as I took up residency in New York City, and it was a great pleasure to watch her bloom from a somewhat reticent young beauty in the corps to the assured, elegant ballerina we’ve come to love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And so we come down to the evening of Rebecca Krohn’s farewell performance; unlike the bitter-sweetness that tinges some farewells, this was a joy-filled evening saluting a dancer who has never really seemed to seek the spotlight but who – when the opportunities came – stepped into it with her own personal brand of glamour and grace.
The program, subtitled 20th Century Violin Concertos, was rewarding in many ways. We saw a revival of Peter Martins’s THE RED VIOLIN, originally made on Jennie Somogyi and Sebastien Marcovici; and we experienced Maria Kowroski’s stunning debut in IN MEMORY OF… before Rebecca Krohn joined her colleagues Sterling Hyltin, Ask LaCour, and Amar Ramasar in one of her finest roles: in Balanchine’s STRAVINSKY VIOLIN CONCERTO.
I went back to my notes on the premiere of THERED VIOLIN in May 2006 to see how I’d felt about it at first viewing. All of the things that bothered me about this ballet at the premiere still bother me, and I gathered from intermission chatter that several people in the audience felt the same way. First off, it’s way too long. Despite appealing passages and interesting textures, the score tends to meander…and the choreography meanders right along with it. Both in terms of length and orchestration, it’s too big of a score to be sustained by eight dancers, however wonderful they might be; at times on the big stage they seemed terribly diminished. The partnering motifs are tricky but they are repeated too often to be effective, and after a while the choreography became tedious. On top of which, the ballet seemed seriously under-rehearsed.
Fortunately, violinist Philippe Quint (above) gave a thoroughly impressive – even mesmerizing – rendering of the concerto, with excellent support by Maestro Andrew Litton and the always-fine and often under-acknowledged playing of the NYC Ballet orchestra. The charismatic Mr. Quint faced a barrage of cheers as he came out for his bow; now I want to hear him in a recital or in a concert setting.
The dancers did everything humanly possible to make THE RED VIOLIN a viable dance experience; alas, their efforts were in vain. My hat’s off to Unity Phelan, Megan LeCrone, Taylor Stanley, and Zachary Catazaro for a valiant effort; and a special ‘bravo‘ to Harrison Coll whose sheer energy and commitment went a long way to give us something to savour in this uphill battle of a dancework.
Following the intermission, the evening took a major up-sweep with a luminous performance from Maria Kowroski, debuting a new role in Jerome Robbins’ IN MEMORY OF…
The Alban Berg violin concerto was splendidly played by NYCB concertmaster Kurt Nikkanen (above): what a great asset for the dancers to have this world-class violinist playing for them night after night. This evening, Kurt’s performance was perfect, making a kozmic connection to the magic of the inimitable Ms. Kowroski.
Maria’s portrayal of the young girl who fights a heroic – but losing – battle with death is a masterpiece. Looking younger than springtime and with her technique at full flourish, the great ballerina summoned forth gentle lyricism for her duet with the ever-noble Jared Angle, then drew us deeply into the drama of her struggle against the relentless figure of Death, as personified by Zachary Catazaro. Stripped down to her vulnerable essence, the character of the girl – based on the real-life figure of Manon Gropius who died at the age of nineteen – drew from Maria Kowroski a devastating portrayal of a person succumbing to fate. Devoid of theatricality, Maria let the young woman’s life seep out her as Death claims a victory. The ballet, though, ends optimistically, with the ballerina borne aloft amidst white-clad angels.
When the curtain rose for the bows, a veritable torrent of applause and cheers greeted Ms. Kowroski and her colleagues. I think the entire audience were hoping for a solo bow from Maria, but it wasn’t to be. I can only imagine what sort of an uproar a solo bow would have evoked.
The Stravinsky violin concerto sounded fabulous tonight – what a great piece of music! – as played by the Company’s principal 2nd violinist Lydia Hong. Once again, the orchestra under Maestro Litton played with great clarity, upholding Mr. B’s dictum: “The music is always first.”
Sterling Hyltin is onstage as this ballet opens: Sterling is one of the dancers I miss most in this time of self-imposed exile, and it was such a great feeling to experience her dancing again tonight. She has made this role her own, bringing an ideal mixture of wit, energy, and vision to her very musical dancing of it. Ask LaCour’s effortlessly space-filling dancing is always pleasing to experience and, as he towered over Sterling in that memorable passage of stillness where – with a simple sweep of his arm – he shows her the world, I simply felt a deep satisfaction of seeing these two dancers again.
A wave of applause greeted Rebecca Krohn as she came swirling into view. Moments later, she and her partner Amar Ramasar had the audience under their spell in one of the most fascinating duets Balanchine ever devised. At its end, Amar goes from standing to flat on the floor faster than the eye can see, whilst Rebecca leans into a luxuriant back-bend. The audience went wild; the two dancers could have taken a couple of bows here, but instead the ballet surged forward.
The rather ironic rhythmic vitality of the concerto’s concluding Capriccio found the stage-full of dancers investing the à la Russe steps and gestures with infectious joy. This led to a warm ovation for the corps and the two principal couples, who came before the curtain twice to vigorous applause.
Then the stage was cleared and the curtain rose on Rebecca Krohn standing alone as an tidal wave of bravas swept over her. Her fellow-principals presented her with bouquets and single roses, then the entire Company came on to give her a remarkable send-off. At last, Rebecca’s husband, former NYCB soloist Adam Hendrickson, brought his wife an enormous bunch of flowers.
Above: Rebecca Krohn and the dancers of The New York City Ballet
(I hardly ever went to ABT farewells, but I had to go to Sascha Radetsky’s…on my birthday, in 2014. This story resisted the transfer from Grove to Glade, but I could not let it get lost.)
Above: Sascha Radetsky
UPDATE: Sascha’s farewell curtain call is now on YouTube, but there was another five minutes of applause and more bows after the clip ends.
Thursday July 3rd, 2014 – I met Sascha Radetsky in 2011 when my friend Kokyat and I covered a rehearsal of a duet entitled LIFT, choreographed by Edwaard Liang, in which Sascha was dancing with Sonja Kostitch; the piece was shown ten days later at the annual Dancers Responding to AIDS gala. Sascha was so friendly and gracious after the rehearsal: I’ll always remember the conversation we had that afternoon, and the feeling of having met a dancer whose heart was as big as his talent.
When the casting for the current ABT season came out, “COPPELIA Reyes/Radetsky” immediately caught my eye: thinking that – both as indivduals and as a couple – Xiomara and Sascha would be ideal in this ballet, I circled the date (my birthday) in red. I knew I would be there tonight, long before it became known that this would be Sascha’s farewell.
The music of COPPELIA holds a special place in my heart: it’s the only ballet I ever danced in, and whenever I hear themes from this melodically rich Delibes score, I’m carried back to that long-lost Summer of 1974 which I spent on Cape Cod with my first male lover, working for an amateur ballet company. Who would have thought that – 40 years on – I’d be immersed in the New York City dance scene and be able to count a number of the most prominent dancers and choreographes of the day among my friends?
ABT‘s candy box settings frame this sweet ballet well enough; they’ve been in use for years but there’s really no reason to scrap them for something different. A few traces of end-of-season fatigue from the orchestra scarcely mattered, and the Company looked to be in fine shape, giving an extra dose of vitality to their dancing in honor of Mr. Radestsky who is obviously a much-loved and admired colleague.
Alexei Agoudine was a lively Dr. Coppelius, with a number of pratfalls. This production puts the Czardas in Act III (I’m used to seeing it in Act I); it was led with authority by Christine Schevchenko and Blaine Hoven. The Mazurka, right where it should be, featured Adrienne Schulte squired by Sascha Radetsky, with Ms. Schevchenko and Mr. Hoven joining in the lively dance.
In the Act III solos Dawn and Prayer, the costuming was a distraction: nothing kills a ballerina’s line like an Empire waistline. Nevertheless, Devon Teuscher danced very attractively as Dawn and Luciana Paris rendered the celestial music of Prayer with beautiful phrasing and presence.
Above: Xiomara Reyes
Whilst recalling such iconic Swanhildas as Gelsey Kirkland and Patricia McBride, I’m happy to say that Xiomara Reyes was well nigh perfect in the role. Petite and saucy in her lovely opening waltz, the ballerina showed both her temper and her romantic inclinations in developing a wonderful chemistry with her leading man. After neatly dispatching the thespian demands of Act II, Ms. Reyes went on to some truly impressive dancing in the final act, with a luscious set of fouettés in the coda of the wedding pas de deux.
There can’t be a more natural balletic actor than Sascha Radetsky; he simply inhabited the role of Franz from the moment he walked onstage (to a wave of applause from the crowd). As the boy who wears his heart on both sleeves – one for his Swanhilda and one for the distracting doll on the toyshop balcony – Sascha endeared himself to the audience in his portrayal of Franz’s charming dilemma. Charismatic but free of vanity, Sascha’s performance was a natural meshing of dancer and role. Cutting loose with some virtuoso pyrotechnics in the Act III variation and coda, Sascha’s dancing took flight, buoyed by the admiring bravos of the audience.
The ovation at the end was as expected: loud and long: it seemed that neither the audience nor his colleagues wanted to let Sascha go. Loved seeing Maria Kowroski, Wendy Whelan, Joaquin de Luz, Gillian Murphy and Ethan Stiefel all joining in the celebration; and Sascha’s wife, Stella Abrera (in a knockout black frock) elicited whoops of delight from the crowd when she appeared onstage to present her husband with a bouquet and a kiss. Even after many bows and much cheering – with the bow lights off, the curtain firmly closed and the house lights blazing – the fans continued yelling “Sascha! Sascha!” until finally the danseur came out alone one last time, receiving the acclaim with his dazzling smile.
The Next Phase: Sascha, who became widely known outside the immediate sphere of classical ballet when he appeared in the 2000 film CENTER STAGE, returns to acting in the in-production Starz TV series FLESH AND BONE which is currently filming in Brooklyn and scheduled to premiere in 2015. Something tells me he’ll be dancing a few combinations along the way. Hail and farewell, Sascha!
(Some articles about farewells at NYC Ballet did not make the leap from Grove to Glade. I’ve cut-and-pasted this one, honoring a unique ballerina.)
Above: Jennie Somogyi with Jared Angle in Balanchine’s FOUR TEMPERAMENTS; photo by Paul Kolnik
Sunday October 11th, 2015 matinee – Breaking my self-imposed exile from New York City Ballet, I attended Jennie Somogyi’s farewell performance this afternoon. I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.
Ms. Somogyi has a special place in my balletic affections, in part because of her vivid stage presence and deep sense of commitment, and also because she has heroically overcome a series of injuries that might have caused a lesser ballerina to give up.
You have to wonder how the Somogyi career would have mapped out had the injuries not happened: her technique was vividly secure, and her distinctive beauty and lithe, supple body always kept the viewer engaged, no matter who else was onstage at a given moment. Without the ‘ballerina: interrupted” setbacks, there’s no role that would have daunted her.
I was in the audience on two of the three occasions when she sustained injuries mid-performance; these were heart-breaking moments, especially in view of her long road back following her original injury. In returning each time, she modified her repertory somewhat and took on roles she might otherwise never have been cast in – and made them her own.
I had the great good fortune to see one of her rare performances of Odette/Odile in the Peter Martins SWAN LAKE and it was, in a word, thrilling. She found a beautifully poetic aspect in expressing Odette’s vulnerability and hope, and her Odile was a sensation: glamorous, devious, and whirling thru the fouettés with delicious abandon. Other tutu roles on which Ms. Somogyi put her definitive stamp were the Sugar Plum Fairy in NUTCRACKER and the Lilac Fairy in SLEEPING BEAUTY. (She was also a remarkable Dewdrop; many faithful NYCB-goers rate her as their favorite in that bejeweled role.)
Above: Somogyi’s Sugar Plum, photo by Paul Kolnik
In ballets with a more contemporary feel, including such Balanchine Black & Whites as AGON, FOURTEMPERAMENTS and EPISODES, Ms. Somogyi was marvelously at home. She blazed forth in RED ANGELS and was superb in Peter Martins’ FEARFUL SYMMETRIES,MIRAGE, and RED VIOLIN, the latter made specially for her. Her performances in CHIAROSCURO and VIOLA ALONE are happily in my video collection, recorded off-the-air.
Above: from Peter Martins’ RED VIOLIN, Jennie Somogyi and Sebastien Marcovici; photo Paul Kolnik
Somogyi smoldered as The Coquette in LA SONNAMBULA and sizzled in Margo Sappington’s erotically charged duet ENTWINED, which she danced with Charles Askegard for Ballet Next in 2011. Another role in which she excelled was as the stylized seductress in THE CHAIRMAN DANCES.
In 2010, Ms. Somogyi appeared in Balanchine’s timeless romantic classic, LIEBESLIEDER WALTZES, dancing with Justin Peck (photo above, by Paul Kolnik), and it was in this ballet that she made her farewell appearance this afternoon.
Today’s matinee opened with a grand performance of Balanchine’s TCHAIKOVSKY SUITE #3, with conductor Paulo Paroni and the NYC Ballet musicians playing the melodious score for all it’s worth, and concertmaster Arturo Delmoni delighting us with his deft playing of the violin solo.
Each movement of the ballet featured a finely-matched couple in the leading roles. Rebecca Krohn and Russell Janzen were so touching in the Elegie, with its alternating currents of allure and evasion, and their final parting deeply moving. Megan LeCrone and Justin Peck in the Valse echoed the subtle romantic turbulence of the music and looked great together. Ana Sophia Scheller swirled thru the restless turns of the Scherzo with magical aplomb, well-matched by Antonio Carmena’s vividly-danced cavalier. And Tiler Peck and Andrew Veyette pulled out all the stops for performance of Theme and Variations that had the crowd cheering. Excellent dancing from the demi-solistes and corps in this marvel of Balanchine structuring.
After the interval we are transported to the candlelit salon of LIEBESLIEDER WALZER where Andrews Sill and Susan Walters were at the keyboard and an amiable quartet of singers (the men slightly out-shining the women) created a gracious romantic atmosphere for the eight elegant dancers. A queenly Sara Mearns with her consort Ask LaCour danced with spacious impetuosity and grace, and I was so glad to see Ashley Laracey, ever a favorite of mine, dancing in this ballet in which, by tradition, only the ballerina elite are cast; her partner was Justin Peck, whose ever-so-subtle sense of restlessness played so well in this refined atmosphere. I was thoroughly bowled over by Sterling Hyltin’s ravishing, sublimely nuanced performance; ideally matched to the nobly handsome Jared Angle, Sterling was simply exquisite.
Jennie Somogyi was all lyricism and loveliness in her final dances on this stage; she could not have asked for a more dashing and attentive partner than Tyler Angle, and together – to the mellifluous singing of tenor Blake Friedman – they held the house in an atmosphere of poignant quietude in their gently rapturous duet which ends with Tyler kneeling and kissing the ballerina’s hand. This was the singular moment of the day, and the most perfect tribute to Ms. Somogyi one could imagine. Later, as bouquets piled up, flowers flew across the footlights, and confetti and streamers rained down from the rafters, it was that sublime moment that lingered in the mind.
Oberon's Glade 
