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Saturday September 27th matinee – Kicking off my 2025-2026 season with one of my favorite operas: TURANDOT. The Met’s Franco Zeffirelli production – which premiered in 1987 – has paid for itself many times over, and inevitably plays to large audiences, no matter who is in the cast.

This season, two popular Met personalities – Angela Meade and Michael Fabiano (above) – were singing Turandot and Calaf for the first time in the House. South African soprano Masabane Cecilia Rangwanasha – the 2021 winner of the Song Prize at the Cardiff Singer of the World Competition – had made her Met debut earlier in the week at the season prima as Liu, and Ukraine-born basso de luxe Vitalij Kowaljow, anchored the cast with his superb Timur.

Off-setting this very promising cast was the conductor, Carlo Rizzi, who followed the current Met trend of fast-and -loud playing from the pit. This produced a surface excitement, but caused the singers to resort to forcing at several key moments.

Vocally, the opera got off to a great start with bass-baritone Le Bu giving a grand rendering of the Mandarin’s opening pronouncements. This singer is so impressive, and there are so many roles I’d love to hear him sing at The Met. The Mandarin has more to sing in Act II, but this is a voice ready for bigger things. 

(I’ve admired Le Bu every time I have heard him. Today, I got to meet him and get his autograph.)

In quick succession, we hear Ms. Rangwanasha, Mr. Fabiano, and Mr. Kowaljow: all in fine voice. The soprano gets a gift from Puccini very early on: the famed, floated B-flat on “Perché un dì, nella Reggia, mi hai sorriso!” which was magically sustained.

The chorus has much to do in this act, and “O taciturna” was finely sung, with lovely roulades from the clarinet. Mr. Fabiano brought forth tender softness with his “O meraviglia“upon beholding Turandot for the first time. The trio of ministers – baritone Hansung Yoo, and tenors Tony Stevenson, and Rodell Rosel – now set out to deter Calaf from attempting Turandot’s riddle game.

Above: Vitalji Kowaljov and Masabene Cecilia Rangwanasha as Timur and Liu; a Ken Howard/MET Opera photo

Mr. Kowaljov pleaded movingly with his son, and Ms. Rangwanasha sang a gorgeous “Signore, ascolta“, her tone so appealing, her hushed, sustained B-flat at the end delectable. In response, Mr. Fabiano sings marvelously in “Non piangere, Liu“, though the conductor would later press the tenor as the act moves to its finish. There was hearty applause as the curtain came down, but it had stopped before the bow lights came on; nonetheless, the singers came out…and were warmly cheered. I love the old tradition of watching the bows against the great gold curtain…a tradition that has all but died.

The interminable intermission seemed longer than ever today. 

Then the scene of the three ministers was especially delightful today: a highlight of the show, really. How wonderful to find another distinguished baritone, Hansung Yoo, today. His “Ho una casa nel Honan” was so beautifully sung, with fine phrasing and dynamic nuance. Rizzi’s orchestra was again encroaching on the voices here and there, but the baritone and his tenor colleagues (Mssrs. Stevenson and Rodell) really made the scene thoroughly enjoyable. 

We move to the grand hall of the imperial palace; after Le Bu’s impressive reprise of his announcement,  Thomas Capobiano makes a voicey Emperor…his exchange with Mr. Fabiano was handsomely sung by both. And now, Ms. Meade takes center stage for “In questa reggia” where her vibrant tone – mixing in subtleties and dips into chest voice along the way, plus blazing tops – made a vivid impression, though again Rizzi was a detriment at times. 

There was not enough tension in the Riddle Scene, but both soprano and tenor sang very well. Clarinet interjections during the second riddle were superbly etched in. Ms. Meade’s third riddle was chesty and word-conscious, lots of satiny tone…though spoilt by a cell-phone going off. The tenor was tested by the high-C at “..ardente d’amore!” but he held on.  Moments later, Mr. Fabiano gave some of his most ravishing singing of the evening with “Il mio nome non sai...” 

During the interval, two young ladies – one from Spain and one from Munich – stopped by for a chat, their melodious speaking voices were so charming.  Then a Japanese gentleman with snow-white hair came to my desk and asked me if I thought the orchestra was too loud. Yes, sir!  That problem is my pet Met peeve nowadays.

Puccini, the master-composer who always turns purely orchestral passages into sonic wonders, gives us the atmospheric prelude to the third act. Mr. Fabiano began “Nessun dorma” perfectly, but the conductor then allowed the orchestra to compete with rather than support the singer. Fab made a noble effort, with his lyrical tapering of tone at “…la luce splendira…” truly gorgeous. The aria’s thrilling conclusion won the tenor a big ovation, but it took a lot of will power to achieve.

Hangsun Yoo had more memorable passages as he tries to plead with Calaf to “take the money” and run. The baritone’s “Straniero, tu non sai...” and then his “Principessa divina...” (to mollify Turandot) were outstandingly sung. 

In preparing to face torture, Ms. Rangwanasha as Liu displayed a rich lower range at “…ma chiudetemi la bocca...”;  moments later, she was spinning some heavenly high phrases as she addressed Turandot directly. In Liu’s final sacrifice – with her strikingly sung “Tu che di gel sei cinta...” – the soprano sealed her triumph. 

Cruelly told by Ping that Liu has died, Vitalij Kowaljow’s initial powerful outburst turns to a poignant lament, so tenderly sung. Bravo, Vitalij!  

The brass are already going at it as Mr. Fabiano blasts Ms. Meade’s Turandot for her heartlessness. They exchange powerful phrases and then, with great crushing chords, Calaf kisses the princess. The music calms, Ms. Meade singing so beautifully in “Del primo piano” (with lovely support from the orchestra) before blazing away for a bit before telling Calaf to leave with the mystery of his name intact. The tenor’s cry of “Io son Calaf!” was nearly covered by the trumpets. For a moment, the singers compete with high, urgent phrases, and then depart for the throne room.

There, standing before her father, Turandot says she has learned the stranger’s name: “It is love!“. 

One of the great delights of opera-going is discovering a “new” voice. Today I was hearing the Korean baritone Hansung Yoo for the first time. This is a singer whose vocal gifts immediately made a deep impression on me. On returning home, I went in search of him on YouTube and found this beautiful rendering of Strauss’s “Allerseelen“. For me, this is a voice that comes from the heart.

~ Oberon

Tuesday September 30th, 2025 – As of today, Oberon’s Grove – my on-line “open diary” for 19 years – is no longer viewable. For the past few weeks, with the help of my co-writer Mark Martinez, I’ve been working to bring more that 2,000 articles from the Grove to this different part of the forest: Oberon’s Glade.

The transfer did not go as smoothly as I had hoped; for technical reasons, certain articles could not be pried from their longtime home in the Grove. I ended doing a copy-and-paste job on several entries that I especially wanted to keep.

So, as you scroll down, you’ll come upon a number of stories that are not in chronological order; some date back several years, and the subject matter is rather random. After those, you’ll come upon articles from the first half of 2025, running back as far as 2009.

Along the way, you will find links that don’t work and other annoying little errors. In the weeks ahead I will do what I can to find and fix these.

Starting tomorrow – October 1st – chronological order will be restored, and reviews/articles by me and my music-loving friends – Shoshana Klein, Lili Tobias, Ben Weaver, Mark Anthony Martinez II, and Lane Raffaldini Rubin – will appear as the NYC opera/dance/classical music season unfolds.

Philip aka Oberon

(Another article about this evocative opera that I have brought over from Oberon’s Grove to the Glade.)

Click on each image to enlarge.

Monday December 20, 2010 – Photo: Mary Garden as Melisande, the role she created in 1902. Claude Debussy’s remarkable opera PELLEAS & MELISANDE is a long evening in the theatre. It can be an immersive experience when staged as hauntingly as the Met’s current production – originally mounted in 1995 as a 25th anniversary gift for the great Frederica von Stade, a performance I attended. Typically of the Peter Gelb era, the Met manages to dilute the atmosphere of this unique masterpiece with over-extended intermissions where we are called back from the mysterious realm of Allemonde to the dulled conversations of opera-goers waiting patiently for another fix of Debussy. Thus the evening stretched from 8:00 PM til midnight.

Sir Simon Rattle is making his belated Met debut with these performances. He and the Met’s excellent musicians painted the music as if on a vast Impressionist canvas. Right from the first chords the sense of being drawn into another world is palpable. Sir Simon took a stately pace all evening, drawing out darkly-luminous orchestral sounds in a performance where the textures of the instrumentation and the expressiveness of individual players cast their spell unforgettably. 

Magdalena Kozena and Stephane Degout as the title characters in a Ken Howard photograph. Although my preference in these roles is soprano/tenor (my first Melisande was the utterly unique Patrcia Brooks), the ravishing quality of Ms. Kozena’s mezzo and the clear, expressive vocalism of M. Degout left nothing to be desired. A fine vocal colorist, Ms. Kozena brought an interesting feeling of world-weariness to her instrument as she greeted Pelleas at their final tryst by the fountain. 

Gerald Finley as Golaud finds Melisande (Ms. Kozena) lost in the woods. Their opening scene together set the story relentlessly in motion, and their singing was marvelous. Gerald Finley’s voice is darkly lyrical and vividly expressive of both his brooding jealousy and of his uncomfortable attempts at tenderness. Finley’s interpretation of the role and his burnished vocalism set him comfortably in the echelon with my previous great Golauds: Louis Quilico and Jose van Dam.

Willard White as Arkel and Felicity Palmer as Genevieve. These two artists brought their distinctive interpretive experience to bear on their music, their singing powerful but nuanced. They have lived in the mysterious castle in the darkened forests of Allemonde for decades and they now have almost ghostly characteristics, observing the lives of the younger generation seemingly at a remove. Superb vocalism from both these operatic titans.

Paul Corona made a fine vocal impression as the Physician and Neel Ram Nagarajan was excellent as Golaud’s young son Yniold. Neel was stuck with one of the most annoying scenes in all opera where he endlessly refers to Golaud as “Petit Pere“; he worked hard to make it palatable.

The final scene of the opera is the only place where it starts to feel a bit over-long, not so much musically as dramatically. After the deaths of Pelleas and Melisande and Golaud’s heart-rending remorse, the scene extends with Arkel philosophising about life and death as he beholds Melisande’s tiny newborn daughter. His observations are well-meant but irrelevant to the drama, despite the beauty of the music.

As with so many Met productions, the lighting has gone off since the premiere performances and the sets now look flat and lacking in mystery. The production which used to be so evocative has become rather ordinary visually.

It was unpleasant to hear a round of laughter when Melisande dropped the ring into the well; the mood of the scene was marred. The incident shows how uninformed the Met’s ‘new’ audience are, how insensitive and lacking in poetic understanding people have become. There were many empty seats in the house at the start and with each intermission the audience dwindled further: PELLEAS is not an ‘easy’ opera.

As the music faded at the end, I had the unmistakable feeling that I might never witness PELLEAS in the theatre again. (luckily, this was not true.)

Production photos by Ken Howard/Metropolitan Opera.

Above: Mélisande and Pelléas at the fountain; by Edmund Blair Leighton (1852-1922). Click image to enlarge.

(An article that originated on Oberon’s Grove in 2019.)

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday January 19th, 2019 matinee – Despite serious reservations about one member of the cast, I went to this afternoon’s performance of Claude Debussy’s Pelléas et Mélisande at The Met, determined to stay to the end. I have always loved the Met’s gently updated and incredibly atmospheric production (even though the lighting has gone awry over the years), so I decided on a seat with a view rather than a score desk today. My sister-in-law loaned me a pair of high-power binoculars, and I brought a book with me as a defense against the Met’s interminable intermissions.

Pelléas et Mélisande is a unique opera, and it needs poetic singers and a truly sensitive conductor if it is to properly cast its spell. My first live encounter with the opera came in 1970 at New York City Opera when Patricia Brooks was an unforgettable Mélisande. The performance had a light baritone (who soon became a tenor) as Pelléas – André Jobin – and one of the greatest Golauds ever: Louis Quilico. In 1983, at the Met, Jeannette Pilou was an exquisite Mélisande, opposite baritone Dale Duesing; here the Golaud was the magnificent Jose van Dam.

The Met’s current production opened in 1995, with performances that celebrated Frederica von Stade’s 25th anniversary at the Met; my first mezzo-soprano Mélisande, von Stade gave a sublimely nuanced portrayal. I last saw the opera in 2010, a beautifully-cast revival conducted by Sir Simon Rattle. I very much regret having missed the 1978 Met performances with Teresa Stratas as Mélisande and Gabriel Bacquier as Golaud; and I really should have gone to see Susanne Mentzer’s Mélisande. 

I often use score desks at the Met, and when doing so, am very careful about turning the pages of my score silently so as not to disturb the people next to me. Today, I was one of the people with a view, and the women next to me using score desks were less considerate; it was very distracting, and when opportunity came, I changed seats. They also brought cookies, and chatted loudly during the intermission. No reverie for Debussy.

Overall, it was an engrossing performance. Since I have been going to more symphonic and chamber music concerts in recent years, Debussy’s orchestration – which I have always admired – fascinated me today as I am now far more attuned to what the orchestra is doing; the music takes on a deeper meaning, bringing immersive pleasure.

Yannick Nézet-Séguin was on the podium and, as the musicians played magnificently, all was well. But the mystery and the shadowy softness of the score did not always come thru, and at times the conductor allowed the voices to be covered. To date, Maestro Nézet-Séguin’s most memorable conducting at the Met has been his Parsifal; Pelléas this afternoon came close, without quite reaching an exalted level. (There was a sound of one person booing as the conductor returned to the pit after each intermission: a minority reaction, to be sure. I wonder what the complaint was, whether it had anything to do with the Maestro’s interpretation or was simply an expression of anger that the intermission had been so long.) 

A weak Yniold made the character’s two scenes seem really long today; the ‘dream’ scene, at any rate, seems expendable dramatically, despite the music. In the small roles of the Shepherd and the Physician, Jeremy Galyon and Paul Corona were fine.

Marie-Nicole Lemieux gave a perfect portrayal of Geneviève, her singing clear and warm with a nice glow to the timbre. She looked lovely and was dignified without being overly prim and proper; she also played the character as somewhat younger than we often see or hear. All to the good. Brava!

An announcement was made pre-curtain that both Paul Appleby (Pelléas) and Kyle Ketelsen (Golaud) were suffering from colds but would sing anyway. With ticket prices hovering near a $500 top this afternoon, it seems to me that the audience deserved to hear singers who are in good health. 

In the case of Mr. Ketelsen, he hardly needed an announcement: he sounded glorious, with only a trace of tiring as the long opera neared its end. Mr. Ketelsen’s sound is commanding, house-filling, and vivid in expression. Tall and slender, he looks dapper (and slightly menacing) in his costumes and moves with authority. Regret, that most poignant of emotions, comes too late (doesn’t it always?), and Mr. Keletsen’s singing in the final scene had a heart-rending quality. Golaud is a bit of a thug, and this element too sometimes surfaced in the Ketelsen portrayal; his murder of Pelléas was vicious indeed. 

Mr. Appleby, who reportedly had vocal problems at the prima, sang well all afternoon with only the slightest hints that he was unwell. The voice is handsome, lyrical but masculine of timbre, and expressive of the poetry that fills the libretto. The conductor occasionally allowed the tenor’s voice to be covered. In the scene between the lovers leading up to the murder, Mr. Appleby’s high notes suddenly took on such epic ring that I wondered if amplification was in play. More likely the tenor, nearing the end of his role and having made it successfully thru thus far, simply decided to let loose; the dramatic situation certainly called for it.

Looking through some of my diaries from my first years of living in New York City, I find that I heard Isabel Leonard on at least three occasions while she was at Juilliard; she seems not to have captured my imagination then (I left halfway thru her solo recital) and to this day I do not understand why she has such a huge career. Her tone is surely attractive, despite a tendency to thin out and spread a bit higher up. She sang all of the music of Mélisande perfectly well, and evocatively at that, but the sound of her voice does not leave a distinctive imprint. Ms. Leonard’s Mélisande is impeccably gowned and coiffed, and her make-up is Vogue-ready; she even looks gorgeous on her deathbed.

Above: Isabel Leonard as Mélisande and Ferruccio Furlanetto as Arkel, a Karen Almond/MET Opera photo. Click on the image to enlarge.

Along with the excellence of Mlle. Lemieux’s Geneviève and Mr. Ketelsen’s Golaud, it was the great basso Ferruccio Furlanetto’s performance as the old King Arkel that made this afternoon so engrossing. Every word, note, and gesture in Mr. Furlanetto’s portrayal had the marvelous resonance that a great and dedicated singing-actor can bring to a role. Some people found the basso’s singing too “tearful”, but Arkel has every reason to weep as he watches the fabric of his family rent by jealous passions. How moving was Mr. Furlanetto as he sang of the destiny of Mélisande’s daughter; it is moments like these that will endure in my operatic memory until the end.

As this afternoon’s performance unfolded, I decided that I would try to meet Ferruccio Furlanetto after the opera ended. He has, over the years, given me so many wonderful performances to remember, starting with his Zaccaria in Nabucco at Hartford in 1982.

After a short wait, Mr. Furlanetto emerged from the stage door; we shook hands, and he signed my program. He’s had such a great career, and his calendar for 2019 appears to be full. I hope he’ll be back at the Met soon. (Click on the cast page below to enlarge.)

(Still bringing articles forward from Oberon’s Grove to The Glade. I wanted to hold onto the memory of this night full of Rossini treats.)

Wednesday November 30, 2011 – The Collegiate Chorale presented a concert performance of Rossini’s rarely heard MOISE ET PHARAON at Carnegie Hall this evening. A fine and distinctive collection of solo voices – notably tenor Eric Cutler’s (above, in a Werner Kmetitsch photo) – prevented any threat of ennui creeping in. The Collegiate Chorale and the American Symphony Orchestra provided a well-woven tapestry of sound to back Rossini’s flights of bel canto fancy, and conductor James Bagwell had his forces well-in-hand. The composer’s self-borrowings were sometimes evident, and the work ends with an over-extended orchestral postlude which is both melodically and harmonically predictable. But there’s also a lot of really demanding music for the soloists to cope with, which they did – admirably for the most part.

The opera is a classic tale of “my-god’s-bigger-than-your-god” with two cantankerous heterosexual (basso) males – Moses and Pharoah – each trying to keep his cult under firm control by bellowing commands he’s purportedly received directly from his respective deity. To keep things on an operatic keel, a love interest is developed: Egyptian prince meets nice Jewish girl. But heaven forbid (literally) that they should be happy for even a moment as their elders lay one guilt trip after another on their pretty heads. (These mind control games have endured for centuries; my Methodist parents would quietly whine because both the girls I dated in high school were Catholic; I sometimes think being gay was my revenge.) So instead of viewing the young lovers as a bridge between two cultures and belief systems, they are torn apart. The girl reaches the Promised Land; the prince drowns in the Red Sea. The gods have spoken. Yet again.

Anyway, to the singing (which is what Rossini is all about anyway): I really enjoyed hearing Eric Cutler again. He has the clarity and warmth of tone as well as the stylistic nuances of dynamic and colour to make this florid music come alive. Whether in finely tapered long lines or in bursts of fiorature and forays to the top, Eric’s heady voice seemed just right for this music. And his harmonic blends with the other singers were beautiful.

Another major source of aural joy came from basso Kyle Ketelsen as Pharoah. His voluminous and dramatically-edged vocalism and his slender, vivid presence onstage kept us keenly focused on him whenever he stood up to sing.

James Morris, the great Wotan of our age, was in top current vocal form tonight as Moses. His solemn pronunciations were delivered with innate grandeur and he looked like a benevolent prophet, even in his tux. A bit of flatting on higher notes was the only slight detriment to Morris’s vocalism; overall it was a very impressive undertaking.

Soprano Marina Rebeka recently made her Met debut as Donna Anna. Tonight as Anais she revealed a sizeable lyric-to-spinto sound with a lovely sheen on it. A striking beauty, Ms. Rebeka received the evening’s longest applause after her big scena. When she harmonized (superbly) with Eric Cutler, I immediately had thoughts of hearing them together in TRAVIATA or MANON. I’ll keep my eye out for Ms. Rebeka in the future.

On the Egyptian side, soprano Angela Meade as Sinaide made much out of a somewhat limited role. At full sail, her voice could be a bit over-vibrant but she controlled this tendency for the most part and gave us some really lovely piani and phrasing along the way. Ms. Meade already has a following and they were out last night to cheer her on.

Ginger Costa-Jackson (as Miriam, wife of Moses) managed to make a vocal mark despite the brevity of her role, and tenor Michele Angelini lent his clear, Italianate sound to the role of Eliezer. 

I feel certain I’ll never experience this opera in a live setting again; that’s the big plus about concert opera: a chance to hear real rarities without the expensive trappings of a staged production. Of course the endless raising and lowerings of the soloists’ music stands was a distraction. And what would Maria Callas say about all the indiscreet swigging from bottles of Poland Spring?

UPDATE: I have just received some photos from the evening’s performance; these images are by Erin Baiano. Click on each photo to enlarge.

Marina Rebeka & Eric Cutler

Angela Meade & Kyle Ketelsen

Ginger Costa-Jackson & James Morris

December 01, 2011

Above: Tomasz Konieczny as The Dutchman; a Ken Howard/Met Opera photo

(Another article from Oberon’s Grove; I wanted to bring this onto the Glade because tenor Eric Cutler, who I’ve known since his days as a Met Young Artist, gave us a wonderful Erik.)

Click on images to enlarge.

~ Author: Oberon

Saturday June 10th, 2023 matinee – My final opera performance of the Met’s 2022-2023 season; overall, it has been a very fine season, with some of the Met’s most satisfying performances in recent years. I found today’s Fliegende Holländer thoroughly engaging and often very moving. On other sites, this season’s cast and conductor came in for a lot of criticism; their voices may not be to all tastes, but for me the power and mystery of Wagner’s opera came through, quite thrillingly.

My afternoon began 45 minutes before curtain time. I always love sitting in the big hall, watching it slowly fill; and today, the delightful sound of a clarinetist having a nice, long warm-up fell pleasingly on the ear. Despite Norman Lebrecht’s hand-wringing over the Met’s under-sold houses, today’s Holländer (and the two previous matinees of Don Giovanni and Zauberflöte) looked nearly full from my vantage point in a balcony box near the proscenium: one of the few spots from which you can accurately gauge the size of the audience.  

The young conductor, Thomas Guggeis, took over these Holländer performances from the originally-announced Jaap van Zweden. As the latter ends his brief, mostly disappointing tenure at the New York Philharmonic, I think the change was probably beneficial overall today. For me, Mr. Guggeis paced the score most persuasively, with a fine forward momentum contrasting with the more pensive, brooding passages. He did, however, sometimes succumb to the current trend among Met conductors of casually drowning the voices. (Exceptions have been Manfred Honeck for Idomeneo and Nathalie Stutzmann’s magical Flute and Don Giovanni).

The orchestra sounded marvelous today, as did the chorus; the choristers did some stylized gesture patterns and dance steps which seem to be a common element in M. Girard’s Met Wagner productions. Overall, the afternoon’s sonic tapestry was rich and darkly hued.

Above: Eric Curter as Erik with Elza van den Heever as Senta; photo by Ken Howard/Met Opera

Top vocal honors today must go to tenor Eric Cutler, in the role of Erik. In the years since he came onto the scene as a Met Young Artist, Eric has had many successes in the bel canto repertoire; in recent seasons he has been shifting to such demanding German roles as Bacchus, Lohengrin, and Siegmund. Tackling this difficult repertoire has not affected the inherent tonal beauty of Eric’s voice, and so today in the music of Erik, we heard a combination of lyricism and passion that made a perfect impression. 

From his hair-raising opening line, so clear and sustained, on through his two big arias – which are so rooted in the bel canto style – Eric showed the advantage of coming to these roles from on high rather than as a pushed-up baritone. As the point where a rising line can cause helden-ish tenors to tighten up, the Cutler voice blooms. Especially beautiful was the third act cavatina where Eric’s singing blended ideally with the pliant sound of the oboe. Earlier, in telling Senta of his terrifying dream, Mr. Cutler made the story come to vivid life. There was a big, warm salute for the tenor at his curtain calls. 

Eve Gigliotti, as Senta’s nurse, Mary, seemed unsure of how to deal with her visionary young charge. Eve sang warmly, with her usual verbal acuity. As the Steersman, Richard Trey Smagur displayed an interesting timbre, with an appealing middle range and powerful, rather gritty top notes. He could become an interesting Siegmund in time.

Dmitry Belosselskiy was a huge-voiced Daland, very effective in both his singing and stage presence. His jovial aria (excellently supported by the orchestra) as he introduces the Dutchman to Senta was a vocal highlight of the afternoon, as was the trio after his daughter’s pledge to be faithful onto death. The basso, who in the past has seemed just a good, routine singer, has become both more nuanced and more plush-toned of late. I look forward to hearing him again next season.

As Senta, Elza van den Heever carried off the long mime sequence of the overture convincingly. Her singing of the role was uneven; she has taken on some of opera’s most demanding roles (Senta is one of them) and her voice is showing some wear and tear in places. Sustained notes tend to fluctuate, and while her ballad was excellently expressed from a musico-dramatic standpoint, the sound of the voice was less appealing than in the past. Most of the arduous music of the Senta/Dutchman duet was skillfully – even impressively – handled, but her voice faltered on the highest phrase at the end of the duet’s andante section. 

The soprano pulled herself together, finishing the duet and ensuing trio on fine form, and singing quite thrillingly in the opera’s final moments. Her sense of commitment to the music never wavered, but she might think of moving to some less strenuous roles: Countess Almaviva? The Marschallin? Desdemona? For now, though, she seems headed for Salome.   

Above: Elza van den Heever as Senta and Tomasz Konieczny as the Dutchman; Ken Howard/MetOpera photo

The Polish bass-baritone Tomasz Konieczny first thrilled me as Jochanaan in a concert performance of Salome at Carnegie Hall in 2014, and then again in 2019 in his Met debut role as Alberich in the Ring Cycle. Although Mr. Konieczny’s voice is unlikely to be described as “beautiful”, it can be strangely alluring. He has both a personal and a vocal charisma which are hard to describe but which make his performances so captivating.

The subtle start of the great monologue is underscored by a chilling tension. Mr. Konieczny’s reserves of vocal strength – the sound seems to expand as he goes higher – soon had me entranced, and the audience could not resist bursting into applause after “Ew’ge Vernichtung, nimm mich auf!” (“Eternal destruction, take me!”). Mssrs. Konieczny and Belosselskiy were grand in the duet which concludes Act I.

The Dutchman rises magically from the floor of Daland’s house, causing Senta to cry out. After Daland has left them, their great duet  – the heart of the opera – begins with Mr. Konieczny singing so softly as to draw us deeply in; here, Maestro Guggeis kept the orchestra under subtle control. With rising passion, the singing becomes thrilling, with the bass-baritone – a hypnotic presence to watch – pouring out the music with palpable power. After Senta has made her pledge, Mr. Konieczny fell to the floor, overcome with relief and gratitude. The act’s concluding trio was strongly sung, with a cut sparing the soprano from some very arduous phrases.

In the final act, the Dutchman is present – hunkered down on the rocky shore – during the meeting of Senta and Erik. He hears it all, and rejects Senta’s pleas of innocence. Mr. Konieczny rose majestically to the demands of the scene wherein he reveals his identity, capping his brilliant success.

After an enthusiastic ovation, I went down to the stage door to say hello to Eric, who I had not seen for many years. Back in the days when he was a Met Young Artist and I was working at Tower Records, we became friends; thereafter, his career kept him mostly in Europe. I had last heard him live in 2011, in a concert performance of Rossini’s Moïse et Pharaon at Carnegie Hall.

It was really nice today to find that the voice remains as beautiful and expressive as ever, and that he’s still the same friendly guy I remember.

~ Oberon

(The deadline is approaching for moving articles from the Grove to the Glade. Here is the story of Philip Neal’s farewell performance at New York City Ballet.)

Click on the images to enlarge.

Sunday June 13, 2010 – Back in the day, I developed the worst crush on Philip Neal. He was a long-legged Southern boy in the New York City Ballet corps and he was just so nice-looking. Once I sat outside the stage door after one of his performances thinking I simply had to meet him or at least get a closer look. What did I hope to accomplish? I don’t know, but anyway he must have gone out via the lobby because I never got my chance. Much later, when he was a star and I was working at Tower, he came in a few times and I was always too shy to talk to him.

Philip was a bit coltish in those early days, not quite yet the polished danseur he was to become. What’s struck me about him is that in the last two or three seasons he has been giving some of his most memorable performances and I guess I just assumed he would continue to do so. But now the day of his farewell has arrived all too soon and I found myself sitting there watching this incredibly elegant dancer and wishing I could turn the clock back so we could enjoy him for another ten years or so.

Wendy Whelan and Philip Neal have been a dream partnership during these past few years that I’ve been living in New York City. At the holiday season each year, they take their NUTCRACKER pas de deux on the road and bring joy to people who rarely get to see dancers of this caliber live. I bet I’ve seen them in NUTCRACKER together twenty times, give or take, and it’s always an exquisite treat.

The other ballerina with whom Philip danced most frequently was Kyra Nichols. Here they are (above) in rehearsal and (below) in VIENNA WALTZES. My thanks to Kyle Froman for sending me these images.

As her career moved into its final stages, Kyra danced almost exclusively with Philip and there was something so elegant and courtly about their partnership.  At her farewell, watching them dance together, it would have been impossible to imagine that Philip would be making his farewell so soon.

But: here we were, watching him dancing two of his finest roles for the last time, both by Balanchine: SERENADE and CHACONNE. In a recent revival of MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM, Philip partnered Jenifer Ringer is a sumptuous rendering of the divertissement pas de deux. and their dancing today in SERENADE recalled that very special occasion. Megan Fairchild and Sara Mearns also danced beautifully and Ask LaCour made a princely impression in the other male role.

In a somewhat truncated rendition of WHO CARES? Robert Fairchild seemed a worthy successor to Philip Neal in this ballet, and there was delightful dancing from Tiler Peck, Sterling Hyltin and Ana Sophia Scheller.

In CHACONNE, the Whelan/Neal partnership seemed to be at its apex rather than at the point of drifting into memory. They are simply perfect together. Both Wendy and Philip seemed to be in a highly emotional state today and once or twice I thought they might just stop dancing and start hugging each other. And no one would have blamed them if they had.

All too soon the performance had swept by and Philip was being feted with streamers, confetti and flowers. Kyra Nichols presented him with a bouquet, and there was a procession of current NYCB ballerinas led off by Wendy and Jeni Ringer presenting flowers to the man who had made them all look so good so many times. Photo: Art’s Place.

Despite waves of nostalgia, especially during the heart-tugging music of SERENADE, it was in fact a joyous farewell since Philip has left us at the peak of his artistry and his future looks very sunny as he heads to Palm Beach, Florida to be with his partner. He will take up responsibilities as a stager of Balanchine and Robbins works and he says he will guest-teach at SAB whenever he is back in New York.

Bon voyage, and bonne chance!

(Bringing this from the Grove to the Glade: a luminous ballerina’s farewell. Kyra Nichols – above – photographed by Paul Kolnik.)

Friday June 22, 2007 – When it was announced several months ago that Kyra Nichols would be making her farewell appearance at New York City Ballet on June 22, 2007 it seemed like we had ample time. June 22? That’s weeks away. She’ll be dancing quite often during the season. The days flew by, ans suddenly it seemed we were literally rushing thru June. The 22nd? That’s next week. No, it’s this week. It’s tomorrow. It’s tonight. And then time caught up with us and we were sitting there waiting for SERENADE to begin.

Cry? No, I’m not going to cry. What’s there to cry about? She had a great and long career and she actually knew Mr. B; she’s retiring by choice rather than necessity. She has her children and she’ll be teaching. I’ve seen her dance hundreds of times and I have all the images stored neatly away, like flowers pressed in a beloved book. There’s a large and luminous roster of beautiful young women who will inherit Kyra’s roles and make them their own. The ballets will endure and we won’t forget her. Nothing to cry over – except knowing you will never again turn your opera glasses on Kyra and find that she is looking back at you with those radiant eyes…looking right thru you actually and into some distant source of inspiration, some little bit of heaven where Mr. B is calmly watching over her. That’s something to make you weep.

I found the cast page from the very first time I saw Kyra onstage. I would love to be able to say that I picked her out of the corps, singled her out as a future star. But of course she was just a name, another dancer at the start of her career. That’s always one of the intriguing aspects of watching NYC Ballet: you never know. You are sitting there now watching Briana Shepherd or Brittany Pollack and you just never know if one day you might be sitting in the same theatre watching them bid farewell as a beloved ballerina. It happens.

Wei and I were waiting for Tonya by the stage door and had the opportunity to meet the dancer we love to love, Faye Arthurs. She was so nice, stopping to talk to us before going in to put on her creamy  gown for VIENNA WALTZES. Earlier Kristin Sloan came by; she was setting up to film the evening backstage…I can’t wait to see what she comes up with! We also greeted Yvonne Borree, Dena Abergel and Pauline Golbin as well as the much-missed Sarah Ricard.  After  they all went in I was kicking myself for not taking pictures of them.

Above, a beloved partnership: Kyra Nichols and Philip Neal

Kyra’s choice of repertoire for her farewell programme was inspired: SERENADE has always been one of her most moving ballets and she danced tonight with the trademark Nichols lyricism at full sail. I remember many seasons ago when a kind of skinny but very elegant young dancer named Philip Neal was tapped to become Kyra’s partner. They have always looked ideal together and had a wonderful rapport. Philip’s upper body developed while maintaining the graceful line and his partnering skills blossomed as they were frequently cast together; the Robbins IN G MAJOR was always one of my favorite Nichols/Neal ballets. Their partnership was beautifully showcased tonight in SERENADE and VIENNA WALTZES. Sara Mearns was heavenly and Ashley Bouder – her one tiny slip reminding us that the dancers are human – gave a remarkable performance on all counts. Ask La Cour’s tall and princely bearing was another asset; Megan LeCrone’s pirouettes so beautifully articulated. The four demi-solistes were a nice mixture of blondes and dark-haired beauties: Alina Dronova, Ashley Laracey, Georgina Pazcoguin and Rachel Piskin. Laracey really makes such a lovely impression onstage. I feel like writing a paragraph about each of the corps girls and believe me, I could do it.

DAVIDSBUNDLERTANZE reaches its apex with the solos for Kyra and Charles Askegard and their heart-breaking parting. Kyra’s tenderness and grace strove to fend off the inevitable; Charles is a potent dramatic dancer, so moving as he departed in a dream-like state. The excellent cast further included Ringer, Somogyi, Jared Angle, Nilas Martins and Philip Neal. Maria Kowroski was on thrilling form, her flashing turns and incandescent extension a constant source of amazement. Kyra’s final gesture of despair was so moving.

Kyra’s long solo that opens the ROSENKAVALIER waltz allowed us to savor this treasure of an interpretation one last time.   Her last dance with Philip must have brought a flood of memories for both of them. Scanning the whirling couples I quickly found several favorite dancers: Dena with Craig Hall, Pauline with Rob Fairchild, Vincent Paradiso with Lauren King, Faye with Giovanni Villalobos and Kaitlyn with Will.   

In the end it was a happy farewell; I did cry during the first two ballets but VIENNA WALTZES makes it almost impossible to feel blue. Kyra was tumultuously hailed in numerous bows and she was showered with flowers. She received bouquets and embraces from her frequent partners and basked in the enthusiastic and genuine applause of her colleagues. Her husband and two sons were on hand to share the flood of affection for the beloved ballerina.

Rather than feeling depressed I felt euphoric, and extremely grateful to have seen her dance so often over the years. She seemed happy; clearly the audience did not want to let her go.

~ Oberon

(Flashback to a brilliant farewell afternoon for the great – and much lamented – Albert Evans.)

Above: photo I took of Albert on the promenade during a ballet matinee.

(Click on the dance images below to enlarge.)

Sunday June 20, 2010 – Whenever you see Albert Evans in the street, if you say ‘hello’ you will be greeted with a tremendous smile and a flood of warmth as if you have just made his day, rather than vice-versa. He will stop and chat you up, and he will make you feel like you are the celebrity. That warmth – and Albert’s big, beautiful spirit – have always made his performances at New York City Ballet particularly enjoyable.

Sexy dancers? There have been many, but few to match Albert with his stunning physique and trademark gorgeous close-shaved head. Muscular and powerful, he seems so athletic that his classically classy technique often surprises viewers, and he long ago mastered the art of the velvety landing.

This afternoon at New York City Ballet audience and Company members alike had a chance to express their love and gratitude to this magnetic and marvelous dancer. Albert danced the Forsythe HERMAN SCHMERMAN pas de deux with Wendy Whelan (above, in Paul Kolnik’s photo) as an apotheosis of one of the ballet world’s grandest partnerships.  Wendy and Albert have always been a joy to watch together and today their technical prowess and wit found a perfect distillation in this quirky duet where Albert dons a yellow skirt midway thru. Their curtain calls were full of love and mutual admiration.

Albert’s choice of a leave-taking ballet was Balanchine’s FOUR TEMPERAMENTS (above) and he danced his solo as well as he ever has which is saying a lot. Everyone is the cast seemed to be giving that extra ounce of passion and commitment to make Albert’s send-off truly memorable.

So many memories today: Albert’s Puck in MIDSUMMER NIGHT’S DREAM (Kolnik photo above with Arch Higgins and Alexandra Ansanelli); his Rhinestone Cowboy in WESTERN SYMPHONY, CONCERTO BAROCCO, BUGAKU, RED ANGELS…

…with Wendy in Wheeldon’s LITURGY…

…Ratmansky’s RUSSIAN SEASONS (John Ross photo, above)…

,..AGON (above with Wendy in a Paul Kolnik photo).

Then there were the roles he should have done but which never came his way. I suppose that is one thing about all great dance careers: the ballets you would have been perfect in but never had the opportunity.

Choreography: To date Albert has choreographed three works for New York City Ballet; his HAIKU is a ballet I would especially like to see again. Above: Philip Neal and Wendy Whelan in IN A LANDSCAPE. I am hoping his future plans include more choreographic explorations.

One of my favorite Albert moments in recent seasons happened when he appeared as Rothbart in the Peter Martins SWAN LAKE:“Albert Evans took one of the grandest curtain calls I ever saw: stepping onto the stage, Rothbart’s nastiness drew a volley of boos and hisses. Albert came forward and with an expansive gesture bowed to the House and then stopped to glare: “Careful, or I’ll turn you into a Swan!”

Many of the ballerinas Albert has partnered were on hand for the celebration today including Wendy of course (AGON in a John Ross photo above)…

…and Maria Kowroski (above with Albert in LITURGY).

I was really hoping Miranda Weese would appear; she and Albert danced together often during her career at NYC Ballet. Tess Reichlen, Jennie Somogyi, Jeni Ringer, Yvonne, Darci, Abi and Janie Taylor were among the lucky gals to have a last twirl with one of ballet’s best partners.

The flowers, streamers and volleys of ‘bravos’ swept onward as Albert waltzed and hip-hopped his way around the stage surrounded by his colleagues. One time the curtain rose to find him alone onstage striking an iconic pose as the audience roared with delight.

Tonya and I waited a long time at the stage door to say goodbye to Albert and wish him well…but he never materialized. Word came out that an impromptu dressing-room party had turned into champagne celebration. But we did meet and talk to a lot of the dancers: it’s amazing how young they all are.

It was Albert’s Day for sure but I should also mention that Megan Fairchild, Joaquin de Luz and Lauren King opened the matinee with a beautiful rendition of LA SOURCE and that Sterling Hyltin and Andrew Veyette gave intense, nuanced performances in THE LADY WITH THE LITTLE DOG with its ear-tingling score. 

Sharing the stage with Albert in FOUR TEMPERAMENTS were Sebastien Marcovici (spacious, passionate dancing), Jennie Somogyi & Jared Angle (simply grand in their pas de deux) and the riveting Teresa Reichlen. Stephanie Zungre and Alina Dronova looked super in Melancholic and the three opening duets are especially well-danced this season: Faye Arthurs with Christian Tworzyanski, Lauren King with Allen Peiffer, and Rebecca Krohn with Adrian Danchig-Waring. A word of praise also for the four girls who shared the stage with Albert in Phlegmatic: Gwyneth Muller, Ellen Ostrom, Marika Anderson and Dara Johnson.

Happy farewell, Albert! I will miss you both as a dancer and as a personality. 

Above: Albert in Balanchine’s FOUR TEMPERAMENTS with Saskia Beskow, Sophie Flack, Ellen Ostrom, and Gwyneth Muller. Photo by Henry Leutwyler.

June 21, 2010

(Article from Oberon’s Grove, one of the last to be copied and posted onto the Glade.)

Monday April 27, 2009 – I enjoyed RHEINGOLD so thoroughly on Thursday, but as magnificent as John Keenan’s conducting was that night, I sort of felt it would be appropriate to say goodbye to this RING with a performance where James Levine was on the podium; it’s always sort of been his RING. Though WALKURE was the opera I’d most liked to have seen again, I felt no desire to hear either of the Brunnhildes on offer. So when Dmitry decided to go to this RHEINGOLD I asked him to get me a ticket, too. Counting the dress rehearsal, this was my fourth RHEINGOLD this year. The major attraction of the evening was in having a new Wotan, Albert Dohmen.

The air was oppressively hot and dry up in standing room, and throughout the performance there were distractions as people wanted to go out to the bathroom and then re-enter; the usher had to explain in very loud whispers that if you go out you can’t come back in.

I suppose it should not surprise me, but really: don’t people realize (or take the time to find out) that RHEINGOLD is a one-act opera lasting almost 3 hours? This isn’t the fucking cinema, kids. You don’t just wander out and back in during the dull moments. Next thing you know, they’ll be wanting popcorn.

But, on to the performance:

Anyone who gets an opportunity to sing Wotan in this production automatically gets compared to James Morris, and not just to current-form Morris but to memories of his performances over the years. Albert Dohmen (above) was more than just a viable alternative: he has house-filling power and he spans the full range of the role without strain on top or grumbling at the the lower end. The voice falls pleasingly on the ear, reminding me tonally a bit of Theo Adam and in terms of attack and vocal ‘presence’ of George London. I’d very much like to hear Dohmen in WALKURE and SIEGFRIED – both of which are to be aired over Sirius – and in other rep as well; I would imagine he’d be a very fine Dutchman. He certainly impressed tonight.

Wendy Bryn Harmer again gave a notable performance in terms of both vocal power and richness of sound (plus a sense of urgent desperation as Freia’s fate is bandied about); she seems more than ready for larger assignments both vocally and in terms of presence. Again enjoying a great success were the giants, Rene Pape (Fasolt) and Sir John Tomlinson (Fafner). Richard Paul Fink was a magnificent Alberich tonight and Yvonne Naef again was a passionate, vocally distinctive Fricka. Kim Begley (Loge), Dennis Peterson (Mime), Wendy White (Erda), Garrett Sorenson (Froh) and especially Charles Taylor (Donner) were thoroughly satisfying. Continuing to illuminate the music of the Rhinemaidens as the Cycles move forward are Lisette Oropesa, Kate Lindsey and Tamara Mumford.

Levine’s pacing seemed right and the orchestra were playing quite well despite signs of fatigue here and there. The evening’s most entrancing moment musically came as Ms. Naef questioned the efficacy of the gold in holding onto her husband’s affections, while David Chan wove that theme of longing and desire around her wine-coloured vocalizing.

~ Oberon