Most news coming from the Metropolitan Opera these days has not been uplifting. From the boos toward director Luc Bondy after Tosca, to the similar signs of vexation shown to maestro Daniele Gatti after Aida, this native New Yorker is a tad worried that we are developing a penchant for being hard impossible to please. Could this reputation possibly prevent performers from coming to New York? Probably not, since New York is “where dreams are made,” after all. However, I’m afraid we may yet become known as a city full of critics—not the art lovers and appreciators we are. Because I had not yet visited my favorite opera house this season, I splurged and purchased tickets for myself and a musician-colleague to Friday night’s performance of Der Rosenkavalier featuring Renée Fleming.

Perhaps it was the mediocre review given by the New York Times on Tuesday’s opening night, the flowing negativity for the other two productions currently at the venue, or the absence of James Levine, but let’s just say that I was hesitant to purchase last-minute-tickets for the sold out show (thanks to allshows.com for the tickets, but damn you for the 200% inflation without even delivering them to will-call). Upon arriving and immediately ordering champagne with the last of my cash, I took my seat.

The first thing I noticed was the number of empty seats. I won’t dwell on this for long, but seeing a sold-out theater with many vacant seats certainly makes me wonder. Although I was sitting in Family Circle—the highest seating section at the Met, where some seats were likely reserved for absent subscription holders—I would bet that many tickets were still sitting on unsuccessful scalpers’ desks. For those thinking, “at least the tickets were sold,” please read my article on the Pittsburgh Symphony Orchestra, which despite perennially outstanding ticket sales, is experiencing a half a million-dollar deficit. These companies survive on gifts and donations. Getting people in the seats is only the first part of that process.Ok I’m done with that topic, I promise.

The curtain opens, Renée Flemming and Susan Graham are truly a match made in heaven. They last paired in 2000 for a performance of the same opera, to rave reviews. I realize how fortunate I am to see them opposite each other. Baron Ochs is hilarious. Icelandic bass Kristinn Sigmundsson exemplified the perfect balance of power and “boring” I thought his role demanded. Newcomer Miah Persson, as Sophie, besides from being absolutely gorgeous, has not only the power so often lacking in her role, but also amazing acting skills. More on that soon though.

Act II, the scene I am most looking forward to is coming up, the Presentation of the Silver Rose. The set was the most breathtaking work I have ever seen. Image: Graham walks in from a sub-stage staircase dressed in all silver, servants line the extravagant spiral staircases, cue the horn fanfare, and a not so subtle gasp from everyone in the audience signals our profound appreciation. I forget all about the recent attack on my bank account. Thank you Maestro Edo de Waart for giving us a moment to appreciate this. The pause might have lasted mere seconds, but it seemed like an eternity, and I felt like I was in the scene for the rest of the act. I wanted to applaud, absolutely sensational… and on a similar idea, the Maestro knew exactly when to do this at other points in the opera (such as the renown Act III trio).

If you are familiar with the opera, you spend much of Act II waiting for the initial moment between Octavian and Sophie. You know what I’m talking about, the look that says more than words can. It can be the most subtle thing in the world, or grandiose and overdone. We know how everything ends, but the first glance of star-crossed lovers can burn an image in your brain forever. So how was it?

The tension was palpable, and even more important, the romance was believable.

I wouldn’t be doing my job if I just raved all day and night about how much I loved the trio in Act III, or the period costumes which made Flemming truly look like an Austrian princess. I want to address something else…

During one of the (lengthy) intermissions, I had the pleasure of speaking with several other members of the audience. My goal: to track down someone who attended the opening of Tosca. Mission accomplished, with a lovely couple from central Jersey who have had a subscription to the Met for 38 years. Got that? 38 years! I’m quite comfortable posting their comments online.

I asked them about Tosca, and they enthusiastically praised the production. I followed up with an inquiry into the audience’s reaction to director Luc Bondy. They were passionate in saying that the booing was not a universal reply, but centralized to specific clusters of the crowd (and not just the expensive orchestra seats). Details of the premiere performance emerge: on-stage nudity, sexual acts (we’re talking well beyond the under-the-covers stuff), things start to click into place in my mind.

What am I getting at? Nothing really, just that I’m happy I threw caution to the wind, went with my gut and respect for the Met which has been earned via decades of good performances, and spent my Friday night at the opera. It was one of the best productions I have seen in years. My colleague, for who this was the first time at the opera, is counting down the days until Madame Butterfly. If you take anything from this article, let it be that when it comes down to reviews, booing or applauding, only one opinion matters, your own.

Posted on October 19th, 2009 at 6:05 pm | Filed under Features |