And this is not great. In fact, it’s pretty bizarre. What a weird choice! Doing a lap around the stage before collapsing. I get where she’s going with it, but it’s campy, a bit silly and very insincere.

Disclaimer:To all the users who are about to send me anonymous insults, calling me nasty names and suggesting that I die for criticizing Renne Fleming, I need to mention that I am a worshiper in the house of Renee. I just tend to be baffled by her weird interpretive strokes occasionally. 

This wonderful! When she’s good, she’s good! I don’t care what people say about her. Her performance in “Der Rosenkavalier” was one of the most magical nights at the opera I’ve ever had.

Watched “Rosenkavalier” for the billionth time and I teared up, as usual, during the Marschallin’s monologue. Her commentary on the inexorability of time feels more relevant to me than ever. I love the moment where she talks about waking up in the middle of the night to stop the all the clocks.

No matter how many times I see this opera, I am always moved by it. The characters just feel so real and profoundly human. Despite the drubbing Renee Fleming took for “Armida” and “Traviata,” her Marschallin is the stuff of legend. She moves me to tears and touches my soul. Isn’t that why we go to the opera in the first place”?

How the hell does she produce that glorious note when she sings, “Da drin ist die silberne Ros’n?” She’s wonderful in this part.

The beautiful monologue from Richard Strauss’ “Der Rosenkavalier.” The first time I saw this, live at the Met, I knew I would love opera forever.

This role remains the crown jewel of Renee Fleming’s repertoire. She acts with aching subtlety, and shapes Strauss’ phrases with elegance.

I find the text of this scene heartbreaking. I always reel as I listen to the Marschallin contemplate time and fate. Everyone can relate to this, and that is why this is such a brilliant opera.

The Met Player is finally streaming its March 19th broadcast of “Lucia di Lammermoor” starring Natalie Dessay. If you want to have a near perfect opera viewing experience: watch this. The production was originally mounted for Dessay to open the 07-08 season, and she’s even better in it the second time around. 

The cast is uniformly excellent, particularly Ludovic Tézier; one of my favorite baritones, delivering the most nuanced, complex portrait of Enrico I’ve ever seen. The Maltese tenor, Joseph Calleja, has a bright, penetrating tenor that has only gained size and richness since his appearance in “Tales of Hoffmann” last season. He is a wonderful Edgardo.

I seem to be in the small minority of people who feel that the HD broadcasts diminish a lot of truly great performances. Opera critics have been accusing Peter Gelb of catering to the HD broadcasts by hiring singers that look great and give small scale performances best suited to the movie screen. But this ”Lucia” was more thrilling in the opera house (however it did translate, more or less, faithfully to film.) Along with “Capriccio” and “Don Pasquale” this is one of the best, nigh perfect, HD offerings from last season.

I really hate to compare singers. I feel far too much of opera is based on voice comparison, which is a Sisyphean practice since every singer is different. But I was too moved by this recent recording of Renee Fleming singing “I Could Have Danced All Night” to resist. Here is a prime example of opera singers’ ineptitude towards the musical theater canon: Fleming completely ignores the text, her vocal weight is far too heavy as to make the song almost absurd, her attempt to speak the text is awkward, and she even plays the grand opera diva by taking the final note up a showy octave at the end. For all her gravitas as a musician, Fleming is surprisingly inattentive to the music, opting instead to use a series of ham-handed divaesque embellishments. Above this video, I’ve posted a clip of a singer who KNOWS how to sing this song…

”My biggest frustration is that the opera business does not take nonmainstream opera seriously” - Lauren Flanigan

One of the major problems with opera, is the practice of staging the bread-and-butter staples year after year. It makes the creative process impossible for directors, singers, and conductors because, inevitably, opera fans have some personal yard stick by which all subsequent performances are measured. Woe unto ye who dares to tamper with that sacred cow: La Boheme.

Singers, perhaps, suffer the most from this because they are constantly being compared to some legendary Tosca or Mimi of yore. Any tenor, who shows the slightest bit of promise is instantly dubbed “The Next Pavarotti,” only to disappointed everyone as he develops as an artist in his own wright. Here’s an idea: if you want to hear Pavarotti, stay at home and listen to one of his many recordings!

Why is this? What is the point of dragging out “Butterfly” and “Traviata” year after year? My philosophy has always been: these are masterpieces. It’s wonderful to have a new vision for the story and new take on the character with each production.

Donizetti wrote some 80 operas during his lifetime, and only 4 have become part of the standard repertoire. Some of them are pure crap with moments of astonishing music, and others are of the quality of ‘Lucia’ or ‘L’elisir d’amore.’

My music history teacher once ranted, “Why don’t people get it? The reason these operas aren’t performed is because they’re no good!” While there are kernels of truth to this, I have to disagree. Donizetti’s Tudor operas are masterpieces, yet they were virtually extinct until pioneering efforts of Beverly Sills. Today, they are regularly staged with ‘Anna Bolena’ scheduled for the Met’s 2011-2012 season.

Strauss is another case of a composer with a vast oeuvre of overlooked masterpieces. There are those who insist Strauss never composed another great opera after Ariadne auf Naxos but I completely disagree. Take Capriccio: A character driven, thought-provoking piece with gloriously beautiful music. The work is finally being given a high-profile revival thanks to Renee Fleming, but the work speaks for itself. The music is fantastic, and the opera asks the audience to ponder the importance of words and music.

Die Frau Ohne Schatten is a wonderful, fantasmagorical fairytale that mixes large-scale mythology and intimate human drama. Intermezzo is a hilarious domestic comedy with character driven music based on Strauss own experiences. Die Sweigsame Frau is, in my opinion, one of the best operatic comedies ever written with some of the most beautiful music ever composed for the Bass voice.

The point is, it’s time opera houses and audiences tried something new. La Boheme and Traviata bring in the big bucks, but they’ve also become museum pieces and worse meaningless competitions (in one corner we have two-time champion Ruth Ann Swenson’s Mimi…in the other, we have newcomer Anna Netrebko!)

There are TONS of operas out there that have never been given a chance. It’s time we gave them a try!

“Artists today need to be more subtle and nuanced. What works well on stage works well on camera. It’s enough to think, feel, and project, without pushing or overdoing it.” - Dmitri Hvorostovsky

In the age of Peter Gelb, one of the common questions posed by critics and fans is: “Are performances being adjusted for the HD broadcasts?” The implication being, singers are delivering performances that look good on a movie screen, but don’t necessarily read from the stage of the Metropolitan Opera house.

Having seen most of the HD broadcasts, I can safely say that, in my opinion, the performances are mostly diminished by the broadcasts due to a number of factors, and the best performances have always come off well on stage and on screen.

Richard Eyre’s “Carmen,” which debuted last year, was a great example of a production that was brilliant on stage and only slightly inferior on the movie screen. Elīna Garanča’s Carmen was captivating. There were no broad gestures or cliched hip swishing associated with this character; the performance was focused and subtle. It worked because Mr. Eyre and Ms. Garanča had clearly spent time digging into the character, imbuing her with clear motivations and objectives.

All of this translated wonderfully to the big screen because it was real. The rest of the cast resorted to the usual operatic bag of tricks - flinging themselves about the stage and using broad unmotivated gestures - it came off as insincere on stage and it was impossible to watch during the broadcast.

Last year’s “Der Rosenkavalier” was one of the few performances that was equally wonderful on stage and on screen. Here were two great artists performing signature roles that they understood inside and out.

Renee Fleming’s Marschallin was one of the most moving performances I’ve ever witnessed on an operatic stage. What struck me most about this performance, was the attention to the tiniest detail that made this character seem so startlingly real. Ms. Fleming carried herself with poise - befitting a character of her status - using a small economy of movement, that allowed for every emotion to read vividly. 

Susan Graham managed to convey Octavian’s impetuousness and ardor without resorting to shallow tricks. There was a confusion and a desperation that always felt spontaneous and never calculated.

All these aspects were kept beautifully intact on the screen. Nothing seemed scaled-down to accommodate the cameras.

Part of the problem with these broadcasts, is the way they are filmed. The cameramen shoot from bizarre angles with unflattering closeups, that would diminish even the greatest production of a play. There’s an advantage to viewing the singers from up close, but there’s also a major drawback and let’s be honest: there’s nothing flattering about staring into a singer’s wide-open trap. 

In an essay on “The Iceman Cometh,” Vincent Canby noted, “One of the essential joys of [the play] is the way the eye is allowed to wander at will, from a couple of characters having a furious argument at stage left to the old fellow who has passed out cold, downstage right, or to the impassive face of Rocky, the bartender, viewing all from his station upstage right. ‘The Iceman Cometh’ cannot be reduced to a succession of close-ups, medium shots and long shots without sabotaging the playwright’s vision.” I believe this statement applies to most theater and certainly opera as well. Part of a thrilling performance is a character’s reaction to what another character is saying…or in the case of opera: singing.

Opera deals in heightened drama and big ideas, but it’s the intimate human emotions that move us. Without truthful acting and honest singing, those emotions come off as campy or artificial. Stanislavsky considered opera the ultimate artfrom - beautifully blending music and drama as a whole new form of expression. Good acting is always good acting…no matter what the medium!

Let’s just get one thing straight: I ADORE Capriccio. I think it’s genius! While It’s arguably some of Strauss’ best music, the opera is almost never performed because it challenges its audience to think and pay as close attention to the text as to the music. The opera also ends on a note of ambiguity, as it should. But when you consider the Metropolitan Opera crowd - a bunch of literal minded ninnies who just want an evening of Verdi oom-pah-pah replete with a healthy heaping of Zeffirelli schlock - their unwaivering resistance to try anything new or challenging, makes the prospect of staging an usual piece like Capriccio, about as enticing as a lunch with Shannen Doherty. After two excruciating runs of Rossini’s Armida, in a performance that was unanimously considered a huge failure among opera critics, this Capriccio felt like a homecoming for La Fleming and the Metropolitan Opera.

The stakes were almost nonexistent last night. La Fleming is one of the best Straussians of our day, and the roll of the countess has become something of a calling card for her. There was NO doubt she was gonna score a home run with this performance. The vocal writing could have been composed specifically for her voice; her creamy middle register - which has always been her sweet spot - was given every opportunity to shimmer and Fleming did not disappoint. The hunky Canadian tenor Joseph Kaiser, who was a fantastic Narraboth in Salome a few years back, was a highly passionate and impulsive Flamand. There was an element of danger to this hot headed musician and the fact that he shaped Strauss’ punishing, high-lying phrases with lyrical grace was all the more impressive.

 Russell Braun played the writer Olivier with a mix of cool suaveness and rakish poise that emphasized Olivier’s cerebral temperament. It was a perfect contrast to Mr. Kaiser’s intensity. Mr. Braun sang with ringing ardor and plushness which is a very rare quality with the majority of baritone voices today.

Capriccio proves to be an insightful, thought-provoking meditation on process of creating art. It is truly wonderful to have this excellent piece being performed with a cast that can more than do it justice

Wow. She (or the Met) wasn’t allowed to keep the John Galliano? 

You never know what to expect when a soprano ventures outside of the world of opera. Renee Fleming, arguably the most recognizable opera singer today, carries the kind of clout that allows her to make recordings of any project she’s interested in pursuing. Her crossover attempts include two disasters that enervate and offend (“Dark Hope” and “Under the Stars”) and a jazz album with some truly astonishing moments (“Haunted Heart”). “Dark Hope” is a silly, pointless foray into indie-rock that manages to alienate both opera lovers and the indie crowd. “Under the Stars,” is a ghastly compilation of musical theater anthems recorded with Bryn Terfel under the inexplicable direction of Paul Gemignani. Sung with a heavy operatic belt against syrupy orchestrations; this recording is a mere footnote in the long and storied heritage of opera singers, essentially date raping the American Songbook.

“Haunted Heart” doesn’t fare much better. Opinions are sharply divided, but I find parts of this album remarkably beautiful. Ms. Fleming began as a jazz singer, and she clearly understands the style and the need to adjust her technique. Her selections are questionable, but her singing, particularly her interpretation of the title song, is sensitive and soulful. She sings with a surprisingly beautiful chest register - meltingly rich with smoky textures - using every color and facet of her voice to paint the words. The album, as a whole, isn’t entirely wonderful, but there is enough to suggest that Ms. Fleming might have a thrilling jazz album somewhere in her.

Ms. Fleming is hardly the first offender. Kiri te Kanawa, has a shockingly vast catalog of musical theater abortions - all sung as Verdi death scenes - her “West Side Story” with Jose Carreras is, perhaps, the crown jewel of her craptastic oeuvre. And The Three Tenors holiday album is a shining example of how to ruin Christmas for everyone!

Singer’s able to bridge the divide, are few and far between. Dawn Upshaw knows how to adjust her singing style, and her Rodgers & Heart album is a delectable treat for the ears.  Nathan Gunn is perhaps the most successful case of an opera singer turned Broadway baby, though he is not immune to pitfalls. His debut recording, “Home,” was a bizarre smattering of sticky pop songs - perhaps personal favorites - sung with plummy diction, heavy vibrato, and a go-for-the-throat baritone bark. When it’s not embarrassing it’s just dull and someone should have advised Mr. Gunn - and every other opera offender - to make a study of the American musical; this would inform them and instill a true understanding of the music they’re singing. All too often, it just seems like opera singers regard musical theater as an inferior sibling of opera.