Delighted to see that after 40 years the pedestrianization of Park Avenue at Pershing Square has finally been implemented — although the arc of history is certainly non-linear. The advocacy by Grand Central Partnership of the closing of Park Avenue for the plaza in 1998 angered then Mayor Rudolf W. Giuliani (who still seems to have some anger management issues), and was apparently the precipitating event for the removal of the President and General Counsel of GCP and their replacement by his allies. Those folks are still at the helm of GCP, and presumably managed the construction and management of this great amenity — which was part of the original Grand Central District plan from the 80’s by Ben Thomson and Associates. Full credit goes to the vision of Dan Biederman, the creator, along with Peter Malkin, of GCP, and Buzzy O’Keefe. Perhaps the time has come for Dan’s name to be re-associated with GCP’s many great accomplishments.
Boston Lyric Opera’s staging of Leoncavallo’s opera transformed the traveling theater troupe setting of the work into a circus.
Rafael Rojas, Michael Mayes and Lauren Michelle in ‘Pagliacci’ PHOTO: LIZA VOLL
ByHeidi Waleson
Sept. 30, 2019 5:12 pm ET
Boston
The itinerant Boston Lyric Opera has made a virtue out of its homeless state. It finds the right-sized venue for each work, and frequently transforms unexpected spaces into theaters, thereby providing fresh new perspectives on an old art form. Last week’s season opener was a staging of Leoncavallo’s “Pagliacci” at the DCR Steriti Memorial Rink in Boston’s North End. BLO transformed the traveling theater troupe setting of “Pagliacci” into a circus, creating an entire environment inside the rink. This ingenious production, directed by David Lefkowich, with set designs by Julia Noulin-Mérat, was intended to give the century-old verismo (slice-of-life) opera style the shock of the new. Could it make the audience feel as though we were watching a real onstage murder?
Not quite, but it was a fresh way to experience this operatic chestnut. Audience participation began an hour before the opera performance, when we were invited into a “fairground” set up with booths—a ring toss, a palm reader—as well as acrobats, clowns, a magician and other performers. It felt homemade, like a small-town event. We were then ushered into an orange-and-blue-striped circus tent, in which the semicircular seating came right up to the small thrust stage (the orchestra was positioned behind the singers).
The immediacy was further heightened by Charles Neumann’s modern-dress costumes; the colloquial (if occasionally awkward) English translation by Bill Bankes-Jones; action that flowed seamlessly from the stage into the audience; and especially by the excellent chorus members, including children, who sang and vividly acted their parts in the aisles and from regular spectator seats. Since the ensemble members are the audience of the play-within-the-play, who anticipate, heckle and finally witness the actor Canio’s murder of his unfaithful wife, Nedda, in the middle of the commedia dell’arte performance, this positioning, and their casual clothing, designed to blend, cleverly jolted the actual spectators into that role as well.
Mr. Lefkowich’s sharp directing, aided by David Angus’s well-paced conducting, zeroed in on the explosive interpersonal environment among the principal characters and the brutality it provokes. Baritone Michael Mayes was a singularly nasty Tonio, the Fool of the theater troupe, strutting his Prologue dressed as a ringmaster and later sexually assaulting Nedda. Tonio tells Canio about Nedda’s affair; he imbued the opera’s final line, “The comedy is finished,” with the lip-curling satisfaction of a plot well-executed. Lauren Michelle brought a pretty soprano and a touch of world-weariness to Nedda; her duet with baritone Tobias Greenhalgh, ardent and impetuous as her local-guy lover, Silvio, was imbued with a poignant hopefulness. It was the only passage sung in Italian, giving it even more of a fairy-tale quality; real life for the likes of Nedda is abuse and murder. (Silvio’s natty sweater and scholarly glasses also suggested that the two were not in the same social class.)
Rafael Rojas, who has an impressive, clarion tenor, played Canio as a domestic tyrant with a hair-trigger temper. The famous aria was imbued with self-pity; when he violently broke character in the middle of the play, twisting Nedda’s arm and demanding the name of her lover, it seemed completely realistic as well as horrifying. Tenor Omar Najmi was a nicely callow Beppe, coming into his own as the guitar-strumming Arlecchino in the play.
Other notable contributions came from aerialists Leah Abel and Molly Baechtold, who performed on hanging silks during the overture and the entr’acte music, and a parade of gaily dressed, kazoo-playing clown supernumeraries. Pablo Santiago’s lighting subtly moved the focus from the stage to the seats when necessary, and Anne Nesmith’s wigs and makeup, along with Mr. Neumann’s costumes, underlined the contrast between the elaborate artifice of the play and the ordinariness of real life. And even though I knew what was coming, when Mr. Greenhalgh ran onto the stage from his seat in the audience, and Ms. Michelle, throttled with a length of cloth, crumpled to the floor in her poufy, polka-dotted Colombina costume, I gasped along with the chorus.
—Ms. Waleson writes on opera for the Journal and is the author of “Mad Scenes and Exit Arias: The Death of the New York City Opera and the Future of Opera in America” (Metropolitan).
The Met’s uniformly well-cast new production of the famed American opera paints a vivid portrait of a complex place.
Angel Blue as Bess and Eric Owens as Porgy PHOTO: KEN HOWARD/MET OPERA
ByHeidi WalesonSept. 24, 2019 5:30 pm ET
New York
In the 29 years since “Porgy and Bess”—by George Gershwin, DuBose and Dorothy Heyward, and Ira Gershwin —was last seen at the Metropolitan Opera, the piece has become almost an opera house staple, thanks in part to the much-traveled Francesca Zambello staging. The debate over whether it is a musical or an opera has surely been decided by now—but, if not, the sheer sonic grandeur of the Met’s new production (shared with the English National Opera and the Dutch National Opera), which opened the season on Monday, should do the trick. Additionally, the suggestion that the work traffics in racial stereotypes should be answered by the thoughtfulness of James Robinson ’s staging, which portrays Catfish Row as a rich, complex community, bound together by common values and beset by struggles that can afflict any society.
Michael Yeargan ’s set—a two-story, open, wood-framed tenement building—made interiors visible and revolved to offer different perspectives of Catfish Row (the inner courtyard, the boats drawn up outside the gate). Catherine Zuber ’s costumes—print dresses, work clothes—spoke of frugality and simplicity. Between scenes, Luke Halls ’s scrim projections of houses on stilts, and the recorded sounds of waves and seagulls, gave more geographical context, while Donald Holder ’s lighting limned both time of day and extremes of weather, including the hurricane, throughout.
A scene from ‘Porgy and Bess’ PHOTO: KEN HOWARD/MET OPERA
The splendid chorus inhabited the space as though its 60 members lived there. It sometimes felt a little crowded, but it was worth it for the opulence of their singing in the prayers, dirges and celebrations that are the tent poles of “Porgy.” Mr. Robinson’s detailed directing always made them seem like individuals rather than a mass.
The show was luxuriously cast, from the title roles to the smallest cameos, so the drama of the disabled beggar Porgy and the drug-addicted Bess, whom he tries to rescue, grew out of this community context. Bass-baritone Eric Owens stressed Porgy’s strength and generosity, and his position as a leader. With her poignant lyric soprano, Angel Blue brought out Bess’s vulnerability rather than her toughness; her Bess clung to Porgy for protection in her new life, but when he wasn’t there, she was easily drawn back to the abusive Crown and the oblivion of cocaine.
Angel Blue as Bess and Frederick Ballentine as Sportin’ Life PHOTO: KEN HOWARD/MET OPERA
Tenor Frederick Ballentine ’s Sportin’ Life, the drug dealer, was lithe, handsome and a complete sleaze, tempting not just Bess but the whole community into his nefarious worldview with “It Ain’t Necessarily So.” His two principal antagonists were worthy opponents: Denyce Graves was a fierce, no-nonsense Maria, wielding her fish-gutting knife to drive him off; as the devout Serena, Latonia Moore was riveting, her luxuriant soprano rising to a wail in “My Man’s Gone Now.” As Clara, Golda Schultz brought an innocent simplicity to “Summertime.”
Bass-baritone Alfred Walker was a terrifying Crown; Ryan Speedo Green a powerful, confident Jake; and Errin Duane Brooks (Mingo), Chauncey Packer (Robbins) and Reginald Smith Jr. (Jim) were vivid in the rowdy Act I craps game. (The game became a fight, staged so realistically by David Leong that it was surprising that only Robbins was killed; Porgy’s execution of Crown in Act II was equally shocking.) Soprano Leah Hawkins had a brief, exquisite moment as the Strawberry Woman; Tichina Vaughn (Lily) and Chanáe Curtis (Annie) had lively, witty cameos.
Alfred Walker as Crown (center) PHOTO: KEN HOWARD/MET OPERA
Camille A. Brown ’s choreography for eight dancers ranged from manic social dancing to ecstatic worship, matching the ensemble’s mood. Conductor David Robertson built the opera’s grand arc and exposed its jaunty and passionate heart.
—Ms. Waleson writes on opera for the Journal and is the author of “Mad Scenes and Exit Arias: The Death of the New York City Opera and the Future of Opera in America” (Metropolitan).
AndyManshel.nyc 