Druid and Roman Gods Align for a Spectacular Met Gala

Bellini’s Norma

Opening Night Gala

Metropolitan Opera

September 25, 2017

The gods align for the greatest opera about female friendship
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lei: I always arrive at the Met opening gala with a mix of trepidation and excitement, but this time even more so since Bellini’s Norma is easily one of my favorite operas – I was preoccupied about being disappointed by a cast not up to snuff or a lackluster production. While I can suffer through a mediocre Wagner as season opener, a butchered Norma is definitely a bad omen for the year to come.  

Lui: Thankfully, the Druid and Roman gods aligned as this turned out to be possibly the best Norma I’ve ever seen live. Musically spectacular and dramatically solid, this production delivered the most exciting opening night of the last eight years.  

The sacred forest has dreamlike qualities
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lei: Replacing the Met’s prior minimalist production of Norma, Sir David McVicar went back to the basics with a naturalistic and potentially more historically accurate interpretation. While this approach may have seemed uninventive at first blush, a closer look revealed it to be rife with interesting details and thoughtful choices, all perfectly executed. The sets designed by Robert Jones were lush without being overwrought and best of all they were dynamic, moving vertically between the forest and Norma’s domestic den, making for majestically swift scene changes.

Lui: The sacred forest that provides the backdrop for most of the grand scenes seemed a generic dark woodsy place at first. But, as the action evolved it turned out that all of the trees moved, oneirically sliding in several directions, expanding and compressing different spaces. Equally magical were the twilight effects of the sunrays dancing through the somber forest, as if filtered through leaves we could not see.

A model of Norma's womb-like abode
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lei: Norma’s home was encircled by womb-like walls of mud and wood that produced a rustic earth-goddess effect. As with the rest of the sets, the richness of detail was striking: a pot bubbled over a fire, a loom stood to one side alongside several orderly storage urns, as well as a small altar with candles, and a cozy bed adorned with animal furs.

But perhaps the most spectacular touch was in the finale, when the fire of the pyre on the horizon reverberated with dancing orange lights, creating an infernal background for the dark shadows of the characters on stage.

Lui: During the overture, we see Oroveso and a group of Druids carrying several dead warriors on stretchers and mourning their losses. This set the tone for the Druids being in a losing war with the Roman oppressors, creating from the get-go a highly polarized background against which the many dramatic tensions of the opera played out.

The priestess harnesses her chaste goddess
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lei: During the prayer Casta Diva, Adalgisa takes a prominent role in the ritual, right next to Norma. She takes her hand, which emphasizes the closeness of their professional relationship that, too, will explode in the love triangle to come.

Lui: In McVicar’s vision, the unholy priestess and her entire coterie (except for Joyce DiDonato’s embodiment of Adalgisa) are all hyper-sexed up. Her attendants are all earthy and legs and flesh and writhing around, often on the ground. Norma too in her introductory prayer presents herself on her raised altar-like stage as a Dionysian force of nature. She lays out on her back with her legs spread and chest open toward the moon in a gesture of harnessing its power. And it was a very powerful take on the character.

Adalgisa stands by Norma's side
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lei: The costumes by Moritz Junge were also aiming at some historical accuracy, with simple monochrome tunics for Norma and Adalgisa and the usual Roman armor for Pollione. What really stood out here though was the chorus, as McVicar delivered the most chthonic take on Bellini’s Druids I have ever seen. Finally someone is willing to take a risk on conjuring a bit of the Dionysian in our genteel days. I get the feeling we have the influence of Game of Thrones on the current gestalt to thank. The chorus of bloodthirsty tribal warriors was HBO-worthy, torches, hog head and mud-stained exposed flesh and all.

Whenever the warrior Druids and their wild women were on stage they were a force to be reckoned with, emanating visceral energy from every pore as they constantly hoped that Norma would allow them to unleash their fury (and when she finally does, their Guerra! Guerra! really goes all out with fire, war dances of intimidation and more).

But most important of all, musically everything worked beautifully under the baton of maestro Carlo Rizzi. The entire cast was on point, with not a single weak link.

Sondra Radvanovsky comes into her own as Norma
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lui: Sondra Radvanovsky has decidedly grown into the role. Since the last time we saw her as Norma, she has matured into an even more well rounded singer and artist. Tonight she was warmer, more expressive, more powerful and even more subtle in those tenuous and tender voiced moments. She was a star.

Joyce DiDonato also exceeded all my expectations. I have long been a fan but have grown accustomed to hearing her sing either the lighter more playful bel canto repertoire or the high baroque. In this meatier more dramatic role she really showed off her bel canto chops and elevated every one of her duets with the majestic Norma. Plus she and Radvanovsky had real chemistry as friends.

A moving story of female friendship takes flight
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lei: The opera presents one of the most moving representations of female friendship in the repertory, but these two women and their obviously sensitive souls brought it to a whole other level. Musically their duets were executed with the utmost care and craft and their body language expressed just how intimately in sync these two characters are. The appeal of Norma lies also in its profound feminine core.

Lui: My only qualms were that DiDonato was the only one who didn’t seem to belong. With her perfectly blown out, close-cropped modern hairstyle, she seemed like a page boy who wandered out of a different opera, rather than a member of the otherwise dramatically bedraggled Druid holy women. It’s a minor detail, but her solar blonde locks shone out against the drab landscape of these moon worshippers like a sore thumb, albeit a drop-dead gorgeous one.

Lei: Matthew Rose as Oroveso was effortlessly potentissimo, earthy yet very musical. Acting-wise he exuded a refreshing warrior-like vigor that is rather uncommon in the character who is more often is played as a frail elderly man. Rose blew me away and I will definitely be looking forward to hearing him again.

Pollione owns his women
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lui: The Maltese tenor Joseph Calleja was a terrific Pollione. It apparently takes a Mediterranean tenor to get a Roman Druid-ladies’ man right. Calleja’s Pollione was cocky, entitled and unapologetic. Often harshly grabbing Adalgisa or Norma by their necks so as to bend them into submission, he strutted around in his Roman garb and acted like the kind of impossible jerk who in too many instances is apparently so irresistible to women. Vocally, Calleja’s tenor was in great form: warm, sunny and seductive, with excellent phrasing and perfect control both in his solo arias and in the many ensemble parts.

The Druids channel the Dionysian in their war dance
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lei: No matter how many Normas I’ve seen, I just can never get enough of it, not least of all because every time I learn something new or I discover an angle I hadn’t considered before. This time, perhaps due to the very lively chorus who eagerly awaited Norma’s direction, I was particularly struck by how disgraceful of a public figure the Norma character is. She effectively betrays her people and her duties as a spiritual and political leader for the love of a man who just also happens to be one of their most charismatic enemies. Even worse, she uses her powers to either protect or punish her lover and father of her children, potentially to the detriment of her fellow Druids.

Lui: But, this is also what makes her such a complex, deeply human and even relatable character. Her internal conflicts and weaknesses but also her ultimate honesty and redemption. When in this production Norma tenderly embraces Pollione in front of her baffled countrymen, she is a bad priestess, yes, but also a woman who is ecstatic to regain her man’s affection and is not afraid of loving passionately, even if that means death.

The pyre blazes with the persona non grata dons the black veil of disgrace
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lei: In the finale, Norma gets covered in a black veil before turning her back to the public and proudly walking to the stake hand in hand with her lover, not as a martyr but as an empowered bride, all while her betrayed people basically curse her:

Vanne al rogo! Ed il tuo scempio
Purghi l’ara e lavi il tempio!

Maledetta estinta ancor!

Hence to the pyre! May your last breath

Pacify our altar and our temple.

Malediction after life have power!

Lui: Whereas in other productions this moment can be played with a certain melancholic remorse that comes off as an affectionate fondness for the fallen priestess whom they are forced to reluctantly execute, here it came off scathing and hostile with an undertone of defeat rather than melancholy. These were the words of a betrayed people who still have impossible odds to face in the days ahead. Thus the tragedy was heightened.

The Druids are thirsty for Roman blood
Photo credit: Ken Howard

Lei: With this Norma the Met went back to the basics, with a traditional risk-free production, which most importantly allowed the beauty of Bellini’s music and emotional charge to shine in all its glory. When the basics are as divine as Norma (a perfect dramatic and musical masterpiece), the basics done right are all you need – nothing more, nothing less.

And that is a good omen for the season to come.

– Lui & Lei

The Passion of Maria Stuarda

Donizetti’s Maria Stuarda

(First time this season)

Metropolitan Opera

January 29, 2016

Two queens, one love interest
Photo credit: Met

Donizetti’s Maria Stuarda is one of those rare operas that is truly female driven. The opera is divided between the two principal women roles and their big face off ends up relegating all of the male players to little more than quaint adornment on the sidelines. This second of Donizetti’s three Tudor queens tells of the royal feminine ego, and the concomitant womanly will to power.

We got our first surprise of the evening before the conductor even took his place at the podium. The stage manager came out with an announcement that the star of the show, Sondra Radvanovsky, had been suffering from a cold. A shudder of horror rippled through the crowd. The disappointment was palpable. But, she would be singing anyway, which unleashed a sigh of uncertain relief into the hall. Still, I was worried that the Donizettian bel canto fireworks would come out muddled.

Maria's confession
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met 

Like her predecessor in Anna Bolena, Maria Stuarda is disgraced by a disgraceful rival, only this time that rival is a woman, rather than a slimy husband. Even though the two storylines have many plot points in common, this is a very different queen. Maria Stuarda is different perhaps most of all in terms of her vocal characterization. Though the range of emotions she covers is not as vast as that of her soprano assoluta counterparts (in Anna Bolena and Roberto Devereux), she nevertheless covers a great deal of emotional ground.

Maria Stuarda is the softer spoken cousin of the other two queens. Her range is on the piano or soft and silent side of things, the place where self-reflective meditation and ecstatic flights of spiritual elation take place: melancholic meanderings of the memory and mind. Her moral fortitude and religious conviction wins the day for her, no matter how dismal that day concludes. She is the one who comes out holding her head high. She is the one who maintains her elegance, who goes out with understated pride, who faces her fate in a conniption fit of pious mysticism. It is clear where Donizetti’s sympathies lay. He is on the side of the poor, unjustly deposed Catholic queen, it would seem.

Guarda: sui prati appare
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

When we are first introduced to her she is glowing with the satisfaction of being granted a stroll in the great outdoors with her aria, Guarda: sui prati appare. In this scene Sondra Radvanovsky was radiant. Her face was lit with joy and the music lifted along with her. She is calm and collected but also ineffably happy. She sings of nostalgia for a long lost past, but she is also confident in her present. She doesn’t let the melancholic moment get the best of her. But then the music shifts to sadness and she is overcome by the deeper existential portent of her situation as the political prisoner of her ruthless rival to the throne. And her vocal characterization changes accordingly. This is the stuff Donizetti’s brilliance is made of.

Enter Guglielmo, the Earl of Leicester (her love interest), and suddenly she grows confident again, yet, at the same time, waxes tender with affection for an old friend and for the warmth of human connection. In terms of the emotional palette of this sequence that consumes most of the second half of Act II, the best is yet to come. They are told that the queen is out walking in those same woods. Maria Stuarda’s initial reaction is dread and fear. Her first instinct is to flee, but she hesitates more than once, rethinks her instinct, and stands her ground. Cowardice does not become her. So she stands tall. The scene is a thrilling study of feminine instinct and conviction.

Elizabeth plays with fire
Photo credit: Sara Krulwich / New York Times

When they finally meet, Maria reluctantly but graciously deigns to lower herself before her cousin, her captor, her queen. Her vocal characterization is now docile, pious, respectful. The queen cannot contain herself and in a dramatic slowly building crescendo, she rises up like a wave and comes crashing down on poor Maria Stuarda, accusing her of having murdered her own husband and provoking what Radvanovsky played convincingly as an outburst of self-righteous rage. Her body language didn’t get all riled up, but her voice did. I was extremely impressed by the way Radvanovsky completely owned the moment through conveying all of her emotions in her voice. She was raw anger and rage but in her body she was self-possessed. It’s one of those operatic moments that sends tingles through your body when done right. And this performance was definitely in the sweet spot. Even if her voice struggled to break through her reported head cold, the resulting effects were right in line with both the character and the demands of scene. In fact, it’s hard to know whether the cracks in her voice were intentional or not. The rawness of the moment came through all the way.

Her big confrontation with Elizabeth was gripping. This is possibly one of the most intense series of insults ever uttered in an opera:

Figlia impura di Bolena,

Parli tu di disonore?

Meretrice indegna e oscena,

In te cada il mio rossore.

Profanato è il soglio inglese,

Vil bastarda, dal tuo piè!

It is also the dramatic turn point of the opera. While it seemed that the two women might try to get along for a moment, there is definitely no going back after Maria calls Elisabetta a bastard whore who spoils the English soil by merely standing on it. While there are many ways of delivering this scathing recitative, I appreciated the boiling yet composed rage of Radvanovsky, who rose up into the highest reaches of her range only for the big oscena climax of her tirade. Meretrice indegna oscena. Wow! Otherwise she only punctuated the beginning and the end of the passage. Her initial “No” emitted from her in the form of a chesty nearly spoken voice, as was the concluding “piè” of her “dal suo piè.”

 

Maria Stuarda's final prayer
Photo credit: Ken Howard

The inspired, passionate and despairing heart of Maria Stuarda came across in the final sequence of the opera. Her final prayer was incredibly moving, mystical rapture backed up by the chorus. This is what stands in the place of Anna Bolena’s famous madness aria.

Ascent to martyrdom
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

The final passage of the opera (Roberto! Roberto! Ascolta), as the heroine turns to face her death, is about the lofty heights to which the soul can climb. It’s profound musical experience even if subdued in pacing and in tone, though I think this is what largely makes it so special. The depth of feeling that the Queen of Scots expresses as she prepares for her ascent, to meet her maker, is almost otherworldly and Radvanovsky embodied it beautifully, with a feverish crescendo from pious softness to soaring rapture, particularly when it came to the repeat of the last line il flagello di un Dio punitor, also thanks to the faster tempi chosen by maetsro Riccardo Frizza. Here Sir David McVicar’s production stages that ascent as one that is decidedly dark. The heroine ascends to face her executioner though the extremes of piety she demonstrated throughout the piece leads you to believe that she is actually heading to a better place, beyond the treacherous dungeon depths of what she has apparently experienced for the last 18 long years. In her scarlet petticoat, she proclaims herself a martyr for the Catholic faith.

Sondra Radvanovsky was radiant as Maria Stuarda. Though she reportedly had a cold, she sure didn’t show it. She has a purity of sound coupled with controlled power. Even singing softly for some of her tender reflective moments she still completely filled the space of the Met. If this is Radvanovsky’s Maria Stuarda on an off day, I’m tempted to come back to catch her when she’s on.

Cecil persuades Elizabeth to get rid of Maria
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

I’ve heard it said that Elisabetta is the other half of Maria Stuarda’s soprano assoluta role. Together they form one masterful whole of great compositional breadth and invention. South African soprano Elza van den Heever under McVicar’s direction gave her Elisabetta an awkward manly, if not androgynous gait, which turns turns the character into a sort of limping monster, a grostesque that is only reinforced by the make up and costuming decisions implemented by John Macfarlane’s set and costume designs. We saw van Heever in this role back in 2012 and I remember her being even more captivating then. Here she was strong, she obviously squarely possesses the role, with two feet planted firmly on the ground, but I kept expecting her to sing louder, to show us even more vividly what she can do with this lady crazed by power, love and jealousy. And what a way to represent the visionary virginal queen of the English renaissance. The horror! For her it would seem that all politics are personal and entirely personally is the only way to take your realpolitik. Even better to be brusque about it.

Queen is not pleased with Roberto
Photo credit: Met

As to the gentlemen, in this opera they really have secondary roles but still here were cast brilliantly. Tenor Celso Albelo as Roberto, the Earl of Leicester, really came out strong for his last big number, Iniqui tutti. He was bright and round in the upper register though never strident and his instrument played off Radvanovsky’s beautifully in their duets together. It amounted to an impressive debut at the Met and I look forward to hearing more from him. Baritone Patrick Carfizzi as Guglielmo Cecil, Elizabeth’s secretary of state, very compellingly performed his peripheral male role. His booming deep baritone was lyrical and fluid, with a velvety charismatic sound that left me wanting more.

Devilish clowns entertain Elizabeth's court
 Photo credit: Met

Sir David McVicar’s production proceeds with an efficient economy. Opening on the deep blood red reception hall at court that is lost in the throes of a carnivalesque celebration, replete with acrobatic devils, sets us up for the deep crimson red of Maria Stuarda’s undergarments in the final scene that she strips down to before approaching her executioner. As is the case in his work for Anna Bolena, the scene changes fluidly from one to the next that keeps the action moving right along at an almost dreamlike pace, especially considering the largely subdued overall tone of this most mystical of Donizetti royal tragedies. All roads lead to the material renunciation of an apparently most spiritual regal personality.

– Lui & Lei

To sign or not to sign the death warrant
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

First Tudor Queen Down – Two More To Go

Donizetti’s Anna Bolena

Metropolitan Opera

October 9, 2015

Queen Anna Bolena unleashes her rage
Photo credit: New York Times

Lei: As bel canto lovers, we are always over the moon when we get to see an opera from Donizetti’s “Tudor trilogy.” In this series the incredibly beautiful and virtuosic singing also serves the purpose of expressing a range of dramatic emotions that runs the gamut, particularly for the regal title roles. Each of these works features a most complex female lead, a queen who rules, loves, rages, suffers, fights, avenges and melts (not necessarily in that order). The singing here is so challenging that there are very few artists able to tackle it. So, when the Met announced that it was going to present all three of the “Donizetti Queens” in the same season, with the title role sang each time by one of the most exciting sopranos around, Sondra Radvanovsky, we started jumping up and down, giddy with excitement and anticipation. Drama! Vocal fireworks! Thundering yet tender but crazy queens!

The Queen cannot believe she's fallen into Henry VIII's trap
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

Lui: Donizetti’s Anna Bolena is a rare gem. Despite or perhaps due to the musical supremacy of its score and the vocal extravagance it demands of its singers, the first of Donizetti’s three queens only appears all too infrequently. In fact, this season the Met is one of the only two opera houses staging it around the world (the other being Bergamo) – how lucky for us! The role of its heroine comprises an odyssey of musical moods and emotional tones that is among the most dynamic in the repertoire. With its forbidding vocal demands and its broad range that spans the whole spectrum of human emotions from somber sadness to raw feminine heroism, Donizetti’s Anna Bolena is one of the great soprano assoluta roles par excellence, up there with Bellini’s Norma and Donizetti’s third queen, the Elizabeth of Roberto Devereux, who will be making her Met debut later this season.

This was Sondra Radvanovsky’s night in every way. From the very start, she rendered the reflective, nostalgic mood of her opening aria, Come, innocente giovane through lyrical low-lying phrases and intricately delicate coloratura juxtaposed to flexible high notes with several flights into the uppermost registers.

Regal dignity
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

Lei: In this early aria, the forlorn queen ruminates on her estranged husband and her difficult life at court as a queen who fails to produce male heirs (though she did give birth to Elizabeth but that’s for another opera…). Things heat up shortly thereafter, with Anna’s private, ill-fated encounter with her ex-lover Percy and her subsequent arrest by Henry for adultery (though she was not really adultering – evil skirt-chasing Henry is just making up excuses to get rid of her and marry his new lover, Giovanna Seymour).  

Queen Anna, Queen-to-be Elizabeth and the lusty page Smeaton
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

In terms of the story and score, Anna Bolena’s initial trajectory presents a powerful woman who is steadfast in her convictions as she withstands the temptation of seeing Percy again. Here Radvanovsky demonstrated great feats of coloratura flexibility and a truly resolute, stouthearted tone. In the concluding Ah, segnata è la mia sorte, Radvanovsky gave us the full power of her dramatic sound. The full heroic strength of a true soprano assoluta was on display.

The treacherous Giovanna pleads with Anna
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

Lui: Incredibly moving was her forgiveness of Giovanna Seymour in the beginning of Act II. The two women share a dramatically charged moment in which Bolena realizes that her rival for the affection of the king is none other than her closest confidant and friend Giovanna Seymour. After an initial moment of surprised growing rage, Radvanovsky’s soaring vocal lines in her recognition that Seymour is as much a victim as she is in this moment of human tenderness and understanding were so transcendent that they sent tingles through my body. The dark dusky hues in her voice that shone through were just so human. 

Lei: This Act II opener really caught me off guard in its surprising human and moving twist. One would expect Bolena to unleash all sorts of insults on her double faced friend who’s sleeping with her husband, but the queen here actually forgives her as she’s been in her same shoes before (when she was the king’s lover causing him to dump his then queen) and so she understands the lure of Henry VIII and the power that comes with him (è reo soltanto / chi tal fiamma accese in te). On the other hand, though, Anna’s forgiveness has the effect of further punishing Giovanna who just cannot bear the guilt of having betrayed the trust of her amazingly gracious queen (ah! peggiore è il tuo perdono / dello sdegno ch’io temea).

The Queen suspects her husband's fidelity
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

Lui: Dauntless during her trial, Anna expresses regret in haunting, pathetic phrases, ever somber but understated. Radvanovsky’s vocal agility was sensational. Her encyclopedic singing was simply breathtaking. And if you were weren’t satisfied with all of the ground she covered by the end of Act I, she really pulled out all the stops in Act II.

Lei: Her performance was extraordinary throughout the first two thirds of the evening. But by the time she got her grandiose finale that climaxes with the famous “mad scene” in her prison cell and subsequent execution, it was like she was only pacing herself in the lead up to this phenomenal passage of music.

Coppia iniqua!
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

Lui: For her last scene, Donizetti gives us a panorama of her emotional existence. Radvanovsky’s voice masterfully embodied every contour of her heroine’s psychic landscape with resilience and stamina. Her vocal technique ranged across the spectrum – the melancholy piano pianissimo of her sad and somber reminiscence back to happier times (Al dolce guidami), the hurt (Cielo, a’ miei lunghi spasimi), the heroic (Coppia iniqua). It’s an emotional storm. And Radvanovsky was mind blowing. The way her voice got all friable and frail, almost like dry parchment, during the most delicate moment of her big climax in the mad scene, ranks up there with some of the great Met performances of my humble experience. It’s just a shame that the rest of the cast was rarely at her level.

Serial husband Henry VIII
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

Lei: Ildar Abdrazakov, who is usually reliable, had his moments but from time to time tonight just couldn’t get there. His voice seemed to drop off and was almost inaudible. Which is only made more conspicuous by the sheer force of his extraordinary female lead. I hate to say it but his heart just didn’t seem to be in it. Taylor Strayton as Percy was a mediocre tenor at best, though he has shown signs of improvement since the last time we saw him in Bellini's La Sonnambula a few years back. Milijana Nikolic in her Met debut as Giovanna Seymour was solid, though I found her sound to be muddled, almost milky. Her enunciation of the Italian wasn’t as crystal clear and cutting as Radvanovsky’s.  

Smeaton pours his heart out.
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

Lui: The court singer, Smeaton, sung with romantic agility by one of my favorite bel canto mezzo sopranos, Tamara Mumford was perhaps the highlight of the supporting cast. She has great stage presence and really embodies the lovelorn longing of the young Cherubino-esque farfallone amoroso, who flies a little too close to the flame with tragic results for all involved.

Anna falls into the trap
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

I also came to a greater appreciation of Sir David McVicar’s production this time. I was a little underwhelmed by the starkness of Robert Jones’s sets when we saw this production at its debut back on opening night in 2011. But tonight they really struck me as almost painterly in their attention to period details like the cavernous space of the early modern royal castle and palace. The modular design makes for fluid set changes that keep the action flowing almost oneirically. And Jenny Tiramani’s costumes are just spectacular. So plush in their florid Renaissance flair. Many scenes looks like a Holbein or a Bronzino painting. With the light flooding into the vast interiors of the palace through high gothic windows and the pencil thin trees that populate the wasteland that lies just outside the castle walls, the set design is starkly expressionistic in its minimalist efficacy.

The sets for the big Anna/Giovanna confrontation scene
Photo credit: Met

A more defiant Anna by Netrebko in 2011
Photo credit: Met

Lei: Interestingly, in this run of the production they switched things up for the last “mad scene.” Back in 2011, when Anna Netrebko sung the title role, she wore a fitted black gown and, after attacking the raging aria Coppia iniqua, she lifted her long hair to bare her neck for the executioner’s ax and marched resolutely towards her death, with a feisty defiance that was exciting to see. Radvanovsky, on the other hand, was wearing a loose white tunic, almost like an under garment or the smock of an in-patient at a mental hospital, and, after her ladies in waiting cut her hair to a short bob, she was blindfolded and guided gropingly towards the executioner. While Radvanosky’s singing was sublime (and, in my opinion, superior and more convincing than the Russian’s soprano), her acting was of a terrified madwoman, quite a change from Netrebko’s dramatic and proud interpretation of that same scene. One thing did not change though, the blood-red silk curtain swishing down the scene immediately after the sight of the scary executioner and his ax – that’s what I call a powerful finale!

- Lui & Lei

Radvanovsky's Anna loses it before the executioner
Photo credit: Ken Howard / Met

Netrebko's Queen is regal till the end
Photo credit: Met