sirpupnyc (![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} sirpupnyc) wrote,@ 2007-12-06 00:09:00 |
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It's all Greek to me
Or, File Under: Dopey.
Tonight, the new production of Gluck's Iphigénie en Tauride at the Met.
The music is lovely. The singing is outstanding. The plot, such as there is, is implausible in that Greek way (it takes a mezzo on a wire to tidy things up in the end). The production, rather than allowing the lovely music and outstanding singing to stand on their own, underscores the dopey implausibility.
Before our story begins, Diane (the mezzo on a wire) saves Iphigénie from impending sacrifice and whisks her away to Tauride. So we see that before the music starts. In Tauride, Iphigénie is a priestess of Diane, with a temple full of female attendants who sing and dance. Why they dance is unclear, but they dance. (They dance because the opera was done in Paris in a time when operas without dancing didn't get done in Paris, but there doesn't seem to be a lot of reason otherwise.) Iphigénie isn't happy with this situation, despite not being dead.
Captured Greeks who must be sacrificed are brought in by the male chorus of soldiers. Some of them dance as well, also for unclear reasons. The Greeks are imprisoned in the broken furniture storage area adjacent to the temple since it has convenient shackles on the wall. One of them is taken away, leaving the other to bond with Iphigénie. (He's her brother Oreste, but they don't know that yet.)
After intermission, Oreste has been transferred to the main shackles in the temple since Iphigénie and her attendants need the furniture storage room for darning socks and shelling peas. (That's probably not actually what they were doing, but it looked like generic domestic busy work.) Iphigénie determines that she can help one Greek escape with a letter to her sister detailing her woe. The other Greek is returned, bloodied, and she agonizes over her choice of who dies and who escapes, while they periodically interject pleading to be the one who does. She chooses Oreste to escape, and they both object (he wants to die, and the other one wants to die so he can live). She goes off to write her letter ("Dear Elle, Tauride is lovely, having a great time, wish you were here.") while they debate her choice.
They manage to convince her Oreste should stay and be sacrificed, the other one goes off with the letter (though he's not even out the door before he runs into a soldier, and it's unclear which of them captures which). Oreste lays himself out on the altar, but Iphigénie can't bring herself to finish the job. In the midst of her trying to convince herself, he calls to his sister Iphigénie (who as far as he knows died in the same way) that he's on his way. Joyful reunion. One of the attendants bursts in with the news that the plot is exposed and the king is on his way. And he's mad.
The king decides Iphigénie and Oreste should both be sacrified, but before this can happen Diane swoops in and tells the king to give it up and send the Greeks home. Temple attendants and soldiers go outside for some joyful dancing, leaving Iphigénie and Oreste alone in the temple.
The evening is saved by the music and the really excellent singing. If it didn't have that, it'd be another dopey night at the opera. Susan Graham has made a specialty of Iphigénie, and Placido Domingo is singing his 10 billionth new role at age 95 quite well. (OK, OK, it's only his 124th role or something like that, and he's 60something, but sounding really incredible for any age, much less his age, one at which many singers don't have nearly as much voice or willingness to take on new parts.)
It's not a production I'll rush to see again, but it's definitely a performance I look forward to hearing again. (I'm fairly sure I'll be able to get hold of a broadcast recording.)
Or, File Under: Dopey.
Tonight, the new production of Gluck's Iphigénie en Tauride at the Met.
The music is lovely. The singing is outstanding. The plot, such as there is, is implausible in that Greek way (it takes a mezzo on a wire to tidy things up in the end). The production, rather than allowing the lovely music and outstanding singing to stand on their own, underscores the dopey implausibility.
Before our story begins, Diane (the mezzo on a wire) saves Iphigénie from impending sacrifice and whisks her away to Tauride. So we see that before the music starts. In Tauride, Iphigénie is a priestess of Diane, with a temple full of female attendants who sing and dance. Why they dance is unclear, but they dance. (They dance because the opera was done in Paris in a time when operas without dancing didn't get done in Paris, but there doesn't seem to be a lot of reason otherwise.) Iphigénie isn't happy with this situation, despite not being dead.
Captured Greeks who must be sacrificed are brought in by the male chorus of soldiers. Some of them dance as well, also for unclear reasons. The Greeks are imprisoned in the broken furniture storage area adjacent to the temple since it has convenient shackles on the wall. One of them is taken away, leaving the other to bond with Iphigénie. (He's her brother Oreste, but they don't know that yet.)
After intermission, Oreste has been transferred to the main shackles in the temple since Iphigénie and her attendants need the furniture storage room for darning socks and shelling peas. (That's probably not actually what they were doing, but it looked like generic domestic busy work.) Iphigénie determines that she can help one Greek escape with a letter to her sister detailing her woe. The other Greek is returned, bloodied, and she agonizes over her choice of who dies and who escapes, while they periodically interject pleading to be the one who does. She chooses Oreste to escape, and they both object (he wants to die, and the other one wants to die so he can live). She goes off to write her letter ("Dear Elle, Tauride is lovely, having a great time, wish you were here.") while they debate her choice.
They manage to convince her Oreste should stay and be sacrificed, the other one goes off with the letter (though he's not even out the door before he runs into a soldier, and it's unclear which of them captures which). Oreste lays himself out on the altar, but Iphigénie can't bring herself to finish the job. In the midst of her trying to convince herself, he calls to his sister Iphigénie (who as far as he knows died in the same way) that he's on his way. Joyful reunion. One of the attendants bursts in with the news that the plot is exposed and the king is on his way. And he's mad.
The king decides Iphigénie and Oreste should both be sacrified, but before this can happen Diane swoops in and tells the king to give it up and send the Greeks home. Temple attendants and soldiers go outside for some joyful dancing, leaving Iphigénie and Oreste alone in the temple.
The evening is saved by the music and the really excellent singing. If it didn't have that, it'd be another dopey night at the opera. Susan Graham has made a specialty of Iphigénie, and Placido Domingo is singing his 10 billionth new role at age 95 quite well. (OK, OK, it's only his 124th role or something like that, and he's 60something, but sounding really incredible for any age, much less his age, one at which many singers don't have nearly as much voice or willingness to take on new parts.)
It's not a production I'll rush to see again, but it's definitely a performance I look forward to hearing again. (I'm fairly sure I'll be able to get hold of a broadcast recording.)
