This opera is astonishingly beautiful, stunning music, really. and Lucia’s first aria — the end of a duet with Alisa (mezzo-soprano Dionne Sellinger) had the crowd applauding and even, from a gentleman in the row ahead of us, several heartfelt hoots. Gutiérrez’s soprano is breathtaking — how can something so powerful appear to float so effortlessly, note piling on note in a sumptuous wreath of sound. . . .
‘First thing I’m going to do tomorrow morning is get a CD of this opera, btw — I’m in love with Donizetti’s gorgeous, gorgeous bel canto music — the ensemble just after Edgardo arrives to learn of his beloved’s supposed betrayal, the intricate mix of complex emotions, even Enrico regretting his perfidy. Speaking of which, as bad brothers go, he’s very. very.
One aspect in particular that I love about this opera is the rhythm of the orchestral score and the way that rhythm plays against the singers’ lines. Sprightly rhythms, often with playful syncopation. Also striking to me is how “sprightly” and “lilting” can coexist with the rather — pardon the clichéd term — dastardly deeds that drive poor Lucia to the brink of madness. Did I mention very bad brother? As for brink of madness, she’s there, poor sad beauty, and when we head back in, a few minutes from now, she’s going to topple over. . .
Finally lifting my headto peek around at the crowd. I’d hoped to grab my daughter and send her out to snap a few shots for me, but it’s a bit hectic rushing from our seats out to the table, trying to get the Wifi, get to Blogger, type madly, etc., But I’ve spotted a fellow sporting a kilt in honour of the Scottish setting — he’s just stopped to chat and left me a card, so I’ll add that info in a later post along with a photo he let me take. But there go those nagging chimes again — “Ladies and Gentlemen, the performance will be resuming in five minutes . . . ” So I’d better go find my date and head back in. Talk to you again after the show . . .
This sounds like a fabulous blend of music, story, staging and talent! When the singers can make it look effortless, that's no mean feat.
And speaking of talent, your descriptions and analyses are engaging and thoughtful. Well done, you!
Mater, my familias, have you read Susan Leonardi and Rebecca Pope's The Diva's Mouth: Body, Voice and Prima Donna Politics? Scholarly, arty, and a little salacious! I recommend it.
Sorry to seem anonymous. The previous comment is mine.
Pseu: Thanks — only another blogger could realize quite how much is involved in doing this kind of writing and photo-uploading, etc., on the spot.
Tanis: I was actually tickled that someone who didn't know me could tell from my blog that I'd appreciate a little salaciousness;-) But even better to hear from you — I'm def. putting this on my reading list. . . .
What an adventure to live blog an opera!
Terri: It's an adventure indeed — certainly provides an adrenaline hit.
Lovely! I sewed costumes for an opera one summer. I'll never forget the leather jerkin that had to be made for a large Icelandic tenor!
Why am I not surprised? You continue to reveal a rich and varied past! Did the jerkin require pre-punching with an awl? I can't imagine that would have been fun to stitch.
Oh my it sounds like the perfect melding of performance, music, set and magic. And I am amazed that you can write so quickly and put it into words so evocatively in the very short spell of an intermission. If opera blogging is an art, and it must be, you are a natural, though goodness knows you bring years of training, insight, and awareness to the task.