So during the first intermission, I met up with Linguitte, who told me that he'd just rode the elevator up to the grand tier level with none other than Jessye Norman. I didn't believe him. I needed to see for myself. Visual confirmation, etc. "She's in the restaurant." Too shy to spy on her myself (I am NOT a starfucker), I dispatched him for some reconnaisance and a minute later he returned saying "She's by the column near the window." Sure enough, sporting a mass of long blown out black tresses and wearing a shiny gold top and a long flowing black skirt with a train — was it a train? Or was it just too long? — La Jessye sauntered alone across the grand tier to the house left elevator bank (would those be the Millo lifts?) waiting for a ride down to the orchestra. We waited, lingering for a few extra stares, to be certain. Neither of us would dare approach her... BECAUSE IT'S RUDE TO APPROACH CELEBRITIES (but not too rude to stare respectfully) especially when there are rumors of sickness et al, including her dropping out of "Margaret Garner" two seasons back. Finally, I was appeased. It was Norman, but it didn't look like Norman. She's lost weight, due to the aforementioned sickness I suppose, but she seemed much shorter than usual. But she's still big. And still grand. Or maybe it was Diana Ross?
Oh, the performance? Of course... Netrebko as Elvira was better than Tommasini said, and she was stunning in the Act II mad scene (This is the point in the review when most opera queens would cite the aria title, pretending they were born with the bel canto score engraved on their bubblicious backsides, when in reality they were able to pull it from the synopsis that's included in the Met program.) So for those who are keeping score, it was "Vien, diletto."
Moving on… Trebs did it ON HER BACK, at the edge of the stage, with her head hanging over the orchestra pit. Bravas, etc. She's one courageous cookie. Despite the fact that the story is a bit lacking (think of it as "The Happy Lucia" or "Elvira Gets Her Man" since no one dies and there's a soon-to-wed couple at the end...even though the music hints at tragedy all throughout. Despite the fact that the production is dated (how did the Puritans manage to build fortresses out of cardboard?) and the staging is stiffer than Betty Ford's husband on Viagra®, it's definitely worth hearing the score and Netrebko. No, SEEING Netrebko. Wait.... hearing and seeing Trebs. But still, she's no Sumi Jo.
Ticket price: $0
