Quick note on the opera

While I really did not care for the snippets posted at the Santa Fe Opera site, when it comes to the totality of the experience this evening I really enjoyed The Letter. Well sung, well acted, well staged. I was, I admit it, dreading atonal bellowing but what we got instead was lyrical, with some nice harmonies and orchestration. The portrayal of racism by British colonials against Asians was absolutely painful, but a good reminder of how far we have come and how far we have yet to go. I think my favorite line is when "the Chinese woman" (she is never given a name) tells the sleazeball attorney "I forgive you." That contains volumes on topics of wrongdoing, power, race, culture, the overthrowing of assumptions, etc.

More later. A good night (and delicious dinner at Gabriel's north of the opera beforehand).

--the BB

No blogging tomorrow night - I'm off to the opera!

My third and final opera ticket for this season is The Letter tomorrow night.

Special delivery from composer Paul Moravec and librettist Terry Teachout. A hard-boiled dame cooks up her own little Singapore fling. Her double-crossing lover gets a lethal dose of lead as a lovely parting gift. Her sap of a husband helps her get away with murder. Almost… Opera’s classic ingredients—lust, adultery, and revenge—are dished up noir style in this world premiere production. The Letter will be conducted by Patrick Summers and staged by Jonathan Kent, with scenery by Hildegard Bechtler and costumes by Tom Ford. Patricia Racette stars as the venomous Leslie Crosbie, Anthony Michaels-Moore plays her husband and James Maddalena is their ethically challenged lawyer.

You may see and hear snippets here.

I am not that big on contemporary opera but a guy's gotta broaden his horizons.

Behave while I'm away, you naughty kittens.

--the BB

A little hiatus

I will be heading off to Santa Fe tonight for some opera - as has been touted here for days. I will not be back blogging until tomorrow night.

Here is another snippet of L'Elisir d'amore: Heidi Grant Murphy singing as Adina.



Enjoy!

--the BB

Una furtiva lacrima

We continue listening to bits of Donizetti's L'Elisir d'amore. Tonight Nemorino's most famous aria:

Juan Diego Florez "Una furtiva lagrima"



Enjoy!

--the BB

More of L'elisir d'amore and other ponderings

Bellas Artes, Ciudad de México, DF
imágen de Wikipedia

Göran commented in the earlier post:

Song in Italian and subtitles in German and Spanish ;=)

Indeed!

This calls to mind one of my more memorable opera moments.

We had arrived in Mexico City for our first vacation there. (I had seen the DF once before at an Associated Parishes for Liturgy and Mission council meeting.) We were staying at a hotel just a couple of blocks from the Palacio de Bellas Artes and wandered in to get tickets for the requisite evening of the Baile Folklorico. Once inside we spotted news that La Flauta Mágica was playing that night! Being great fans of Mozart's Magic Flute we bought tickets. Dirt cheap and in the fourth row center of the orchestra.

The staging was on the cheap. The sung music was done in German, which was how we were accustomed to hearing it. But all the spoken dialogue was in Spanish and the acting was excellent. It was a bit of a shock to keep switching between languages and it was a good thing we knew the story. It was a really fun evening.

Here is some more Donizetti for you.

Ildebrando D'Arcangelo sings Dr. Dulcamara and Anna Yur’yevna Netrebko sings Adina in this scene from L'elisir d'amore.




Enjoy.

The Associate Parishes meeting was in Cuernavaca - thanks to the Rev. Gayland Pool. I was there as we hammered out that year's statement:
Cuernavaca Statement - April 1988

The Council of Associated Parishes for Liturgy and Mission, meeting in Cuernavaca, Mexico, on 20-25 April 1988, has begun to experience an Anglican church foreign to most Episcopalians. In Latin America the Anglican churches are developing their own identity. Several of them are moving toward self-determination. This movement stands firmly within Anglican tradition, which includes the right of national churches to develop their own liturgies, pastoral styles, and methods of theological reflection.

We rejoice in the search of the Mexican and other Latin American churches for indigenous models of liturgy and mission.

We urge the Episcopal Church to support authentically Latin American forms of Anglicanism, faithful to the Christian heritage and rooted in their own cultures.

We also encourage all Anglicans to appreciate ethnic diversity in their own churches.

Cuernavaca, Mexico

Inculturation remains an issue as we seek ways to live a universal Gospel in concrete social expressions.

I remember how aghast I was when I got my copy of El Himnario, a joint effort of several denominations. It is Anglo music translated into Spanish. Just. Not. The. Same. If you know what I mean.

There is a rich religious culture in New Mexico with indigenous and Hispanic roots tied to the soil here. We borrow from it in the decoration of our churches and Spanish smatterings occur in some of our liturgies but the Episcopal Church in New Mexico is very much an Anglo church - in a state with 42% Hispanic population. So very little has been done to be the Gospel in a way that is both Anglican (in style, NOT culture) and New Mexican at the same time. ¡Sóspiro!

--the BB

This week: opera

A zillion years ago we went to see Donizetti's L'Elisir d'Amore (The Love Potion) at the San Francisco Opera. Luis Lima was the tenor and it helps greatly if you have a good tenor who seems young enough to be stupid in love.

This is the scene where Nemorino comes to Doctor Dulcamara (whom we called Dr. Quackamara since he's really a snake oil salesman - though not the high quality snake oil salesman that our dear Fr. Jake is, of course), seeking a love potion such as that in the story of Tristan and Isolde. Dulcamara will provide any sort of potion you ask for if you have the ready cash, natch. The Mexican-French tenor Rolando Villazón sings Nemorino in this clip.



Wednesday night we will be experiencing this opera again, only this time in Santa Fe along with another friend. (I am the luckiest person on earth to enjoy such a relationship with my ex that we can continue sharing the riches of three decades now of friendship - and do things like this that are so much richer for our having done them together before.)

Dmitri Pittas will be singing Nemorino in this production and lyric soprano Jennifer Black will sing Adina.

I will post more music of this opera in the days ahead. Enjoy.

--the BB

The first riddle

Photo of the original Turandot poster
courtesy of Wikipedia Commons

Calàf, the exiled prince of Tartary, risks all by taking his chance at answering Princess Turandot's three riddles. If he wins, he gains her; if he loses, he loses his head. The appeal of ice princesses (tù che di gel sei cinta) is lost on me, but my secret dreams did not include princesses, so I recuse myself on this issue. I do loves me some Liù, on the other hand.

When I first heard a recording of Turandot it was one of those "take it or leave it" experiences. Over time, however, I came to love it and would probably say it is my favorite opera. In the words of one of the Office Girls: "You can't argue with the butt-kicking excellence of the Pucc'-man [pronounced Pooch-man]!"

Here are Éva Marton and Plácido Domingo in the riddle scene (Straniero, ascolta) from a production at the Met in 1988.



The first riddle is: "What is born each night and dies each dawn?"

Turandot is thoroughly shaken when Calàf guesses it: la speranza ("hope").

"Where IS he going with this?" you may well ask.

My point - finally - is this: today, for me, Hope is not about President Obama, nor a thing with feathers, but the act of planting in the yard. I am re-enacting what I did two years ago in a plot that consisted of nothing but an admixture of sand and fine adobe clay bounded by cinder block walls (an efficient but aesthetically execrable material). My sandbox.

This morning my back yard looked like this.


I started soaking some bare root roses.


Then I looked back from the other end.


And at the end of the day we had these expressions of hope and commitment to a future. On the left is "Strike it Rich" and on the right "Piñata." I already have one Piñata rose bush that I planted from a taller potted version and it blooms endlessly and gloriously in manifold shades.


I plan to plant a clematis tomorrow. We had some back in El Cerrito, California, and I do enjoy them.


I planted two "Iceberg" tree roses back near the vines along the wall.



Here, closer to the door off the dining room and just to the left of the Red Haven peach tree, are a "Chicago Peace" rose on the left and "Miss All American Beauty" on the right.


There are still six roses to plant tomorrow.


I also planted some red tulips that should have been planted earlier. Ah well, with me things happen when I get around to them.

And that is my day (ignoring trips for more compost and root stimulant and plant food plus several breaks).

To further explain the issue of hope, perhaps I should let you all know that the first year I put in bare root roses I watered and waited and waited and waited and waited past all hope for some sign of life. Eventually all but one put forth shoots and blossomed and I had a wonderful summer enjoying them. This is why these critters are, for me, a sign of hope. And of faithful waiting.

My little Advent.

And now it's time to go soak in the tub. If roses get to soak, so does the gardener.
--the BB

Some things never change

Back when we used to attend the San Francisco Opera (early to mid-80s) we sat in the next to last row of the uppermost balcony. Interestingly, today's seat in a movie theatre for a live broadcast of la Rondine from the Met, cost only about a dollar shy of the prices waaaaaaay back then. I digress.

We would often rush to get to the Opera on time, climb many flights of stairs, then settle into our cramped but cushioned seats. The lights went down, the music went up, it was warm. And by the third act I usually took a little nap. Maybe in the second act.

Sure enough, I startled myself awake with a little snore in the third act today. And as I snored and came to, my opera companion nudged me.

So predictable.

I really do need to get more sleep.

The production was terrific and the singing and acting spectacular, I might add, though there were some technical difficulties in the broadcast. The sound system was erratic, with occasional pops that near startled me out of my seat. The first bar of the last act was silent and the interviews between acts were near-unintelligible.

The kisses between Ruggero and Magda were rather, well, more than one usually gets in acting. I had not realized that the singers are married (wed right at the Met, I believe she said). This illumined their playfulness at curtain calls. I don't think it is standard practice for the tenor to slap the soprano's rear as she bounds out for her final curtain call. They are quite charming.

Back to last-minute prep before company comes.
--the BB