Experience: Opening Night at the New York Metropolitan Opera "Das Rheingold"

At the request of my favorite follower, this week I will essay my experience at the opening night of the Opera, Das Rheingold, Monday, September 27, 2010.

Das Rheingold - 1869, by Richard Wagner, is the first of four operas that constitute Der Ring des Nibelungen (The Ring Cycle).  The archetypal Nordic plot is summarized:

 

              1) Alberich, a Nibelung dwarf, lusts for the Rhine-maidens, water nymphs who guard the Rheingold.  They mock and reject the deformed Alberich.  In a fury, he takes revenge by forswearing love, stealing the Rheingold and making a golden ring which gives him the power to rule the world.

 

              2) Returning to Nibelheim, Alberich uses his power to enslave and terrorize his fellow gnomes, forcing them to increase his hoard of gold.

 

              3) In the land of the gods, Wotan has bartered his beautiful sister-in-law, Freia, against her will, as payment to the Giants for constructing his castle.  The god Loge convinces the Giants to accept the Rheingold as a substitute payment for Freia.  Loge and Wotan travel to the Nibelung underground and cleverly steal the Rheingold, the ring and a magic helmet from Alberich.   Alberich curses the ring until it returns to him -- “May its magic bring death to whoever wears it.”

 

              4) The Giants accept the treasures and return Freia.  They promptly quarrel and one of them, Fasolt, is killed leaving the other Giant, Fafner, in sole possession of the Rheingold, the ring and the magic helmet.  Wotan leads the Gods across the rainbow bridge to their new home in Valhalla.  All follow except Loge who proclaims that “They hasten to their end”.

 

Gray skies over Manhattan and a steady drizzle couldn't restrain placement of the red carpet, press stations and outdoor overflow seating for the September 27, 2010 opening night of Das Rheingold at the New York Metropolitan Opera. This production was heavily promoted (for opera) and is claimed to be the most expensive ever at the Met, featuring a $16 million, 45 ton, high tech mechanical and digital multimedia system to allow dynamic setting displays for all four Ring Cycle operas.

 

For the price of good seats to a Yankees' playoff game, my wife and I scalped e-tickets and made the pilgrimage to Lincoln Center.  We arrived there unfashionably early.  Approaching from across the Josie Robertson Plaza, framed against the dull afternoon light, the “Met” facade appeared rectangular, cold and modernistic; a 1960’s throwback.  Among a handful of other patrons, we headed to the south edge of the plaza, the soggy red carpet promenade.  Befitting our obscure status, not a photoflash or microphone was proffered us.  (Later, I learned that several formerly popular actresses and actors, as well as critics, artistes and even Wagner's great granddaughter followed our path and received appropriate adulation.)

 

Moving past the ticket takers, our mood elevated as we entered the brightly lit lobby of the Metropolitan Opera House; the curving, multistoried Grand Staircase bordered with Italian marble; the stellate Viennese crystal chandeliers; the thirty foot long colorful Chagall murals; the champagne stations and the photographers mingling among the growing crowd.  Especially entrancing were the people themselves.  Nearly all the men were in black tie and the ladies in varied and beautiful evening gowns.  My wife and I found a vantage point and watched the stream of humanity moving through the entrance, up the Grand Stairway, and around the tiered levels of the lobby.

 

After a while, we dislodged ourselves from our niche and circulated.  Everyone smiled. Everyone was courteous.  We declined the Champagne, anticipating a long night, and the savvy photographers continued to ignore us.  We observed the gowns, jewelry and hairstyles.  We perused the memorabilia collections scattered about the alcoves; exquisite gold cigarette cases, ancient personal notes, ornate oriental fans and phenomenal antique costumes.  As the auditorium doors opened, I overheard a man's daughter giving him practical advice, "Remember to use the bathroom -- it’s a two and a half-hour performance without an intermission."

 

Forewarned, we headed to our Grand Tier level box.  We arranged our chairs to best see the stage and the cantilevered “Met title” libretto displays.  Our box, although near enough, presented a partially obstructed view of the stage.  Our armless seats were uncomfortable.  But, we were perfectly positioned to view the entire majestic auditorium and any potential sideshows.  Slowly, the audience, nearly four thousand gowned women and tuxedo clad men, settled in their places.  The conductor, Maestro James Levine, was greeted with an emotional standing ovation and promptly led the orchestra and audience in "The Star-Spangled Banner".  The lights dimmed, the chandeliers rose and the low E-flat prelude of Das Rheingold began.

 

Any problems with our seating were more than compensated for by the superb performance of Richard Wagner’s musical score and libretto.  I applaud Robert LePage’s production.  The outstanding orchestra was enhanced by the wonderful acoustics of the auditorium and conduction by Maestro Levine.  The costumes and props were interesting and convincing.  The lighting and acoustics were excellent.  Projection of a dazzling, flaming orange glow upon Loge, the God of Fire, was a notable special effect.

 

The crowd, and later the critics, gave their greatest acclaim to mezzo-soprano Stephanie Blythe as Fricka, Wotan’s wife.  My personal favorite vocal was the clear soprano voice of Wendy Bryn Harmer as Freia.  (I always favor the Sopranos -- it’s the main reason I like Opera.)  My other standouts (defined by what stirred my emotions and raised hair on my forearms) include Eric Owens, who performed a superhuman bass-baritone rendition of the evil Alberich; Bryn Terfel, bass-baritone, a powerful Wotan; and Gerhard Siegel, tenor, delivering a soul-wrenching rendition of Mime, the enslaved pathetic brother of Alberich.  Also, who could not love the politically incorrect, voluptuous Rhein-maidens?

 

Unfortunately, the setting "machine" was a disappointment – perhaps I expected too much, and certainly my view of the stage was limited.  Some of its uses were effective, such as the fluid backdrop of the frolicking Rhine-maidens, and framing Wotan and Loge's mystical trip to the Nibelung underground.  But often it was a mechanical, and occasionally noisy, distraction.  In an act of Wagnerian retribution, the "machine" malfunctioned at the very end of the performance and did not transform into the Rainbow Bridge.  The actors meandered off, stage right, leaving me, and I think the rest of the audience, temporarily underwhelmed.

 

As we exited onto the plaza, the rain had stopped and the evening air was warm and still.  We looked backward -- the formerly drab Met seemed to glow like the Rheingold against the dark night sky.  The giant projection screen over the Met entrance was still showing close-ups of the curtain calls to enthusiastic applause.  Hundreds of rain-slicker toting outdoor viewers remained on and around the plaza, spellbound.  Somehow, we even scored a cab in time to make the 10:50 train from Penn Station to Albany.

 

Will Durant in his 1935 The Story of Civilization, observed that culture shapes and defines people.  He notes, “The Englishman does not make British civilization, it makes him; if he carries it with him wherever he goes, and dresses for dinner in Timbuktu, it is not that he is creating his civilization there anew, but that he acknowledges even there its mastery over his soul.”

 

The Yankees will have to perform very well to match this operatic Triumph.  Even the exciting October 15th, six to five, eighth inning Friday night victory over the Texas Rangers doesn’t quite compare.

 

 

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Movie Review: Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps

Dear readers,

I am a medical doctor in practice for 30 years. I have learned the value of careful observation. I try to limit comments on any subject to my observations until I gain enough knowledge for my opinion to be of value. I hope that it may be of value to you.  I intend to share my opinions here on experiences, arts and events as I encounter them.

For today's topic, I chose to review the Oliver Stone directed movie, 'Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps" over other potential topics, including; "My Impressions of Opening Night at the New York Metropolitan Opera, 'Das Rheingold'", or "Description of an Authentic Nandi Warrior Lion Hunt". (My social media savvy daughter recommended sticking with topics of potentially broader mass appeal.)

Movie Review:
"Wall Street: Money Never Sleeps", released September 2010, is a portrayal of corruption and decay of American culture, which has been seemingly purchased wholesale by businessmen of unlimited greed and arrogance. I love the topic, having recently finished Michael Lewis' book, "The Big Short", and settled into my movie theater chair, ready for a meal of red meat. I left the movie house feeling as if I'd been served a turkey burger, but that some of the side dishes were actually of gourmet quality.

Sensually, the cinematography is a pleasure to experience, showing a fantasy land of glass offices and apartments and numerous vivid close-ups of human imperfections, that must have been intentionally left unmasked by professional makeup efforts. My favorite scene is of a gala charity event with the camera focusing closely on numerous obscene but spectacular pieces of jewelry worn by former beauties, shown too closely to hide their flawed, aging, complexions. The effect was fantastic and I couldn't turn away. The scene echoes Versailles just before the French Revolution. Unfortunately, my enjoyment of the visual spectacle was distracted to annoyance by a musical score I could not understand or appreciate.

Michael Douglas as Gordon Gekko unchained, released upon the world, performs professionally, and his screen presence is enhanced by his aging. He delivers my favorite line of the film, "I've been considered a pretty smart guy and maybe I was in prison too long, but sometimes it's the only place to stay sane and look out through those bars and say, 'Is everybody out there nuts?" Josh Brolin artfully achieves the role of Bretton, not Brett, James, a handsome, sophisticated financial executive targeted for destruction after selling his soul to the corrupt business system. Is he the son eaten by Saturn, a.k.a. Julie, displayed in his own office painting which he destroys in a rage after being exposed and humiliated?

Susan Sarandon produces an acting gem as Jacob Moore's mother, a chain-smoking, house flipping addict who crashes, but does not burn when her son stops supporting her habit. She undergoes a remarkable and believable redemption, displaying humanity and purpose when she is forced to return to her previous career as a medical nurse. Eli Wallach is unforgettable as "Julie", the figure of Satan, taunting and twisting the knife into his heir apparent, Bretton James, and appearing in rapture at the thought of the "End of the World" by a potential global financial collapse.

Shia LaBeouf as Jacob Moore and Terry Mulligan as Winnie Gekko give performances I can't follow. I confess that I couldn't wait for them to be off the screen.

On balance, this is a film worth enduring, warts and all. It brings to mind a quote from Carlo Marx, a character from Jack Kerouac's book, "On the Road" of 1955. "What is the meaning of this voyage to New York? What kind of sordid business are you on now? I mean, man, whither goest thou? Whither goes thou, America, in thy shiny car in the night?"