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Posts Tagged ‘The Metropolitan Opera’

Peter Woytuk sculpture, 72nd and Broadway

The Valley is filled with former New Yorkers and it seems that almost everyone I know goes to the City on a regular basis. A lot of our friends grew up in New York or Long Island and still have family to visit or a place to crash. Even more folks have spent creative time in the City for college or after. We don’t have connections such as these, which is probably the main reason we rarely go to New York. It costs a pretty penny to stay in Manhattan. I’m not complaining. I realize how lucky we are to get to do any of the things we get to do. Very grateful to live so close.

This being my eldest offspring’s birthday week and her requesting a trip to the Met (ropolitan Opera, that is), we went Tuesday night to see Don Giovanni. My mother loves the opera and she gave us tickets as a birthday present.

It was truly thrilling to see an opera again. I do wish the whole production were about a half-hour shorter (‘GADS, I know that is a taboo admission) and I didn’t love everything, but dang it all, it’s the MET, so dislike is relative. Everything is big and fabulous, including the patrons. The set was amazing; the costumes were decent, though not particularly unique. Our Don Giovanni was excellent–his theatricality, his physicality, his voice; Leporello was great, though he seemed to tire toward the end. I loved the story, the orchestra, the Mozart score, the libretto. Some of the singers were outstanding; some not quite as good. This was my first DG and if I ever get to see it again, I hope to be more familiar with the text. Favorite line? He likes them plump in the winter, thin in the summer. Or maybe that was the most sexist line?

I did get a little crush on Don Giovanni (a rapist and murderer, WTF is wrong with me?) and his servant, Leporello, the more witless but noble of the two. Of course, DG, aka, Don Juan, is presented as a rapist in a couple of scenes, but he is also so charming and talented that he counts his “conquests” into the thousands.

It’s all pretty sick, the culture of rape and the celebration thereof, but DG does use masterful flattery with at least some of these women and who can resist the promise of skilled lovemaking? Surely not I. Hence the crush. Oh, and those billowy pants and shirts, long hair and feathered hats, leather boots and sword play.

But opera is not just for women. Something to please even Hubby, the Commendatore scene featured actual pyrotechnics. FIRE on stage in a Met production! Drag me to hell with Don Giovanni, please, or leave me on stage cowering with Leporello. Either would be fine.

By my next Don Giovanni, I hope to have mastered Italian, but rather than actually taking a course, I wish to wake tomorrow morning with the gift of it flowing from my tongue and spilling out of my mouth, like honeyed nectar (I threw that in because I just read that the Italians love their similes. Who cares if mine is sucks?).

de rigueur photo of me at Lincoln Center

What other fabulous things did we do in the city? One highlight was visiting a couple of old Ohio friends. We don’t see them enough though we live much closer to them here than when we were still living in Kent, O. We only see them about once every 3 years (city folks are harder to get into the Valley than the other way around).

We, at least my youngest and I, loved seeing the sculptures by Peter Woytuk along Broadway. I think we caught about 6 of them.

I really liked a little “French” restaurant we popped into for lunch one day. I put French in quotation marks because it was French more in its desire to be French┬áthan in its execution. It did have a lovely tiled floor and lovely studded chairs made for tiny French butts. However, the eggs they served were made without, wait for it

BUTTER

The horror! Since when don’t the French use butter to cook their eggs? This was an outrage, but judging from the neighborhood, the public must have demanded it. All jogging pants and yoga mats and expensive bikes and thin and nannies…

Here is a display of chocolate bars in the pastry window

Here is the wicked cool garbage can in the bathroom

Here is me in the bathroom. Not the greatest bathroom I’ve ever peed in, but rather fun

I do try to avoid pimping Hubby and the kiddies by putting photos of them on my blog, but I’m allowed to pimp myself to my captive audience, oui?

Celebrity sightings? I am appx 88% sure I saw Ellen Barkin and sadly (to me), she was Botoxed and plastic-surgery’ed, at least her lips. Why why why?

Here’s the famous Commendatore scene from Don Giovanni, in case you don’t believe me about the fire. This Commendatore was not the same as in our cast (nor is this DG or Leporello–I liked the two from our cast better than these two). This Commendatore is GREAT. Ours was not as strong in presence or voice.

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