Since the Metropolitan Opera—not to mention the Metropolitan Museum and anything else with Metropolitan or New York or City in its title—is on indeterminate hiatus during the current crisis, I thought I would reflect on the last opera I saw there: Handel’s Agrippina.
By great good luck, I happened to catch this stellar production during my February trip to New York (which now seems much longer than a month ago, given everything that has happened since). I had already seen at least one unsuccessful production of this semi-comic, semi-historical, semi-ridiculous opera, so I knew in advance how hard it would be to get the tone right. To my surprise and delight, the Met performance succeeded on every level. I found it laugh-out-loud funny in places and oddly moving in others, and the rest of the audience seemed to agree with me. (You could tell by the laughter, and also by the fact that they uncharacteristically stayed in their seats until the end, which in this case was more than four hours after the beginning.)
When faced with Handel’s historical operas, one can either decide to update to a more recent moment or capitulate to a false sense of history. There are risks either way, but in this case the decision to modernize was the right one. Giving a twentieth-century look and feel to this Roman tale—which involves Empress Agrippina’s effort to get her son, Nero, installed as the heir to his stepfather, Emperor Claudio—never felt gratuitous or off, and even the obvious anachronisms (like Agrippina’s 1950s hairdo and little black dress) only served to enhance the humor.
As a whole, the production was greatly aided by the calibre of its stars. Joyce DiDonato as Agrippina, Iestyn Davies as Ottone (the loyal but betrayed commander of the emperor’s army), and a brilliant newcomer, Kate Lindsay, in the pants role of Nero all did their utmost to make the lengthy evening an intense pleasure. The rest of the cast was vocally excellent as well, but these three could act as well as sing, and that was essential. DiDonato, in particular, invented a hilarious strut—part Marilyn Monroe, part cartoonish battle-axe Mom, and part Maggie Thatcher in high heels—that utterly defined her character. Even the way she held her hands, like little paws dangling from her wrists, expressed this woman’s character in a way that was both funny and frightening.
Harry Bicket, whose annual Handel concerts at Carnegie Hall I always religiously attend, did beautifully with the orchestra, as I expected him to. And when I looked to see who had directed this brilliant confection, lo and behold!—it was David McVicar, whose marvelous Death in Venice (starring the incomparable Mark Padmore as Aschenbach) I had just witnessed at Covent Garden last December. For a director to get one difficult opera right is unusual enough. For him to do two in a row is nothing short of miraculous.
I’m not to sure if you’re curious miss,
The met released a streaming service free
Of charge for us to watch an opera. Clicks
A pen. It ticks the box for a good night.
I don’t generally go to opera but was lucky to be invited to the final dress of Agrippina.
I agree with everything you say. I liked to think of it as the best musical comedy running in New York. Of course polished classical technique was at the foundation of all the performers, but they dove into the comic tone of this production like the best Broadway actors. And this goes for Handel, too, whose musical asides and conspiratorial arias illuminated character and moved the plot forward — the definition of what a Broadway score must do. And yet, when the story was done, and we gazed at the tombstones of the characters we had come to know so well, my smile faded, and wistful tears replaced it.
Thanks, Jimmy!
Being a Swede I read your book “Scaninavian Noir” with great interest. Actually I read only the first half because I was mainly interested in what you can learn from another culture by only reading detective stories.
Obviously it is quite a lot!
I think you have caught a lot of what I have found living here for 70 years. Perhaps you would have got even closer to Sweden today if you had toned down Sjövall/Wahlöö’s contribution a bit in relationship to the later authors. The Sweden they showed in their books (i.e. the 70s) does not exist anymore. (It could be questioned if it ever existed. Perhaps it was more like a dream.)
Today Swedish police always carry guns and guns are used in 30 percent of the murders mostly in street-gangs fights in the open. The SD party which is based on the idea of reducing immigration has more than 20 percent of the votes. There is some hate (mostly hidden below the surface) between immigrants from the Middle East and native Swedes.
Drugs has taken over part of the role that alcohol has had although I think there is still a bit left to the US situation in this respect.
You are quite right about the enormous influence that US (and British) culture has in Sweden. Personally I have seen many more British detective stories than Scandinavian on Swedish televison!
That is why it is so interesting to witness an American being interested in the Scandinavian culture that spans only some twenty million people! Thank you for an interesting reading experience! If you have questions I would be happy to comment more. / Jan
Thanks, Jan. But I think if you had read the second half (which is about my encounter with present-day Scandinavia), you would have seen that I bring up all the things you mention — the police use of guns, the anti-immigrant policies of the Sweden Democrats, the disappearance of the old 1970s Sweden, and much more. The first half of the book is meant as a set-up for the second half, and it doesn’t work unless you read the whole book (which, by the way, is always a good idea when issuing a critique).