"Let 'er roll"

Well, without a doubt, last night was one of the most memorable, exciting nights in my life. I suppose that makes two in a row for me.

I arrived at the theater around 4:30 and was introduced to my new co-star: a beautiful, sleek "Moonlite Breezy Wheelchair". (Their motto is apparently "Innovate: build for the future". Well, innovation was certainly the name of the game last night. (Hey, I wonder if they need a spokesperson!! CALL ME!) The game plan when I arrived, was to have a member of the directing team push me through the show (thanks for volunteering, Tom!) But the moment I sat in the chair, I felt oddly at home and found that I was actually rather dexterous on the four wheels - and as a result, HUGELY relieved, because the idea of Rosina being DEPENDENT on someone to push her around was something I couldn't wrap my head around.


I got 30 minutes on stage to feel my way around, try a few things out, observe the safety barrier the BRILLIANT ROH team installed at the front of the stage - presuming they preferred their lead singer not to also injure her spine!!! - and to devise a general game plan with the directing team of how to play the big moments, and how to adjust to the impossible. For example, under "normal" circumstances, when Rosina believes she has been betrayed, a storm wells up in her and she completely trashes the set. Well, at this point, it's not only a matter of dramatic choice, but it's a technical necessity for various bits of action that must happen, so we had to find a solution. Last night, Rosina called in Berta (the maid) and in a show of feminine unity, I "conducted" Berta through the trashing of the set! Innovation at work.


I can't begin to describe how sorry I am for my "cast mates" to put them in the position of having to improvise on the spot like that, but I can only send out an enormous THANK YOU to each of them, for their support, for their sheer brilliance, and for their willingness to enter into the theatricality of it all. For me, I can only say that I had a ball. Is that insane? The odd thing about this, is that in a big way, being "trapped" in this wheelchair was a quite literal way of demonstrating Rosina's frustration and HUGE desire to break free. I certainly felt it more last night than I ever have before, and think I found ways to still convey the character and to "act" the part.

As was my intention last night, I hope to continue to perform, but whether it's vertical and on my feet or seated and on wheels remains to be seen - day by day is the current order of business. Again, I certainly don't want to compromise the integrity of the show in any way, but I did feel that last night we still told the story and made beautiful music. As long as that continues, I'm game!!!

I'll probably spend the rest of my life thanking people for their help through this - from the AMAZING fans and supporters, to all my friends and family, to the ridiculously brilliant Opera House Staff, to my manager who has gone WAY above and beyond the call of duty, but most of all to my (sigh) astoundingly wonderful husband. He's got a million things going on himself in these days, and yet he is still treating me with the most delicate of satin gloves, supporting me beyond measure and continuing to make me laugh. Ah, see? It's all good!

Rolling right along...

As a friend reminded me, one of the great all-time stage acts involved Bette Midler and a wheelchair. So, I figure, let's give it a shot as well, tonight. Of course, 3 hard weeks of intense staging rehearsals go right down the drain (sorry Mosh & Posh!) BUT it means we get to improvise in character, think quickly on our feet (or wheels as it were), and still aim to tell the story, only this time it has a twist (or fracture) that Beaumarchais most likely didn't intend, but is nonetheless entirely plausible. I've been to Seville and have seen those cobblestone streets!!

Cast-a-Diva

Just a quick word to send an ENORMOUS "thank you" to everyone for the beautiful words and sentiments of encouragement! I have been truly overwhelmed by the outpouring of good will, to say the very least, and I can only say that it means so much to me.

Thank you.
Mille Grazie.
Merçi mille fois.
Muchas gracias.
Danke.

The good news is that the permanent cast is on and it's COLORFUL. (stay tuned for pics)

The other good news is that upon further exam, it IS just a spiral fracture to my right fibula (I think I mistakenly identified the bone as my fibia earlier, but it is, in fact, my fibula), and there is NO apparent damage to any ligaments or to the all-important joint between the tibia and talus. So, without putting much weight on it for the next 6 weeks, it should provide a clean repair.

Tomorrow night will find me in a wheelchair for the show, giving it everything I have, and my hope is that the healing will cooperate and let me get upright and a bit mobile in time for the big live broadcast on July 15. But at this point, it is one day at a time, one show at a time, and trying to find a balance between "the show must go on" and "long term mobility!!!" I promise I will not do anything consciously to put my ankle health in danger, but at the same time, I want to do all I can to REALLY play this part with this astonishing cast (of singers), with these astonishing musicians, and for this unbelievable public! I would hate it if I ruined anyone's outing to the theater.

Thank you for your incredible support and outpouring, and let's see what happens!
CHEERS!

And the show went on!!!

Well, so much to tell about tonight's performance. I don't know that I have ever experienced an evening quite like this one before - but I'm certain that I have invoked a new policy regarding well-wishers!!

From here on out, I declare that no one (please!) ever ever ever wish me again, in the American fashion (despite it being Independence Day), to:

"BREAK A LEG".


I understand the good intention, but from here on out, wish me "in the mouth of the wolf" instead, ok? That's far less likely to actually happen - although with my luck, you never know!

Tonight was an evening for the memory, to be sure, and it had little to do with my falling down and breaking my fibia. Yes - I broke my fibia. Fabulous. But it had a lot more to do with amazing colleagues helping me through every little step, astonishing music making at every single level, hair raising improvising by myself and my ridiculously brilliant cast, and a lot of patience on the part of the public.

"Hey, London - Thank you!!!"

4 hours in the emergency room (Hey, it could have been worse!), and a look of pure astonishment from the doctor who recoiled in a bit of horror as I said I stayed on my foot for nearly 3 hours performing. Ha, silly me - apparently this kind of injury requires absolutely no weight to be put on to it - so I'm crossing my fingers that not too much damage was done! However - the cast is on, the foot is elevated, the pain killers are kicking in, and all is great!!! I'm sure we'll figure out how to get through these next performances, after all, there is no RULE that says Rosina might not have been suffering from a broken ankle, right? It could happen!!

But before signing off, I have to send out an INCREDIBLE debt of gratitude to my wonderful cast mates (ha - CAST mates!), as well as to the amazing staff of the Royal Opera House who took amazing care of me, and then to simply salute one of the very finest operatic experiences I have ever been a part of. Yes, my ankle is killing me, but someone pinch me, because tonight was oddly sublime!!!


With the incomparable Alessandro Corbelli and Ferruccio Furlanetto, somehow making everything seem ok!


And with Señor Florez who sang an unbelievable "Cessa di piu resistere" all the while being sure to help keep me on my feet. Ah, and the thing that made my night was the flower decoration I found to put on the cast - somehow it helped me swallow the bitter pill of having to hobble my way through this production that I normally run through. Yes, it's the details that count!

Thank you, from the bottom of my heart and the bottom of my cracked fibia, to everyone for your support and understanding in this! Here's to a speedy and complete recovery!!!

"Another opening, another show..." or is it?

Yesterday the Royal Opera House put up the final general rehearsal of Il Barbiere di Siviglia. Tomorrow night is the opening.

It is a TERRIBLY foolish thing to rave about a show before the opening, and certainly what happens in the dress rehearsal is not necessarily an indicator of how the opening night will go, much less the run, so I must choose my words carefully. Perhaps I shall just talk about the rehearsal process? Yes, that seems prudent.

(Alessandro Corbelli rehearses the start of act 2)

I have enjoyed my 3 weeks of rehearsals here in London more than I can say. I don't know that it's possible to work at a much higher level than this - although anything, naturally, is possible. I've spoken here about how much I relish the rehearsal process, because for me it contains the possibility of real discovery and an undeniable period of growth as an artist. Sadly, that doesn't always happen, and I often walk home from the theater thinking we are somehow selling the opera short by not digging as deeply as we could, and by not holding ourselves to a higher standard.

Well in this particular, miraculous case, the standards are as high as they come. We have Maestro Tony Pappano in the orchestra pit bringing to life this masterpiece for the first time in his career. I've never sung an opera with him before (only concerts) and I am sure he is as animated as this every time he raises the baton, however, I do sense a particular spark in his eye as he realizes how absurdly fun it is to play this piece. He finds the musical jokes in the piece, revels in the vocal acrobats happening around him, and takes every single, solitary note of this score seriously. It doesn't get better than that.

(Moshe Leiser takes us through our dramatic paces)

We have a production team that is unsurpassed. They are the ones who beg us to serve both "gods of opera: the god of theater and the god of music", and to accomplish that they actually KNOW the music and USE the music and KNOW the play and USE the play. Not one false note is allowed from anyone, and as a result we are playing this for all it is worth. Minute degrees of detail are insisted upon ("Joyce, you're thinking too much about Bartolo in this moment so it's coming across too angry, and we need to see the corner of your mouth lift up so we know you're thinking about Lindoro here.") It doesn't get much better than that.


I could write for 10 pages about my costume, alone, and the amazing designs of Agostino Cavalca (above). He sat in the rehearsals (during the first run of the show a few seasons ago) to observe how I moved, and literally built a costume around my movements so that the costume illuminated a part of the character. Not to mention the brilliant fit and cut and COLORS, and the use of roses in practically every stitch (the petticoats resemble an actual rose when gathered up!)- it DEFINITELY doesn't get much better than that!

What am I missing? There is something else about this show.... Oh. Right. The cast.

THE CAST.

(Alessandro Corbelli as Don Bartolo and Ferruccio Furlanetto as Don Basilio in a moment that surely will go down in the history of the Royal Opera House as one of the ALL TIME GREATEST MOMENTS on the opera stage.)

I have to say that from day one of my career, I have always felt incredibly privileged to be in the presence of greatness and to not just see the finished product of that greatness, but to actually see the PROCESS. I'm a firm believer that greatness is achieved in the process, in the journey - not just in the ovation. (My first example of that was in my first season in the Houston Grand Opera Studio - my first production was "Salome" with the astonishing Hildegard Behrens pouring her way through the score as if it was her first time. What an example to start with!)

(Pietro Spagnoli relaxes between staging rehearsals as Figaro)

I have had the immense pleasure of watching these four veteran players all work to shed previous accounts of these roles, to ask questions of the situations they had not asked before, and to forge a real "company" to give the impression that we are actually inside the Beaumarchais play, not inside "an opera". Rest assured, to say the singing is first rate is the understatement of the year, but the singing SERVES the drama and the drama REQUIRES the singing to happen. Ah, it's bliss, I tell you - sheer bliss!!!

My philosophy along the way has always been that, in essence, I don't want people to be aware that I'm singing. I want it to seem like the most organic, natural act that simply HAS to happen because the emotion dictates it. I don't want the singing to interfere with the drama, and I don't want the drama to interfere with the singing. I want it all to be seamless and absolutely united. I've often wondered if it REALLY was possible, and I can say that in my experience in these rehearsals, it absolutely IS possible. And God, when it works, it feels SO good. Yeah, it definitely doesn't get much better than that!

(Juan Diego Florez speaks with our director, Moshe Leiser, about the finer points of the drunken soldier)

So wish us luck for the opening that we can continue the journey and bring a splendid Barber to Londontown. (And for those of you in UK - watch your local listings on July 15, as we'll be beamed direct to parks and squares across the UK - the biggest one being at Trafalgar Square!)

Here's to a "dolce nodo" for all!

For the aspiring ones...

This is a special post to those of you who might be pursuing a wild dream to become a professional musician, to those of you who fancy yourselves supporters of the arts, to those of you who might feel weary and wonder sometimes if it's all worth it or not.



Please take a listen to the commencement speech of Robert Levine, the acclaimed concert pianist and scholar, given to the graduating class at the Curtis Institute of Music this past year. It's an urgent charge to champion this thing called classical music that we are all so passionate about and in my most humble opinion, very worth a listen.

New Favorite Quotes

It takes a keen eye and ear to find the freshness in a score that "everyone knows". Or thinks they know. You have to be willing to look at it with fresh eyes, forgetting what you KNOW about it, read it anew, and stand ready to listen as if for the first time.



Tony Pappano (the Maestro) and Moshe Leiser/Patrice Courier (the directing team) are the new ears and eyes for this Barbiere.

After a long session on Saturday, the cast of singers and directors were sitting around discussing how to "play" this comedy served up by Beaumarchais and Rossini. Moshe's belief is that the characters have no idea they are "in" a comedy - they're only in these panicked situations. So the conversation turned to how we use the voices to convey the drama - and with his most passionate, dedicated philosophy, honed from years of blood, sweat and tears in the theater, Moshe said,

"Our job is to serve both gods of opera: the god of theater, and the god of music."

The second quote came during our sitzprobe on Friday. This is our first time to meet the orchestra, and we rehearse with no movement - simply singing. I've often mentioned that this rehearsal is my favorite - after weeks of sweating it out in the rehearsal room, running and diving and being tossed around, we get to come back to JUST the music and create a chamber environment with the orchestra. It's heaven.

But this sitzprobe blew all others out of the water. I marveled at the colors that were emerging and the air of suspense in the beginning scenes, and the cacophony that inevitably arrived. Oh it was good. And there was one quote that hit me square between my eyes, and is one that I shall never forget: in the opening strains of "Ecco ridente in cielo" (not the most sophisticated orchestration on earth, granted), he turned to the lowly violas who are usually reduced to only playing "Fa, Fa, Do" - and simply pleaded,

"Guys, every chord change has to be a miracle."

Somebody pinch me.

The magic

I know that I am sometimes prone to exaggeration. I'm the first one to gasp out of excitement with a high voltage "OH MY GOD" at the sight of something perhaps just better than average - I'll admit it, I like to see the extraordinary in the ordinary. But then there are times where the hyperbole is merited. Tonight is such a time: Is there ANYTHING that Maestro Tony Pappano cannot do?

In this particular period at the Royal Opera House, he has conducted a hugely acclaimed musical reading of Lulu, rehearsed and opened a star-studded Traviata, is currently rehearsing his first ever Barbiere with a (dare I say it?) not-so-slouchy cast, has played a gala benefit of all Tchaikovsky excerpts from Ballet and Symphony and Opera, and tonight literally threw together an improvised piano recital on the stage of the Opera House, after the 2nd planned program was cancelled. I'm exhausted just writing this, and yet he has been living it out moment to moment these past few weeks with unbelievable gusto and brilliance, to say the VERY least.

I'm DELIGHTING in discovering new facets of the language and the musical jokes found in this score of Barber, thanks to him - he is infusing such verve and brio into the score - a real hot-blooded, Italianate account with subtle, but perfectly perfect surprises. The prelude to the opening of his Traviata on Monday night had me in tears with the mastery and heartache in the wrenching opening strings appearing out of nowhere, not to mention the pulsing textures and colors he elicited all evening from the wonderful orchestra, breaking hearts at each bend.

But tonight I stood on stage with him at the piano and made music. I don't believe he had ever played the Willow Song from Rossini's Otello before, but I swear the piano had swallowed a harp as he made the long introduction weep with the delicacy of that stringed instrument. It was a pure honor to sing with him. BUT. BUT - B U T then he took me completely by surprise, although I should have known better. I suggested we do a few American Songs, and the JAZZ licks that he pulled out of nowhere? I was blown away. There wasn't one single note that was taken for granted - as with his conducting, EVERY SOLITARY NOTE MEANS SOMETHING. It is all important. And so he invited me into the moment, listening, playing, bending, and crafting the music as we went along. It was heavenly.

I'm terribly sorry for the circumstances of the two cancellations that the Royal Opera House public had to endure - it's a tough season here in London, to be sure - but I'm grateful beyond words that I had this little window of music making with such a great Maestro, not to mention with my two colleagues who were outstanding in their wonderful choices of repertoire as well. It was just one of those nights!!

Ah, yes - it was a good moment!