I'd been looking forward to last Saturday night for many many months. I'd bought my ticket the moment they went on sale, and booked my ill-fated JetBlue (JetPoo!) flight in October. It's been a long, Diva-less winter, and I was excited to see Renée on stage, performing a role.
God, I love the Met. There is really no other place like it - the plushy red velvet seats, the gold gilt interior, the large majestic stage, the sparkling chandeliers (I still get a thrill watching them rise up to the heavens before the performance starts.) And it was beyond cool to maybe take a stroll to the ladies' lounge and exchange a hug and air kiss with someone I knew - and scan the audience and see friends sitting there.
It was my first Russian opera - the music was gorgeous, the staging gorgeous, and the incomparable Ms. Renée was simply breathtaking. The sets were spare - but it worked - highlighting the drama, and the story, and the principal singers. Highlights for me were - well, anytime Renée was on stage, the pretty (if lengthy) aria by Ramon Vargas.... and I'll be honest, the scene where Dmitri takes off his shirt. You could hear sharp intakes of breath all around the auditorium.
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