My Night at the Opera: Fedora (PART 2)
Sonya Yoncheva and Lucas Meachem in Fedora (Ken Howard/Met Opera)
The black curtain during intermission of Fedora! (Violette Leonard)
I hurried out of my seat, into the aisle, and toward the orchestra pit just in time to call hello to maestro bravissimo Marco Armiliato— he returned a giant smile — before he went to do whatever stellar musicians do during intermission. Practice particularly tough sections? Take a 10-minute nap?
I spotted Henry, my favorite usher, and we chatted for a little while. I snapped a picture of the curtain, black this time, and searched fruitlessly for Vladimir's name in the program. (I met him later; his name is Patrick Cann.) I snapped up a few more programs and the third act began.
ACT 3
Now, we were in the Swiss Alps. A (frustratingly two-dimensional) silhouette of a mountain loomed in the background. When Sonya entered with Piotr, I was immediately struck by how completely happy she looked, emphasized by her airy white dress. No forced enjoyment, just complete joy and peace.
Talk to the hand: Lucas Meachem, Sonya Yoncheva, and Rosa Feola in Fedora (Ken Howard/Met Opera).
As Countess Olga, Rosa’s role in Act 3 is admittedly minor, but she stole the scene she was in with her expressions and flirting with De Siriex (Lucas Meachem). There was a funny moment when De Siriex revealed that her former lover, the pianist Boleslav Lazinski (Bryan Wagorn, not seen after Act 2), was actually a secret agent. Fedora got an attack of the giggles, and Olga fainted. Her Bicycle Aria was short but sweet. I was happy the Met hadn’t cut it, as some productions do.
De Siriex soon revealed his purpose in coming: Fedora’s letter to the Russian chief of police had caused the death of Loris Ipanov’s brother and elderly mother. From then on, any hopes for a happy ending were shattered.
Fedora, Fedora, why didn’t you send another letter? Go out and explain everything to the detective, tell him not to send it? The tragedy was unnecessary! Sometimes in opera, everything could have been so much better if just one little thing had happened or not happened. Rigoletto, personally see Gilda to Verona. Carmen, don’t wait for Don José. Onegin, apologize to Lensky. People, please!
Piotr Beczała in Fedora (Ken Howard/Met Opera)
When Loris found out the truth, he grabbed Fedora by the back of her head and jerked her around in his fury. I wasn't expecting violence, and the pair were so intense in their roles that I was actually afraid for her. Thrown to the floor, Sonya intoned deliberately, “Guarda, è la morte!” (Look, it is death!) and drank the poison in her bejeweled cross.
I'm a shameless sentimentalist, so as Fedora lay dying to a peasant boy’s (Luka Zylik) song, my eyes were faucets and my N95 a clogged sink. Loris’s forgiveness of her did not make matters better for me. If only it had come earlier! I don’t recommend silently sobbing your heart out with a mask on; however, I recommend getting COVID-19 even less, so actually, wear the piece of cloth. I must have looked like a fright, trying not to ruin my neighbors’ experience with a giant “SNNNFFFFF.” I saved it for the curtain call, when it was (hopefully) drowned out.
STAGE DOOR
Hello, familiar stage door. Rosa came out as I talked with Marco Armiliato. I tried to summon my rusty Italian but blanked.
“Magnifica!” I exclaimed dramatically, relieved.
“Grazie!” Rosa replied, equally dramatically, and I asked her to sign the program. Then Piotr came out. “It’s a bombardment,” I said aloud. I vacillated momentarily, but I was already with Rosa, so I continued looking for her face in the program. I found it and pointed. “Là." That means “there." “Là, là?" she confirmed and signed. “Grazie,” I thanked her, forgetting everything I’d wanted to say for months, and she departed.
By now, Piotr had left and soon, so did Marco. My N95 was stuck in my hair, and as we tried to wrangle it off, the queen of the evening entered.
With Sonya! (Violette Leonard)
I started laughing at my ridiculous state. My mother quickly stuffed the mask under my hair and we started chatting. I mentioned the blog — when she was a teenager, she hosted a television show about music. “I’ll be writing about this,” I added, so maybe she's reading this. Здравейте, Sonya!
We touched on many topics, including Fedora’s much-criticized plot and contemporary music. She hadn’t gone to see The Hours at the Met last month, and I recommended it to her, owning up to my initial skepticism. It soon got late, so we said goodbye after taking a picture.
Warm, down-to-earth, and insightful, Sonya defies “diva” stereotypes. I’m seriously considering going to see her in the title role of Norma in March, and I hope to meet her again!
IN CONCLUSION
One opera outing, several read reviews, and one blog post later, I have yet to understand why Fedora is the target of so much griping and grousing. It can soar with the right cast, and this is the right cast. Yes, it’s far from perfect, but it’s perfectly captivating.
