Bellissimo Canto?

I was thrilled, when my dear Mother was failing, to discover what an extraordinary amount of opera is to be seen on the Tube of You.
Even sitting in a movie theater for very long became impossible, so shortly after she was introduced to them, the Met's HD broadcast's were no longer an option - but I was so, so grateful for them while they worked, and for the chance to share performances with her.
And then, there was Youtube, sometimes singers I never saw or had the opportuinty to hear live much less in person, but whose recordings were the best sort of  "blast from the past", in the case of, say, Birgit Nilsson, almost literally so! ("literally", refers to the "blast" part.)
E'en now, I think when she tires of bending the Blessed Virgin's ear, my Mother chats with Magda Olivero and the latter's English has become perfect, and my Mother's Italian is flawless.
(Or perhaps, I should say, everyone there speaks "heaven.")

I was reminded of all that delightful scouring of the Tube of Yous, while repeating the exercise for some examples and inspiration for Himself's next gig.
And since the Tube is one of the worst offenders of the ThoseInterwebsAreATimesuck variety, I ended up listning to various too many In Questa Reggias, and hearing Nina Stemme, and being sorry that the Met's most recent Turandot HD broadcast was not available to us when I heard her shattering Elektra on the radio this past weekend.
Hopefully it will find its way to a PBS station or library shelf near us.
But THAT reminded me of another Saturday afternoon broadcast - I only listen to the "radio", (ask your parents, little ones,) from the Met, (thank you, Towle Bros, Toll Bros?)

Not an enormous Donizetti fan, not wildly familiar with Roberto Devereaux, (though IIRC, I saw the entire "Tudor Trilogy" in my remote youth,) and only heard snatches in between errands, (I only think to listen to the radio in the car.)

But, you guys.... Matthew Polenzani.
Because, MATTHEW POLENZANI.

Omiwerd, I don't think I've ever been bought to tears by Donizetti, and unless it was a super-familiar, filled-with-associations opera or singer, ever wept at such over the radio, of all things.

Pearl Fishers was another one I would have dearly liked to have seen, but the Met is no longer available at any theaters near us.

So, just once more, I need to type - MATTHEW POLENZANI.

I can't help it, I like tenors....

Oh my, I am in love. 

I would feel that way even if he didn't look the way he does.

There is an older recording of  the title track which is... pretty awful. So I'm not utterly in thrall to Kaufmann's looks and acting, (which is stupendous,) I can be discriminating.

I would quibble with NPR's critic, Tom Huizenga, who says, "While he may not project the thrilling Italianate muscle of Franco Corelli in Puccini's biggest hit, Kaufmann's brawny, burnished tone is gorgeous."

That's exactly what I thought as I listened to the title track, omw, the best aspects of Corelli in his prime! (Without any of the, sorry, Franco, extravagant gulping.)

 

Moral Equivalency

No, no, no, not that one.
(Gee, Archbishop Cupich is taking a lot of heat for his hyperbole, which I still would like to think was a dumbing down of Catholic social teaching for secular audience.)

I was very privileged to be able to watch an opera as it was being performed over five thousand miles away - THANK YOU, MEDICI TV!!!!! (we live in a marvellous age.)

Anyway, Fidelio offered some real treasures, and some real pleasures, chief among them the remarkable Jonas Kaufmann, surely the finest actor currently performing on the operatic stage, perhaps the finest in the history of opera as it can be known on film and on tape.
His entrance, vocal since he was not visible at first, (I hope that was not just a matter of the camera focusing on the wrong thing, an all too frequent occurrence in operatic stage production on TV or in movies nowadays,) was like nothing I have ever witnessed before, disturbing and electrifying and heart-breaking.
As Florestan beings his prayer, "Gott...." instead of the noble, devout, and essentially confident forte one expects, there was a sound, so soft, it at first seemed some of the added sound effects in this production, is it mechanical? a door or pulley moving, the small whine of metal on stone? is it an animal? no, it's human, and it grows, it seems to last forever, becoming louder, stronger, richer until it is clearly a faith-filled cry from the heart -
The heart of a madman? a prisoner, who through torture and isolation, through starvation and hopelessness has almost nothing left of his humanity except for his faith in God?
Whatever, it was astounding.

The production as a whole... well, yes, there was plenty to love, but my overwhelming reaction was,

WHAT THE HELdentenor?????????

Okay, two characters have shadow selves, maybe their inconsistencies and incomprehensibilities are the incoherent way the political prisoner thinks of his tormentor and the love he may never see again.....? okay...

But then, at the end, the "happy ending," that glorious music, that joyous outpouring - the chorus is invisible, perhaps only imagined by Florestan? the principals are all in darkness, (same?)
Okay.
Then why in blazes is Dream Laurie Shadow Leonora frantically signalling the audience, down front and center, in a spot? Who is imagining that?

So, I was curious about the reviews, and the reactions of the opera cognoscenti around the 'web (I had only seen a headline about "boos.")
Well, this opera-blogger, (yeah, finally getting back to the title of this post,) seemingly pretty knowledgeable about opera gave this opera-lover, (me,) a What The Fach moment...
Beethoven's Fidelio is an opera designed to provoke outrage. Any production that doesn't provoke is a betrayal of the composer. Salzburg's new Fidelio is provocative, but that's exactly how it should be. Fidelio is an opera about ideas. Like it or not, Claus Guth's production does engage with the ideas and ideals central to any genuine engagement with the opera. He presents an unusual take on the piece, but nonetheless one which is valid and thoughtful. If we dismiss ideas because they don't fit our own, we're no better than the Don Pizarros of this world.[emphasis supplied]
In case you're unfamiliar with Fidelio, Pizzaro is the villainous, torturing, would-be murderer who has held the noble Florestan a political prisoner, incognito for two years.

So, hows that for an asinine moral equivalency claim?

If you reject the nonsense of the purveyors of  regietheater, you are no better than a villainous, torture-loving, despotic would-be murderer.
So the Salzburg patrons who booed? yeah, same circle of hell as, oh... maybe ISIS.

The Screenwriter and Marie Thérèse von Werdenberg

Who knew?
Julian Fellowes had an affair with the Marschallin.....

The woman he loved was 'unavailable' because she was married, with no plans to divorce. So what happened?

'She was great. I can't really speak about it, but she was fabulous ...' As he says this, his eyes fill with tears. 'She was fabulous. But the thing had kind of run its course, and she knew that I had met someone and I was very torn. So she said, "You have to get on with your life, and it's time for me to go."' By now he is crying openly, dabbing his eyes, blowing his nose, and I am groping for tissues in my handbag. Then he shakes himself, like a dog running out of the sea, and makes a few whooshing noises, and pulls himself together.

'Oh, I'm recovering. I'm fine, I'm fine. I've never talked about that before, you know. I shall probably regret talking about it now. But you're such a repository of stuff, aren't you? All of us - we have all this stuff in us.'

Palestrina by Hans Pfitzner

How did I not know this opera existed?
A house guest is streaming WQXR and the prelude to the 1917 work is playing.
Competlling, wonder about the rest of the music.
Off to Youtube!

Hans Sachs on the Liturgy?

It will not leave me...I feel it though I can't understand it.
I can't grasp it, nor yet forget it, and when I think I've grasped it, I cannot take its measure!
How can one measure what seems beyond measuring?
It did not fit the rules, yet it had no faults.
It sounded so old.
Yet as fresh as a bird's song in May!
.....he sang it because he had to...
And as he had to,  he could.

Of course the old cobbler wasn't really thinking of the Mass, he was actually just on about a song - but as so often, Wagner's, (reflected in words he gives his alter ego,) esteem for his own metier, for his own skills are a pale echo of what all men's souls somehow recognize in, and desire from, the transcendent. The which is only available to them in the right worship of God. And isn't this a perfect description of the awe felt by, and the sensation left with, those of us privileged to participate in the Holy Sacrifice? When we sing the Mass don't we acknowledge a ceremony that is both beyond end somehow within our selves?

Meistersinger

Comcast has been hinky lately, (talk about first world problems,) out with surprising frequency considering there is no "weather" to blame.

(On the other hand, OnDemand makes it very easy for us to pick up specials or episodic tv we couldn't manage first time around because of our schedules, so I shouldn't complain.)
And we still, just barely, seem to be able to record the non-HD channels to timeshift ourselves, (no DVR,) so, while everything was "out" again today and oh, dear, I couldn't do some online work, there was nothing for it but to watch the opera we recorded yesterday, (originally from last year, I think?)
Too bad.... ;oP
I'd never seen Meistersinger before, but not because of its length, (I've sat stood through Frau Ohne Schatten and Nicholas Nickleby multiple times, ) just never had the opportunity.
My Father and my godfather would be spinning to hear me confess it, but Wagner GOES ON TOO LONG.
How he, and we, would have benefited from the humility to submit himself to an editor, (and I say this as one who acknowledges her own tendency to run on...)



Some of the libretto is a bit much, the glorification of Germanic art, (oh, and by implication of Wagner himself?) from Sachs, but the march? the prelude? Stendhal Syndrome, I weep at the sheer beauty of some of it.
Generally good, in some cases stunning performances. I'd love to hear the Beckmesser in something sympathetic that would allow him to show off his beautiful sound and nuanced acting. (What? burlesque and vaudeville can be nuanced.)
As always, though, I am easily distracted by minutia, and in this case, it was pondering of whom the tenor reminded me....

“To hell with beauty, it’s a kitsch notion; I don’t feel this business of being overwhelmed by it.”

Did opera director/doctor/wit Jonathan Miller really say that?

Been laid up, not leaving the house, so indulging myself with opera via Youtube and heretofore unwatched DVDs.

And yeah, having a few granny-reactions - WHAAAAA? did that Rhinemaiden really just....? I can't believe Don Giovanni would have ever....! I hope they paid those dancers enough for letting someone... and sometimes just ewwwwwwwwww!

So some of the carping I'd heard about regie, I just attributed to the carpers fundamentalism, lack of sophistication, want of artistic imagination...
But it seems that opera has more in common with pop culture than I'd known, coarse, sluttish and degrading behavior really is the order of the day.

But when I came across that quote from Miller, (some of whose work I very much admired,) it disturbed me. (I haven't read it anywhere than in that article, and others that reference it, so perhaps it's not quite what he said? I can hope.)

Beauty is beside the point?

No wonder the world is in such a state when intelligent, talented and influential individuals can say such a thing.

Yeah, #!@$%  the transcendentals....

The sad thing is, by disdaining beauty, by neglecting goodness, the purveyors of evil ugliness deny themselves the chance of ever actually achieving truth, the one value they putatively pursue, the one value they claim to rank above all else.

Aha, here's the whys and wherefores of Fierrabras's giant furniture

Apparently --

Wisely, and entirely according to his usual stage practise, director Claus Guth has chosen not to stage Fierrabras as a naturalistic Moorish drama. However, despite the good intentions, eventually he does, for once, somewhat miss the mark here. The entire opera takes place in Schuberts studio. Or perhaps even in Schuberts brain. 
An actor plays Schubert, who also occasionally speaks, conducts, escorts the singers on and off stage etc..All in a miniature world, with oversized furniture and singers presenting small symbols (a crown, a wooden bird etc) to clarify their position in the play. Clearly, Claus Guth thus wants us to be part of the creative process, but for more than two hours it becomes more than tedious. 

In other words,  eurotrash   Regietheatre... RegietheatER? Not sure.

(About the spelling, quite sure of what I think about the practice.)

Had you heard of Fierrabras?

 

 I certainly hadn't, but scavenging around, indulging guilty pleasures, I came across an excerpt from the opera by Schubert. (Yeah, it features Jonas Kaufmann, wanna make somethin' of it?)

The plot concerns a Saracen knight whose love for the daughter of a Christian king leads him to take the fall for her attempt to elope with her lover, thereby risking his own execution.
There's also a Moorish princess in love with a Christian knight, (they all seem to have met in Rome? like that was neutral territory?)
Everybody's happy in the end, and the noble Fierrabras, (also spelled Fierabras when referring to his appearance inchivalric epics,) of course converts.
To the One, Holy, Catholic and Apostolic.... well, you know.
And I don't think under duress.

I wonder if presenting the piece nowadays in Europe, (the video is from '06,) would lead to threats and evil doings.

And I REALLY wonder what the giant schoolroom chairs and forte-piano in this production mean....

A Peerlessly Expressive Voice Swelling the Chorus of the Thrice-Holy Hymn, Magda Olivero Dead at 104

I know one shouldn't presume on God's grace, one should pray for the deceased, but I must say, if Magda Olivero was not the kindest, gentlest, most gracious, most generous woman you ever met... well, than she was an even greater actress that she was given credit for.
I believe she is even now singing, Sanctus, Sanctus, Sanctus at the throne of God.
And God is enjoying it immensely.

A hundred and four... my, my.
When I say that I had the great good fortune to meet her and even appear  with her onstage it makes me sound even more ancient than I am, but remember, not only was she pushing 60 when she made her American debut, but the verismo roles which were her meat and potatoes often feature choirboys and urchins and shepherds and the like.

"If one just sings, without putting in any heart or soul, it remains just beautiful singing and not a soul that sings!”

And hers was a soul that sang.

And there I was, just complaining about the canonization of the recently deceased.
Do I contradict myself?
Well, then - I contradict myself.
I am large, I contain multitudes.

And here's another - some beauty of voice is the sine qua non of operatic singing.
Right?
And what did she think of herself?

"I never had a voice, what I had was expression, a face, a body, the truth. If one prefers the opposite, that is his right."

She sells herself short, her sound could be exquisite.

But with Mme. Olivero mere beauty of tone was superfluous, too much would have been gaudy, trivial, vulgar -- set beside her eloquence, merely pretty singing would have been unsatisfactory indeed.

And yet, Ira Siff in Opera News reminds us,

in 1993, at eighty-three, Olivero recorded excerpts from her beloved Adriana Lecouvreur, making a final artistic statement on the role, still able to offer passages of ethereal beauty and expression. [emphasis supplied] Her art is extensively documented in live-performance audio recordings and a handful of video documents —  every one a lesson.

Rest in peace, you lovely, lovely woman.

Not Sex, but the Mass

Perhaps my worst post title ever...

But after reading Peter Kwasniewski's article about Liturgy and FOR the Poor.

Although some may find it surprising, I find it utterly fitting that the Missionary Servants of the Poor of the Third World—an heroic apostolate whose priests, nuns, and laity work with people of desperate poverty—have in recent years discovered the treasure of the usus antiquior and have embraced its celebration as a potent source of life and energy for their work. The same has been true for other congregations, such as the Missionaries of Charity and the once-flourishing Franciscans of the Immaculate. As for the congregation, it is well known that the poor, contrary to all the prognostications of clergy and experts, have flocked to Masses in the usus antiquior. 

The manifest reverence, pregnant silences, and redolent symbols of the old Mass speak eloquently to simple souls who find in it an encounter with the Passion of Christ that can give meaning to their own sufferings. The traditional Roman Rite has a purity of focus and a strength of passion that make it particularly suitable for radically poor missionaries to the poor. It is a liturgy that pulls down the ego of the celebrant by plunging him into a ritual that is his demanding master, not his plaything; and yet, it is a liturgy shot through with a lover’s gestures: the altar is kissed many times, and telling phrases are repeated, just as we often do in intense situations. This Mass has the virtue of purity of heart, which Kierkegaard defined as “willing one thing.” It wills the Sacrifice of the Cross, and subordinates everything to that. As such, it is an incomparable school of poverty of spirit, conforming the worshiper to the single-hearted Christ. 

Among poor people huddled in a hut, before whom a scrubby priest dressed in rags celebrates the Eucharistic sacrifice with total focus and passion―here, amid woes that drive desperate souls to meaningful prayer, there is likely to be a real participation in the ecstasy of the crucified and risen Savior.

The photo that accompanies the piece shows a priest wearing a grandly embroidered stole and swinging a thurifer that, (although not particualrly grand,) is probably worth more than some of the congregants make in a year.

Such ruminations and such sights always remind me of learning what, IIRC, is a Neapolitan saying: "Sex is the Opera of the poor," in other words, the activity both entertaining and hopefully transcendent that even they can afford.

Even at the time, I knew that was wrong, and as Italians and putative Catholics, whoever coined the aphorism should have known it - the Mass, the Mass is where anyone always and everywhere has access to the transcendence, (that may, let's be honest, elude one at La Scala or in bed,) and is without doubt the only access for many of us, to beautiful aromas of clouds of incense, to gorgeous and gorgeously sung music to which we can even contribute, (a simple three note "amen sung by 500 people can thrill ones very bones,) to the visual splendour of great buildings and great art, and (forget Parisian ateliers,)  the absolute height of  accomplishment in textile and lacework and embroidery.
There were many times in my school days when I could not scrape together the money for a ticket even to a score desk at the Met, but was blessed to stumble upon a church in Manhattan where they did the rite right.

All that earthly beauty  --- and Jesus too!!!!!!

No, not sex....

Liturgy is the opera of the poor.

"Nothing old-fashioned, like sex or murder...."

I love opera.
For all the carping about Peter Gelb, I am in his debt for his visionary role in bringing opera, the Met broadcasts in HD onto the big screen.
I love them.

Likewise, I love that the caddish, (or laddish?) writings of some UK critics and the fracas it engendered revealed to me the live streaming going on accessible in my very own home, on my very own ancient desktop, of productions from Glyndbourne and elsewhere.

And I REALLY love that besides Glyndbourne and ROH, England produces masterpieces like THIS promises to be (not) (oh, and also, not - that I'd want to watch it -- but com'on, that's first class comedy writing!):

Camilla Kerslake is ...hoping to shake up the opera world this week as she appears in a controversial new production, wearing a vampy floor sweeping Morticia-style dress.'They wanted me to go naked underneath, but I refused and we settled on nude underwear.'

The opera - covering sex, spirituality and plastic surgery and is the creation of composer Toni Castells.

Camilla hopes the new work will make opera 'more mainstream.'...

She added: 'In the modern day things like sex, plastic surgery and spirituality need to be addressed. 'The classic opera is full of murder and adultery but what we are trying to say is more about modern issues. It is basically an expression of human condition and is much more accessible to the average person on the street. This is a really exciting way to make opera more mainstream.'

MoDo,a Little Pitchy?

It's nice to know that it is not just about matters ecclesiastic on which MoDo is wont to wax ignorant.

Right after pretty much admitting flat out that she knew literally nothing first hand about the presentations of the Metropolitan Opera before Peter Gelb's tenure, she proclaimed that they had been "musty" and "fusty".

Perhaps she just has an aversion to anything grand that is beyond her powers of understanding.

And has she become irony-impaired?

Peter Gelb still recalls the sting. “In second grade, my report card said I couldn't take criticism, and I remember being devastated by that.”

 Get it, Mo? 

He said that a teacher criticized him.... for not being able to take criticism..... and he couldn't take it.... you know, the criti--- oh, never mind.

(And yes, I know "pitchy" isn't a word, or rahter, didn't used to be, but there's nothing that we can do about it now.)

Funerals, the Dies Irae and Guilty Pleasures

I am, "behind the scenes," involved in the planning of several versions of Catholic funerary rites, in both cases the person with actual family authority knows nothing of the requirements and has enlisted my aid with the proviso that no one else knows I have been consulted.

In one case, to my great surprise, I learn that the decedent, a nun in the heady immediate post-VC II days would have wanted Gregorian chant, (I had always assumed she would have been a banjos and tambourine type,) indeed, the liturgical mess of the times may have played a part in her departure from the convent.
I had to explain to her godson that he might have a shot at getting the parish pastor and music director to agree to the propers in some form, but that the Dies Irae, which he was very keen on, was no longer an official part of the Mass, that some priests might allow it to be inserted as an Offertory chant.

In scouting hymn texts for one of the other liturgies I read through several older threads about funeral programming on the CMAA forum, and found a link to a wonderful "mediation on a lost treasure," that is, the Dies Irae, by a Mons. Pope.
Don't know how I missed it at the time, was that the year we actually moved? No matter.
Well worth the read.

I loved his point that yes, the poetry is about Judgment, but ultimately, even more so, it is about MERCY.

And then, apropos of nothing, except my local PBS station that broadcast a Live in HD From the Metropolitan Opera, or rather, broadcast all BUT THE LAST TEN MINUTES OF IT!!!!!!!! (Arghhh!) I was rooting around on Youtube and came across and listened to Jonas Kaufmann singing Ingemisco from the Verdi Requiem a time or two.

Or four.

A poster on another Kaufmann offering on Youtube refers to him as a "guilty pleasure," and I know what he means.

His technique seems so different from anything else I've ever heard or ever, really imagined as "good", his placement even within a single phrase so varied, the extravagance of his shifting of register to another -- can it be right?

But it is so effective. And his diction and the intensity and precision of his emotional expression is beyond compare.
Music aficionados often joke that the Manzoni Requiem was Verdi's "greatest opera."
Well, why not?  did he ever have a more superb libretto, or heartbreaking subject for any opera?

Maybe the most moving expression of penitence I've ever heard.

I groan as a guilty one,
and my face blushes with guilt;
spare the supplicant, O God.

You, who absolved Mary Magdalen,
and heard the prayer of the thief,
have given me hope, as well.

My prayers are not worthy,
but show mercy, O benevolent one,
lest I burn forever in fire.

Give me a place among the sheep,
and separate me from the goats,
placing me on your right hand. 

The Trouble With News Via Sound Bite

Skimming along the surface of information, we, all of us, needing to depend on second hand information as it were, read or hear a few words, a single word, and don't know what to think, what to believe.
A headline, a tweet, a crawl across the bottom of the screen on a "news" station?

Communication by such limited means is useless -- how many times has someone demanded your opinion on something, X should do Y, right?.... I mean, right? or probably in reality, tried to sound you out in hopes you affirm his own stance, when it is clear that he knows no more about the subject at hand than can be contained in 140 characters.

Well, [my favorite singer] says so, so right?
The sports "hero" I follow says that....

And to some extent, this is the way human society has to work - no one can be everywhere and witness everything and be aware of all human knowledge and look into each event that interests or effects him, we have to take most of what we "know" on trust.
People often seem perturbed when I say that "All I know about [whatever] is what I just heard on [name the tv channel] so I really couldn't say."

And I have certainly been upset with myself when I have had a knee-jerk reaction to a story, formed an "opinion" only to find out that it was presented in a completely false way. Heck,  headlines are often flat out contradicted by the details in a story.

So your call really has to be, whom do you trust?
Matt Drudge? Diane Sawyer? Lady Gaga?
What organization, the New York Times? Comedy Central? Pravda?
What governing body, the UN? the Obama administration? the government of Kim Jong Un? the Republican Caucus?

And the way news is delivered, blurring into infotainment, and relying on constant sizzle even when there's no steak to lure consumers, (and that is what we are, "consumers" of information,) compounds the difficulty.

The shallowness and lack of detail that results from the purveyors' dread of the consumers' short attention span leads to a reliance on buzzwords and bullet points that gives an even more skewed picture of what is being presented.

Case in point, a couple months ago the received wisdom was that Brendan Eich was a "homophobe" because a few years ago he gave a donation to a political campaign in support of the, apparently shockingly new to some citizens, opinion that “Only marriage between a man and a woman [should be] valid or recognized in California.”
Frankly, I only became aware because first, some sites I regularly  go to online would not allow me access via Mozilla Firefox, my usual browser, and then after Eich was fired stepped down, other sites wouldn't let me on with Firefox.

The firing resignation bothered me, because the logical outcome, if those responsible for Eich's ouster get their way, seemed to me to be that since at least 2 out of 5 Americans feel the same way, (and why is that "homophobic"? wouldn't it be just as logical to claim it was "polygamiphobic"? I digress,) the nation should be headed for an unemployment rate of 40%.

That doesn't seem like a good plan.

I read a bit about a brouhaha over a Georgian operatic soprano, cut loose from an Australian production because of "homophobic" comments.

Oh, great, here we go again.... but not really.
Because the sheer ugliness of what this woman said, the inhumanity of her applauding actual violence visited upon people is clearly "homophobia" -- but to apply the same word to someone acting in a civil manner in a civil society exercising his right to work for the recognition of a truth an article of belief that had been until very recently universally accepted is stupid.
Stupid and unfair.
And it devalues the word.

(Which, by the way, is, I believe, pretty close to one of the points a columnist with whom I seldom agree about ANYTHING was trying to make, [or should have been trying to make,]  in an otherwise pretty lame opinion piece --  applying the term "sexual assault" to a "micro-aggression" belittles genuine victims of rape and assault.)

But of course, to get back to my original point - how do I know the facts in the Tamar Iveri case as presented by Limelight are accurate?

Exactly.

Suspension of Disbelief

I had forgotten, when doing all that thinking rambling about trouser roles and other forms of stage impersonation the very fine Salzburg production of Traviata, modern dress and a starkly evocative set with a giant clock, a very hot Anna Netrebko and a very hot-headed Rolando Villazon [sp?] The violence in his attack on Violetta in the third act was appalling.

Anyway, my point, and I did have one, was that the entire mixed chorus of the first act had been (costumed and made up as) men, all these men in suits, all these respectable johns.
It made it clear that both the prostitute's seeming power over and her ultimate subjugation by society were a function of her sex. (Not sure what Flora's deal was.... cross-dresser? lesbian? pimp? performer?  no matter.)
Very effective.

A review of the Traviata in Paris, starring the absolutely glorious Diana Damrau, (seriously, can she do anything wrong? surely the finest, most versatile soprano in the opera world today,) mentioned that they had garbed the chorus similarly in the first act, (though this was a period piece, even -- wonder of wonders! -- the period specified by the creators!) everyone dressed as a man.

BUT -- it said that in the 3d act, (or is it the 2nd scene of the 2nd act?) the gypsy dancers were males in dresses. Okay, that piques my curiosity, I go hunting for video or photos.... well, there's another bit of impersonation.

The sets seem as if they would be striking in performance, and very serviceable, extremely simple, but just as sumptuous as they are simple -- a single massive staircase, a single massive tree and a single massive bed.
Hanging over the headboard as part of the beswagged bed is this Manet painting.

Ah, okay, a prostitute, (as if we, or any of Violetta's clients would be unaware....) And it seems in this production, Annina is a black maid, costumed and given headgear approximating the servant in the painting. 
The singer's name is unfamiliar to me, and her surname gives me no hint of ethnicity. Hmmm, is that African?

No, it seems she is Rumanian.

Which means, she is, essentially, performing in black-face.

I gather that does not cause the hand-wringing and column inch-chewing it would in the US.

Operatic Trivia

While listening to a bit more of Rosenkavalier, inspired by articles friends have been forwarding about the critical balderdash spewed about Glyndbourne's Octavian, I came across this:

Lily Pons as Octavian??!?@???? Lily Pons? Really?
I can't even imagine...
Wonder if there's any recording.