My decision was finally sealed around 5:30 this afternoon: the evening's performance of choice was to be Opening Doors, the Stephen Sondheim revue at Zankel (the new hall at Carnegie). Merrily I strolled over to the box office; surprised by the $50 difference between the only two ticket prices offered, I opted for the more economical tier. "Only $85 seats left," the box office Cerberus barked. EIGHTY-FIVE DOLLARS. omfg. For a collection of Sondheim tunes sung by a five-person cast in which the biggest name is Gregg Edelman. I actually found myself giving this just a moment of serious consideration, and left as soon as I realized that I'd have to be fucking losing my mind to blow that kind of cash.
So there I was at 6 o'clock, twilight, having to decide again where to hear a little music on my only free night in New York. Otello at the Met won the run-off election and I got a $26 seat in the so-called Family Circle. (I have my doubts that many parents these days would consider (1) Shakespeare's (2) Othello (3) sung (4) in Italian (5) for three hours an effective way to occupy their eight-year-olds. Unless maybe the guys from the Wiggles are singing.) Moblogging by the Lincoln Plaza fountain now; curtain goes up presently.
But there's also some positive Carnegie news: I had been super-bummed that I would be missing Sunday's performance by the participants of the Dawn Upshaw/John Harbison workshop with young-ish singers doing newly commissioned pieces by young-ish composers (Lisa Bielawa, Gabriela Frank, Keeril Makan). But I just learned today that I might be able to work my way into one of their rehearsals, which I'm told allows some auditors. I've wanted to see Dawn teach or do a master class for years. She's such an intelligent and insightful singer, with a generous, supportive spirit -- how could this be anything less than inspiring?
UPDATE: It's halftime at the show. I was wrong about the Family Circle. In fact, I have two small children directly in front of me with binoculars the size of their heads. They are too short to see above the Met Titles bar comfortably, and are thus bored out of their gourds and squirming uncontrollably. Chorus sounds fantastic! Act I provided my favorite piece of staging in recent memory: When Otello first says "un bacio", asking for a kiss, Desdemona walks over to him and, um, gets down on her knees. Well that's an interesting reinterpretation of the line, I thought. (But then Ben Heppner is then forced to fold his sizeable frame down to get into an exceedingly contorted-looking kissing position.)
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