Met's First BOHÈME of the Season Had the Audience Where It Wanted It

Meister-Maestro Eun Sun Kim Made Debut, Helping Transport Us to 19th Century Paris

BROADWAY WORLD REVIEW

by Richard Sasanow 

 Every time I head to a performance of Puccini's LA BOHEME, I can't help but think of Bette Davis's famous line from "All About Eve": "I detest cheap sentiment." And I roll my eyes, wishing I were going to something less adept at pushing the audience's buttons, thinking of something more challenging I'd like to hear.

But then I actually get there and, more likely than not, I feel genuinely moved, swept away by the mood that the composer and his librettists (Illica and Giacosa) have conceived through what seems like an endless array of gorgeous melodies ("Che gelida manina," "Mi chiamano Mimi," et al.) from the very first act--and action that feels genuine. (And, yes, at the Met, the scenery that the Franco Zeffirelli has created that reinforces all the emotional honesty of the work, of the lives of struggling artists in 19th century Paris along with the grandeur that is the city at its best.)

Sometimes I even cry, as I did, briefly, the other night.

Not that it was so perfect, though there were exquisite things about it, but that it catches a moment in time that can't be duplicated today. (I love RENT, but, sorry, it doesn't compare.)

The Met often uses this production--which on its own is the star of the evening--to try out new singers or to engage ones that they don't want to let go but can't quite fit in to something that the artists might find more demanding. Gone are the days when you'd see BOHEME with a cast of stars--like Stratas-Carreras-Scotto together--because, well, they don't make 'em like that anymore.

Still, the Met came up with a better than decent quartet of players, starting with the lovely performance of soprano Anita Hartig as Mimi, a touch of steel in her luxurious, robust voice. Her Mimi is never in danger of getting lost in the crowd, even when the first-rate Musetta of Federica Lombardi stops the show in its tracks with her sweeping, deliciously performed entrance waltz, "Quando me'n vo," an ode to her own charms. The two women were well matched as foils for one another, jumping into the deep end of the opera's pool of melodies fearlessly and successfully.

The men needed a little more time and, unfortunately, I thought that conductor Kim made her only misstep of the evening by overpowering them at the start of Act I before their voices had a chance to warm up. Tenor Charles Castronovo doesn't have the largest voice around, but it's suave and lyric it can make it do just about anything he wants, once it's ready. He made an appealing Rodolfo.

As his pal, Marcello, baritone Artur Rucinski was ready for his close-up once he had a chance to warm up. He was good here, particularly when showing some fire playing off Lombardi's Musetta. But it was too bad that the men didn't have the right backup for their first impression, even though they made up for it later on. (Another standout Bohemian was baritone Alexander Birch Elliott as Schaunard, who I'd heard debut when he stepped into a leading role in PECHEURS DE PERLES for an indisposed colleague.)

Otherwise, it was nice to hear Kim take the Met orchestra and run with it. This is one of those operas they can do in their sleep and they can go their merry way if the conductor isn't quite up to snuff (they get so little rehearsal time here), when even the audience can see maestros who don't quite know what they're doing but the orchestra is ready to run the show properly. Kim was not one of those and she led a nuanced, smartly worked show.

I recently wrote about whether another Zeffirelli/Puccini opera production (TURANDOT) was ready for the mothballs. No such worry here, even though it has a lot of mileage under its belt. Director Gregory Keller kept things humming along--and the audience was ready to hum along with them...at least, when they weren't sobbing.

There are lots more BOHEMEs through the end of May, with a revolving cast, most conducted by Kim (who's the music director of the San Francisco Opera).

In Her Met Debut, a Conductor Leads a Fresh ‘La Bohème’

Eun Sun Kim, who recently made history at the San Francisco Opera, had an auspicious arrival at the podium in New York for Puccini’s classic.

CRITIC’S PICK

By Anthony Tommasini

Giacomo Puccini’s beloved “La Bohème,” with its lyrically rich and deftly written score, has the makings of a surefire opera. Yet the music is full of traps for a conductor, especially when it comes to pacing and rhythmic freedom; give singers too much expressive leeway, and things can easily turn flaccid.

Even in a good performance of this well-known staple, it’s hard for a conductor’s work to stand out against the singers’ voices, which usually claim our attention. But on Tuesday, when “Bohème” returned to the Metropolitan Opera — in Franco Zeffirelli’s enduringly popular production, and with an appealing cast in place — the star of the evening was the conductor, Eun Sun Kim, in her Met debut.

Last month, Kim made history at the San Francisco Opera as the first woman music director of a major American opera company. And at the Met this week, she did the job with musicianly care, assured technical command, subtlety and imagination. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard Puccini’s score so freshly played.

On one level, Kim’s achievement was all in the details. From the opening measures of Act I, set in a cramped garret shared by the story’s struggling artists, Kim took a vibrant tempo held just enough in check to allow for the crisp execution of dotted-note rhythmic figures, sputtering riffs and emphatic syncopations. In the playing she drew from the orchestra, which sounded alert and at its best, she teased out distinct thematic threads while letting skittish, colorful flourishes work their magic and then waft away.

 Tuesday evening’s Rodolfo, the tenor Charles Castronovo, who sang with beefy sound and a touch of impetuousness, clearly likes to take ample time to deliver ardent melodic phrases. Kim gave him breathing room. Yet she showed that even while following a singer sensitively, a conductor can subtly nudge him along so a line does not go slack.

She was equally alert to the characteristics of Anita Hartig, as Mimì, a soprano whose bright voice, even when high-lying phrases had metallic glint, came across with tremulous, affecting vulnerability. Hartig brought a conversational flow to the aria “Mi chiamano Mimì,” stretching one phrase to express a bashful, intimate feeling and slightly rushing another to convey nervousness. Kim kept the orchestra with her every moment, and the entire scene around that aria — the awkward, nervous exchanges between Rodolfo and Mimì as they first meet — had shape and drive.

Kim’s way of conveying the structural elements of the score — which is not just a series of dramatic scenes but, in Puccini’s hand, a composition with an overall form — was just as important as her attention to details. Her work in Act III, the emotional core of the opera, was exceptionally fine. Mimì seeks out Rodolfo’s friend Marcello (the robust-voiced baritone Artur Rucinski) at the tavern where he and Musetta (Federica Lombardi, a vivacious soprano) are now living, to share her despair over Rodolfo’s constant jealousy. The singers were intense in their back and forth, but the long, arching melodic lines that hold this scene together are in the orchestra, and Kim brought them out with tautness and full-bodied sound.

The whole cast was strong, including the firm yet warm bass-baritone Nicholas Brownlee as Colline and the youthful, spirited baritone Alexander Birch Elliott as Schaunard. There are 14 more performances of “Bohème” this season. The great news is that for all but four of them, Kim will be in the pit.