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| Vittorio Grigolo and Nino Machaidze in LA Opera's production of Romeo et Juliette. Grigolo was ill on Sunday, and Charles Castronovo filled in. LAtimes.com |
We were very excited about the opera, Gounod's Romeo et Juliette, with two emerging stars: Vittorio Grigolo and Nino Machaidze. There hasn't been so much buzz about this opera since Anna Netrebko and Rolando Villazon did it at the Dorothy Chandler in 2005.
Although I think anytime great voices paired with beauty come along, opera lovers go nuts. The days of 300-pound sopranos may be over, but chubby tenors and baritones are still with us. And let's face it, what are the statistical odds of someone amazingly hot also having a dynamite voice?
I saw the Villazon and Netrebko version, and was completely blown away. I walked out of the theater and over to the box office where I bought tickets for my kids, because I realized it was a once in a lifetime opportunity. I've since seen them sing together in other operas like Manon and La Traviata, and their chemistry is so amazing, I would hate to be married to either one of them. They really make you believe not only in their love, but also in the power of love.
So there were high hopes for this new production, and the reviews were fantastic. There was praise for Machaidze's purity of tone, Gigolo's athleticism, and both their sex appeal. We saw Machaidze last season in A Turk in Italy, and were so impressed, we saw it again. She was great. But this pairing was not to be for us, as Grigolo was ill.
It was the culmination of a series of unfortunate events. It was raining so hard that the drive was quite scary, and all we wanted was to get to the plaza and have drinks and lunch at the Pinot Grill. The parking structure was full of people acting crazy, cutting us off, cutting in line, and one car with some defect that made it screech at high volume.
"A scotch and food, that's all I want," my husband said as we emerged from underground. We were greeted by the maitre de saying "We're closed." We have had lunch there before in fairly terrible weather, and so were mystified. Apparently, electrical things were shorting out, so he decided to close. We could buy sandwiches in the little store on the plaza, and were welcome to eat in the tent, he said.
My poor husband was emotionally drained by the drive and uncharacteristically grumpy. It was frustrating; we could see the alcohol on the bar, but we couldn't buy any. So we made do with ham and brie sandwiches, chili, and a couple of Newcastle ales, while listening to the rain pound on the tent. A couple of women who had just got in under the wire were eating salmon steaks next to us. It was galling.
We went to the prohibitively restaurant at ground-level and ordered drinks and coffee, which cheered us up a bit. In our seats, we settled in, only to have Placido Domingo come on stage. When you see Maestro before a production, it's never good, and this wasn't. Grigolo was ill, he said. "When you can't sing, you can't sing," he said with a shrug. "It happens to all of us."
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| Charles Castronovo |
The bedroom scene was good, even though Machaidze left her nightgown on. When Netrebko did it, she started out naked. Even with the nightgown on, some teens sitting behind us were tittering at the sight of two nearly naked people rolling around in bed. I guess they live sheltered lives.
When I mentioned to one of my Russian students, Nino, that an opera singer had her same name and was from Georgia, she told me that it was the name of a famous Russian Orthodox saint who was born in that region.
Wags are calling Machaidze the "Angelina Jolie" of opera. She was as great as she had been last season, and as beautiful. Castronovo was not hard on the eyes, either. I'd still like to see Grigolo, so maybe we can go back. I mean, I've got to see a guy who is quoted as saying "Opera is like boxing or Formula One. It's dangerous."
