Silfiden!

Silfiden, Danish for La Sylphide, continues to exert its otherworldly magic as presented on June 18 by the Royal Danish Ballet on its first visit to New York City in many years. The charm and delicacy with which the mostly very youthful company presented this August Bournonville classic certainly captivated this audience member. And everyone else.

The delicate-seeming but actually very difficult choreography—oh, those precise finishes in fifth position!—is complemented by a real sense of fairy-tale fantasy, perfectly expressed by the two leads; they really seemed not quite of this world and could not survive in it.

Quaint nineteenth-century stage touches are managed deftly: the Sylphide whooshes up the chimney at the end of the first scene, so that our hero, James, isn't even sure she's been there at all. When she reappears on the windowsill, cf. the old Taglioni lithograph, she floats to the floor. When she meets her tragic end, her little gossamer wings drop off one by one, and, finally, her corpse is borne off aloft, on wires, accompanied by her fellow airy beings.

As an avid opera as well as ballet aficionada, I was also charmed by the lovely sets and costumes, totally in keeping with echt romanticism, that were designed by Mikael Melbye in one of the most successful career changes in the world of the arts. I heard him sing Papageno at the Met a number of years ago, and he was one of the most prominent Danish lyric baritones when he retired from singing in 1999. Also a painter, he has since become an internationally successful theatrical designer. (New York City Ballet could use him.)

"Bloody, Bold, and Resolute"

The Royal Opera has climbed aboard the HD television bandwagon pioneered by the Metropolitan Opera's highly successful seasons of live matinee transmissions to theaters around the world. This week's live ROH offering was a stunning performance of Verdi's formerly underrated Macbeth, which has come to be appreciated in recent years. Perhaps English speakers and Shakespeare enthusiasts were put off in the past by characters addressed as "Macbetto," "Macduffo," "Banco," and "Il re Duncano." ("È morto e assassinato il re Duncano!") As someone fully conversant with the original text and fairly competent in Italian, I can admire Francesco Maria Piave's adaptation for the libretto, and I even enjoy a full chorus of witches instead of the original three. There were many imaginative touches in the staging, which was never over the top. One such was the delivery of Macbeth's letter to Lady M by one of the witches, who materialized and then vanished. Their supernatural, controlling powers were made evident.

A favorite artist, the extremely versatile and physically attractive Simon Keenlyside, is able to color the music with drama and emotion despite not having a typical Verdi voice. No one seems to have a typical Verdi voice these days, but here it didn't matter. The baritone's excellent Italian was also a help. The Ukrainian soprano Lyudmila Monastyrska sang "La Lady's" fiendish music with flair, seemingly tossing off the most difficult passages. The voice is rich and free of vibrato, and she even has the requisite trill. As an actress she was less effective, but it was a pleasure to hear the music so well sung. She did go against Verdi's original idea that Lady Macbeth should make an ugly sound; her voice is an extraordinarily beautiful one.

The dark, menacing, imaginative production and the fine conducting by Antonio Pappano made this British entry into the HD sweepstakes a success.

"An Isle of Joy"

My friend with the great apartment in a great location snapped this late-day view of park and skyscrapers yesterday. Wow! The fact that the summer solstice is near may have something to do with the wonderful light phenomenon.

Thought that it might have had something to do with this, but not the case—a separate topic:

Manhattanhenge | Hayden Planetarium