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I went to the Met recently to see Beethoven's "Fidelio" and hang out with 3,800 very well-dressed patrons to see a passionate story about political tyranny but mainly to see the soprano Lise Davidsen who is worth the price of admission and more, especially when surrounded by the Met chorus, mostly men, imprisoned for political crimes but nonetheless in gorgeous voice. As for Lise, architects have designed enormous opera houses and finally they've designed a singer whose voice fills it so you feel it even in the cheaper seats.
I like "Fidelio" because it's Beethoven so it's got soul and also the story is simple, there aren't a lot of counts and countesses to keep track of or Wagnerian goddesses, and I think German sings better than Italian, it sounds more like my kind of folks. It has warmth. And there's no need to bother with the English subtitles: Leonore dresses up as a man so she can rescue her guy Florestan from being hanged. That's all you need to know. There's some growling and hollering by some basses and baritones and there's a kerfuffle with another soprano but when the 6'2" Leonore comes onstage you know you're at an opera and you know what's up. The tenor is going to be strangled if the soprano doesn't save him. And when she strides across the stage and lets fly with that powerful loving tone that stuns even the brass section, you know she's up to the job. This is no Mimi or Madame Butterfly, this is a Norwegian lyric dramatic soprano who's pregnant with twins and canceling her schedule to deliver them –– "Fidelio" is her finale until 2026, and here she is singing so gorgeously while carrying two embryonic people — sometimes you see her put a hand on her abdomen as if to say, "Stille, stille." This is a woman to reckon with. I married a woman like her. So have other men. After Lise delivers the twins, I wish she'd take over the Democratic Party.
And at the end of the opera, prisoners released, reunited with their wives and sweethearts, there's a big joyous crowd scene "Wer ein holdes Weib errungen" (Whoever has won a noble wife) with happy children waving and women dancing and flags waving — he did compose "The Ode To Joy" after all; the man knows how to throw a party — and the curtain comes down and it gets a standing ovation, as it should.
The Met is also doing "Moby-Dick," which I won't see though I admire their bravery — there's only one woman in it (in a boy's role), otherwise a shipload of doomed sailors — but I'd advise them to aim for the Strong Woman/Joyful Ending model — stories of warrior queens, Catherine the Great, A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, Eleanor Roosevelt, and a big choral festival at the end perhaps with a parade of animals. Why should that be limited to Aida? Find a place for an elephant, a pair of camels, and a team of horses. It's called SHOW business, people, it's not a sharing of painful memories.
Too many people think of opera as something that requires costume jewelry and a hairstyle and a glass of Cointreau and the use of critical terms (insight, luminosity, otherworldly), but the Fidelio intermission was very amiable and easygoing. I stood in line at the Men's for a while and got into several conversations, one with a New York guy and another with a male couple from the Blue Ridge, all of us stunned by the gorgeous singing. And after the standing O, the crowd streamed across Lincoln Center plaza, a spring night, the fountains spritzing, the buzz and honk of Columbus Avenue, people descending into the subway, cabs lined up, a delicious New York night made all the more thrilling by having seen a genuine Star on stage.
It's amazing that this was accomplished by a Norwegian soprano. I know Norwegians and they are self-effacing by nature, taciturn, stoical, and this one is absolutely joyous. The story is that she hoped to become a folksinger but someone heard her and said, "No, honey, this isn't for 'Michael, Row the Boat Ashore.' This is the shore." The Kennedy Center under its new management may go to auto shows, beauty contests, and pro wrestling, but high art lives in New York. As we say in Tromsø, "Hvert liv krever stor skjønnhet." Every life requires great beauty.
Garrison Keillor is an author and radio personality. His latest book is "Cheerfulness". Buy it at a 38% discount! by clicking here. Sales help fund JWR.