In all 51 institutions participated in the marathon-like event, presenting full and truncated programs that ranged from African drumming to Verdi and Mozart to cabaret to political satire to clubbing.

(Below: A map of participating venues and how to get there)

Tickets for the evening were a meager 15 Euros, which included transportation via a fleet of shuttle buses that zipped from north to south and east to west - and were consistantly packed all evening long.

I began my evening at the Staatsoper unter den Linden (see image below), where crowds a thousand strong were waiting to see a program of excerpts from the Magic Flute (Zauberflöte) that was performed on the hour. The crowds and queues I encountered at the Staatsoper were harbingers of things to come: the staggering turn-out made this particular “Long Night” a logistical nightmare.

By dint of pure luck, I managed to talk my way into the first tier of the theater, where I stood and enjoyed an obstructed view of the performance - though, in truth, I was more interested in observing the enthusiastic audience and the thunderous applause they gave to Papageno and the Queen of the Night.

Afterwards, I walked to the nearby Komische Oper, where that evening’s performance of Traviata was being projected outside for the benefit of a crowd fressing themselves with Bratwurst and pretzels in the soothing spring evening.

The mob in front of the KOB was even more impressive than at the Staatsoper. No one seemed to have much of an idea of what was in store for them. This turned out to be a selection of Verdi marches and arias performed in the foyer by a “Salon Orchestra” and KOB ensemble members.

The salon orchestra “Illusion” plays a light Verdi medley

Soprano Erika Roos sings “Merche diletta amiche”from I Vespri Siciliani

Meanwhile, in the baroque opera house itself, a baffling DJ set / lightshow was taking place. Most seemed as confused as I was by DJ Jürgen Grözinger, who was spinning opera LPs while drenched in a blue light.

After an ill-fated attempt at seeing a Bulgakov play at the Maxim-Gorki theater, I sallied forth to the Admiralspalast for a preview of the German version of Mel Brooks’ musical “The Producers,” which makes its début at that theater in mid-May.

It is forbidden by German law to display Nazi insignias anywhere outside of an educational or dramatic setting. Unfortunately, there’s no dispensation for satire, which means no swastika armbands or dancing in formation during the classic “Springtime for Hitler” number. In place of swastikas the actors wear red-black-and-white armbands with pretzels on them.

(Below: girls in the theater lobby in stereotypical German dress promote “The Producers”)

The program at the Admiralspalast kicked off with an effectively schmaltzy band that performed a “Berlin Revue” that included a suitably nostalgic and mushy performance of “Du gehst durch all meine Träume.”

1941’s “Du gehst durch all meine Träume”at the Admiralspalast

The principle cast members of “The Producers” were introduced and performed some scenes of dialogue and music from the show. Cornelius Obonya uncannily channeled Nathan Lane as Max Bialystock. Andreas Bieber made a less winning impression with his annoyingly whiny Leo Bloom. Herbert Steinböck made Franz Liebkin into a lovable (psychotic) dope and had the audience in stiches during some Chaplinesque double talk (Hear audio excerpt below). And Bettina Mönch was a delightful ditz as the Swedish bombshell Ulla.

Audio except of a scene from the Berlin production of”The Producers”

Ulla (Bettina Mönch) sings “When You’ve Got It, Flaunt It”

Max (Cornelius Obonya) and Leo (Andreas Bieber) sing “We Can Do It”

Next door to the Admiralspalast is the Kabaret Distel, which performs political satire (get those images of Joel Grey out of your head). On exiting the Producers preview, I somehow got swept into the Distel’s performance of “Jenseits von Angela” (a none-too-clever pun on the German title of Isaak Dinesen’s memoir), which - judging from the audience’s reactions - must have been wickedly funny, though I understood precious little aside from easy puns and slapstick.

(Below: The Distel Kabaret)

At the beginning of the evening, six hours had sounded to me far too short a time period to enjoy such a cultural smörgåsbord (those accent marks are courtesy of spell check, not me!). With the evening nearly at an end (it was close to one a.m.) I was starting to get exhausted. Still, I felt I should milk the evening for all it was worth and, so, found myself at 12:50 riding the last shuttle bus #5 into Tiergarten - Berlin’s central park - to the famed Tipi der Zelt. Tipi is a throwback to the good old days of Berlin nightclub culture. In a city that is very suspect of nostalgia, the roaring 20s is practically the only epoch of the 20th century that people continue to romanticize. (Is there really much else to be proud of?)

I arrived just in time to catch the final number in a colorful and campy drag show: an irreverent and batty conclusion to my very full evening.

(Below: drag show at Tipi der Zelt)

Why was the Don Giovanni unveiled in mid-December at Staatsoper Unter den Linden — conducted by Daniel Barenboim with the commanding René Pape in the title role — such a bore? An insipid, dull staging by the house’s artistic director, Peter Mussbach, shared the blame with Barenboim’s slow, ponderous conducting, which made for a fussy, airless performance (seen Dec. 15).

Mussbach’s abstract production, a coproduction with La Scala, was met with boos. While Mussbach’s uninspired visuals — a one-dimensional set consisting of two black partitions that opened, closed and rotated to facilitate entrances and exits — indicated a lack of ideas, Barenboim seemed to have far too many up his sleeve: he tried his damnedest to bring out different qualities in the music, aria by aria and ensemble by ensemble, at the expense of presenting the work as any kind of organic whole.

Things got off to a promising start with an expansive overture. The trouble started when the curtain rose on Leporello (Hanno Müller-Brachmann), who garbled words and even cracked a little in his “Notte e giorno faticar,” followed by a trio with audibly out-of-sync principals. Müller-Brachmann improved greatly in time for the catalogue aria. Luckily, given the languid pace of Barenboim’s conducting, the bass-baritone was prepared to meet the challenge of the long, slow crescendo that brought the number to a close.

René Pape sang majestically. His champagne aria was brazen, robust, dramatically and vocally assured. His effortlessly expansive voice, with its great tonal and expressive range, is reminiscent at moments of Fischer-Dieskau in its soft and creamy character. Even Pape’s whispers were musical. One of the best moments came when, under the cloak of night, master and servant swapped costumes. One of the opera’s most implausible episodes was here made believable, thanks to the marvelous impersonations Pape and Müller-Brachmann did of one another.

Even with the luxurious musical pacing, the Donna Anna of Anna Samuil was too legato and too weighty: all evening long, she channeled Wagnerian pomp into an otherwise technically accomplished performance. The Elvira of Annette Dasch came zipping in on a white Vespa, with a matching umbrella. With Barenboim’s slowed-down tempo, her lyrical “Ah! chi mi dice mai” was more suited to a weepy Puccini heroine than to a vengeful opera-seria character, although “Ah, fuggi il traditor” was marked by welcome refinement and crispness. In Act II, she sang an impassioned “Mi tradì” while completely prone. Her performance was earthy, visceral and riveting, though certainly not to all tastes.

Despite his vampire-ish costume, Pavol Breslik made a fiercely magnetic Ottavio. His controlled, rapturous “Dalla sua pace” was the highlight of a long Act I. The Masetto of Arttu Kataja was a spiky-haired kid who made his entrance playing air-guitar. During “Batti, batti,” he flirted with some bridesmaids. Sylvia Schwartz was a suitably petite and coquettish Zerlina. Her voice was supple if somewhat rough around the edges. While her singing was tentative in “Là ci darem la mano,” she made up for it later by skillfully ornamenting her “Vedrai, carino.” Christof Fischesser was a booming Commendatore, but the silver body-paint he was lacquered with made him look like the Tin Man — an unintended touch of comedy in a long, humorless evening.

A.J. GOLDMANN

In the 15 years that Ben Heppner has sung at the Metropolitan Opera, the Canadian heldentenor’s career has come full circle with the current revival of “Idomeneo,” the role with which he made his company debut in 1991.
Since then, he’s tackled some of the most demanding tenor roles in the repertoire, making a name for himself as the leading Wagnerian tenor of our time. He performed a now-legendary Tristan in 1999 alongside Jane Eaglin. After taking time off in 2002-2003 to lose 100 pounds, he was back at the Met, sounding as good as ever, first as Aeneas in the company premiere of Berlioz’s “Les Troyens” and then reprising Tristan. Just last year, he delivered wonderful accounts of Logenhrin, Florestan and his first-ever Parsifal.
A vocal force to be reckoned with, Heppner is the key reason to catch the Met’s current revival of Jean-Pierrre Ponnelle’s 1982 production (which is looking a little dusty these days), although James Levine’s exacting and intricate reading of the tuneful Mozart score and a few standout supporting performances don’t hurt.
Idomeneo, the earliest of Mozart’s seven mature operas, was the slowest to gain acceptance in the modern repertoire (Ponnelle’s production marked the Met’s premiere). It tells of the King of Crete, Idomeneo, who returns home after many years fighting in the Trojan Wars. In return for the king’s safe homecoming, however, Neptune exacts an oath from Idomeneo, who vows to sacrifice the first man he encounters once on soil. Sure enough, who but the king’s son, Idamante, should stumble upon his washed-up father? In the remaining two acts, Idomeneo must come to terms with his paternal duty, on the one hand, and religious obligation, on the other. But don’t worry – everyone turns out fine in the end (except for the conniving love-interest Elettra who goes mad and dies rather excitingly).
A few months ago, the Deutsche Oper in Berlin came under attack for its controversial production of Idomeneo, which featured severed heads of Buddha, Jesus and Mohammed alongside Neptune’s. Don’t expect any such provocation from Ponnelle’s production, where a massive stone head of Neptune vies with the singers for domination of the stage. The singers usually won. Heppner started out curiously understated. Singing with ease and agility, he needed some time to warm up to the role. Once he had, though, he sang with undeniable power and clarion pitch. It was a performance only enhanced by his naturalistic and unmannered acting. Singing Idamante was the formidable American mezzo Kristine Jepson. She sang with enough force and determination to communicate her character’s despair and disbelief on a down-to-earth, unsentimental level. Still, she was a little shaky upstairs and didn’t always clip the end of her phrases. The Greek princess Ilia, beloved of Idamante, was sung by soprano Nicole Heaston. She was best in her middle range and often produced shrill high notes. With her intense quiver and overacting, her performance often had the trappings of caricature. Her doomed rival Elettra, sung by Olga Makarina, was far more satisfying. Though guilty as well of over-acting, she sang with a colorful, honeyed voice that could modulated from dark to rich to sparkling. Making his debut as Arbace, the king’s advisor, was a sturdy and dependable Jeffrey Francis, though he began to show some strain in act two.
Mozart’s music is wonderfully lush and ornamental, and surprisingly through-composed for an opera seria. Taken as a whole, the work is full of surprising harmonic and melodic continuities that anticipate subsequent masterpieces, like Le Nozze di Figaro and Don Giovanni. In the pit, James Levine – a long-time champion of the work – conducted a supple yet dramatic account. The overture sounded jaunty, in a breathless fashion that stripped away any sense of pomposity. Throughout, Levine highlighted the athletic woodwinds while ensuring that the singers were audible at all times.

Idomeneo runs for two more performances at the Metropolitan Opera, through December 9, 2006 with Kobie van Rensburg (Idomeneo), Magdalena Kozena (Idamante), Dorthea Röschmann (Ilia) and Alexandra Deshorties (Elettra). James Levine conducts.

 All the attention that’s being lavished on the Metropolitan Opera has the unfortunate effect of dulling the luster of New York City Opera’s season. But those who are frustrated at the lack of tickets for blockbuster sold-out productions like Madama Butterfly and the Barber of Seville (and the upcoming First Emperor) should make stop over at City to check out their inventive season. What you see may surprise you.

City’s production of Mozart’s Cosi fan tutte boasts a clever concept, fine cast and meticulous musicianship. It’s also a great way to get a fresh perspective on a musical masterpiece often disparaged as a light, frivolous romantic comedy: the 18th century equivalent to a sitcom. City has welcomed back an old friend, the conductor Julius Rudel, the company’s general and musical director for 22 years, to conduct.

The new production by Tim Albery imagines the drama in the confines of an enormous magic lantern. The singers – in period costume – enter and exit via passageways with sliding doors that resemble elevators. Everything else is more or less historically accurate is this simple yet effective staging which highlights the delightful singing of the well-prepared and charming cast, as well as opera’s many layers of frivolity and gravity.

Mozart set Lorenzo da Ponte’s ambiguous libretto – about two brothers who swap paramours to test their lovers’ fidelity – to equally amorphous music.  The plot is full of mistaken identities, ridiculous disguises and fickle affections and the music Mozart uses to convey all this alternates between the elegantly slight and the profoundly human.  

Ryan MacPherson and Kyle Pfortmiller made a great team as the brothers Fernando and Guglielmo and in their Act II solo arias. MacPherson, an earthy tenor who turned out a marvelous Flamand in last season’s tepid production of “Capriccio,” was a little weak in his lower register, but his aria, “Ah, Io veggio,” was suitably forlorn and effective. Pfortmiller impressed with his powerful and elegant baritone, especially in Act 2’s “Donne mie, la fate a tanti.” Rounding out the men was James Maddalena as the scheming Don Alfonso, who sets the whole plot into motion. A sturdy baritone, he projected the avuncular cynicism that the character demands, and turned out the show’s most forceful performance.

The women were likewise well-matched. The soprano Julianna Di Giacomo made a very impressive debut as Fiordiligi, which she sang with effortless grace all the way through. She earned a much-deserved ovation for her poignant forgiveness aria “Per pietà.” Her co-star Sandra Piques Eddy came down sick after a shaky first act. After intermission, she walked the role while an off-stage mezzo replaced her. This made for tricky coordination, especially during love duets. The most delightful performance belonged to Maureen McKay, who sang the maid Despina, McKay is the kind of feisty and assured performer who can take an opera cliché and make it fresh and sensual. Her Despina was fresh, sassy and vocally compelling.

In the pit, Rudel led the musicians in a clear and vibrant reading, marked by strong wind playing and continuo. In these final days of the Mozart 250, there’s no better way to wish the maestro a final happy birthday.

Cosi fan tutte runs for two more performances through November 17th.