NYC Opera

[ellenkushner]

We saw Barishnikov at the opera again tonight. I guess we've got the same schedule; he was walking around at intermission about 5 feet away from us; so close I could have reached out my hand to introduce myself. As Delia put it, "That's two for two": we saw him last time we went to Lincoln Center for ballet - I think it was last June for her birthday, and there he was picking up his tickets in the line ahead of us. (Well, they ushered him through the line, actually, but there he was.) This time we walked out into the big lobby at intermission, and practically walked right into him. We locked eyes, for a moment, before politely looking past each other as good New Yorkers do. We were right behind him heading out afterwards, as well. He's tiny! Little & lithe and somewhat serious. Wearing a leather jacket, with 2 friends who didn't look at that exciting or excited. I hope he liked the show: it was Mark Morris' adaptation of King Arthur by Henry Purcell (& John Dryden, except Morris cut all the dialogue, so it was just all the great songs & instrumentals, well-played and -sung (Early Music style with no vibrato, larbalestier, don't worry!). I do love Mark Morris! He is my Other Brother (after Neil, of course - not that I've met Morris, but all his interviews and all his aesthetic choices so speak to me. He loves Lou Harrison's music, and Michelle Shocked, and baroque, and gender confusion.....
(The NYTimes review online also includes video performance, interviews and slide show, if you're curious.)

Comments

[lynn-maudlin.livejournal.com]

I ran into Jeff Goldblum repeatedly one summer some years back (Greek Theatre, Music Center, someplace else) - after the second time he started coming up and talking to me, which was entertaining. When my ex-husband was playing oboe for ABT I'd see Baryshnikov backstage (once he was changing and the dressing room door was open - that is one nice butt!).

First ballet experience was Margot Fonteyn and Nureyev when I was 16, nearly 17 years old, a nice place to start. We sat up in the nosebleed seats at the Hollywood Bowl and my beau noticed there was an empty box seat down front - we moved during intermission and I learned you can be too close to ballet - too close is when you hear them thudding and the occasional oofing sound; it breaks the illusion that this is effortless... and I think that illusion is part of the beauty. Fonteyn received many bouquets and had pulled out a red (rose, we thought) for Rudolf and in the exchanges of many, many bouquets this one flower fell to the stage. My beau was a gymnast so when the bows were over and the house lights came up he jumped across onto the stage (took some doing, there's the pit) and retrieved the flower for me (I did NOT ask!!) - it proved to be a red carnation and the slew of women around us were swooning and begging, "oh, can I have it please please please?"

I had that very old flower for a very long time... and, curiously enough, my old beau showed up at my house last week - hadn't seen him for donkey's years... (ears?!)