What it meant to be in the viewers at the Metropolitan Opera on Saturday night — for the first indoor efficiency there since March 2020 — was clear even earlier than the music started.
The theater’s doorways had been closed to listeners for 18 months, nearly to the day. After standing on strains that prolonged out into the Lincoln Center plaza and displaying proof of vaccination, it felt nearly unreal to me to be again in the gilded auditorium for Verdi’s Requiem, the firm’s commemoration of the 20th anniversary of 9/11.
As the viewers entered, the orchestra musicians had been already seated onstage. Then the members of the refrain, carrying face masks, began submitting onto the raised rows of seats behind the gamers.
It started slowly, with some claps right here and there. Then constructed into vigorous applause and bravos. And then whoops, shouts and an exuberant standing ovation. Many choristers wiped away tears. Others touched their hearts or waved in gratitude.
Things calmed down solely after the Met’s concertmaster, Benjamin Bowman, got here out to guide the orchestra in tuning up. Then, when Yannick Nézet-Séguin, the firm’s music director, appeared with the 4 vocal soloists — the soprano Ailyn Pérez, the mezzo-soprano Michelle DeYoung, the tenor Matthew Polenzani and the bass-baritone Eric Owens — one other extended standing ovation started.
The previous yr and a half has shaken the foundations of the performing arts. The fragility of classical music, and all features of tradition that depend upon folks gathering, was uncovered by the pandemic as by no means earlier than. The nationwide Black Lives Matter protests final yr compelled establishments to look deeper inside at problems with variety, illustration and entry. And the Met was roiled by bitter labor negotiations that concerned lengthy months when its orchestra and refrain had been furloughed with out pay. Only late in August did the administration come to an settlement with the orchestra that paved the method for performances to start.
With all that in thoughts, the overwhelming feeling I had on Saturday was gratitude. To be again inside the Met; to be lifted by the dedication of very good artists; to be listening to Verdi’s nice music carried out, because it was on this memorable event, with magnificence and depth.
The Met’s music director, Yannick Nézet-Séguin, performed the firm’s orchestra and refrain and 4 vocal soloists: from left, the soprano Ailyn Pérez, the mezzo-soprano Michelle DeYoung, the tenor Matthew Polenzani and the bass-baritone Eric Owens.Credit…Richard Termine/Met Opera
For an organization that had such a troubled lockdown, the Met has seized the second in its return. Over Labor Day weekend the orchestra and refrain offered two free performances of Mahler’s “Resurrection” Symphony in Damrosch Park at Lincoln Center — a public expression of reconciliation and renewal. Then, with this Requiem, the Met supplied a profoundly significant expression of disappointment and remembrance throughout the anniversary of the assaults.
The firm distributed 500 free tickets to the households of victims; all different tickets had been simply $25, and offered out inside hours. Audio of the efficiency was broadcast into the plaza. And PBS carried the occasion. (But, testifying to what we’ve discovered the exhausting method this yr — that dwell is at all times higher — a glitch disrupted the TV broadcast proper at the elegant ending.)
The choristers appeared poignant and susceptible as they eliminated their masks to start this 90-minute rating. I felt susceptible as nicely, and this efficiency claimed me from the first moments, when the cellos performed the muted, solemn descending first line. Nézet-Séguin gently drew a sighing violin line and plaintive chords from the strings, and the choristers nearly muttered the phrase “Requiem,” as if afraid to say it out loud.
In some methods, Verdi’s Requiem isn’t fairly the proper alternative for commemorating 9/11. Chilling fears of demise and terrified ideas of Judgment Day and the fires of hell run via the textual content and music. But Nézet-Séguin emphasised the consoling features, taking each likelihood to convey out subtleties and tenderness in the music. Even in the blazing episodes of the “Dies irae,” with pounding bass drum, vehement brass and frenzied runs in strings, he had the music sounding extra grave and biblical, much less operatically dramatic. He introduced sweep and form to the passages of regular, inexorable buildup. And in the “Offertorio” he drew out the music’s ruminative class.
The soloists had been glorious. Pérez sang fantastically, with radiant sound — generally seeming angelic, generally fiery. DeYoung balanced smoldering depth with affecting refinement. Polenzani was ardent and earnest in a wonderfully sung “Ingemisco.” And when Owens started the “Mors stupebit” part with earthy deep tones, he sounded actually shocked.
There had been a few dicey, barely uncoordinated moments throughout the fleet “Sanctus.” But it had all the affirming, assertive spirit you could possibly need. The remaining “Libera me,” the most inward-looking part of the piece, was magnificent, with an impressed Perez and the nice refrain. By my watch, the ovation at the finish lasted eight minutes, with particularly ardent bravos for the Met’s refrain grasp, Donald Palumbo, and his prices.
With the Mahler performances and this Requiem, each presents to the metropolis, behind it, the Met can actually begin afresh later this month, when the opera season opens in earnest with Terence Blanchard’s opera “Fire Shut Up in My Bones,” the first work by a Black composer in the firm’s historical past.
But music lovers are already in debt to the Met, and particularly to the orchestra gamers and choristers who’ve outlined this firm, season after season.
Performed Saturday at the Metropolitan Opera.