Karita Mattila burns up The Makropulos Case.
by Paul Pelkonen
Even as the Metropolitan Opera season winds down, there is still room on the schedule between all those performances of the Ring for interesting revivals. Such a one is Elijah Moshinsky's ill-starred 1996 production of Leoš Janáček's The Makropulos Case.
Ms. Mattila brings a unique sensuality and world-weariness to Emilia Marty, the central character of this drama. A deeply philosophical drama wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a legal procedural, this is one of Janáček's most memorable and moving operas. As the 337-year old opera star burnt out from having near-immortality, the Finnish singer was a captivating presence, exercising a mysterious fascination over every character in the opera.
The thorniest moment of Tuesday night's performance (the second of this run) had nothing to do with singing. In Act II, Ms. Mattila was mounting the wooden Sphinx statue that dominates this act (which takes place after-hours on the stage of an opera house.) In high heels and a long poison-green gown, the singer stumbled on the steps. She regained her balance, and sprawled herself across the Sphinx's lap, nonchalantly taking off her heels and tossing them aside. The rest of the act was (like her Dance of the Seven Veils in Salome) performed barefoot.
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| Absolutely fabulous: Karita Mattila in The Makropulos Case. Photo by Ken Howard © 2012 The Metropolitan Opera. |
Even as the Metropolitan Opera season winds down, there is still room on the schedule between all those performances of the Ring for interesting revivals. Such a one is Elijah Moshinsky's ill-starred 1996 production of Leoš Janáček's The Makropulos Case.
Ms. Mattila brings a unique sensuality and world-weariness to Emilia Marty, the central character of this drama. A deeply philosophical drama wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a legal procedural, this is one of Janáček's most memorable and moving operas. As the 337-year old opera star burnt out from having near-immortality, the Finnish singer was a captivating presence, exercising a mysterious fascination over every character in the opera.
The thorniest moment of Tuesday night's performance (the second of this run) had nothing to do with singing. In Act II, Ms. Mattila was mounting the wooden Sphinx statue that dominates this act (which takes place after-hours on the stage of an opera house.) In high heels and a long poison-green gown, the singer stumbled on the steps. She regained her balance, and sprawled herself across the Sphinx's lap, nonchalantly taking off her heels and tossing them aside. The rest of the act was (like her Dance of the Seven Veils in Salome) performed barefoot.




