In D.C., two Wednesdays ago, a world of poseurs and criminal frauds dissembling their asses off.
On stage at at the Metropolitan Opera, a microcosm where creative duplicity is innocuous–and sometimes delightful as well as instructive.
It’s a coverup of the facts vs. creative distillation of personal interpretation of life’s big and little realities.
Once I’m in my seat I’m not concerned about decrying the Misty hype or anything else peripheral to what’s on stage. It’s a pleasure to see a good performance. I wanted to enjoy her debut as Kenneth MacMillan’s Manon. And I did.
It looked well-coached, delivering on details that provide subtlety amid the primary colors of the McMillan palette. She didn’t pull to all the obvious stops. Cory Stearns gave her strong partnering support: she looked really good at the top of a lift. The final duet, which is rightly tuned as desperate and high-pitched but can seem only hysterical, was powerful and poignant.
Really, what a debut should be.