WE LEFT AT INTERVAL

With apologies to the blogger of the same name, but we really did.

To see and hear the acoustic of the new Paris Philharmonie, whose main hall internal designs were inspired by the formidably successful Berlin Philharmonie, was one reason for the detour to Paris; not that one needs one.

Even several months in advance, tickets were scarce for the Orchestre de Paris / Christopher Eschenbach concert of Wagner Monologues with Matthias Goerne, and Brahms Second Symphony. Eschenbach and Goerne had come to Sydney in 2011 with the Vienna Phil, and Goerne had a big success earlier this year with Schubert's Wintereisse. I'd enjoyed both, muchly.

The Philharmonie, itself a major complex, is in a major arts precinct all happening at Parc de la Villette in the 19th, in the north east. The approach from the Metro is, for me, scarred by the huge LED screen which dominates the sight lines. Useful I'm sure, but really, remember first impressions ...

Once past that, or from the side, things start to look more hey-look-at-me and impressive.

Metal and aluminium scales and swirls create a fractured heavy shell which looks more interesting than gob-smacking, though under sunny rather than heavy leaden skies (which I happen to like) things might be different. Bilboa (which blew us quite away when we visited just after completion) needn't worry, nor LA to a lesser extent; Sydney never needs to worry (the more I see the more timeless and staggeringly beautiful it becomes).

Inside is (as mentioned) designed with the Berlin Philharmonie in mind. The public spaces were of no particular style or impact, and one could question the quality of the finish. In the hall, we were at the disadvantage of sitting high on one side (second level, or as high as the sides go) about mid concert platform. But at 15 euro a seat, this was cheaper than standing room in most places.

So to the concert, where judgement really should be reserved. There were untidy moments, and with the sound coming all but directly to us, it was of limited impact and warmth. Mr Goerne also was difficult to judge, though he could be heard. But more importantly, the seating was such that knees were kept permanently flexed - a plumb line dropped from my patella (knee cap) would have ended well beyond my toes. Moreover, I had no sideways options - a railing pole on one side, a person on the other. Beyond the discomfort, I was glad to be on aspirin - deep venous thrombosis kept popping into my mind when I should have been having Walküre-go-to-sleep thoughts.

The Brahms 2 wasn't that important, besides we'd just had a fine performance with the SSO and Christoph von Dohnayi.

We go again in a few days. I can't remember where we are sitting, but I hope it's better - Mahler 4 and  the Berg Violin Concerto with Harding and Faust I would like see through.

PLACE DES VOSGES

Over and above the history, this vies for the most beautiful square in the world, or so I think. It is an every-time-must-visit place; every time and mostly first.

The symmetry, the colours, the balance of the four corner fountains, the splendid borders of pleached chestnuts, the discretion of the seats in their shade, the embrace of the open spaces, in fact the external embrace and warmth of the wonderful colonnades, and Louis XIII on his rearing mount tucked away in his own little grove hidden by new spring and untamed lushness.

There was a 'return to nature' installation.

RÉPUBLIQUE

A MESSAGE

ALORS ...

We've arrived in Paris. Behind the blue door, our first foray into airbnb is quite the success - exactly where we wanted to be (well, that's a fairly obvious choice), up three rickety stepped floors (easily manageable and part of the 'vrai' Parisian experience at least for nine days), in a compact one bedroom flat with a comfy bed, terrific modern bathroom, kitchen and most of all - a washing machine!

It's cool and stormy with scattered showers. And endlessly wonderful.

MUNICH 2016 - VI

The next day after the ballet I was back for Tosca, the lowering sun doing its ribbons of gold thing inside this splendid house. I didn't choose Tosca; it chose me.

The first Tosca I saw had the late John Shaw gravelling out a thrillingly black Scarpia (a role he understudied with Gobbi). Shaw had a big career, and I wonder if we knew just how lucky we were to have him. When the crescendoing chorus parted to reveal him there in mine shaft black, and as black inside as out, I still remember the chills in the spine. Interestingly, his Covent Garden debut was as Rigoletto with the virtually unknown Joan Sutherland as his Gilda.

The last Tosca I remember was with Domingo at the Met in the Zeffirelli extravaganza and of which I recall little except the marvellous stage mechanics as (act 3) Mario runs up the stone stairs of a descending set to emerge into the dawn light of the new set above.

(Alert  - grumpy at best bitchy at worst comments to follow and n.b. everyone else seemed to love it and applauded wildly forever)

Looking at the cast list, you could be forgiven for thinking we scored second cast:

Callegari / Petrenko
Radvanosky / Harteros
de Leon / Kaufmann
Maestri/ Terfel

although I was particularly keen to hear Sondra Radvanosky after her huge success as Elizabeth in Roberto Devereux at the Met. She is, in case you missed it, the Met's upcoming Norma now that Ms Netrebko has withdrawn vocally unsuited to the role.

Either way, we would be saddled (as it turned out) with Luc Bondy's at times risible production. It didn't spoil the evening, in fact it's more than worthwhile to see concepts go off the rails. It's reassuring in a way. I assume this was to be an ugly Mussolini-esque anti-Zeffirelli statement. But burdened with

>  over-drawn caricatures e.g. a crippled scoliotic cardinal with hip dysplasia all but crawling to a Madonna being literally abused by a naughty naughty chief-of-police who later despite a room full of sluts needed to keep sticking his nose into Tosca'a boobs - are we seriously talking not enough sex instead of an insatiable lust for power; a limping, simpering, quivering nail chewing torture enjoying Spoletta; baddies with dark glasses inside - hello high school productions ....

>  tediously ugly sets which contributed little to the drama and sucked much out of it e.g a basement first act chapel of little purport other than the chance to have Angelotti (his stand-in anyway) scale down a rope dodging not scary at all searchlights but necessitating the steps and the painting be wheeled off stage to make room for the chorus who ambled in with no purpose other than the need to dress up and sing a big chorus; Scarpia's fascist apartment arranged with furniture like virgins at a country dance - backs to the wall - such that the action is so widely dispersed across the whole stage that at no stage is there anything even resembling tension; a vast 'isolationist' vacuum space for executions with a high parapet nearly in the wings where I suspect a lot of the house saw nary a 'leap' ....

>  some strange tempi e.g even the opening bars were so slow as to be mmm boring but that said, they played well and he did get some of big climaxes happening ...

Enough already. I thought Ms Radvanosky very fine, really very good and despite some silly girlie stuff in the first Act - she's a real time Prima Donna now, or so the Met audience say - her vocalism is a marvel : a lovely middle register, richly coloured, and a focused and penetrating top beautifully controlled. Her big number Vissi d'arte was deservedly well received - she'd capped it off with an endless mezzoforte - a brilliantly secure decrescendo followed by a crescendo even more forte than the beginning.

If anyone still wonders if this really is a shabby little shocker, they could do worse than go see this - except for the shocker bit.

MUNICH 2016 - V

It really is worth a visit.