The artistic point lost in all this featherweight sparring is the at least theoretical advantage of preparing the performance of operas in accordance with the practices of their times. That’s worked on by some early-music groups, and is the major goal of Will Crutchfield’s Teatro Nuovo productions of Italian Romantic repertory.^(I) In the Mozart operas, that would indeed involve a much more intimate bonding of instrumental and vocal expression, and of both with character action. But to have much of an effect, the practices have to be habituated, to be made the default rehearsal mode of a standing company. Cranking up the Met orchestra to stage level for—how many full stage rehearsals was that?—and a few performances does have the virtue of making them sit still when not playing, but otherwise, as Stutzmann noted in her remarks, is instrumental primarily in enjoining her to get them to play even more softly than they normally would for these singers, in this ExtraLarge auditorium.

Given all the distractions of the production, and the fact that I was occupying an unaccustomed orchestra-level seat, I am reluctant to say anything much about the conducting and playing at this Zauberflöte event, except to note that despite her singing background in Baroque music, Stutzmann did not seem to be trying to get the Met orchestra to sound or behave like an early-music ensemble—this Flute was nothing like, for instance, René Jacobs’ recording with the Akademie für alte Musik^(II), or even Harry Bickett’s Handel and Gluck renditions with the Met and the NYCO. It was a “normal” Met orchestra rendition, with prevailingly sensible tempos, and impressive cohesion in the first act finale. The jolt of mendacious inventions for the eye overwhelmed any chance of evaluative ear-reception in the second.

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With Giovanni, my return to a balcony vantage point and the onstage sights of what would now be termed a more “conventional” production gave me a better chance to form some impression of Stutzmann’s leadership. But one must keep in mind what she had to work with, namely, her recent sparring partners, the orchestra. And I was immediately reminded of a chronic condition of same (especially crucial in Mozart), the imbalance between right and left owing to the relative weakness of the string sonority—particularly noticeable in the violins, but true throughout the compass. Whatever has happened to Nézet-Séguin’s vow to lean into the lower strings so as to provide a stronger fundament for the sound, of which I took hopeful note in the above-cited Pelléas piece? That has not happened, and meanwhile the violins have gone in the smaller-neater direction, so that even the counterplay within the choir is weakened. To anyone familiar with the score, the frustrations of such a situation will be obvious as soon as the overture is underway, in the unmusical jolt of sforzando tuttis (thudding drums, blaring brass and winds from the right) for which the ear is unprepared by the general level of string presence; in the tamping-down of the suspense built through crescendi on rising scales followed by subito pianos on the descendant answers; in the insufficient contrast between the accented downward plunges of the full strings and the sharp, dancing first violin responses (as at bar 77 and its repetitions), etc. It is tempting to lay such lacks at the feet of the conductor, and perhaps some of them belong there. But these reflect the general condition of this orchestra at present. And then there’s the matter of the detachment of what we’re hearing (that is, what’s being sung and played) from what we’re seeing, and where the authority rests for that. I should also note once again (especially since it pertains to the matter of stage/orchestra unity of dramatic expression already encountered in the Zauberflöte discussion) that, as in the Met’s recent Figaro and Idomeneo offerings, a continuo quartet (fortepiano, cello, theorbo/mandolin) was installed at the auditorium left end of the pit, where its sonic imprint was timid to the vanishing point, and no evidence was given of special attention to teamwork with the singers. If this is going to be the practice, I’ll break ranks with myself and urge amplification of these instruments, which would at least give basic support in the recitatives. Beyond these considerations, I’d only say that, except for two or three moments where the shift to a quicker tempo (or the tempo set for a particular number, as with the “Fin ch’al dal vino“) was for my taste precipitous, Stutzmann’s reading seemed to me admirably proportioned; that the orchestra’s playing actually struck me as somewhat more incisive than the current norm; and that as in Zauberflöte, the act finales came up impressively.