It’s perilous to compare the vivid impressions of youth with the realities of one’s elderhood. Still, I feel confident in saying that, while the dancing of this Jewels was on a consistently high professional level, we did not see anything to quite equal the command of stage, the assertion of individuality, of the work’s premiere cast in the season of 1966-67 (Violette Verdy, Mimi Paul, and Francisco Moncion in Emeralds; Patricia McBride and Edward Villella in Rubies; Suzanne Farrell and Jacques d’Amboise in Diamonds)—the pairing of Tiler Peck with Roman Mejia in Rubies  probably came closest. The afternoon’s conductor was Beatrice Jona Affron, new to the company after many seasons as Music Director of the the Philadelphia Ballet. The orchestra played ably and alertly enough, but we encountered a default condition of ballet in our New York houses: the pit complement is simply not large enough to render full justice to the music, whether in Fauré or Tchaikovsky. But the afternoon was highly pleasurable. Jewels truly is beautiful, and brings the chin up—no bad thing. And sixty years on, those are still Balanchine’s steps and moves insofar as they can be maintained, Peter Harvey’s “décor,” and Karinska’s costumes (not sure if Mark Stanley’s lighting is the original), all looking fresh. I suspect that this assumption of a stability of meaning, with no need to re-interpret, is one source of NYCB’s intergenerational audience loyalty.

Additional thoughts on ballet will surface in the discussion below.

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For all my affection for several of Verdi’s pre-Rigoletto operas, Macbeth is my favorite among them. In a good performance, it lands with a visceral impact unmatched by any of the others, and in the Met’s new production it is being presented in the version I think is most satisfying, the 1865 revision with the restoration of Macbeth’s death scene, “Mal per me,” from the 1847 original, which gives much-needed closure to the title character’s story. Performances of the opera stand or fall on the work of the lead couple, so it’s worth a glance at the singing and acting requirements of these two long, arduous roles. The writing for Lady Macbeth is distinguished not so much by its compass, which is not extraordinary in Verdi’s writing for dramatic soprano, though certainly  wide enough (low B naturals to two high D flats, one at full voice over ensemble, and the other the solitary fil di voce ascent at the end of the Sleepwalking Scene) as for its variety of technical and expressive demands. There is plenty in the part that suggests a bright sound of great flexibility, ornamental precision, and rhythmic propulsion—flourishes, crush notes, staccati, and trills abound. All of this is carried over unretouched from 1847 in the double aria “Vieni, t’affretta . . . or tutti sorgete” and the Brindisi in the Banquet Scene. The Sleepwalking Scene, which is without parallel in Verdi’s writing before or after it, is also unchanged in the vocal part, and is compatible with the rest of the 1847 role, assuming superior technical command. The significant changes (that is, ones that suggest a new musical style and a different vocal set) are in replacements, the double aria “La luce langue . . . O voluttà del soglio” in place of the aria “Trionfai!” and the duet with Macbeth in the Cavern Scene, “Ora di morte,” in place of Macbeth’s “Vada in fiamme.“^(I)