That's how long "Boris Godunov" is, including intermissions. Longer than "Lawrence of Arabia", longer than I don't know what...long enough to miss the incredible hail storm that hit Brooklyn...long...but luckily, it's fantastic. Your back may hurt, your legs may be stiff, but the drama keeps you going, interspersed with catchy little Russian folk tunes, and the singing was wonderful. Although the standing ovations went not necessarily to those that deserved it, mostly because of people's resounding bravos for a 9 year-old kid in the show that was a bit off key, but he was like 9, and it was way past his bedtime. But it was great. Not one of the operas that I leave the Met humming to myself wishing I could grow up and be a diva, but one where I had to work not to shed a tear at Boris's death aria. Not much comedy, and at no time did Moose and Squirrel make an appearance.
Yeah! Opera season has started!
Although I do have one real reservation...the people I was surrounded by I pray are not subscribers. I don't want to spend the whole season surrounded by them...to my left, a man who excitedly conducts while he sings under his breathe, to the right an elderly gentleman who reeked of piss. Please, please, please, don't make me sit with them every opera. Please. I miss the grumpy old Russian couple I had last year...
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