A fascinating evening. Nicolas McGegan is a wonderful conductor who lets the music breathe. After the overture, Anthony sang Händel’s Stille Amare from Tolomeo, a highlight on his CD, ARC. Anthony knows how to create a moment onstage – and sustain it. He is the perfect example of a performer who has “cracked the code.” He moves in a very deliberate way, giving every moment a nuance. Once the aria was over, he turned into a coy young boy, smiling sweetly. Rapturous applause. Then Miss von Otter made her entrance. The timing was slightly off because the audience was still applauding Anthony and the conductor, not seeing that she has already started to make her way to the center, motioned to him to come and take another bow. This visibly and understandably threw her for a moment, and a shadow of mild indignation crept over her face. Is that kid mopping up the stage? Her first aria, Will the Sun Forget to Streak, by Purcell, was pleasant enough but rather subdued, and the audience’s response a bit tepid. Then it was Anthony’s turn again with Vivi, Tiranno. Bang. This time, von Otter was present on stage, sitting on the far right, witnessing what he was doing, probably for the first time. She sat very erect and fully alert, realizing that she was up against a formidable force of nature she did not expect. She had to crank up her own performance to match it. As she took back the stage, she motioned to Anthony, who had taken to his seat on the far left, with a gesture that was surely intended as one of encouragement (yeah, you go, boy!) but inadvertently changed into a shaking fist that literally declared war – albeit without rancor. In her next aria, she made some very bold choices, pushing her boundaries, going out of her comfort zone. It worked in her favor. Digging into her chest of experience and mastery, she found her footing, listening to herself for a moment as if to check it and finding that she was indeed up to the challenge. When Anthony joined her for their Purcell duet, Welcome as the Dawn of Day, she defiantly set the tone: What is written as a tender love fest between a king and queen greeting one another became a cat-and-mouse game where we could not tell the hunter from the hunted. A ping-pong game. No blood was drawn. Gradually, the two found the pleasure in the game and began to camp it up. Anthony was game but also smart enough to understand the hierarchy between them, respecting her senior status. For the encore, they took this even further: she made an allusion to his diminutive stature next to her towering height, playing with her fingers on his head (still nearly hairless from the shaving he got in London to portray Akhnaten). Not missing a beat, he reacted to this by spontaneously throwing himself at her bosom, finding, to his own surprise and shock, his head literally wedged between her breasts, which made him recoil ever so slightly. Risky stuff but great fun. To quote a line from Judy Garland in A Star is Born: “But it’s all the game, and the way you play it. “ In short, Anthony was born in a trunk. He has theater in his blood. I have never witnessed this kind of friendly but, all things considered, quite serious sparring on a recital stage. Luckily, the two duelists were on equal footing, and it made an evening that could have been merely pleasant as crisp and thrilling as an engaging sports game on top of its sophisticated musical programming . Sometimes, it’s good to break the rules ever so slightly. It brings new life to an art form that deserves a whirlpool now and then.
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