Month: April 2010

Now playing at the Walter Kerr Theatre on Broadway.

There’s something a very A Midsummer Night’s Dream about A Little Night Music. The Sondheim musical (based on the Bergman film Smiles on a Summer Night) introduces us to a number of unhappy, mismatched couples and then sends them all to the forest—well, the countryside here, but it serves the same symbolic purpose—where they sort themselves out, partnering off as they “should” more or less by accident. Anyone watching could be forgiven for mumbling something about what fools these mortals be. It’s that kind of story.

Which is to say it’s sweet and sometimes charming but also a bit exasperating because everyone is so blundering: few of the characters are truly actors in their own lives; rather, they just react, blindly, which makes for a flailing piece of drama. Certainly, a character’s passivity can be true to life, but I find it unpersuasive here, a little too glib, too smug—lazy sneering at the bourgeois. Sondheim’s music is always intriguing, but A Little Night Music will not go down as one of my favorite musicals.

Maude Maggart at the Algonquin Hotel on Friday, April 16.

Maude Maggart has a wonderful voice, but recordings don’t do her justice. So much of her performance is in the performance—in her expression and bearing, in the intimacy she creates as she sings, the crooked smiles, the elegantly raised eyebrows, the hushed notes you have to hold your breath to hear in the small room—that CDs feel inadequate by comparison. Audio alone lacks that spark that makes her such a mesmerizing singer.

But in person, she’s magical. Her latest program isn’t so themed as the ones I’ve heard previously (Parents and Children and Good Girl/Bad Girl, still my favorite), but it, too, is perfectly paced and very thoughtfully put together. I never get over just how good Maggart is at getting her listeners to really listen to a song, mull over its lyrics, and experience the arc of its melody as if for the first time.

Chanticleer at the Metropolitan Museum of Art on Saturday, April 10.

Months ago, when I learned that the name of Chanticleer’s 2009–2010 spring program would be In Time Of…, I immediately realized that the choir must be planning to perform “in time of,” a work by Steven Sametz recorded in 1999 on Colors of Love. I sent Sean a giddy, overexcited e-mail to that effect (direct quote: “Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”) because “in time of” is my favorite track on that album and I’ve wanted to hear it live for years. I was right about the program, of course, and the performance was gorgeous, of course, but with some distance (sorry about the protracted writing schedule—we’ve had company and I’m dreadfully behind), I now wonder whether this all might be a sign that I’ve gotten a bit too fangirl-ish about Chanticleer. Working myself into a happy frenzy months before the actually concert is probably excessive, you know?

But the choir is just so good, and the spring concerts are held at the Met’s Temple of Dendur room, with its vast glass windows and reflecting pond and reverberant sound, and it’s like a sort of secular worship service, and I look forward to it every year. Maybe I do get a bit giddy, but I don’t overestimate the performance’s beauty. It’s lovely. So there.

With Julius Drake, piano, at Alice Tully Hall on Wednesday, March 31.

Tenor Ian Bostridge has an odd presence on stage. He must be in his forties, but he has the gawky, stretched-out limbs of a teenage boy who’s just experienced a massive growth spurt, his adolescent air exacerbated by overlarge ears and floppy, baby-fine hair. As he sings, he lurches about unpredictably, swaying and twitching, hands fluttering. Some people consider his bearing and behavior distracting (a couple of them sat behind me at this performance), but I find it sort of endearing. Too goofy to be contrived, his movements might be weird but they’re undoubtedly innate and sincere. Then again, I often sit with my eyes closed at concerts, so I might not be the best judge—especially because Bostridge’s clear, expressive voice could easily inspire me to forgive all manner of sins.