From Ricky Ian Gordon and Lynn Nottage’s Intimate Apparel, at Lincoln Center.
Photo: T Charles Erickson
Pity the Metropolitan Opera. Those 3,800 seats, the wedding-cake balconies, the starburst chandeliers — what a burden it all is. Chamber opera won’t breathe there, and the room’s vastness overwhelms anything fine-grained, personal, alexandrine, careful. In the recent Eurydice, for instance, Matthew Aucoin’s opera ends when Orpheus steps on a piece of paper. But how many people actually saw him do it? Judging by the post show conversations in my row, not enough.
So it’s a big deal that the Met has figured out how to get small. Teaming up with Lincoln Center Theater for the first time, it’s co-producing…
