a woman of seven and twenty

Re-reading Sense and Sensibility, as I just saw it at the Guthrie with Open Call last night, and happened upon this oh-so-charming passage in the first few chapters: 

“A woman of seven and twenty,” said Marianne, after pausing a moment, “can never hope to feel or inspire affection again, and if her home be uncomfortable, or her fortune small, I can suppose that she might bring herself to submit to the offices of a nurse, for the sake of the provision and security of a wife. In his marrying such a woman therefore there would be nothing unsuitable. It would be a compact of convenience, and the world would be satisfied. In my eyes it would be no marriage at all, but that would be nothing. To me it would seem only a commercial exchange, in which each wished to be benefited at the expense of the other.” 

To which I say: 

a. Screw you in all your seventeen-year-old "wisdom," Marianne. 

b: Some days I do feel that I can never hope to feel or inspire affection again...isn't that great? 

c: Can you even really believe this, though? I know there's a pretty huge time and societal gap between Regency England and millennial Minneapolis, but just wow. The ease and frankness with which women are written off for their age is leaving a continual bad taste in my mouth, especially as I sit around being assaulted with a Facebook feed full of wedding albums and tiny fresh newborns. 

I'm not saying I want a wedding album or tiny fresh newborn myself, thank you. I get my fix on those through friends, and I'm quite content with the way my life looks these days. That said, holy shit, dating is really hard and unpleasant in this age of Tinder and Bumble and all the dot-coms. Maybe life would be easier if I just considered myself over the hill or past my prime or basically ready to enter into a relationship as a "commercial exchange, in which each wished to be benefited at the expense of the other," as seventeen-year-old Marianne so charmingly utters. 

Ranting aside, the play was exquisitely fun. SO well-done, and inspired so much excitement for the upcoming season. Jane A is still my homegurrrrrl, despite her moderately pessimistic views on the hope that those of us past our prime can have for finding love. (FYI, in the play, the passage quoted above was amended to give us poor single ladies a whole three extra years...our charms expire at thirty on the stage versus in print.) I think I'm just much more of an Elinor than a Marianne...too pragmatic and reserved for my own good. 

So I guess the moral of the story here is if anyone knows a man on the wrong side of thirty-five who may or may not suffer from rheumatism and has a thing for flannel waistcoats, send him my way, I'm happy to strike up a mutually beneficial relationship...

A summer of Twin Cities performances.

At this point, I've pretty much achieved "professional audience member" status. And I have zero shame about that fact. This summer has held a true embarrassment of riches when it comes to performance arts...opera! Orchestra! Experimental theater! Concerts! You name it, I've been there, and probably loved it. 

After a hiatus during our European trip (omg, recaps coming up at some point...eek!), I kicked off the summer arts calendar with the Minnesota Orchestra Diamond Anniversary Symphony Ball. As covered here, the night was a complete delight...no better way to spend an evening than all dressed up, drinking champagne, and listening to "Rhapsody in Blue." 

Later that week, Jodester called me in as a reserve date to "Bridges of Madison County" at the Orpheum! I had never read the book or seen the movie, and didn't know the plot beyond the fact that it had to do with those famous covered bridges in Iowa...then I found out that Jason Robert Brown, genius behind "The Last Five Years" and "Songs for a New World," wrote the music. I summarily died and went to heaven, and knew that whatever else the show held, it would have amazing music. And I was right. Take a listen below: 

Delightful, right? While I thought the book was a little weak and the show got a bit long, the music was just as delightful as all my favorite JRB standards. I looped the soundtrack on repeat for most of the rest of the month, with no shame. 

One of my favorite annual events in the Twin Cities is the Minnesota Orchestra's "Symphony for the Cities" concert series in area parks. We went to the fabulous Harriet Bandshell to watch associate conductor Roderick Cox lead the orchestra through everything from Star Wars to Wagner, ET to "1812." And, nerd that I am, I was DEAD set on making sure we had a front-row seat. 

Worth it, when you're up against crowds like this. It never fails to make me incredibly happy to see such a diverse crowd of people attend the shows...anything that exposes a person to classical music, whether they're die-hard groupies like me or the concert is their first and only experience, is worth it in my eyes. 

Doesn't hurt that the night (and our view, and the performance!) was perfect, either. I cried through the Armed Forces tribute...I always do...and played the piccolo part for "Stars and Stripes Forever" in my palm right along with Roma Duncan. SO in love with this amazing orchestra. The Twin Cities are lucky to have them! 

The unequivocal highlight of my summer this year was Adele. I have so much to say on that subject, in fact, that she merits her own post. Stay tuned, campers. She's unbelievable live. 

Mid-July found the Jodester and I back at Orchestra Hall for Sömmerfest! The Orchestra's annual summer concert series, an unbelievable feat of over a dozen performances in two weeks, never ceases to totally blow my mind. Under the directorship and coordination of Andrew Litton, now in his 13th year of Sömmerfest, the programming has grown increasingly ambitious and continues to draw true stars to perform.

The Brahms Double Concerto this year featured the unbelievable duo of Nicola Benedetti on violin and her boyfriend, cellist Leonard Elschenbroich. The Double Concerto's first movement quickly became my most-played Spotify track of the month...sweeping, lush interplay between the cello and violin, and a stunning crescendo in intensity to the gorgeous conclusion. It was the "1812 Overture," however, that brought me to tears.

The attacks in Nice had taken place that night, and listening to the slow lyricism and searing drama of the Overture in the face of that news gave me goosebumps. It felt, to me, like the entire orchestra played with a little bit of extra fuck-you passion...like each and every one of them somehow had something to prove. Maybe that music, like the human spirit, transcends everything...I don't entirely know, but it was amazing. 

My first Guthrie trip of the summer was with this fabulous crew, for Open Call night at "South Pacific!" We all received fabulous neon orange leis in keeping with the evening's theme...which the Guthrie went all out supporting! We were treated to signature tiki drinks, Polynesian munchies and a killer hibiscus rum punch after the show, and even the weather cooperated...it was a stupidly humid 95 degrees the night of the show! The musical itself was expertly cast, with standout performances across the board, and as usual, the set design was exquisite. The show is still on through this weekend - if you have nothing to do in the Twin Cities, do yourself a favor and get there! 

Just two days later, Michael popped back down to the Cities for the Sömmerfest closer...Verdi's opera "Otello" in concert! Our seats were clearly terrible...

...and we clearly hated the entire production. KIDDING. Sitting front/second row for an opera is now my favorite thing to do (especially after "Tosca" in March), and the concert format offered a new perspective on the fantastic soloists, particularly Iago (played by Stephen Powell, our Scarpia from "Tosca!"). Add in the mass of the Minnesota Orchestra, the Minnesota Chorale, AND the Minnesota Boy Choir, and with nearly 300 people on stage it was utterly overwhelming...in the best way.

I broke out of my usual Guthrie-and-orchestra rotation for a quick trip to the Dakota in August for Marc Broussard with the fam. We've been obsessed with him since his first couple albums, over a decade ago, but this performance was unique in that he and his dad performed as a duo! Hearing him talk about how his love for and taste in music was deeply influenced by his father added an entirely new nuance to the show. With old favorites like "Home," "The Wanderer," and "Lonely Night in Georgia," along with covers of everything from "Change the World" to "The House at Pooh Corner," I died and went to proverbial heaven about six times over the course of the night. 

Just a couple weeks ago, AJ and I headed to a night of the Minneapolis Fringe Festival! Staged for two weeks annually, Fringe focuses on amateur theater, dance and performing arts, and you never really know what you're going to get in each 60-minute block. We tried to go to one show, but it was sold out, so we ended up at "The History of B-List Movie Actors" for our first option, and a ballet about "the natal passion" and passage of time and maturity for our second. Both were incredibly different from anything I've ever seen, and that's what's so crazy and fun about Fringe. 

The hands-down most powerful piece of theater I've seen this summer, however, and likely this year, is the Guthrie's production of Ayad Akhtar's "Disgraced." Hal, AJ and I rushed tickets last Thursday, and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't still finding myself wrestling with it even today. The play is the most-produced work of the 2015-2016 theater season nationally, and with good reason...it's a completely incendiary, jarring, visceral piece of theater that left me so tense I had sweat running down my back by the end of the show. The show confronts and challenges what feels like everything: racism, sexism, nature versus nurture, religion, politics, terrorism and fanaticism, cultural appropriation and denial. At a brief 90 minutes, there's not a wasted line of dialogue or gesture in the entire work, and it continually ratchets up to new levels of complete shock, no-holds barred outrage, and life-shattering action and assumption. Friends, if you see one piece of theater ever in your year, make it "Disgraced." I can't say it vehemently enough - this was true world-class theater, and it is exactly the kind of work that needs to be seen. It runs through this weekend at the Guthrie, and rush tickets are only $25...do yourself a favor and go!!! 

PHEW I'M EXHAUSTED even just re-living this summer's shows. Let's be friends and go find an audience to be a part of soon, k? I've got over 30 performances coming up in the next calendar year, with more to be added, undoubtedly! Here's to being the world's most insane arts geek! 

Summer Snapshots: Life Lately

Bits and pieces of life that don't really fit anywhere else or merit their own post: 

puppy snuggles at Hannah's during the "Bachelorette" premiere WAY forever ago

I finished moving and looked like I had done several rounds in a steel cage death match. My boss did point out that the bruises formed a semi-smiley face pattern. Small victories? 

Lake Harriet date nights with the Jodester...circling the lake and savoring Bread and Pickle wraps afterward. 

Admiring the lupine blooms along the Lake Harriet trail

The most appropriate and adorable thank-you gift from friends...anything remotely Francophile or macaron-related automatically has my heart, bien sûr. 

The Notre Dame-iest gallery wall that every gallery-walled outside the 46556 is now the focal point of the House of Hal and Lizzie's entryway. 

Pre-Orpheum dinner at lovely Third Bird across Loring Park...

...highlight of which was the cheddar bacon popcorn and this delectable grilled peach and burrata salad, about which I may still be fantasizing. 

"Bridges of Madison County" as Jodester's replacement date when Papa Bear left us to go fish epically in Canada...total win. Jason Robert Brown wrote the music and it is, like the rest of his work, almost always transcendently lovely. 

Slowly freezing and watching the Twins get slaughtered by the Phillies on an unseasonably cold late-June day during a work outing. 

The current state of my bedroom gallery wall, also featuring a plethora of artwork from last year's Paris trip and this year's Scandinavia trip piled on the dresser which needs to get framed and added! 

Spotted the Osmobile, the Minnesota Orchestra's cutest and cleverest moving advertisement, on my way home from work a few weeks ago and almost crashed my car to get a picture of it. No shame in my Osmobsession. 

The most precious and tiniest ducklings on Lake Harriet before the Minnesota Orchestra's Concert in the Park...squeeeee!!

Like I said, going through a major Founding Fathers phase right now and laughed fairly hard at this. 

Kels, Katie, Erin and I did an Escape Room the weekend of the Fourth and we ALMOST got out. Lost in the last 17 seconds. I blame the fact that I spent the first twenty minutes trapped in handcuffs for my major lack of valuable contributions apart from getting a safe cracked. Also, a score is 20 years, for those who are unsure. 

I'm now shamelessly one of those girls who is going to drag all her girlfriends to yoga with her, and then make them drink iced coffee and talk about how zen it was to watch the sun come up during sun salutations. OMG BASIC BITCH LEVEL UP ACHIEVED. 

Fourth of July on Lake Marion, before face-shattering!

Little Bro destroying some wake like he would later destroy my incisors! (I'm joking. All is well, it was not Jonathan's fault, and it's still such an epic war story.)

The best Manhattan in the Twin Cities is at the St. Paul Grill. It is called "The Manhattan Experience," it will set you back $16, and it is worth every penny. Jodester and I went before Adele and it was the bourbon-soaked cherry on top of a perfect evening. 

Poking around the prettiest alleyway in the North Loop after #ripbookclub brunch on Sunday...

...then accidentally day-drinking all day with one Nate Trembley, who is a: a terrible influence and b: a genius who told me about mixing Dangerous Man's Chocolate Milk Stout and Peanut Butter Porter for a beer experience that they literally refer to as "The Peanut Butter Cup." Holy omg decadence. 

I may have gotten my ass kicked twice in five minutes flat at Candyland, but I sank all of Nate's battleships, including the Lego that he stuck on his board to sub in for his missing aircraft carrier. 

Will you accept this rosé? Watching "The Bachelorette" with Hannah. Obsessing over Luke, skeptical on Jordan, and so, so devastated that James Taylor got eliminated. I'll date/marry him, then he can share a name with a famous singer and I'll be the second coming of Liz Taylor WHEEEEE! 

101 in 1001 #99: See an opera in a foreign language.

Remember on Tuesday how I whined about the English National Opera translating Mozart's "The Magic Flute" into...well, English? That's been a common theme of my life as an opera fan...I've only ever seen operas performed in English, which is not the traditional language of opera performance at all. 

Having spent half a semester studying some of the world's greatest operas and composers while I was in London in 2010, I know how amazing opera can be when it's sung in a foreign language. To me, it just adds to the emotive aspect of the performance...passionate Italian by Puccini, Wagner's epic German Ring Cycle, and the romance of French by Gounod and Délibes. It just so happened that every opera staged by London's big companies while we were abroad was performed in English...what a travesty! I also saw the Lyric Opera of Chicago perform "A Midsummer Night's Dream" back Stateside...also in English. Ahhh! 

My other issue with seeing opera these days is that I don't really have a friend to go with. While most of my friends (and my mom of course!) are down for musicals, the Guthrie, and even the orchestra, opera is honestly not up everyone's alley, and I get that. Needless to say, I was ecstatic in Phoenix over the Fiesta Bowl when Michael and I started talking opera, and he said that he'd come down from Fargo to see pretty much anything. 

The Minnesota Opera staged a new production of "Tosca" in March, and it marked our inaugural opera trip, and my first-ever foreign language opera! We started the night off right splitting a bottle of champagne at my apartment (where I also got a major puppy fix courtesy of his former roommate's darling dog!), and headed to St. Paul where we ended up grabbing the last two seats at Meritage's bar. We got all fancy with escargot and my first oysters in a long time...

...and I discovered that Michael is my new favorite person to go out to dinner with because he's willing to go halfsies on absolutely everything. Including every champagne cocktail on the cocktail list. There were eight, and we made it through four, and we shared all the way through. Same deal with our entrées of duck and venison. Basically, I want him to come go halfsies at Meritage with me all the time. 

We cut it perilously close to make it to the opera on time, but still snapped a selfie outside the lovely Ordway.

And then I sprinted (as much as I could, in four-inch heels) to the bathroom, while Michael headed to our seats. As I headed in, looking for "Row H," I couldn't see him anywhere in the vicinity of where I was looking...until I scanned the literal front row and spotted him literally dead center. I had bought our tickets fairly last minute, and while I did have a connection helping me out, I had NO idea our seats would have this view: 

Or this view from behind: 

Or this view for a super attractive selfie: 

I was in heaven. 

"Tosca," by Giacomo Puccini, is set over the course of three days in Rome during the Napoleonic wars. The title character is a classic jealous diva, in love with a revolutionary artist named Mario Cavaradossi, and they both end up entangled with Baron Scarpia, a powerful police chief who is basically the worst person ever and essentially threatens to kill Cavaradossi if Tosca doesn't sleep with him. That's enough of a spoiler, except to say that it is not an uplifting opera: by the end, almost everybody is dead. 

The opera is truly iconic, and the MN Opera's staging and performance lived up to my expectations for sure. There was actually some major drama just days before opening night, when Hungarian soprano Csilla Boross backed out last-minute, and Minnesota native Kelly Kaduce stepped up to the plate. It could have been catastrophic, but Kaduce and Leonardo Capalbo as Cavaradossi had electric chemistry and both sang beautifully. Stephen Powell as Scarpia played and sang a fabulously bone-chilling villain as well, and the sets, though a bit odd, were visually striking from start to finish. I absolutely loved every minute of it. 

And I was right...hearing it in a foreign language majorly made a difference! I found that I could catch a word here and there of the Italian and could figure a LOT of it out by following the action (and being familiar with the plot). The subtitles projected above the stage did help me out a bit during the recitative parts, where conversations were being sung back and forth in a normal cadence as if the performers were just chatting. 

Here's a clip of one of my all-time favorite parts of the opera: Cavaradossi's heart-rending "E lucevan le stelle," a goodbye to life when it's at its sweetest. 

And just because I think it's an awesome picture: the last page of the score, taken by Michael, who casually leaned over the orchestra wall into the pit. Because did I mention we were front row? ;) 

To check out the rest of my 101 in 1001, head here...and if you're dying to see operas with me, let me know, yo!

A London theatre triple crown

Because I've been thinking to myself that I need to memorialize this forever, time for a throwback to last month's London trip! In between tiara-shopping and being chased by bloodthirsty swans, I spent a large part of my weekend alone in London hitting up the theater scene. When I studied abroad, I spent way too many nights (and way too much of my meager stipend!) at the theaters and opera houses and saw so many different performance genres, many for the first time. 2010 London introduced me to my first live opera through a class on the history of opera, to experimental plays, black box productions, and Shakespeare AT the Globe Theatre. Needless to say, going back with the funds to really do theater was heavenly. 

A short eight hours after landing and getting checked into my hotel, I headed to the London Coliseum for the English National Opera's production of Mozart's "The Magic Flute." I had previously seen their production of "Lucia di Lammermoor" in 2010, which they translated into English (much to my chagrin). The staging of "The Magic Flute," much like "Lucia," was sparse but innovative, making use of projections, a mobile, elevated raked platform, and a pit orchestra that performed as an extended part of the stage. Didn't hurt that my seats were fabulous, either...I scored with prime dress circle seating that left me perfectly positioned for the richest sound. 

That said, I was utterly crushed to find that, just like in 2010, the ENO had translated Mozart's gorgeous German into English for the performance. Usually, operas are sung in the language in which they are composed...most often Italian, German, or French...and the translation is projected above the stage. To take the language away left "The Magic Flute," already a pretty simple, fairy-tale-esque story of princesses, kings, queens, and the gods feeling like a bad nursery rhyme. That said, the singing was still lovely, particularly Lucy Crowe's Pamina, and I thoroughly enjoyed my night. 

The next day, I crossed the river to the National Theatre for my first time experiencing Shakespeare's iconic "As You Like It!" I read the play during my freshman lit seminar but had never seen it live...and couldn't wait for the famous "All the world's a stage" monologue. The Olivier Theatre's staging felt so Guthrie-esque to me, it almost seemed like I was back home. The show opened in a 1970's-ish office for the first several scenes...

...then all of a sudden everything literally took flight as Rosalind and Celia flee to the forest. The entire set was apparently rigged to wires and cables that jerked the office to the skies to represent a deeply wooded forest, and it was so incredible to watch...until the mechanism broke down mid-elevation. We were treated to a ten-minute, unplanned intermission while the technical team ran around frantically unsnarling desks and chairs and cables, and I laughed and took the opportunity to snag a photo. The set was truly striking and honestly stuck with me more than any individual performance...it was just incredibly innovative and detail-oriented right down to the Post-it note leaves. 

Frankly, I think my favorite half hour of the entire trip was crossing the Waterloo Bridge after the show with this view, which single-handedly cemented London's status as my favorite city in the entire world. The photo doesn't even do it justice...it was stunning on an absolutely indescribable level. 

Finally, after discovering that I had a mid-week evening to myself due to my bosses' other commitments, I made a total spur-of-the-moment decision to treat myself to an evening with my favorite "Friend!" Matthew Perry recently wrote and is directing/starring in his debut play, "The End of Longing," at the Playhouse Theatre. 

I scored with fourth-row seats, which was pretty much the highlight of the experience. Being twenty feet away from Chandler Bing? Life experience I never thought I would have. I was all set to get my spazzy fangirl on...

...but honestly, I didn't love the play. It's loosely autobiographical, telling the story of a witty and sharp New Yorker struggling with extreme alcoholism...basically the story of Matthew Perry's adulthood. Populated with a cast of characters including a lovable dumbass (Joey), a prostitute with a heart of gold, and a sidekick female friend that could quite literally have been Monica Geller, the cast was solid but the script was lackluster and felt so forced. Every third word out of every actor's mouth seemed to be "fuck" (or some permutation thereof), which was fine at first but, by the end, seemed so completely superfluous and grating. 

The highlight of the play occurred about fifteen minutes before the end, when Perry completely redeemed his writing with the most intense, searing, raw monologue set at his character's first AA meeting. It was personal and vulnerable on an entirely different level, and earned a standing ovation from the audience before the play even ended. Had the entire play shown that depth and emotional finesse, I would have adored it...instead, I'm going to marathon my favorite Chandler scenes to redeem my love for MP. 

All English opera, technical malfunctions, and excessive "fuck"s aside, I think the three shows I picked were the perfect trilogy for a whirlwind trip through London's theatre world! Already looking forward to doing exactly the same thing on my next trip across the pond.