What to do about the problem of Madama Butterfly?
It was one of the first operas I ever experienced. When I was newly obsessed with the genre at age fourteen, it was an uncontested favorite. Day after day I listened to the classic recordings (first Serafin, then Sinopoli, then Leinsdorf, then Karajan…) and watched every filmed version available, luxuriating in Puccini’s glorious music, in the beauty of the exotic, blossom-infused setting and in the deliciously heartrending romantic tragedy. Even though I knew Pinkerton was a cad, I projected all my teenage fantasies of romance onto the Act I love duet. This opera was essentially my Twilight. Read the rest of this entry »