Norma was performed in a concert version Friday January 16th at the Jackie Gleason Theater (named after the late American comedian) on Miami Beach. Maria Guleghina, Kate Aldrich, Salvatore Licitra, and Alexander Vinogradov appeared in the featured roles. Roberto Rizzi Brignoli conducted an ad hoc orchestra and the Chorale of Florida International University.

 Dr Neil A. Kurtzman

First let me unload my elitist and effete baggage. Opera on Miami Beach marches to the beat of a drummer different from anything I've encountered over the last half century. About 3/64 time seems right. The evening started, or more correctly didn't start, with an announcement that everyone should enter the theater. It was 7:20 and the show was scheduled to start at 7:30. Though the auditorium had been open for half an hour, no one seemed willing to leave the bar. Dutifully, about 2.000 people tried to enter the hall simultaneously. The ensuing slow-motion melee allowed ample opportunity for conversation.

An old lady in front of me asked her escort, "What's the name of this opera?"
"Norman," he answered.

We were in our seats by 7:30, though stragglers appeared until 8:12. At 7:47 an elderly man and woman looking like the "Norman" couple appeared onstage. The woman was Judy Drucker, the doyenne of South Florida classical music and opera. She said as there was a lot of traffic in the area that the performance would start whenever she felt like it – apparently some of the orchestra was late. The audience applauded.

There was a lot going on in the area that night. It was Art Deco Weekend, Cirque du Soleil was in town, as was the circus (Barnum and Bailey, not the one at the Jackie Gleason Theater), and the Lipizzaner stallions were prancing at the University of Miami's basketball arena. We saw them the previous evening; they were better behaved than the audience at the opera. All this in addition to the usual gaudy madness on a Friday night in South Beach.

The man with Ms Drucker was Martin Bookspan, well known to American listeners of broadcast classical music and opera. He read aloud (for what seemed hours, but was really only 10 minutes) background information about the opera and then a synopsis of Act 1. He also appeared after the intermission with more palaver about Act 2. Everything he said was available in the booklet given to everyone in the audience. The pamphlet also contained the libretto and an English translation. But because the lights were turned off during the performance no one more than 10 rows from the stage could read it. At precisely 8 pm Maestro Brignoli appeared to start the overture.

That was when the cell phones went off. Bellini, ahead of his time, seems to have scored the first Act of Norma for singers, orchestra, and cell phones. Actually, the cell phones weren't playing Bellini. I was able to identify fragments the first movements of Mozart's big G min symphony, Beethoven's C min, the prelude to Act 1 of La Traviata, and the Light Cavalry Overture among others. Bookspan chided the audience about the din after the intermission and the cell phones were silent thereafter. But the two guys in the basement, whose vociferous argument was carried into the hall through the air conditioning ducts throughout the first act, continued their debate during the second. If the performers hadn't been making so much noise I might have been better able to understand what they were so upset about.

When the cell phones started ringing a sizable fraction of the audience began to shift seats. This combined with the continuing stream of late comers made for a scene reminiscent of the Oklahoma land rush. Half of the claim jumpers were repeatedly evicted from their illicit seats by the latecomers.

Despite all the sideshows, Norma was a rousing success. Norma, of course, is to sopranos what Otello is to tenors – only more so. The part requires virtually every style of singing characteristic of 19th century opera. The soprano is asked for caressing soft high notes, loud bursts of dramatic singing over the entire soprano range, and florid ornamentation. Combine Lucia and Brünnhilde and you've approximated Norma. Milanov had the beautiful high notes. Sutherland met all the vocal demands of the role, but was emotionally detached. Callas had everything the part requires except beautiful sound.

Guleghina's approach was closer to Brünnhilde than Lucia. Clad in a red gown that had board-like extensions rising from each shoulder she looked like a carnelian Winged Victory. She attacked every one of the role's innumerable challenges as if fear was only for tenors. Her voice is the biggest I've heard since Birgit Nilsson's halcyon days. She did manage the soft high notes as well as an heroic voice can. That she cracked on two or three pianissimos in the second act in no way detracts from the awesome figure she presented. She's a great singer whose edges are roughly etched. When Norma vents her fury at Pollione's faithlessness at the end of Act 1, I was glad she (Guleghina) wasn't mad at me. This is a real diva. She stopped the prolonged applause which followed Casta Diva with an imperious gesture; she raised her left hand like Patton directing tanks. I only wish she could have whacked the two guys in the basement.

Adalgisa is almost as difficult to properly cast as Norma. Marina Domashenko was originally announced for the part, but was replaced by Kate Aldrich. The change must have occurred well before the performance as the latter's picture and biography were in the program. Aldrich who was so impressive in the secondary role of Smeton in Donizetti's Anna Bolena last month at Carnegie Hall continued to show that she belongs in the big leagues of Italian opera. One underpowered high note aside, she displayed a big, agile, and beautiful mezzo voice wrapped in a small and very attractive package. I look forward to seeing and hearing her in a staged performance.

The surprise of the evening was Salvatore Licitra. On basis of the few recordings of his that I had heard, I was expecting a lyric voice. Of course Pollione wasn't written for a large voiced tenor, but in the last century it's belonged to the likes of Lauri-Volpi, Merli, Del Monaco, and Corelli. I was literally shocked when Licitra opened his mouth and out came a large – make that very large – dark, baritonal tenor. This is a voice made for Radames, Canio, Dick Johnson, Calaf, and eventually (if it doesn't self-destruct) Otello. His performance was not unrelieved joy, however. The high note in the middle of his aria (which comes shortly after the tenor first appears) was strained and flatter than West Texas. It took a while for his tone to loosen. Thereafter he was in good shape except for the duet with Norma near the opera's conclusion where he got lost. That can happen to anyone – especially when the score is open and two feet from your eyes. Licitra's voice is one that doesn't come along very often. Let's hope that he and fortune are kind to it.

Bass-baritone Alexander Vinogradov is younger than one of my cars. Born in 1976, he sounded raspy at the opera's start, but got better as he went along. What he will be when he grows up is impossible to predict.

Maestro Brignoli is a passionate conductor given to alternately conducting with and without a baton. I wish he'd make up his mind and use or discard the damn thing. It disappeared and reappeared more often than a magician's rabbit – a distracting affectation. He conducted with feeling and intensity supporting the singers with the sensitivity that Bellini's long vocal lines require. The only problem was the chorus which, while it sang well enough, was undermanned for the Guerra chorus – probably the most robust music Bellini ever wrote. Except for the traditional omission of the slow music following the Guerra chorus, the opera was performed uncut. In short, it was a great performance of one of opera's greatest works – and the South Florida audience loved it.