New Orleans - French Opera House 1909

The French Opera House of New Orleans, also known as the Théâtre de l’Opéra, occupies a unique and often underestimated place in the cultural history of the United States. Opened in 1859 in the heart of the French Quarter, it quickly became far more than a performance venue: it was the social, artistic, and symbolic center of elite life in New Orleans until its destruction by fire in 1919. Today, the site is occupied by a hotel, but the legacy of the opera house continues to resonate far beyond its physical disappearance.

From the years following the Civil War until the First World War, the French Opera House was the most fashionable establishment in New Orleans. The opening night of the opera season marked the opening of the city’s social season itself. Attendance was not merely about music; it was a ritual governed by traditions, hierarchies, and long-established customs. To be seen at the opera—especially in one of the coveted box seats or loges grilles—was an affirmation of status. The oldest and most prominent families of New Orleans owned these boxes, which were passed down through generations and functioned almost as hereditary symbols of social standing.

The repertoire of the French Opera House reflected this refined world. Opera was at its core, but the stage also hosted ballets and high-society balls, reinforcing its role as a comprehensive cultural institution. In this respect, the French Opera House functioned much like the Vienna State Opera does today: a place where music, social life, and identity converged.

Beyond its local importance, the French Opera House played a pioneering role in American operatic history. Contrary to the widespread assumption that New York was the primary gateway for European opera into the United States, New Orleans frequently held that distinction in the nineteenth century. Thanks to its strong French cultural ties and its status as a major port city, New Orleans often received operatic works before Philadelphia, New York, or Boston. In this sense, the city—and the French Opera House in particular—was a true innovator.

Numerous operas were heard for the first time on American soil at this theater, especially works from the French repertoire. Operas by Massenet, Gounod, Lalo, Ambroise Thomas, Saint-Saëns, as well as later verismo composers such as Cilea and Giordano, found enthusiastic audiences there. One of the most striking examples is Le roi de Lahore by Jules Massenet. Although rarely performed today, the opera was a sensation when it premiered in New Orleans in 1883, becoming the triumph of the season. Society flocked to the performance, and it was widely discussed as a major artistic event.

Another landmark was Massenet’s Esclarmonde, first heard in America at the French Opera House in 1893. Like Le roi de Lahore, it belongs to a tradition of grand French opera that once captivated audiences but has since receded from mainstream performance. Yet these works were central to the musical life of New Orleans, where audiences were receptive, knowledgeable, and eager for the newest European creations.

It is important not to confuse the French Opera House with its predecessor, the Théâtre d’Orléans, which dominated operatic life in New Orleans during the first half of the nineteenth century. The Théâtre d’Orléans was also immensely influential and was responsible for many American premieres, but its performances were given exclusively in French, even when presenting Italian operas. Works such as Anna Bolena, Lucia di Lammermoor, and even Verdi’s Il trovatore—performed there in French—testify to the city’s deep-rooted Francophone operatic tradition.

Together, these two theaters established New Orleans as the earliest and most sustained operatic center in the United States. The French Opera House, in particular, embodied a moment when the city stood at the crossroads of Europe and America, absorbing and transmitting artistic innovation with remarkable sophistication.

Though the building itself no longer stands, the French Opera House remains a powerful symbol of a time when New Orleans led the nation in operatic culture, social ritual, and artistic ambition—a legacy that deserves far greater recognition in the broader narrative of American music history.

Le Théâtre de l’Opéra français de La Nouvelle-Orléans, communément appelé French Opera House (Théâtre de l’Opéra), et son prestigieux prédécesseur, le Théâtre d’Orléans, constituent ensemble un chapitre fondamental — et trop souvent méconnu — de l’histoire culturelle et musicale des États-Unis. Bien avant que New York ne s’impose comme capitale lyrique du pays, La Nouvelle-Orléans fut le premier grand foyer de l’opéra en Amérique, un lieu où l’Europe musicale trouvait un prolongement naturel sur le continent américain.

Le Théâtre d’Orléans : le berceau de l’opéra en Amérique

Le Théâtre d’Orléans, inauguré en 1815 rue d’Orléans, entre Royal et Bourbon, fut le plus important théâtre lyrique de La Nouvelle-Orléans dans la première moitié du XIXᵉ siècle. Conçu par Louis Tabary, réfugié de Saint-Domingue, il incarne dès l’origine le caractère profondément francophone et cosmopolite de la ville. Après un premier incendie, il fut reconstruit et rouvrit en 1819, accompagné de l’élégante Orleans Ballroom, toujours en usage aujourd’hui.

Sous la direction de John Davis, puis de Pierre Davis et enfin de Charles Boudousquié, le Théâtre d’Orléans devint un centre lyrique d’envergure internationale. Les représentations y étaient données exclusivement en français, y compris pour des opéras italiens, souvent présentés dans des adaptations françaises qui circulaient alors dans toute l’Europe.

C’est dans ce théâtre que furent données un nombre exceptionnel de premières américaines, bien supérieur à celui du French Opera House ultérieur. Dès 1819, le public de La Nouvelle-Orléans découvrait Jean de Paris de Boieldieu. Suivirent rapidement des œuvres majeures du répertoire romantique français et européen : La dame blanche, La muette de Portici, Zampa, Robert le diable, Les Huguenots, La Juive, Le prophète, Le comte Ory, Guillaume Tell ou encore La fille du régiment.

Fait remarquable, plusieurs opéras italiens emblématiques furent entendus pour la première fois en Amérique au Théâtre d’Orléans, en version française : Anna Bolena, Lucie de Lammermoor, La favorite, Don Pasquale, et même Il trovatore de Verdi, présenté en 1857 sous le titre Le trouvère. Cette pratique reflète non seulement la domination culturelle française à La Nouvelle-Orléans, mais aussi le goût raffiné d’un public habitué aux nouveautés européennes les plus audacieuses.

Le Théâtre d’Orléans fut détruit par un incendie en 1866, mettant fin à une époque héroïque de l’opéra en Amérique. Pourtant, son héritage allait se prolonger et s’épanouir dans un nouveau lieu.

Le French Opera House : l’âge d’or mondain et artistique

Ouvert en 1859, le French Opera House, situé au cœur du Vieux Carré, devint rapidement le centre névralgique de la vie sociale et culturelle de La Nouvelle-Orléans jusqu’à sa destruction par le feu en 1919. Si le Théâtre d’Orléans avait été le laboratoire des premières américaines, le French Opera House fut l’incarnation du prestige, de la mondanité et de la continuité d’une grande tradition lyrique.

Entre la guerre de Sécession et la Première Guerre mondiale, il fut l’établissement le plus élégant et le plus en vue de la ville. L’ouverture de la saison d’opéra marquait officiellement l’ouverture de la saison mondaine. Assister à une représentation n’était pas seulement un acte culturel, mais un événement social codifié, régi par des rituels précis. Les familles les plus anciennes et les plus influentes possédaient des loges — les célèbres loges grilles — transmises de génération en génération.

À l’instar de l’Opéra de Vienne aujourd’hui, le French Opera House n’était pas uniquement un lieu d’opéra : on y donnait également des ballets et des bals de la haute société, renforçant son rôle central dans l’identité culturelle de la ville.

Sur le plan artistique, le théâtre confirma le rôle pionnier de La Nouvelle-Orléans dans la diffusion de l’opéra en Amérique. De nombreuses œuvres françaises y furent entendues avant New York, Boston ou Philadelphie. Le répertoire de Massenet, Gounod, Lalo, Ambroise Thomas, Saint-Saëns, mais aussi de compositeurs italiens de la fin du siècle comme Cilea et Giordano, y occupait une place essentielle.

Parmi les événements les plus marquants figure la création américaine de Le roi de Lahore de Jules Massenet en 1883, qui fut le triomphe de la saison et un véritable phénomène social. Plus tard, Esclarmonde, autre chef-d’œuvre de Massenet, y fut entendue pour la première fois en Amérique en 1893, confirmant le goût du public de La Nouvelle-Orléans pour les œuvres les plus ambitieuses et novatrices de l’opéra français.

Une capitale lyrique oubliée

Ainsi, bien avant que l’opéra ne devienne synonyme de New York, La Nouvelle-Orléans fut la véritable porte d’entrée de l’opéra en Amérique. Le Théâtre d’Orléans posa les fondations, en offrant au public américain une quantité impressionnante de premières, tandis que le French Opera House porta cette tradition à son apogée artistique et mondaine.

Même si ces théâtres ont disparu, leur héritage demeure celui d’une ville qui, pendant plus d’un siècle, fut à l’avant-garde de la vie lyrique américaine, un carrefour unique où l’Europe musicale trouvait un écho passionné et sophistiqué sur les rives du Mississippi.

Joan Sutherland & Richard Bonynge

Royal Opera House - Richard Bonynge & Joan Sutherland 

Richard Bonynge and the Miracle of the Romantic Ballet Recorded

In the history of recorded music, there are great conductors, there are legendary conductors, and then there are those rare individuals whose work permanently alters what future generations are able to hear, know, and understand. Richard Bonynge belongs decisively to this last category. His contribution to music—both opera and ballet—is not merely distinguished by excellence, but by uniqueness. Quite simply, without Richard Bonynge, vast areas of nineteenth-century music would remain silent, forgotten, or forever imagined rather than heard.

Bonynge is often introduced through his long and extraordinary partnership with his wife, the incomparable soprano Joan Sutherland. That partnership alone would secure his place in musical history. Yet to reduce his legacy to accompaniment or collaboration would be to misunderstand the true nature of his artistry. Richard Bonynge was, above all, a conductor of vision: a musician with a profound understanding of style, a tireless scholar, and a passionate believer in the intrinsic value of music that others had dismissed as obsolete or unfashionable.

The Revival of a Lost World: Ballet Music

Bonynge’s achievement in ballet music is nothing short of miraculous. Over many decades, he devoted himself to uncovering nineteenth-century ballet scores that had vanished from the repertoire—works that had once filled theatres in Paris, Vienna, London, and St. Petersburg, yet had completely disappeared from modern performance. He searched obsessively through second-hand music shops, archives, and libraries in cities across Europe, often finding scores that had not been opened for generations.

What makes this effort so extraordinary is that Bonynge did not treat these discoveries as mere curiosities. He understood them as living music. He studied them, restored them, prepared them for performance, and recorded them with the same seriousness and artistic commitment he brought to the greatest masterpieces. Through Decca, he created a recorded legacy that no other conductor has matched: a vast, coherent, lovingly curated anthology of Romantic ballet music.

The 45-CD box set Richard Bonynge – The Complete Ballet Recordings stands as a monument to this work. Alongside universally known masterpieces such as Swan Lake, The Sleeping Beauty, The Nutcracker, and La Bayadère, the collection reveals an astonishing treasury of forgotten ballets by Adam, Delibes, Minkus, Drigo, Auber, Massenet, Berlioz, Meyerbeer, Lecocq, Pugni, and many others. These were not marginal figures: they were central to the musical life of the nineteenth century, particularly in Paris, where ballet occupied a position of immense cultural importance.

Bonynge understood instinctively how ballet music must breathe, dance, and sparkle. His tempi feel inevitable, his phrasing elastic and elegant, his orchestral textures luminous. This is not museum music. It is theatre, movement, color, and joy. Few moments in the box set are as overwhelming as the extended Grand Pas from Minkus’s Paquita—over twenty minutes of music that Bonynge shapes with such vitality and brilliance that it feels utterly unsurpassable. For many listeners, myself included, listening to these recordings for hours on end can feel like being transported somewhere between heaven and earth.

Opera and the Art of Bel Canto

Yet Bonynge’s contribution to opera is equally historic. Together with Joan Sutherland, he changed forever the way bel canto opera is heard, understood, and valued. At a time when many of these operas were neglected, cut, or misunderstood, Bonynge insisted on stylistic integrity, musical completeness, and orchestral refinement. He did not treat bel canto as vocal display supported by an orchestra, but as a fully integrated musical drama.

It is impossible to imagine Joan Sutherland’s discography without Richard Bonynge’s guidance, encouragement, and determination. Time and again, he persuaded her—and recording companies—to commit to studio recordings that no one expected, and in some cases, no one dared to imagine.

A particularly moving example is Anna Bolena by Donizetti, recorded in 1985, when Sutherland was already nearing the end of her active stage career. Few believed she would ever record the role in the studio. Yet she did—and the result remains, for many listeners, the definitive studio recording of the opera. Nearly forty years later, it stands not as a late-career curiosity, but as a towering artistic statement, preserved thanks to Bonynge’s insistence and vision.

The same can be said of recordings such as L’elisir d’amore with Luciano Pavarotti, or Turandot—an opera no one expected Sutherland ever to record. And yet she did, delivering a performance of astonishing authority, vocal security, and grandeur. Her Turandot remains one of the most compelling on disc, and it is a role many listeners, myself included, return to repeatedly with undiminished admiration.

Then there are her unforgettable portrayals of Elvira in I Puritani, Amina in La Sonnambula, Violetta in La Traviata, and above all Norma, Bellini’s supreme creation. In all of these recordings, Bonynge’s conducting is not merely supportive; it is revelatory. He understands the architecture of the music, the dramatic pacing, the expressive weight of orchestral color. He allows the voice to soar, but never at the expense of musical coherence or stylistic truth.

A Personal and Collective Debt

Richard Bonynge did more for the worlds of opera and ballet than almost any conductor of his generation. He expanded the repertoire, preserved endangered works, and gave them performances of lasting beauty. He trusted audiences to listen, to discover, and to fall in love with music they had never heard before.

I had the great fortune of meeting Richard Bonynge in 2001 and of thanking him personally for his extraordinary work. It is a moment I will always treasure. Yet any personal gratitude pales beside the collective debt owed to him by millions of listeners around the world. Thanks to him, we can hear what would otherwise be lost. Thanks to him, an entire musical century continues to sing, dance, and enchant.

Richard Bonynge achieved something no other conductor has achieved: he rescued forgotten beauty and gave it permanence. For lovers of nineteenth-century music—whether opera or ballet—his recordings are not merely important. They are indispensable.

For that, we will never be grateful enough.

Few achievements in the history of recorded music can truly be described as unique. Fewer still can be called irreplaceable. Richard Bonynge – The Complete Ballet Recordings, released by Decca as a monumental 45-CD box set, belongs unquestionably to that rare category: a once-in-a-lifetime artistic achievement that no other conductor has equaled, and perhaps none ever will.

Richard Bonynge is widely celebrated for his legendary partnership with his wife, the great soprano Joan Sutherland, and for his authoritative interpretations of bel canto opera. Yet to focus solely on opera would be to overlook one of his most extraordinary and enduring contributions to musical culture: the resurrection, study, performance, and recording of nineteenth-century ballet music—much of it forgotten, neglected, or assumed to be lost forever.

Bonynge himself explained in interviews how, over many years, he devoted countless hours to searching through antiquarian music shops and libraries across Europe, patiently uncovering original ballet scores from the nineteenth century. These were works that had once enjoyed enormous success in Paris, London, Vienna, and St. Petersburg, yet had vanished completely from the repertoire. Some had never been recorded; others had not even been performed for generations. In many cases, few musicians alive were even aware that these ballets had ever existed.

Bonynge did far more than simply “find” these scores. He studied them meticulously, reconstructed performance traditions, prepared the orchestral materials, and brought them back to life in the recording studio with a level of care, stylistic understanding, and affection that only a true devotee could provide. Conducting magnificent orchestras under the Decca label, he transformed fragile, dusty manuscripts into living, breathing music—rich in color, rhythm, elegance, and theatrical vitality.

This collection does not limit itself to the universally known masterpieces such as Swan Lake, The Sleeping Beauty, The Nutcracker, or La Bayadère. Alongside these pillars of the repertoire, the box set opens a door to a dazzling lost world: ballets by Adam, Delibes, Drigo, Minkus, Massenet, Auber, Berlioz, Meyerbeer, Lecocq, Pugni, and many others. French, Russian, Italian, Austrian, German, Danish—Bonynge’s range is astonishing, and his stylistic instinct unfailingly sure.

What makes these recordings truly exceptional is not merely their rarity, but their quality. Bonynge understood ballet music from the inside: its pulse, its breathing, its dramatic arc, and its intimate connection to movement. Tempi are natural, phrasing is elastic, rhythms dance, and the orchestral colors glow. This is ballet music conducted by someone who loved it deeply and knew exactly how it should sound.

The Decca engineering, as always, is superb. Even recordings originating from analogue tapes of the 1960s and 1970s are transferred with remarkable clarity, warmth, and balance. The presentation of the box set is equally admirable: 45 CDs housed in elegant cardboard sleeves, many reproducing the original LP artwork, accompanied by detailed documentation that reflects the care and seriousness of the project.

On a personal level, these recordings offer moments of almost indescribable joy. One need only listen to the extended Grand Pas from Minkus’s Paquita—over twenty minutes of sheer brilliance—to understand the magic Bonynge achieved. The orchestration sparkles, the melodic invention seems inexhaustible, and the performance reaches a level that feels not merely excellent, but definitive. For many listeners, myself included, this music can induce a sense of pure happiness: hours spent listening feel like being in heaven, here on earth.

I had the great fortune of meeting Richard Bonynge in 2001, and of thanking him personally for his extraordinary work in both opera and ballet. That moment remains unforgettable. What he gave us through these recordings is not just pleasure, but cultural memory—an entire musical universe rescued from oblivion.

This box set is more than a collection of CDs. It is a historical document, an act of love, and a gift to future generations. For lovers of nineteenth-century music, ballet enthusiasts, and anyone who believes that beauty is worth preserving, Richard Bonynge – The Complete Ballet Recordings is not merely recommended—it is essential.

Richard Bonynge achieved what no other conductor has achieved: he made the invisible audible, the forgotten unforgettable, and the lost eternal. For that, neither I nor the millions of admirers around the world who treasure these recordings will ever be sufficiently grateful.

Adam, Adolphe

• Le Diable à quatre

• Giselle

  • Danse des vignerons

  • Pas seul

  • Peasant pas de deux

  • Grand Pas de Deux (Act II)

• Le Corsaire

• Giralda – Overture

• La Poupée de Nuremberg – Overture

Auber, Daniel-François-Esprit

• Marco Spada – Ballet (complete)

• Marco Spada – Overture

• Gustave III (Le Bal masqué) – Overture

• Gustave III (Le Bal masqué) – Ballet Music

• Cello Concerto No. 1 in A minor

• Lestocq – Overture

• La Neige – Overture

Asafyev, Boris

• Papillons

Berlioz, Hector

• Les Troyens – Ballet music

Bizet, Georges

• Don Procopio – Entr’acte

Boieldieu, François-Adrien

• Le Calife de Bagdad – Overture

• La Dame blanche – Overture

Britten, Benjamin

• Soirées musicales (after Rossini), Op. 9

• Matinées musicales (after Rossini), Op. 24

Burgmüller, Friedrich

• La Péri – Romantic ballet in two acts

Catalani, Alfredo

• Loreley – Danza delle ondine

Chopin, Frédéric

• Les Sylphides

Czibulka, Alphons

• Love’s Dream After the Ball, Op. 356

Delibes, Léo

• Coppélia

• Sylvia

• La Source

• Naïla – Intermezzo

• Le Roi l’a dit – Entr’acte

Donizetti, Gaetano

• La Favorita – Ballet music

• Ballabile (from La Favorite)

• Roberto Devereux – Overture

Drigo, Riccardo

• La Flûte magique

• Pas de Trois

• Le Réveil de Flore – excerpts

• Esmeralda – Pas de deux

• Le Corsaire – Pas de deux

Gounod, Charles

• Faust – Ballet music

• La Reine de Saba – Waltz

• Le Tribut de Zamora – Danse grecque

Handel, Georg Friedrich

• Alcina – Ballet music

Hérold, Ferdinand

• Zampa – Overture

Kreisler, Fritz

• Schön Rosmarin

Kurpiński, Karol

• Polish Wedding – Mazurka

Leoni, Francesco

• The Prayer and the Sword

Lecocq, Charles

• La Fille de Madame Angot – Ballet music

• La Fille de Madame Angot – Overture

Lincke, Paul

• Glow Worm Idyll (Lysistrata)

Lovenskjold, Herman

• La Sylphide – Pas de deux

Luigini, Alexandre

• Ballet égyptien

Maillart, Louis-Aimé

• Les Dragons de Villars – Overture

Massenet, Jules

• Manon – Ballet

• Le Carillon

• Scènes alsaciennes

• Fantaisie for Cello and Orchestra

• Cigale

• Valse très lente

• Le Cid – Ballet music

• Le Cid – Suite

• Méditation (from Thaïs)

• La Navarraise – Nocturne

• Chérubin – Entr’acte

• Don César de Bazan – Sévillana

• Le Roi de Lahore – Waltz and Entr’acte

• Les Érinnyes – Invocation

Meyerbeer, Giacomo

• Les Patineurs – Ballet

• Les Patineurs – Suite

• Le Prophète – Coronation March

Minkus, Ludwig

• La Bayadère

• Don Quixote – Pas de deux

• Paquita – Pas de deux

Offenbach, Jacques

• Le Papillon

• La Fille du tambour-major – Overture

Planquette, Robert

• Les Cloches de Corneville – Overture

Popper, David

• Cello Concerto No. 2 in E minor, Op. 24

Pugni, Cesare

• Pas de quatre

Rossini, Gioachino

• La Boutique fantasque

• Guillaume Tell – Ballet music

• Torvaldo e Dorliska – Overture

Rubinstein, Anton

• Danses des fiancées de Cachemir (from Feramors)

Saint-Saëns, Camille

• Le Cygne (Carnaval des animaux)

• Henry VIII – Danse de la Gipsy

Strauss II, Johann

• Aschenbrödel-Walzer

• Ritter Pásmán – Ballet music

• An der schönen blauen Donau, Op. 314

• Die Fledermaus – Ballet music (Act II)

• Die Fledermaus – Overture

Tchaikovsky, Pyotr Ilyich

• The Nutcracker, Op. 71

• Swan Lake, Op. 20

• Sleeping Beauty, Op. 66

• Swan Lake – Pas de deux

• The Nutcracker – Pas de deux

• Aurora Variation (Sleeping Beauty)

• The Seasons, Op. 37b: December

• Souvenir d’un lieu cher, Op. 42

Thomas, Ambroise

• Hamlet – Ballet music

• Hamlet – Act IV Ballet Music

• Mignon – Overture

Verdi, Giuseppe

• Il Trovatore – Ballet Music (Acts II & III)

• Giovanna d’Arco – Overture

Wallace, William Vincent

• Maritana – Overture

Weber, Carl Maria von

• Invitation to the Dance, Op. 65

Anon.

• Bolero (1830)

Los Angeles - Sumi jo & Richard Bonynge

San Francisco, longtemps réputée pour son ouverture à la découverte artistique, offrait alors un environnement où les mélomanes pouvaient encore faire de belles découvertes au gré de leurs flâneries. Les disquaires indépendants, déjà en voie de raréfaction, demeuraient des lieux de recueillement et de passion, où les disques n'étaient pas de simples produits, mais des invitations à l'exploration. Dans ce contexte, une parution en particulier attira immédiatement l'attention : Le Toréador d'Adolphe Adam, récemment publié par Decca.

Cet opéra de chambre, d'une ampleur modeste mais d'une grande exigence d'exécution, ne comporte que trois rôles vocaux : un ténor, un baryton et une soprano, sur lesquels repose une grande partie de la force expressive de l'œuvre. Le choix de Sumi Jo pour ce rôle était significatif. Principalement connue pour sa maîtrise du bel canto et du répertoire colorature, elle apporta à la musique d'Adam une combinaison de virtuosité technique et de raffinement stylistique qui sublima la partition au-delà de sa simplicité apparente. L'enregistrement se distinguait par la présence de Richard Bonynge à la direction, chef d'orchestre dont l'engagement de toute une vie envers les œuvres lyriques méconnues et sa profonde connaissance du style vocal du XIXe siècle ont façonné les pratiques d'interprétation modernes. Ensemble, la soprano et le chef d'orchestre formaient un duo empreint d'élégance, de précision et de respect de l'histoire.

Peu de temps après, à Los Angeles, cette collaboration artistique se renouait, cette fois sur scène plutôt qu'en studio. Au Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, le spectacle du soir était Lucia di Lammermoor de Gaetano Donizetti, avec Richard Bonynge à la direction et Sumi Jo dans le rôle-titre. La convergence était remarquable : au cours d'un même parcours, les deux mêmes artistes se retrouvaient d'abord à travers un opéra français rare, puis à travers l'une des œuvres les plus emblématiques du bel canto italien.

Dans Lucia di Lammermoor, les exigences imposées à la soprano sont parmi les plus redoutables du répertoire. Le rôle requiert non seulement une agilité vocale extrême et des aigus cristallins, mais aussi une intensité lyrique soutenue et une grande vulnérabilité dramatique. L’interprétation de Sumi Jo a relevé ces défis avec une aisance déconcertante. Sa voix, d’une pureté exceptionnelle et d’une maîtrise apparemment naturelle, planait au-dessus de l’orchestre avec clarté et assurance. Chaque phrase était travaillée avec une méticulosité extrême, alliant une précision technique irréprochable à une sensibilité expressive profonde. Cela était particulièrement évident dans la célèbre scène de la folie, où sa ligne vocale se déployait avec une transparence envoûtante, traduisant la fragilité et la désintégration émotionnelle sans jamais tomber dans l’exagération.

La direction de Richard Bonynge offrait un cadre idéal à cette interprétation. Son approche de Donizetti privilégiait l’équilibre, la souplesse et le respect de la ligne vocale, permettant au drame d’émerger naturellement de la musique. Admiré depuis longtemps pour son talent à faire revivre des œuvres oubliées et pour ses collaborations avec certains des plus grands chanteurs de la fin du XXe siècle, Bonynge a une fois de plus démontré pourquoi son nom demeure synonyme d’autorité stylistique dans ce répertoire. Sous sa direction, l’orchestre soutenait la voix plutôt que de l’éclipser, créant un dialogue subtil entre la fosse et la scène.

Considérées ensemble, ces deux rencontres – l’une avec un opéra français rarement joué sur disque, l’autre avec un pilier de l’opéra italien en représentation – ont mis en lumière l’étendue et la cohérence du partenariat artistique entre Sumi Jo et Richard Bonynge. Leur collaboration a transcendé les genres, les langues et les traditions, unifiée par un engagement commun envers la beauté vocale, la clarté d’expression et le respect du texte musical.

De tels moments soulignent la force pérenne de l’opéra, un art façonné non seulement par les institutions et la programmation, mais aussi par la rencontre d’artistes exceptionnels. Lorsque le hasard et le talent s’unissent, ils révèlent des continuités insoupçonnées – des liens qui rappellent aux auditeurs combien les interprétations individuelles peuvent résonner profondément à travers le temps, l’espace et le répertoire.

Cette représentation de Lucia di Lammermoor au Dorothy Chandler Pavilion restera gravée dans les mémoires comme l'une de ces rares soirées qui transcendent le cadre habituel d'une production lyrique. Dès les premières mesures, il était évident qu'un moment exceptionnel se préparait : une harmonie entre art, inspiration et circonstances qui ne se produit que dans les cas les plus exceptionnels.

Sumi Jo, dans le rôle-titre, a offert une interprétation d'une rare profondeur. Sa voix, réputée pour sa pureté cristalline et son agilité apparente, s'est révélée dans toute sa splendeur tout au long de la partition exigeante de Donizetti. Chaque phrase était modelée avec un goût impeccable, articulée avec une précision chirurgicale, et chaque note aiguë jaillissait avec une aisance lumineuse, presque surnaturelle. Plutôt que de se reposer uniquement sur sa virtuosité technique, elle a insufflé au rôle une profondeur émotionnelle et une intelligence dramatique remarquables, permettant à la vulnérabilité, à l'innocence et à la descente aux enfers de Lucia de se déployer avec une clarté bouleversante.

La célèbre scène de la folie a constitué le point culminant émotionnel et musical de la soirée. Ici, Sumi Jo a atteint un équilibre rare entre virtuosité et expressivité : sa voix planait avec légèreté au-dessus de l'orchestre, fragile et pourtant inébranlable, traduisant une désintégration psychologique avec une retenue bouleversante. Ce n'était pas seulement une démonstration de maîtrise vocale, mais un moment d'une profonde vérité théâtrale, qui a plongé le public dans un silence absolu avant de le libérer dans des applaudissements enthousiastes.

La direction de Richard Bonynge était tout aussi remarquable. Son interprétation de Lucia di Lammermoor a démontré une fois de plus pourquoi son nom est synonyme d'autorité stylistique dans le répertoire bel canto. Sa direction, à la fois élégante et profondément éclairée, alliait clarté structurelle et souplesse lyrique. Bonynge a façonné l'orchestre avec assurance, laissant la musique respirer naturellement et offrant aux chanteurs un support idéal pour construire leurs interprétations. Sa lecture de Donizetti était raffinée, attentive aux détails et empreinte d'un sens inné du drame, ne dominant jamais la ligne vocale mais la sublimant à chaque instant.

La synergie entre la soprano et le chef d'orchestre était indéniable. Leur compréhension commune du style, du phrasé et du rythme dramatique a créé une parfaite harmonie entre la scène et la fosse. C'était du bel canto exécuté au plus haut niveau : discipliné et expressif, techniquement irréprochable et d'une force émotionnelle bouleversante. Ensemble, Sumi Jo et Richard Bonynge ont sublimé la performance, la transformant en un moment véritablement inoubliable.

Au baisser de rideau, la réaction fut immédiate et enthousiaste. Le Dorothy Chandler Pavilion tout entier se leva pour une longue ovation. Les applaudissements retentirent dans l'immense auditorium, des vagues d'admiration se propageant du parterre jusqu'aux balcons. Ce fut un triomphe à tous égards : un succès éclatant pour Sumi Jo, un témoignage du leadership exceptionnel de Bonynge et une célébration de l'art lyrique à son apogée.

De telles performances sont rares non seulement par leur perfection technique, mais aussi par leur impact émotionnel et leur résonance historique. Ce fut une soirée mémorable, dont on parlera longtemps après que les applaudissements se soient tus – une performance qui s'inscrirait dans les annales du théâtre comme une référence d'excellence en matière d'interprétation.

Parmi les spectateurs, assis au cinquième rang, se trouvait un témoin pleinement conscient du privilège de cet instant. Vivre une telle soirée d'une telle proximité, observer chaque geste du chef d'orchestre et chaque nuance du jeu de la soprano, était un cadeau inestimable. Elle demeure l'une de ces soirées exceptionnelles qui marquent une vie d'écoute – une expérience inoubliable, unique et irremplaçable, et sans aucun doute l'une des soirées les plus extraordinaires d'une vie consacrée à la musique.

San Francisco has long held a special place in the cultural imagination, and during a stay there in the late twentieth century, the city revealed itself as a space where discovery and chance encounters still shaped artistic experience. Wandering without a fixed itinerary, guided only by curiosity, one could still stumble upon places devoted to music and memory—among them, independent record stores that were already becoming rare.

In one such shop, an album immediately stood out: Adolphe Adam’s Le Toréador, newly released on Decca. This chamber opera, written for only three voices, places exceptional responsibility on its sole soprano role, entrusted here to Sumi Jo. Conducting the recording was Richard Bonynge, whose authority in French and bel canto repertoire has long been undisputed. The collaboration of these two artists alone made the recording remarkable; the rarity of the work itself added further distinction.

Not long afterward, in Los Angeles, another unexpected convergence occurred. At the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, the evening’s performance was announced as Lucia di Lammermoor, conducted by Richard Bonynge, with Sumi Jo in the title role. The coincidence was striking: within the span of a few days, the same soprano–conductor partnership appeared first on a rare studio recording and then on the operatic stage, in one of the most demanding roles of the bel canto repertory.

That evening’s performance confirmed the exceptional nature of this artistic pairing. Bonynge’s conducting displayed the elegance, stylistic clarity, and dramatic flexibility that have defined his career, while Sumi Jo’s Lucia revealed a voice of extraordinary purity and agility. Her phrasing, technical precision, and ethereal control—particularly in the mad scene—affirmed her standing as one of the foremost coloratura sopranos of her generation.

Moments such as these, shaped by chance yet marked by artistic excellence, serve as reminders of how great performers leave enduring impressions not only through careful planning, but also through the unexpected intersections of time, place, and repertoire.

San Francisco, long celebrated for its openness to artistic discovery, offered at the time an environment in which music lovers could still encounter unexpected treasures through simple wandering. Independent record stores—already becoming less common—remained spaces of quiet devotion, where recordings were not merely products but invitations to exploration. Within such a setting, one particular release drew immediate attention: Adolphe Adam’s Le Toréador, newly issued by Decca.

This chamber opera, modest in scale yet demanding in execution, features only three vocal roles—a tenor, a baritone, and a single soprano, upon whom much of the work’s expressive weight rests. The choice of Sumi Jo for this role was significant. Known primarily for her mastery of the bel canto and coloratura repertory, she brought to Adam’s music a combination of technical brilliance and stylistic refinement that elevated the score beyond its apparent simplicity. The recording was further distinguished by the presence of Richard Bonynge on the podium, a conductor whose lifelong advocacy of neglected operatic works and deep understanding of nineteenth-century vocal style have shaped modern performance practice. Together, soprano and conductor formed a partnership rooted in elegance, precision, and historical awareness.

Shortly thereafter, in Los Angeles, this artistic collaboration appeared again—this time on the operatic stage rather than in the recording studio. At the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, the evening’s performance was announced as Gaetano Donizetti’s Lucia di Lammermoor, with Richard Bonynge conducting and Sumi Jo singing the title role. The convergence was remarkable: within the same journey, the same two artists were encountered first through a rare French opera and then through one of the most iconic works of the Italian bel canto tradition.

In Lucia di Lammermoor, the demands placed upon the soprano are among the most formidable in the repertoire. The role requires not only extreme vocal agility and crystalline high notes, but also sustained lyrical intensity and dramatic vulnerability. Sumi Jo’s interpretation rose effortlessly to these challenges. Her voice, marked by exceptional purity and seemingly effortless control, floated above the orchestra with clarity and poise. Each phrase was shaped with meticulous care, combining technical exactitude with expressive sensitivity. Nowhere was this more evident than in the celebrated mad scene, where her vocal line unfolded with haunting transparency, conveying fragility and emotional disintegration without resorting to exaggeration.

Richard Bonynge’s conducting provided an ideal framework for such an interpretation. His approach to Donizetti emphasized balance, flexibility, and respect for the singer’s line, allowing the drama to emerge organically from the music. Long admired for his ability to revive forgotten works and for his collaboration with some of the greatest singers of the late twentieth century, Bonynge once again demonstrated why his name remains synonymous with stylistic authority in this repertoire. Under his direction, the orchestra supported rather than overshadowed, creating a refined dialogue between pit and stage.

Seen together, these two encounters—one with a rarely performed French opera on disc, the other with a cornerstone of Italian opera in performance—highlighted the breadth and coherence of the artistic partnership between Sumi Jo and Richard Bonynge. Their collaboration bridged genres, languages, and traditions, unified by a shared commitment to vocal beauty, clarity of expression, and respect for the musical text.

Such moments underscore the enduring power of opera as an art form shaped not only by institutions and programming, but also by the meeting of exceptional artists. When chance aligns with artistry, it reveals unexpected continuities—connections that remind listeners how deeply individual performances can resonate across time, place, and repertoire. That performance of Lucia di Lammermoor at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion stands as one of those rare evenings that transcend the ordinary framework of an operatic production and enter the realm of collective memory. From the very first measures, it was evident that something exceptional was unfolding—an alignment of artistry, inspiration, and circumstance that occurs only on the most uncommon occasions.

Sumi Jo, in the title role, delivered a portrayal of extraordinary distinction. Her voice, renowned for its crystalline purity and seemingly effortless agility, revealed itself in full splendor throughout Donizetti’s demanding score. Each phrase was shaped with impeccable taste, each run articulated with diamond-like precision, and each high note emerged with a luminous ease that appeared almost otherworldly. Rather than relying solely on technical brilliance, she infused the role with emotional depth and dramatic intelligence, allowing Lucia’s vulnerability, innocence, and descent into madness to unfold with heartbreaking clarity.

The famed mad scene became the emotional and musical summit of the evening. Here, Sumi Jo achieved a rare balance between virtuosity and expression: her sound floated weightlessly above the orchestra, fragile yet unwavering, conveying psychological disintegration with haunting restraint. It was not merely a display of vocal mastery, but a moment of profound theatrical truth—one that held the audience in complete silence before releasing it into rapturous applause.

Equally remarkable was the conducting of Richard Bonynge, whose interpretation of Lucia di Lammermoor demonstrated once again why his name is synonymous with stylistic authority in the bel canto repertoire. His direction was both elegant and deeply informed, combining structural clarity with lyrical flexibility. Bonynge shaped the orchestra with a sure hand, allowing the music to breathe naturally and providing the singers with an ideal foundation upon which to build their interpretations. His reading of Donizetti was refined, attentive to detail, and imbued with an innate sense of drama, never overwhelming the vocal line but enhancing it at every turn.

The synergy between soprano and conductor was unmistakable. Their shared understanding of style, phrasing, and dramatic pacing created a seamless unity between stage and pit. This was bel canto performed at the highest level: disciplined yet expressive, technically flawless yet emotionally compelling. Together, Sumi Jo and Richard Bonynge elevated the performance beyond excellence into something truly unforgettable.

At the final curtain, the reaction was immediate and overwhelming. The entire Dorothy Chandler Pavilion rose to its feet in a sustained standing ovation. Applause thundered through the vast auditorium, waves of admiration echoing from the stalls to the upper tiers. It was a triumph in every sense—a grand success for Sumi Jo, a testament to Bonynge’s extraordinary leadership, and a celebration of operatic artistry at its finest.

Such performances are rare not only because of their technical perfection, but because of their emotional impact and historical resonance. This was a night destined to be remembered, spoken of long after the echoes of applause had faded—a performance that would take its place in the annals of the theater as a benchmark of interpretive excellence.

Among the audience, seated in the fifth row, was a witness fully aware of the privilege of that moment. To experience such an evening at such proximity, to observe every gesture of the conductor and every nuance of the soprano’s artistry, was to be granted a gift beyond measure. It remains one of those singular nights that define a lifetime of listening—an unforgettable experience, unique and unrepeatable, and without question one of the most extraordinary evenings of a life devoted to music.

🇮🇹 Italiano

Quella rappresentazione di Lucia di Lammermoor al Dorothy Chandler Pavilion appartiene a quelle rarissime serate destinate a entrare nella storia del teatro. Fin dalle prime battute, era evidente che non si stava assistendo a una semplice esecuzione, ma a un evento eccezionale, in cui arte, ispirazione e destino si incontravano in perfetto equilibrio.

Sumi Jo, nel ruolo del titolo, offrì un’interpretazione di straordinaria grandezza. La sua voce, di una purezza cristallina e di un’agilità apparentemente senza limiti, si dispiegò con naturale eleganza lungo l’intera partitura di Donizetti. Ogni frase era scolpita con gusto impeccabile, ogni coloratura emergeva con precisione luminosa, ogni acuto sembrava sospeso nell’aria. Nella celebre scena della follia, la cantante raggiunse un livello di intensità quasi irreale, fondendo virtuosismo tecnico ed espressione drammatica in un momento di assoluta verità teatrale.

La direzione di Richard Bonynge fu altrettanto memorabile. Con raffinata autorità e profonda conoscenza dello stile belcantistico, seppe guidare orchestra e cantanti con equilibrio, flessibilità e chiarezza formale. La sua lettura di Lucia di Lammermoor fu elegante, profondamente musicale e sempre al servizio della voce. Il dialogo tra buca e palcoscenico raggiunse una rara armonia.

Al termine della rappresentazione, l’intero Dorothy Chandler Pavilion si alzò in piedi in un’ovazione travolgente. Fu un trionfo assoluto, una serata irripetibile che rimarrà nella memoria di chi ebbe il privilegio di viverla. Tra il pubblico, dalla quinta fila, si aveva la chiara consapevolezza di assistere a uno di quei momenti che segnano una vita intera: una delle notti più indimenticabili che l’opera possa offrire.

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🇩🇪 Deutsch

Diese Aufführung von Lucia di Lammermoor im Dorothy Chandler Pavilion zählt zu jenen seltenen Abenden, die sich unauslöschlich in das Gedächtnis eines Opernhauses einschreiben. Schon mit den ersten Takten wurde spürbar, dass hier etwas Außergewöhnliches geschah – eine künstlerische Konstellation von seltener Vollkommenheit.

Sumi Jo gestaltete die Titelrolle mit überragender Meisterschaft. Ihre Stimme von kristallklarer Reinheit und scheinbar grenzenloser Beweglichkeit durchdrang Donizettis Partitur mit müheloser Eleganz. Jede Phrase war von vollendeter Schönheit, jede Koloratur präzise und leuchtend, jeder hohe Ton schwebte frei und sicher im Raum. In der berühmten Wahnsinnsszene verband sie technische Perfektion mit tief empfundener Dramatik und schuf einen Moment von erschütternder Intensität.

Die musikalische Leitung von Richard Bonynge war von außergewöhnlicher Qualität. Mit souveräner Ruhe und stilistischer Autorität formte er das Orchester zu einem atmenden, flexiblen Klangkörper, stets im Dienst der Sänger. Seine Interpretation zeichnete sich durch Klarheit, Eleganz und tiefes Verständnis für den Belcanto-Stil aus.

Am Ende erhob sich das gesamte Dorothy Chandler Pavilion zu einer langanhaltenden stehenden Ovation. Es war ein triumphaler Erfolg, eine einzigartige Aufführung, die in die Geschichte eingehen wird. In der fünften Reihe sitzend, war man sich der Einmaligkeit dieses Moments voll bewusst – eine jener Nächte, die ein Leben lang nachklingen und zu den unvergesslichsten Erfahrungen zählen.

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🇷🇺 Русский

Этот спектакль «Лючии ди Ламмермур» в зале Dorothy Chandler Pavilion стал событием исключительным, из тех редких вечеров, которые навсегда остаются в истории оперного искусства. С первых тактов было ясно: перед публикой разворачивается не просто представление, а подлинный художественный триумф.

Суми Чо в партии Лючии продемонстрировала высочайшее вокальное и драматическое мастерство. Её голос — кристально чистый, гибкий и сияющий — свободно парил над оркестром, раскрывая все оттенки музыки Доницетти. Каждая фраза была вылеплена с безупречным вкусом, каждое украшение прозвучало с филигранной точностью. Сцена безумия стала кульминацией вечера: редкое сочетание виртуозной техники и глубочайшей эмоциональной правды.

Дирижирование Ричарда Бонинджа было поистине выдающимся. Его интерпретация отличалась ясностью формы, тонким чувством стиля и исключительным вниманием к вокальной линии. Под его руководством оркестр дышал вместе с солистами, создавая идеальный баланс между сценой и ямой.

По окончании спектакля весь Dorothy Chandler Pavilion встал в бурной, продолжительной овации. Это был безусловный триумф — незабываемый, неповторимый вечер, который войдёт в историю. Находясь в пятом ряду, невозможно было не осознавать уникальность происходящего: одна из тех редких ночей, которые становятся одними из самых ярких воспоминаний в жизни.

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🇪🇸 Español

Aquella función de Lucia di Lammermoor en el Dorothy Chandler Pavilion pertenece a ese reducido grupo de noches excepcionales que trascienden el ámbito del espectáculo para inscribirse en la historia de la ópera. Desde los primeros compases se percibía que no se trataba de una representación más, sino de un acontecimiento extraordinario.

Sumi Jo, en el papel de Lucia, ofreció una interpretación de grandeza absoluta. Su voz, de pureza cristalina y agilidad prodigiosa, se desplegó con naturalidad a lo largo de la partitura de Donizetti. Cada frase estuvo cuidadosamente modelada, cada coloratura brilló con precisión impecable y cada nota aguda emergió con una facilidad deslumbrante. En la célebre escena de la locura, logró una síntesis perfecta entre virtuosismo técnico y profundidad expresiva, alcanzando un nivel de intensidad emocional verdaderamente inolvidable.

La dirección de Richard Bonynge fue sencillamente extraordinaria. Con elegancia, autoridad y un conocimiento profundo del estilo belcantista, condujo la obra con equilibrio y sensibilidad, sosteniendo a los cantantes y realzando el drama sin jamás imponerlo. Su lectura de Lucia di Lammermoor fue un modelo de claridad, refinamiento y musicalidad.

Al final de la función, todo el Dorothy Chandler Pavilion se puso en pie en una ovación prolongada y unánime. Fue un triunfo rotundo, una función memorable e irrepetible, destinada a perdurar en la memoria colectiva. Desde la quinta fila, se vivía con plena conciencia la magnitud del momento: una de esas noches únicas que marcan para siempre y que se cuentan, con el paso del tiempo, entre las más inolvidables de una vida dedicada a la música.

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