Music

Mitski moved to Nashville. She’s not quite sure why, because she didn’t really know anyone there, but she liked how specifically weird it was — a town with stories. A local businessman had recently died and left his substantial estate to his Border collie. Bachelorette parties were a surreal and ever-present cottage industry: “There’s always a woman crying on the street and five other women in matching T-shirts comforting her,” as Mitski put it to me. “It feels like such a good place to observe the human condition.” More

Mitski moved to Nashville. She’s not quite sure why, because she didn’t really know anyone there, but she liked how specifically weird it was — a town with stories. A local businessman had recently died and left his substantial estate to his Border collie. Bachelorette parties were a surreal and ever-present cottage industry: “There’s always a woman crying on the street and five other women in matching T-shirts comforting her,” as Mitski put it to me. “It feels like such a good place to observe the human condition.” More

Mitski moved to Nashville. She’s not quite sure why, because she didn’t really know anyone there, but she liked how specifically weird it was — a town with stories. A local businessman had recently died and left his substantial estate to his Border collie. Bachelorette parties were a surreal and ever-present cottage industry: “There’s always a woman crying on the street and five other women in matching T-shirts comforting her,” as Mitski put it to me. “It feels like such a good place to observe the human condition.” More

Alban Berg’s brutal classic, a tale of a lowly soldier’s degradation and death, continues to inspire artists.Theodor Adorno had to commiserate with Alban Berg late into the night on Dec. 14, 1925, after the premiere of “Wozzeck” at the Berlin State Opera.The problem was not that Berg’s first opera had been a disaster, that this unknown student of Arnold Schoenberg’s was poised to be sent back into his former anonymity and abject poverty.The problem for Berg was that his musically abrasive, politically unsparing work — based on a Georg Büchner play that he had seen in 1914 and immediately thought of setting to music — had been such a triumph that he started to question the work’s true worth. Adorno later recalled “literally consoling him over his success.”A success “Wozzeck” has remained in the 100 years since Berg finished revising the manuscript on July 16, 1922. The most radical opera of its time, still sounding strikingly modern in its centenary year, it became one of the most influential operas of the 20th century, along with works like Strauss’s “Salome” and Debussy’s “Pelléas et Mélisande.”With its taut, swiftly scene-changing cinematic structure and its omnivorous stylistic appetite, not to mention its use of fleeting, devastating moments of tonality amid the precise constructions of its largely atonal score, the argument could easily be made that “Wozzeck” turned out to be, in fact, the most influential of them all.The premiere of “Wozzeck,” at the Berlin State Opera, received a front-page review in Das Theater, with a photo of Sigrid Johanson, left, as Marie and Leo Schützendorf as Wozzeck.Lebrecht Music & Arts/AlamyRight on cue come a range of performances, in celebration of an opera perhaps too dire to think of celebrating. A William Kentridge staging that played at the Met in 2019 runs through March 30 at the Paris Opera, with the conductor Susanna Malkki at the helm, before it arrives in Barcelona in May, with Matthias Goerne as its Wozzeck. A new Simon Stone production with the baritone Christian Gerhaher in the title role opens at the Vienna State Opera on March 21. And on Tuesday, Andris Nelsons and the Boston Symphony Orchestra give a concert performance at Carnegie Hall, with Christine Goerke as Marie.Part of the overpowering force of “Wozzeck” comes from its plot. In 15 short scenes, Berg recounts the degradation and demise of Wozzeck, a destitute soldier abused by his captain, experimented on by a doctor, and wracked with suspicion that his partner, Marie, is being unfaithful with a drum major. Driven mad, Wozzeck murders Marie, then drowns himself. The curtain falls on their son rocking on a hobbyhorse. Whether he will escape the fate of his parents — and the general forces that bear down so ineluctably on what Wozzeck calls “we poor people” — is left unclear.What might explain the lasting power of Berg’s opera? And what has its influence truly been? Here are edited excerpts from interviews with artists who hold the work dear.Yuval Sharon, director“Wozzeck” was the first opera that made me believe in opera as a viable art form. It is this huge musical expression of the lives of really disempowered people. Thinking that opera could tell stories that are not just the stories of a privileged position, but could truly represent another point of view, and do it with incredible imagination, opened up the possibilities of what opera can still be.It’s one of the most compassionate operas that I know. It’s not the Beethoven model. It’s not speaking to that aspirational quality that some of us think music captures so well. There is no salvation in the piece, and that is precisely what is so powerful and urgent about it. It’s not going to be the horns that herald a miraculous overcoming of tyranny, like in “Fidelio.” It’s going to have to be us, in the audience, that will need to speak up for Wozzeck.William Kentridge’s production of “Wozzeck” at the Metropolitan Opera in 2019; Kentridge’s staging is now running at the Paris Opera.Sara Krulwich/The New York TimesChristian Gerhaher, baritoneBüchner was much earlier than Karl Marx in his ideas, but they were similar. Büchner was not the founder of communism, but he was honest about the difficulties poor people face in creating a normal life. This is touching, without being too ideological.You have a work which deals with a horrific subject. What is going on is terrible, but the point as a singer and also in the audience is that you have this wonderful joy to see thoughts put into words and music in such a precise way. It is with practically no doubt the masterpiece of the 20th century. Nothing is decoration; nothing is neglectable; every tone is important; every word is important. It’s the essence of a quickly moving world, which is modernity.Brett Dean, composerWhat always struck me about “Wozzeck” was that although it came out of a score full of compositional thought which in itself was revolutionary in the history of music, Berg was the one who married process with engagement, married the head with the heart — or the stomach.Despite the strictness of studying with Schoenberg, he realized that you have to go where you need to go. The fact that, for example, in the interlude just before the end, he ingeniously reverts back to this early piano sketch in D minor, and realizes that’s what we need, right here, right now. From the point of view of a modernist, expressionist language, he’s able, willing and happy to embrace everything that he needs at the given time.Act III orchestral interludeVienna Philharmonic; Claudio Abbado, conductor (Deutsche Grammophon)Susanna Malkki, conductorPeople talk about how difficult it is, and it’s not entirely untrue, but I think it’s mostly a question of it being incredibly dense, and rich, and profound. You have several layers that make it interesting every time you hear it. I have been personally surprised, since I finally got the score and started to study it, to see how much warmth and beauty and even humor there is. The piece is scarily perfect.Berg is incredibly smart, of course. But when the story becomes unbearable in its sadness near the end, he actually simplifies the music, which gives us room to really feel the pain, and the destiny, and all of that. He gives us time to digest everything, and then of course the final hit comes. It’s just absolutely awful.Stuart Skelton, left, and Waltraud Meier in “Wozzeck” at the Met in 2011.Julieta Cervantes for The New York TimesDavid T. Little, composerIt was the first piece that I had encountered that I felt was really looking at the tougher parts of life, and not looking away. I had always been drawn to the idea of opera, but looking at Mozart and Verdi, it felt like we were dealing with characters who were not real people, at least not to me, with my background. When I first saw “Wozzeck,” these were ordinary people dealing with extraordinary things, and in the case of Wozzeck, a world that is really bearing down on this character.I remember being shaken by that big, unison B crescendo near the end, just the sense of it being so inescapable. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that the 12-minute crescendo at the end of my opera “Dog Days” is a B quarter flat; it’s a homage or reference to that moment. There’s life before that piece, and life after it.Act III, Scene 2Vienna Philharmonic; Claudio Abbado, conductor (Deutsche Grammophon)Matthias Goerne, baritoneWhat Berg has made out of Büchner’s play, I think it’s the most perfect piece we have, in terms of story, the characters. Everybody is completely in shape in their character and you immediately find out what kind of person it is, and about their relationship to all the others.You have two different levels. You have this very depressing underdog, Wozzeck, who is in this position of slavery. He constantly needs money. He can feel that something in his relationship is not right. He becomes more and more crazy, and out of control. On the other side, it’s a tragic love story. He becomes a murderer. You have empathy, you feel something for him — but in the end he is killing a human being.Christine Goerke, sopranoI find Marie to be such a complicated and conflicted character. Like so many of us right now, she tries to find the joy in simple things in what seems like an uncaring world. She doesn’t have much, so she tries to do the best with what she has. She grasps at her moments of joy, and then feels guilty for them later. She feels that she should do better, she should be better, she should be content with what she has, and if she can do that — perhaps it will help her to avoid judgment. She is a mother who struggles to keep her own identity as a woman. I have been this woman. Depending on the day, I am this woman.Berg, the composer Brett Dean said, “was the one who married process with engagement, married the head with the heart — or the stomach.”Imagno/Getty ImagesFranz Welser-Möst, conductorWhat Alban Berg did in making the story so compact and emotionally so intense — I think to this very day, people are just totally gripped with the story, especially at the end. We always have an enormous empathy with children, and when that boy comes out and sings “Hopp, hopp!” that’s the latest point, if you have any human emotions, when you start crying in that opera.Schoenberg, when he wrote 12-tone music, never broke the rules that he set up. Berg did, because Berg was such a genius in the theater that he knew, like Mozart, that sometimes you have to break the rules to be more impactful.Act III, Scene 5Vienna Philharmonic; Claudio Abbado, conductor (Deutsche Grammophon)Missy Mazzoli, composerThis was the first opera I saw live, at the Met in 1999, when I was 18. It awakened me to this idea that I now see as one of opera’s superpowers, which is to show us the darkest sides of human nature. In that 90 minutes I had this visceral experience of recognizing my own dark side, and allowing myself to go there because I was in the safe, velvet box of the theater.In a way, I’m shocked that it’s not more influential. I wish that opera had continued on this experimental path. “Wozzeck” was not an outlier; it was celebrated and performed everywhere. Berg lived off it for a long time, and had the honor of being denounced by the Nazis. Now opera has retreated — for the most part; there are many exceptions — into a safer, more palatable space. Part of me wishes we could bring back that momentum of the “degenerate” art. More

The Avicii Experience offers a taste of the pressures that led up to the D.J.’s death. It’s the latest immersive exhibition trying to find the line between emotional engagement and entertainment.STOCKHOLM — Visitors filed one by one into a dark, 6 foot by 12 foot room at the Space exhibition center here last Friday, where they were greeted by a mix of ringing and muddled noises: camera clicks, audience cheers, plane engine roars. Strobe lights bounced off a ceiling-high screen showing the interiors of cars, paparazzi flashes and the reaching arms of a festival crowd in quick succession. Jagged mirrors in the ceiling reflected the chaos below.The effect was meant to reproduce the bewildering experience of being the wildly successful, globe-trotting D.J. Avicii. For some visitors, it made a big impact. “I think I would go crazy if I had to live like that,” said Magdalena Grundström, a 51-year-old classical musician.Had entrants turned right, they would have encountered a very different space. Through a beaded curtain, pan pipe music was playing in the neighboring room. On one of its sea-green walls, a text on hanging fabric explained how Buddhism can help with anxiety.These contrasting rooms are part of the Avicii Experience, a new immersive exhibition dedicated to the life of the Swedish electronic dance music producer that opened in Stockholm in late February. The temporary museum is designed to give visitors an insight into both the musical talents that brought him global fame as an in-demand D.J., and the pressures that led up to his suicide.It also grapples with how to memorialize a short life shaped by extraordinary public interest in a way that feels both entertaining and thoughtful.The museum, which was opened in late February, was curated with the support of Avicii’s family.Felix Odell for The New York TimesAvicii, born Tim Bergling, died while on vacation in Muscat, Oman, in April 2018. Two years earlier, he had retired from touring, citing the overwhelming schedule of an internationally famous D.J. He also struggled with alcohol and prescription painkillers.Avicii was only 22 years old when “Levels,” a hooky dance track featuring an Etta James sample, propelled him to stardom. Over the subsequent six years, his music took electronic dance music, or E.D.M., in new directions, blending beats with folk vocals on tracks like “Wake Me Up” from his 2013 debut, “True.” He was nominated for two Grammys, and his songs have been streamed more than a billion times on Spotify.After Avicii’s death, his family visited Abba the Museum, an interactive, immersive space dedicated to the Swedish pop group, also in Stockholm. They thought something similar could work as a tribute to Avicii, Lisa Halling-Aadland, the content producer of the Avicii Experience, said in a video interview.“It’s obviously two very different emotions tied to each of these,” Halling-Aadland said, “but we said yes, we can do something. Not the same, but something.”Halling-Aadland and her mother, Ingmarie Halling, the exhibition’s creative director, sought approval from the Bergling family throughout the planning process. “We just had to consistently turn to them. We had an idea that’s good for us, and then we said, does this seem right to you guys?” Halling-Aadland said.The Avicii Experience, which will run for several years, is designed to emphasize the contrast between Tim Bergling, an introverted person whose passion was composing music, and Avicii, a global E.D.M. brand.“The normal impression was perhaps, a very successful, rich guy: Why did he end his life the way he did?” Klas Bergling, the musician’s father, said in a phone interview. “I don’t mean that we have an answer. Not at all. But you get another perspective.”In a replica of Avicii’s childhood bedroom, the computer screen shows a scene from World of Warcraft.Felix Odell for The New York TimesAnother space recreates the studio in Avicii’s home on Blue Jay Way in Los Angeles.Felix Odell for The New York TimesThe exhibition includes a replica of Avicii’s childhood bedroom, complete with a discarded pizza box and a computer screen showing his World of Warcraft character. Nearby visitors can don a virtual reality headset, enter a replica of his recording studio and sing the vocals on one of his tracks.The last 10 years have seen a boom in immersive experiences. Globally there are currently at least five immersive Van Gogh exhibitions — Instagram-friendly shows that have attracted visitors beyond the usual audience for art galleries. In London, there have recently been immersive shows dedicated to the work of David Bowie, Pink Floyd and the Rolling Stones, and the theater company Punchdrunk has been exploring immersive, interactive productions for the last decade.It’s not surprising that as immersive experiences become more widespread, the subjects they try to tackle will broaden too, said Sarah Elger, the C.E.O. of an immersive experiences company called Pseudonym Productions.But that doesn’t mean it’s easy to get it right. “Designing an immersive experience in and of itself is an art form,” she said in a recent video interview. For immersive memorial spaces, Elger stressed the importance of a curator having a “personal connection” with the subject. “Challenges will arise if this becomes a mainstay of how we want to memorialize people,” she added.A virtual reality headset takes visitors into a a music studio where they can meet Sandro Cavazza, Aloe Blacc and Carl Falk, Avicii’s co-producers and musicians.Felix Odell for The New York TimesIn 2020, plans for an interactive, immersive Holocaust memorial experience in Kyiv, Ukraine, ignited a firestorm of criticism, including a rebuke from a curator who said it would be “Holocaust Disney.”The Avicii Experience is billed as a “tribute” to the musician, and includes spaces that feel funereal. The final room in the show is small and churchlike, with white stone-effect walls and flickering electric candles in alcoves. A slide show of Avicii photographs is projected on one wall, while a solemn orchestral version of his hit “The Nights” plays. In a section called “Unanswered Questions,” a text explains that nobody close to Avicii saw his suicide coming: “How could a human being be in the middle of such a creative flow and suddenly be gone?”Priya Khanchandani, the curator of an exhibition about Amy Winehouse at London’s Design Museum that includes immersive experiences, said that the line between emotional engagement and entertainment is a tricky one.“It’s about sensitivity, and the immersive elements have to be part of the storytelling rather than being a kind of gimmicky vehicle for sensory experience in themselves,” she said. “The danger, of course, with these kinds of experiences is they become too consumer focused. The museum becomes a theme park, or akin to a sort of retail experience.”In one area, visitors can make their own audio mixes.Felix Odell for The New York TimesThe room depicting the pressures of fame gives visitors a fully immersive experience.Felix Odell for The New York TimesOutside the Avicii Experience, a shop sold Avicii branded caps for 449 Swedish kronor, around $45. Part of the profits from the Experience go to the Tim Bergling Foundation, a mental health charity set up by Bergling’s family.For Avicii fans, visiting the exhibition means moving between the roles of consumer and mourner. Ayesha Simmons, 20, traveled from London to see the show. “That room with the jagged mirrors felt so important to me, because it gave us even the tiniest idea of what it must have felt like for him,” she said in a Facebook message.The immersive elements did not impact everyone, though. “I just thought I was in an amusement park,” Daniel Täng, 20, said after walking around the exhibition. “I didn’t really think about it.” More

A virtuoso since his teenage years, he performed concerts that ranged from classical repertory to Brazilian music to the Beatles and Broadway.Carlos Barbosa-Lima, who was a virtuoso on classical guitar while still a teenager in Brazil and then spent a lifetime expanding the instrument’s possibilities, bringing classical techniques and sensibilities to his arrangements of Gershwin, the Beatles and especially the music of his fellow Brazilian Antônio Carlos Jobim, died on Feb. 23 at a hospital in São Paulo. He was 77.The guitarist Larry Del Casale, who had performed with him for years, said the cause was a heart attack.Mr. Barbosa-Lima recorded some 50 albums and performed all over the world, at small recitals and on prestigious stages, including those of Carnegie Hall and Lincoln Center. A Barbosa-Lima concert might include a sonata by the Baroque composer Domenico Scarlatti, “Manha de Carnaval” by the Brazilian composer Luiz Bonfá, “I Got Rhythm” and an encore of “Don’t Cry for Me, Argentina,” from the musical “Evita.”Mr. Barbosa-Lima was known for his delicate, intricate playing, which Mr. Del Casale said was made possible in part by the unusual strength and flexibility of the fingers of his left hand.“He had a very, very, very long left-hand stretch,” Mr. Del Casale said in a phone interview. “If you try to play some of his arrangements, you can’t do it, because people can’t make those kinds of reaches.”“He was able to bring out and give voice to the bass, the soprano and alto lines and the melody, and give them each a different volume, a different rhythm,” Mr. Del Casale added. “When you’re listening to it, you think it’s two guitars.”At one of Mr. Barbosa-Lima’s earliest New York performances, a 1973 recital at Town Hall in Manhattan, those skills impressed Allen Hughes, who, in his review for The New York Times, wrote that Mr. Barbosa-Lima had “made his points modestly and quietly, but with such authority that each work he played became an absorbing musical experience.”Some 24 years later, Punch Shaw, reviewing a performance in Texas for The Fort Worth Star-Telegram, was especially impressed with Mr. Barbosa-Lima’s handling of two Scarlatti sonatas.“The delicate lacework of those pieces is difficult enough to create on the keyboard instrument for which it was composed,” he wrote. “Taking it so successfully to the guitar as Barbosa-Lima did, as both arranger and performer, was breathtaking.”Mr. Barbosa-Lima applied his arranging skills to contemporary composers as well, including Mr. Jobim, with whom he began working in the early 1980s when both were living in New York. Mr. Jobim, who died in 1994, was known for his contribution to the score of the 1959 movie “Black Orpheus” and for fueling the bossa nova craze of the 1960s with songs like “The Girl From Ipanema,” when Mr. Barbosa-Lima first proposed adapting some of his songs.“I thought, ‘Why not treat Jobim’s music as if the guitar were a little chamber orchestra?’” he told The St. Louis Post-Dispatch in 1995.The result, in 1982, was the album “Carlos Barbosa-Lima Plays the Music of Antonio Carlos Jobim and George Gershwin,” which included Jobim works like “Desafinado” as well as “Summertime” and other Gershwin compositions. The record raised Mr. Barbosa-Lima’s profile in the United States considerably.“Day in, day out, we discussed rhythm, harmony, counterpoint and intention,” Mr. Jobim wrote in the liner notes, describing the making of the album. “I watched him with awe as he strove for perfection.”Another composer who experienced Mr. Barbosa-Lima’s skills as an arranger firsthand was Mason Williams, best known for the 1968 crossover hit “Classical Gas.” In 2016 Mr. Barbosa-Lima released “Carlos Barbosa-Lima Plays Mason Williams,” an album that included his two-guitar version of Mr. Williams’s hit, with Mr. Del Casale playing the second guitar part.“He knew where the essence of the composition lay and stayed true to all of that,” Mr. Williams said of the Barbosa-Lima “Classical Gas” on a 2016 episode of the YouTube series “Musicians’ Round Table,” “but he knew exactly where he could expound on aspects of it for his arrangement.”Though Mr. Barbosa-Lima often performed solo, he also arranged a number of works for two guitars, and since 2003 Mr. Del Casale had often been his onstage playing partner. The pieces they played could be challenging, but Mr. Del Casale said the maestro always had his back if he started going astray.“If you’re doing a duo with him, he’ll catch you and bring you back in,” he said. “He was that kind of player.”Antonio Carlos Ribeiro Barbosa-Lima was born on Dec. 17, 1944, in São Paulo to Manuel Carlos and Eclair Soares Ribeiro Barbosa-Lima.He started playing as a boy, by happenstance.“My father was trying to learn the guitar but couldn’t,” he told The Orlando Sentinel in 2006. “Instead, his teacher began giving me lessons.”The boy proved to be a prodigy. In 1957 he gave his first concert, and the next year he began releasing albums on the Chantecler label. (They were rereleased a few years ago by Zoho Music as “The Chantecler Sessions.”) Mr. Del Casales said Mr. Barbosa-Lima’s first record had a reputation among players because he did things on it that most adult professionals couldn’t.“People say ‘Don’t listen to that album, you’ll burn your guitar,’” he said.Mr. Barbosa-Lima first played in the United States in 1967. Not long after that, in Madrid, he met the Spanish classical guitar master Andrés Segovia. He was playing classical repertory at the time, and, Mr. Del Casale said, it was Segovia who advised him not to be afraid to follow his own instincts and apply his classical techniques to Brazilian music, jazz, pop or whatever else he wanted. After that, Mr. Del Casale said, “He took off his tuxedo, he put on a nice Hawaiian dress shirt, and that was it.”Mr. Barbosa-Lima taught at Carnegie Mellon University in Pittsburgh in the 1970s and at the Manhattan School of Music in the ’80s. He lived in Puerto Rico for a time, but since about 2000, Mr. Del Casale said, he had had no permanent address; he had basically been on the road full time.He is survived by a sister, Maria Christina Barbosa-Lima. A brother, Luiz, died in 1973.Mr. Barbosa-Lima’s last record, “Delicado,” a homage to Brazilian music made with Mr. Del Casale and others, was released in 2019. “This music is romantic, joyful, and surprisingly accessible given the complexity of some of the arrangements,” Glide magazine wrote in a review.Mr. Del Casale remained in awe of his mentor even as he played alongside him.“The palette of colors he got out of the instrument — he could paint a picture with that guitar,” he said.Mr. Barbosa-Lima once described his technique in a video interview. “I like the guitar to be with me, you know?” he said. “Not me against the guitar.” More

In Paris, a new production of “A Quiet Place” makes a strong case for a work that has long struggled to join the repertory.PARIS — “We’re going to listen to music that describes emotions — feelings like pain, happiness, loneliness, anger, love,” Leonard Bernstein once said during an episode of his beloved, televised “Young People’s Concerts.”“I guess most music is like that,” he added. “And the better it is, the more it will make you feel those emotions that the composer felt when he was writing.”Bernstein was introducing Tchaikovsky’s Fourth Symphony, but he could just as easily have been speaking about his own music — even his grim and spiky final opera, “A Quiet Place.” With a libretto by Stephen Wadsworth, this piece has had a tortured history, struggling to find its form before and after its 1983 premiere. It was heavily criticized, and revised several times, culminating in 2013 with a version by Garth Edwin Sunderland that could give this work — in a genre that kept eluding Bernstein — a brighter future.That version, a sweeping rethinking of the piece’s dramaturgy and orchestration, has been altered again for the Paris Opera, which is giving Sunderland’s edition its most prominent staging yet in a new production that opened on Wednesday at the Palais Garnier.In the conductor Kent Nagano, the production has the world’s finest champion of “A Quiet Place,” who several years ago recorded Sunderland’s version and again leads it to brilliant and illuminating effect. And in the director Krzysztof Warlikowski, it has one of the European stage’s smartest interpreters of family dysfunction and sexual complexity, the opera’s central themes.At the end of Act II, Warlikowski adds a scene in which a boy sneakily watches that episode of “Young People’s Concerts” after his parents go to sleep. And in its best moments, the work gives you what Bernstein described on TV: the ability to make you feel the emotions he had when he was writing an at times painfully personal opera. It remains full of flaws — mainly, clichés of mid-20th-century American ennui — yet in its current form, it is also a piece of subtlety and suggestion, a short story with the weight of a novel, an example of masterly craft and postmodern style.“A Quiet Place” — the story of a matriarch’s death, and the reconciliation it brings her broken family, inspired by Bernstein and Wadsworth’s own losses — was originally created as a sequel to Bernstein’s satirical, jazzy one-act “Trouble in Tahiti,” from the early 1950s; they were first presented together as a punishingly long double bill. Bernstein and Wadsworth revised “A Quiet Place” to be a single, three-act work, with “Trouble in Tahiti” incorporated as flashbacks. That, too, made for a bloated evening, in length and in a maximalist scoring for over 70 musicians, including electric guitar and synthesizer.Sunderland’s version is leaner in every respect. He does away with “Trouble in Tahiti,” whose bitter effervescence collided ungracefully with the thorniness of “A Quiet Place,” and reduced some characters while expanding others, reinstating some arias that had been cut. He reorchestrated the score for just 18 players, and the running time was brought down to roughly 90 minutes, with no intermission.For the Paris Opera, Sunderland kept the brevity but fleshed out the instrumentation — a Goldilocks medium between 18 and 72 musicians — including added winds and brasses, along with a harpsichord and organ, which provides heft and naturalism in the Act I funeral without sacrificing the clarity of the 2013 version. The electric guitar and synthesizer, which inevitably evoke the 1980s, are thankfully still gone.Johanna Wokalek, front right, is an addition in the silent role of Dinah, normally just mentioned by name but here haunting the stage throughout.Bernd UhligTo further avoid seeming dated, Warlikowski’s staging, while set in 1983, is not a facsimile of its time. It takes place in a single room, faced head-on, of towering walls and with sets simultaneously familiar and impossible to place: that era’s fashions, surrounded by sleek, futuristic panels. Spaces like these — designed by Warlikowski’s frequent collaborator Malgorzata Szczesniak, and typical of his productions — can feel at once expansive and suffocating, and his characters tend to behave accordingly, both exposed and trapped.Warlikowski is otherwise largely deferential to the libretto — with a few affecting interventions. Dinah, one half of the unhappy couple of “Trouble in Tahiti,” isn’t in “A Quiet Place,” which begins with her funeral. But Warlikowski casts a silent actor (Johanna Wokalek) in the role, and she haunts the stage throughout, in a blending of time and memory that mirrors the non sequiturs of the libretto’s slides into reverie and role play.It’s one of several ways Dinah is present in this production, which opens with a video (by Kamil Polak) of her fatal car accident — likely a suicide, almost certainly under the influence — and, for the rending Act I postlude music, projects a portrait of her above the coffin and crematory. In it, she is the face of the post-World War II American ideal, but with the empty expression and double-edged smile of a James Rosenquist painting.Dinah and her husband, Sam — the baritone Russell Braun, a standout, delicate and with a vast emotional range of pain, anger and aimlessness — had two children. One is the gay, mentally ill Junior (the bass-baritone Gordon Bintner, elegant in his rage and woefully redolent of “Dear Evan Hansen” in his constant, visible neuroses); the other, Dede (Claudia Boyle, a soprano who warmed up to the role as the evening went on).A new member of the family is François, Dede’s husband (Frédéric Antoun, strained at the opera’s climax), whom she met through his former lover, Junior. If that suggests incestuous behavior, just wait: We learn that Junior and Dede also experimented with each other as children.From left, Antoun, Bintner, Wokalek, Braun and Boyle near the opera’s ending, in which the family discovers that its only way forward is forgiveness.Bernd UhligJunior enters the funeral in a garish, pink-and-purple cowboy outfit — a choice that makes sense later when he is represented as a boy wearing the same costume, being held and then rejected by his mother. The opera’s conflation of insanity and homosexuality has long been one of its problems, but Warlikowski helps slightly by treating Junior’s queerness as coincident with, rather than the cause of, his arrested development. Other things that have aged poorly, though, are baked into the text; Dinah’s misery-driven alcoholism is more worthy of sighs than sympathy.There were more innovative American operas that premiered in the 1980s: Philip Glass’s portrait of resistance in “Satyagraha”; or the grand, nearly mythic treatment of leaders in Anthony Davis’s “X: The Life and Times of Malcolm X” and in John Adams’s “Nixon in China.” “A Quiet Place” benefits from no longer being so directly juxtaposed with them; it is now easier to meet on its own terms, neither avant-garde nor as eager to please as Bernstein’s earlier works.And while it can sometimes feel like a rote regurgitation of postwar culture and its miseries, the ambiguous ending is something of a departure from those clichés. In Warlikowski’s staging, Bernstein’s uneasy final chords accompany an image of Dinah’s family sharing a sofa. The only way forward for them is forgiveness — not the most common way for an opera to end, but a recollection of a classic: Janacek’s “Jenufa.”Look closely at the four of them: Sam and Junior, reunited; François; and Dede, who scoots, visibly uncomfortable, away from her husband. They are still suffering, in a cycle you could see continuing to the present day. The distinctly American darkness of “A Quiet Place” may be more relevant than we’d like to think.A Quiet PlaceThrough March 30 at the Paris Opera; operadeparis.fr. More

As the orchestra searches for a new leader, this superstar conductor led the first of two programs pairing Schumann symphonies with new works.On Wednesday, when the New York Philharmonic and Lincoln Center hosted a news conference announcing that the $550 million renovation of David Geffen Hall had been fully funded and that it would reopen this fall, Jaap van Zweden, the orchestra’s music director, was not in town.This didn’t feel like a coincidence: As the project, decades in the making, finally materialized over the past few years, van Zweden has seemed like an afterthought, along for the ride.Who was in New York to lead the Philharmonic, hours after Gov. Kathy Hochul and Mayor Eric Adams feted the Geffen renovation as a cultural and civic milestone? Gustavo Dudamel, the 41-year-old superstar conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic, starting a two-week cycle of Schumann’s four symphonies.The symbolism was unavoidable. Van Zweden — who said in September that he would be leaving in 2024, opening up one of the world’s most prestigious podiums — is already the past. Dudamel is the Philharmonic’s future.At least he could be. He made a solid case for the prospect on Wednesday at Alice Tully Hall, with spirited, unpretentious performances of Schumann’s First and Second symphonies, alongside a premiere by Gabriela Ortiz written to accompany them.The First Symphony (“Spring”) sounded particularly fresh — emphatic without being stiff or mannered, a balance that often eludes van Zweden. The slow second movement built intensity without seeming pressed, and a certain lack of depth in the orchestra’s sound felt here like welcome lightness, with viola and cello lines subtly emphasized to give spine to passages that luxuriated in lyricism.The Philharmonic is calling Dudamel’s festival “The Schumann Connection,” suggesting Robert Schumann’s ties to his wife, Clara — whose underappreciated music is being played in chamber concerts alongside the two orchestral programs. And to contemporary composers: Two have been commissioned to respond to the Schumanns.Ortiz’s “Clara,” 15 minutes long, in five sections played without pause, had its first performance on Wednesday. (Andreia Pinto Correia’s “Os Pássaros da Noite” (“The Birds of Night”) comes next week, between Robert Schumann’s Third and Fourth.)Robert Schumann’s first two symphonies were joined by the premiere of Gabriela Ortiz’s “Clara.”Caitlin Ochs for The New York TimesOpening with a series of lingering chords, a kind of tolling ensemble bell, “Clara” is most memorable in long stretches of suspended eeriness, an apt evocation of floating between eras and continents, with the oboe making a melancholy keen.Recalling Holst and mid-20th-century film scores in its lush colors and noirish dissonances, the piece has at its center a raucous movement recalling Ortiz’s Mexican heritage and her modern sound world: “the unique vitality born out of the entrails of the land I come from,” she says in the program. That driving vibrancy then recedes, in quiet music gently perforated with a pricking constellation of high-pitched percussion. In the final moments, wind instruments are tonelessly blown through, conjuring the sigh of history itself.Dudamel’s interpretation of Schumann’s Second was punchier than his First, while feeling appealingly improvisatory in a first movement that keeps unexpectedly sidling into new material. Avoiding emotional indulgence in the third movement, this conductor made the music seem a bit impersonal, a play of sound — the winds lovingly passing around solos — rather than a poignant narrative. But the energy throughout felt honestly built, never overemphasized.The Philharmonic doesn’t play these days with old-school brilliance or majesty, or with the feverish edge that Leonard Bernstein brought to Schumann’s symphonies with this orchestra in his classic recordings.But with Dudamel — his tempos moderate, neither rushed at one extreme nor sentimentally milked at the other — the ensemble was genial and eager. And its sound was sometimes arresting, as when the strings floated downward in hazy scales at the end of the First Symphony’s Scherzo, or when the winds massed near the end of the Second to uncannily organ-like effect.Dudamel’s appointment to the Philharmonic’s podium is, of course, far from a sure thing. But it was Deborah Borda, the orchestra’s chief executive, who nearly 20 years ago, in her previous position, grabbed him for Los Angeles when he was just emerging on the international scene. The New York Philharmonic, still nostalgic for the glamorous days of Bernstein, may well jump at the chance to hire one of the few present-day maestros to have achieved that kind of mainstream celebrity.One thing is clear: Displaying his lively approach to the standard repertory, coupled with an interest in living composers — particularly female ones of color — these programs are meant to show off Dudamel as the model of a 21st-century maestro.New York PhilharmonicThis program repeats through Saturday at Alice Tully Hall, Manhattan; “The Schumann Connection” continues through March 20; nyphil.org. More