The Metropolitan Opera has revived The Rake’s Progress, Stravinsky’s neoclassical work, in the 1997 production by the late Jonathan Miller. A friend of mine says, “Jonathan was the only genius I’ve ever known.”

About the cast last Friday night, I’d like to make two general remarks, before going one by one.

In The Rake’s Progress, you need rhythm—not just the conductor and the orchestra, but you, the singer, whichever role you play. But doesn’t a singer need rhythm in any role, in any opera? And any song, for that matter? Yes—but in this Stravinsky work, the need is especially acute. And, in general, our singers were up to the task of rhythm.

Also, each singer—every member of the cast—was singing in his native language. “So what?” you say. So this: seldom is that the case, at the Metropolitan Opera and many another house. And it makes a difference—a nice and positive one.

In the title role—Tom Rakewell—was Ben Bliss, the American tenor (who owns one of the best names in music). Tom does a lot of singing in the opera. He is onstage, with his mouth open, almost constantly. Mr. Bliss gave an example of stamina, as well as other attributes.

His singing was fresh, youthful, and beautiful. It was also smart, precise, and secure. Nothing was forced, nothing was awkward. Bliss was a pleasure to listen to, even when the story was very unpleasant, as it is. He was not only a singer, but also an actor. He was the confident young man, starting out in the world; the rookie degenerate; the frustrated husband; the desperate wreck; the crazed simpleton.

I am trying to avoid the hackneyed phrase “tour de force” when it comes to this performance, but it’s not easy. Ben Bliss made a first-rate Tom Rakewell.

Golda Schultz, the South African soprano, made a first-rate Anne Trulove. Why? To begin with, she sings well—very well. She sang purely and personably. Stravinsky’s multi-sectioned aria “No word from Tom” is a study in C major, neoclassical branch. It is one of the best things in twentieth-century opera, some of us think. Ms. Schultz is very well suited to it. She did a little rushing toward the end, but this was hardly ruinous. And I will provide one minor detail.

The aria concludes with a famous ninth: from a middle B to a high C. Ms. Schultz took a little breath before the C—which not all do—then held the C forever.

Anne sings a lullaby near the end of the opera, to her insane ex-fiancé in Bedlam, and Ms. Schultz did this with heartbreaking simplicity.

“You play who you are,” say some musicians. Also, you sing who you are. Anne Trulove is good, very good. In opera and recital, Golda Schultz exudes this quality (goodness). Yes, she is very well suited to the role she is now singing at the Met.

Christian Van Horn, an American bass-baritone, played the devil, i.e., Nick Shadow. He was effortlessly loud. That is, he generates considerable power, in relaxed fashion. He was commanding whenever he sang—also conniving. Van Horn played a smooth, suave Nick, and the audience could not quite bring itself to boo the singer at the end. (Audiences are sometimes ambivalent about applauding singers who play bad guys—and the devil is a very bad guy.)

James Creswell sounded fatherly in his singing—which was apt, because he played Anne’s father. Mr. Creswell is an American bass. He owns a glowing, enviable instrument. Doing a rightly showy turn as Baba the Turk was Raehann Bryce-Davis, an American mezzo. She has a plush, royal voice.

Eve Gigliotti, another American mezzo, has had a good season at the Met, in smallish roles. On Friday night, she was appealing as Mother Goose, or as appealing as Mother Geese, in this context, go. (The character is a madam, who plays a role in Tom’s downfall.)

Leading all of this in the pit was Susanna Mälkki, the Finnish conductor. “Finnish conductor”? That is almost a redundancy these days. You can practically order them from Ikea. In any event, Maestra Mälkki was orderly, in an orderly score. This is not, however, a score that can conduct itself. Mälkki was alert.

Stravinsky gives the brass and woodwinds a lot to do—right from the opening fanfare. The relevant players took grateful advantage.

Regular Met-goers can take the orchestra for granted. They, we, shouldn’t, really. Lots of houses attract top singers, frankly. The orchestra has a lot to do with what makes the Met the Met—“the mighty Met,” as the late, great critic Martin Bernheimer would say.

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