Seemed to all children. Nervous and excited. Without really knowing whether to applaud or laugh, or all at the same time, when The Divine appeared in front of us, elegant duchess satin white, and she walked to the center of the stage to greet the director of the orchestra, Eìmear Noone, and to the public that clogged the London Coliseum. We looked grateful and proud, sweet on the forms and this embrace itself that highlighted the beauty of her shoulders white and bare, and wore on his neck.
For one night, Maria Callas reappeared in this majestic baroque theatre and edwardian to early TWENTIETH Century and triumphed. A triumph predictable and calculated, because there was no possibility of error. The best recordings of the soprano, distilled and purified with techniques that have more of alchemy than of science, to recreate the legend of the greatest of all time, with the permission of Joan Sutherland.
BASIS of Hologram is the play with this challenge and passed the test. It didn’t matter that, in a brief instant, a nearly imperceptible halo around the Divine to remind us that we were all participating in a sham. Miénteme, Johnny, and tell me that you want me. No one among the public was willing to doubt that I had before, in flesh and virtual.
he went Out and came on the scene, in order to exhaust his repertoire the most known. Bellini, Bizet, Puccini. Accompanied by fifty musicians of the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra who looked up at her spellbound when it reappeared, the Callas earned the public minute-by-minute. Their exchanges of gestures with the driver, their little jokes and winks, so computed, and at the same time as her, provoking laughter, applause, and complicity. The applause lasted for just what that they had to last, because no one was willing to allow a synchronization error with the illusion programmed it will ruin the spell.
Maria Callas in concert is not an opera. Not intended to be. It is a technical feat whose possibilities are worth exploring. As fake as Instagram. As real as Instagram. When in the first encore The Divine reappeared to interpret Casta Diva no one was surprised. I was in the program, and it sounded as we’ve always heard and dreamed about. The legend he left to applause the stage, and with each step revealing a little more of the ectoplasm that was blurred to say goodbye. And that left him with the satisfaction of being able to say to the exit, I was there. Maria Callas is not, of course, but that nobody cared.
