Die Frau ohne audience

I went to the Met last night, to see Die Frau ohne Schatten. Striking production, and a touching one, too, by the late Herbert Wernicke; variable singing, but one really warm, deep performance, from Wolfgang Brendel, as Barak. (And OK, he's a friend, whom I met through my wife, who knew him when she lived in Munich. But sometimes there's an artistic reason, on top of personal ones, why someone is a friend. Wolfgang is a real mensch on stage, who feels everything in his heart, and renders it honestly, with no fuss. And he sings beautifully.)

At the two intermissions, I found myself deep in conversation with someone from the opera business, about why there were so many empty seats. Any performance of this opera is a real event. Maybe this year's revival isn't as striking as the debut of the production was two years ago (especially since then the conductor as Thielemann, and not Philippe Augustin, who conducts this time around, and seems to struggle somewhat with the orchestra, even though he renders the music honestly). But still, it's a major evening. Why couldn't the Met attract more people?

One unfortunate conclusion, very hard to resist, is that the opera house just doesn't do much marketing. I'd imagine they attend to their target audience, whom maybe they define as subscribers, likely subscribers, and tourists. The one conspicuous piece of marketing I've seen from them around the city is a billboard in Times Square, aimed at tourists. This makes sense. Tourists make up a reasonably large part of the classical music audience in New York, especially at a marquee attraction like the Met. Around 10 years ago, I talked to the marketing director at the company, and he made savvy distinctions between the taste of tourists from Europe and America.

But who does the Met reach out to in New York? Not many people, I suspect. The Met -- to put this rather harshly, but realistically, I fear -- isn't really part of New York's cultural life. Oh, it's there, a household name to everybody, but at the same time nobody has any special reason to think about it. This week, the Met is doing three striking evenings in a row. Last night, Die Frau; tonight, the premiere of a new production, Berlioz's oddball Benvenuto Cellini, which is rarely performed; tomorrow night, La Juive, also a rarity.

How many people in the city know this is happening? Doesn't matter whether everybody sees these productions; obviously, most New Yorkers won't. But how many people -- especially the educated, cultured (whatever that means) people who presumably could be the Met's audience -- know that the house is doing anything special? You'd think the Met would find ways to crow. You'd think they'd sell special ticket packages, especially because they're so famously having trouble selling tickets. Forgive the scare italics, but it's well known that the Met is having trouble. Not long ago, Joseph Volpe, their general director, even announced that they'd close for two weeks next season, during a time in January when they have even more trouble than usual getting people to come. Is that his only response? What's the Met doing to make itself more visible?

I'm not a marketer, and what follows is, maybe, amateur speculation. But still I've been around the business quite a bit, and talk a lot with marketers. Besides, classical music is, as we all keep saying, in some kind of trouble. So every classical music institution has go many extra miles to make some noise. The Met shouldn't only advertise its operas. It ought to do things designed to get people talking. Some of these, I'd think, would pay off in the long run, even if they lost money at the time they're tried.

So, for instance, I think the Met might introduce a $10 ticket for people under 30, as classical music groups have done in Toronto. OK, maybe $20. This is New York. But certainly a cheap ticket. If they're not filling the house -- and if most of the audience they currently attract is older than 30 -- how can they lose? The publicity alone could be worth its weight in gold. Especially if the program works! Then the Met has generated news. Younger people come!

Why not give tickets away to high school and college students? With major publicity, of course. Why not do one production each year that's really on the edge, something that will make critics and subscribers buzz with anger? The point here isn't simply to be controversial. The point is to do something artistically interesting, but not mainstream, so the house becomes known as a place that cares about art, and is willing to take risks. That creates more buzz, and makes even the standard productions seem more interesting.

Why not do really popular stuff? An Andrea Bocelli concert, for instance? Or an Aretha Franklin event, in which she'd sing some of the opera arias she's refashioned into Aretha tunes? (Assuming she's still doing them; a few years ago she was.) Oh, sure, these things don't meet the Met's usual notion of its artistic level (though I'd argue that on a good night, Aretha's way above the usual artistic level of opera). The point, though, is to show that the Met is for everybody, that it doesn't make rules, or turn anyone away. Combine that with edgy stuff that artists like, and you expand your reach both to the right and the left. (There might be a problem with Bocelli, though, because he fancies himself an opera singer, something he decidedly is not. If the Met let him sing opera, they really would compromise their standards.)

Why not fan out into the community? Why not send singers into every county of New York state (to borrow an idea from the brave pianist in North Carolina I wrote about here a while ago)? Why not send them into every New York high school? These singers wouldn't have to be international stars, though I'd bet some of the famous singers would be thrilled to go into small towns and schools. As long as the singers had the Met name attached, the events would be big news, and really -- gigantically -- welcome everywhere they were held. The company would do this, of course, with major publicity, creating more buzz, more goodwill, and more of a sense that the Met isn't just an opera house -- it's a place where things happen.

We could take this further. We could imagine the Met getting involved in all kinds of New York cultural events, from the Next Wave festival at BAM to the Christmas show at Radio City Music Hall. Big pop concerts, too. If Sting or Bruce Springsteen come to town, wouldn't some of the orchestra, chorus, and even big-time soloists at the Met like to hear them? Can't believe they wouldn't. They're people, just like us. So the Met makes sure they get tickets (house seats, more likely, which the people going to the concerts would be happy to pay for), and also makes sure the world knows it's involved. In return, of course, Sting and Springsteen (and everyone in their road crews and their bands) gets invited to see opera at the Met. Maybe people in touring pop shows couldn't go; they aren't in town long enough. Never mind. The gesture counts, and in other circumstances -- when the circus is in town, maybe -- the people involved could happily accept the offer.

So come on, Joe Volpe. Why not try some of this stuff? Would you lose your dignity? Well, what's your dignity getting you, right now? The key to success, I'd argue -- not just for the Met, but for all of classical music -- is to become both more artistic, and more accessible. And the two things, I'm convinced, reinforce each other.