Puccini’s La bohème in the beloved Zeffirelli production returned to an almost full house on January 11, and it was encouraging for the future of opera to see so many young people in the audience. In the intermissions, one could overhear groups of friends and couples actually analyzing the story and engaging in debates over Rodolfo and Marcello’s behaviors or women’s highly limited prospects at the time of the opera’s plot. Meanwhile, during the performance, there was some serious PDA occurring, at least in the row in front of me, that actually made the person next to me lean over and tell the lovebirds: “Go get a room, you’re blocking my view!”
All of it brought a different vibe to the house from what I’ve observed this season. Romance, passion, questions being asked about the opera, and wildly enthusiastic cheering and applause infused the entire evening’s atmosphere with a high-voltage, eager energy. Which was what this performance fully deserved. Lately, it’s been rare to witness a performance in which the entire cast was truly wonderful. This Bohème is a breath of much-needed fresh air.
Matthew Polenzani’s honeyed tones, suave phrasing, and attention to dynamics created the sweetest Rodolfo this reviewer has ever heard. He sang “Che gelida manina” with earnestness and luminosity, soaring beautifully in “Talor dal mio forziere” as in the “Soave fanciulla” duet with Mimi. One can definitely hear the maturity in his voice, and occasionally the sound can get wobbly, but that hardly distracts from the appeal of his singing. In the third act duet with Marcello that maturity helped to darken his sunny tones to convey the emotional shadows foreboding Mimi’s death, and his final cry of “Mimi” at the end was heart wrenching.
The current cast of La bohème at the Met, l to r: Jongmin Park (Colline), Matthew Polenzani (Rodolfo), Eleonora Burratto (Mimi), David Bizic (Marcello), Adela Zaharia (Musetta), Sean Michael Plumb (Schaunard), conductor Kensho Watanabe (Photo: Maria-Cristina Necula)
Eleonora Burratto brings luscious and lucent tones to Mimi, creating a character that seems already to transcend this world, despite her interest in the material, finer things in life. This is not an overly emotional Mimi but rather a more detached being in search of beauty for as long as she has left to live. “Mi chiamano Mimi” resounded pure and glistening, with just a touch of strain at the top. But Burratto’s voice has an inherent attractiveness that mollifies the effect of overly pushed high notes. She delivered “Donde lieta” with touching determination and sadness, and it would have been even more so, had the tempo not been excruciatingly slow.
The slow tempi were the only major defects of this performance. In moments, especially involving Mimi, conductor Kensho Watanabe, slowed everything down. I kept wondering whether that was intentional: to put the spotlight on the doomed Mimi, dragging out time and tempi like a sort of clinging to life by dilating moments of her interactions as though she were fighting against time and trying to delay death. If that was the case, it didn’t really work. The “altro di me non le saprei narrare…” part shouldn’t drag out forever. And neither should “Sono andati” which is actually more effective dramatically when it is a bit rushed as an avalanche of emotions and words that Mimi is trying to get out of her. Burratto did the best she could with that tempo, filling it with rounded, wistful tones.
David Bizic gave us an exceptional Marcello. He displayed a luxurious voice that has maintained its freshness and youthfulness over the years while also acquiring even more depth and a vaster palette of vocal colors. In the duets with Rodolfo and Mimi, he exhibited seamless legato and radiant warmth of tone, which made for a very compassionate, human Marcello. His longing for Musetta while he inevitably painted her face was palpable and moving, and his impeccable diction and word colorings served the music brilliantly throughout, not least in the comedic moments with his three Bohemian friends.
Another outstanding voice in this wonderful cast received an enthusiastic ovation after an aria that can be an opportunity to shine or can, sadly, get overlooked. Jongmin Park brought a abundant, amply resonant, world-class voice to Colline. His coat aria—“Vecchia zimarra”—impressed through sheer power and beauty. This Don Carlo-obsessed reviewer immediately envisioned Park in the Grand Inquisitor role. As in many more substantial bass roles.
The Schaunard of Sean Michael Plumb rounded out the playful group of four bohemians with a scintillating voice and sparkling aplomb—pun intended.
In her Metropolitan Opera debut, Adela Zaharia created a feisty and passionate Musetta. “Quando m’en vo” flowed elegantly in Zaharia’s supple, Violetta-like voice, a voice that has Verdian warmth and is thrillingly charged with emotion.
Endowed with great comedic talent, Donald Maxwell was aptly cast as the hapless Benoit and bumbling Alcindoro.
Kensho Watanabe’s conducting was, for the most part, solid and supportive, except for the over-slowing down of tempi, and not just in Mimi’s solo moments but throughout the opera.
Largely, this performance proved a treat, thanks to the cast and, of course, to the production. Zeffirelli’s iconic staging premiered on December 14, 1981. In 2025, it continues to bring in new audiences and inspire conversations. And romance. So, I have to ask: Where does this leave the argument that only new “edgy” productions can appeal to young audiences?
Puccini’s La bohème at the Metropolitan Opera runs through January 25, resuming March 5-21 and May 25-June 6 with different casts.
Top: Franco Zeffirelli’s production of Puccini’s La bohème at the Metropolitan Opera: Act 2 – Photo: The Met Opera
