Caught between the moon and New York City.

That’s what ran through my mind as I sat in the Balcony during the dress rehearsal of Lohengrin at the Metropolitan Opera.

All that moon business at the beginning, spinning faster and faster and then blowing up. Jesus. I was hardly listening to the music it was so damn distracting.

This is what transpired for the production as a whole. Yes, I am talking about the chorus being used as color-coded set pieces. I felt for my colleagues having to open their costumes to reveal green, red, and white on demand—over and over and over. God forbid that you should open your robe to the wrong color at the wrong time! You just know everyone onstage is helping one another. (Did I mention that the Chorus is costumed as Zombies? I’m sorry to say I never figured out why.)

No. We can’t listen to Wagner anymore. We’re all stupid and must be told what to think and feel and when to think and feel it.

Then there was the tenor’s costume. I was told it was supposed to make one think that he had come from another world.

Ok.

I thought he walked in off the street and they didn’t have his costume ready.

Untucked white shirt with a collar and rolled-up sleeves?

(What else was I supposed to think? Perhaps this will change by the opening?)

This is what happens when designers gets trapped in their own conception.

Did I mention the Tenor has a very good voice? Yes. Piotr Beczala. That guy. Good voice on display. Though I wasn't able to stay for the last act, which, I hear, was quite good in terms of his singing.

The other standout?

The Chorus.

Damn good singing. Nary a wobbling soprano to be heard (and I’ve heard them, believe me): just a firm, clear, beautiful tone being flung from the stage into the listener’s ear via a great score.

Go for the Chorus and the Tenor people.

(I’m not saying anything about anyone because, well, that would be rude. And I’m not going there.)

Having sung in the previous production, I have to say that this new one reveals the current administration to be grabbing at straws. The old show was Art, while this Lohengrin fails miserably if only because it’s juvenile.

Leave the crayons at home, please.