As an avowed opera-goer, my preferred locale is Manhattan’s Upper West Side. I’ll readily admit that I have painfully little patience for the throngs of tourists that make the Theater District an ambling, sight-seen garish miasma on the order of a mid-town Ellis Island. (”Give me your fanny-packed, your Drakkar Noir spritzed, your huddled masses yearning for Olive Garden…”) Fine — I’ll admit it: I’m also a snob. But after a long workday, Lincoln Center’s travertine Plaza — even with its current redevelopment in full effect — can feel something like a Doric temple to the Great White Way’s Thunderdome.

Nevertheless, I’ll admit that it’s been a notably good season for theater of the non-sung variety. Wanting to make the most of a recently renewed TDF membership, I’ve partaken like a protein-starved marathoner celebrating at a Brazilian steakhouse. To have witnessed a few of the Theater District’s stunning dramatic coups over the past few months has given me some unexpected — yet appreciated — perspective about the opera stage’s own goings-on. Since it’s just after Easter, let’s make “ecumenical” the word of the artistic day as well.

Here’s my unsolicited advice: run, do not walk, to see Conor McPherson’s The Seafarer, where Jim Norton’s character, Richard, takes to the stage like a blind, besotted Falstaff, and in the process confirms that someone can still qualify as “human” — ironically more so than some other characters — despite having 70% of their fluid body-weight comprised of Jameson whiskey. After that, get a ticket to The Homecoming, where Ian McShane, as the patriarch Max, offers up Pinter-pauses with enough causticity to tear a hole in the space-time continuum. Finally, head to the Met and catch Italian bass Ferruccio Furlanetto’s genuinely masterful portrayal of Silva in the revival of the early-Verdi gem Ernani — a performance so truthful and detailed in its bitterness as to suggest that the opera should have been titled after Furlanetto’s puritanical vengeance-obsessed graybeard. Yes, it’s been a particularly good season for curmudgeons and the theatrical arts. Bah humbug. read more

Shu-Ying Li modestly describes herself as just “a Chinese girl trying to be a Japanese girl.”

This week, she wraps up a run of six performances at the New York City Opera in the title role of Madama Butterfly, perhaps the most famous Japanese character in all of opera. Over the past few years, Cio-Cio San has become Shu-Ying Li’s calling card; she sings it everywhere from Hawaii, Texas, and Oregon to Hong Kong, Connecticut, and Japan. Fortunately, she says she never gets tired of singing it.

The soprano, a native of Shandong, China, studied at Shanghai Conservatory and then lived and studied in New York for seven years. These days, she lives in Shanghai when she is not on the road performing. When in New York, she studies with Ruth Falcon, one of the city’s most prominent voice teachers, and she has coached the role of Cio-Cio San with one of its most famous interpreters: Renata Scotto.

Last Thursday, over lunch at Rosa Mexicana restaurant (right across the street from the New York City Opera stage door), Shu-Ying talked to Jennifer Melick about how she got her start, what she loves about Mark Lamos’ current production at City Opera, how she used to play hooky in kindergarten, what she does to look like and act like a realistic Japanese teenager, and roles she plans to sing in the future.

Jennifer Melick: What was your first professional opera role?

Shu-Ying Li: My first professional role was after I won second prize in the Budapest International Voice Competition. I was hired to sing two performances in La Bohème at the Budapest Opera. Musetta—not Mimì. I only knew Chinese at the time! I did not speak any other language. But I performed the whole opera. I had a translator to help during rehearsals, at least. I could watch the people, see what the director was telling me to do, and the music just moved me around. It is such a great memory for me. At that time, I thought, “Wow, that is the world I am looking for!” All I wanted, more than anything else, was to be an opera singer. Those were the performances that got me started. I made my American debut in New York in March 1999 when I came to sing at a Metropolitan Museum concert called Asian Voices. A gentleman who supports many aspiring Asian opera singers sponsored the concert. So he changed my life—he brought me from Shanghai to New York. There were fifteen singers in this one concert! They came from Japan, Korea, and China. read more