Curtains on Domingo

Domingo at his 50th anniversary gala last season

Yesterday Plácido Domingo's 51 year career at the Met suddenly came to an end when he withdrew from his upcoming performances of Macbeth. These performances had been sold out as it had the superstar combo of Domingo and Anna Netrebko. He had been dogged by accusations of sexual harassment. Just this weekend he had sung at  the dress rehearsal and received a warm applause from the audience. Most people were in shock that he actually withdrew. UPDATE: On October 2 Domingo also resigned as the head of LA Opera.

Domingo's comments:

“I made my debut at the Metropolitan Opera at the age of 27 and have sung at this magnificent theater for 51 consecutive, glorious years,” Mr. Domingo said in a statement. “While I strongly dispute recent allegations made about me, and I am concerned about a climate in which people are condemned without due process, upon reflection I believe that my appearance in this production of ‘Macbeth’ would distract from the hard work of my colleagues both onstage and behind the scenes. As a result, I have asked to withdraw and I thank the leadership of the Met for graciously granting my request.”
“I am happy that, at the age of 78, I was able to sing the wonderful title role in the dress rehearsal of ‘Macbeth,’ which I consider my last performance on the Met stage. I am grateful to God and the public for what they have allowed me to accomplish here at the Metropolitan Opera.” 

This contrasted with the terse statement of the Met: "the Metropolitan Opera confirms that Plácido Domingo has agreed to withdraw from all future performances at the Met, effective immediately. The Met and Mr. Domingo are in agreement that he needed to step down.”

Thus ended the kind of career even most superstars could never dream about. Domingo was one of the Three Tenors, transitioned to star baritone roles, got gigs conducting (badly), at one time ran two opera companies (Washington Opera and Los Angeles Opera) and still is at the helm of LA Opera. He was the head of the highly successful Operalia competitions.

I'm maybe giving away my age when I say I heard Domingo in his last years as a tenor and then as a baritone. As a tenor he never had the most beautiful timbre (on a bad night he could sound hoarse and his voice didn't have the warmth of, say, Pavarotti) nor did he have a particularly free, easy top (in live performances he didn't sing high C's and in later years transposed most scores liberally). Nevertheless I did see him give some memorable performances -- I remember a Die Walküre where his Siegmund was just about the only interesting thing happening onstage.

Oddly I liked him more as a baritone. His voice had the gravitas and the style, if not the deep rich timbre that's associated with the roles he sang. He knew how Verdian line should be sung. His acting was always heartfelt.

Domingo as Miller 

And year after year he added more roles. Just last season for his 50th anniversary gala he sang Gianni Schicchi. It didn't matter that he was neither a comedian or really a baritone -- the audience ate it up. And once again, one had to admire the stylistic rightness of his approach to roles. His best roles were ones where an elderly, paternal presence was welcome -- Miller in Luisa Miller, Germont in La Traviata. Last year Quinn Kelsey sang Germont in a new production of La Traviata with a huge rich voice but he barked his way through the part. There was no sense of a father in pain because of his son's actions, no tenderness, no nuance. Just sheer voice. When Domingo sang Germont all the shades of gray Verdi wrote into the music were there.

I saw Domingo often in the audience at the Met -- always impeccably dressed in a tux, and usually with an attractive lady who was not his wife. I also saw his petite, pretty wife Marta at the same performances. He was unfailingly gracious with fans and well-wishers. He always came out of the stage door and chatted pleasantly with fans in his endearingly accented English.

Yet it's clear from the Associated Press stories and also the private gossip of those in the business that there was another side to Domingo that was well-hidden from his adoring fans. Like many superstars he was pushy and tough -- he demanded the best productions, the best roles, handpicked casts, conducting gigs (that were universally skewered) and usually got a highly coveted HD transmission. This season he was set to be in the HD of Madama Butterfly as Sharpless (another new role). The Met has already beamed the Minghella Butterfly in HD twice -- why a third time?

Domingo's age (78) was always suspect -- if that age is true then he made his U.S debut when he was 21 as Edgardo to the Lucia of Lily Pons. (ETA: this blog's tireless fact checker has informed me that Domingo actually made his professional debut at Mexico City in 1959 as one of the Duke's courtiers in Rigoletto, which makes the 1941 "official" birthdate even more implausible.) But whatever his age is, he refused to slow down. He still demanded the best gigs year after year from opera houses around the world and got them. He even conducted in Bayreuth last summer, where he was booed. He made millions upon millions. He said "If I rest, I rust." It seemed as if nothing could pry him away from the stage.

Domingo and Pons

But most stars who know their worth are tough and demanding. More troubling were the accounts of sexual harassment described by numerous women. The Associated Press article just skims the surface, but the stories that swirled around him were even more tawdry. This issue divided the opera community. I've been appalled at some of the victim shaming I've seen online from Domingo defenders -- a few even said that as a rich and glorious artist, he was entitled to do whatever he wanted to women.

Which is something I've noticed about reactions to the #metoo movement -- people support it until "their guy" gets in trouble, at which point they make excuses. Oh he's a gentleman, oh he was just flirting, I wish I was one of those women, blah blah blah. The truth is that harassers are usually not overtly gross creeps like Harvey Weinstein. Most are charming and outwardly pleasant, like Domingo.

And maybe that's the lesson to take away from Domingo -- that #metoo is not just about going after people you dislike. #Metoo is holding EVERY man accountable for his actions, no matter how brightly his star might shine. #Metoo should protect EVERY woman or man subject to harassment and abuse, whether they have big names (like the star gymnasts who spoke out against Larry Nassar's abuse or the A-list actresses who told stories about Harvey Weinstein) or whether they have no names (the mostly anonymous singers in the AP article about Domingo).

And harassers are often extremely talented. Harvey Weinstein was an excellent movie producer who produced some of the finest films in recent memory. He's the reason we have Quentin Tarantino masterpieces like Pulp Fiction, Reservoir Dogs, and Kill Bill. Placido Domingo was also undeniably talented and gave so much to the opera world. But talent should never be an excuse for poor behavior.

It's ironic that one role Domingo did not tackle as a baritone was Don Giovanni. Don Giovanni was also a charming man whose downfall was not knowing when to stop. But Domingo is luckier than Don G, who is pulled into the pits of hell at his prime. He will continue to have the occasional gig in Europe, but his days as an unchallenged superstar are over. Domingo will likely just fade into retirement.