Wanted: Full-Time Help

In the most opulent of times, running the Metropolitan Opera is a fiendishly difficult job. In a period of inflation and curtailed money for the arts, it may not be possible at all. Leaving aside routine struggles with savage divas and hollowheaded tenors, the Met poses awesome problems of scale. It is, after all, the largest opera house in the world. Filling its cavernous stage with scenery has broken many a budget. Casting a cold and not always knowing eye over the balance sheet is a board of directors --many recruited on Wall Street--that is bigger by 21 members than that of General Motors.

For 22 years, until 1972, this unwieldy kingdom was presided over by Sir Rudolf Bing, a resourceful administrator but one often resented for his peremptory ways. Though he spent money lavishly, he is undeniably looking better and better as he recedes from view. His successor, Goren Gentele, came from the state-subsidized Royal Opera House in Stockholm. Gentele was killed in a car crash only 18 days after he took over. His most tangible legacy was the appointment of the first music director in the Met's 90-year history, Czech-born Conductor Rafael Kubelik. It is an indication of the deep trouble at the Met these days that Kubelik resigned under pressure last week after only six months in one of the most powerful posts in opera.

No one at the Met, which values its secrecy as much as its singers, was saying much about what caused the 59-year-old maestro's departure. Certainly a major complaint was that after spending the early fall in New York, Kubelik decamped for Munich to fulfill previously scheduled conducting commitments and kept in touch with New York largely via phone and Telex exchanges. In his absence, things began to come apart, beginning in January with a spectacularly unlucky production of Wagner's Tristan und Isolde. Swedish Soprano Catarina Ligendza, scheduled for the first performances, canceled, citing illness. In turn, Tenor Jon Vickers, who is the best Tristan in the world right now, began to have second thoughts about making his Met debut in the role. Conductor Erich Leinsdorf apparently caught the pouts from him and nearly quit as well.

It was a dilemma that cried out for the firm guiding hand of a musical director, but the word from Munich was:

Scrap Tristan and put on Tosca. At the Met--which has fielded three Tristans for an act apiece rather than switch operas for a single performance--it was a disastrous suggestion. Schuyler Chapin, Gentele's successor as manager, rejected the idea, hired a minor singer named Klara Barlow to sing Isolde, and pulled together cast and production.

Met President George S. Moore commented bluntly: "I am sorry about Kubelik's resignation, but it is impossible to do things by Telex. He worked part time." Understandably, Kubelik saw things differently. In a terse resignation statement he contended that the Met's financial condition prevented him from achieving his "artistic ideals." He concluded: "Relieved of certain of my artistic demands, the Metropolitan may be better able to bring its financial situation into balance." Exactly what these artistic requirements might be--beyond hustling up the odd Tosca in a hurry --remained unspecified.

The Met is indeed beset by acute financial trouble. The company ran up a $7.8 million deficit last season, and though it received $5 million in private and corporate contributions, was left with a debt exceeding 10% of its annual budget. Economically, the Met is a guaranteed losing proposition: a sold-out house does not cover the expenses of a performance. Costs are rising remorselessly. "We used to lose $10,000 every time the curtain went up," says Moore. "Now we lose $30,000."

So far, attempts at frugality have not been effective, and have damaged the quality of the performances. Opera's superstars--always the special glory of the house--are being alienated in droves. Top-salaried singers and conductors, including Joan Sutherland, Luciano Pavarotti, Birgit Nilsson and Karl Bohm are either dropping the Met next season or curtailing their schedules because they are getting halfhearted, perfunctory offers. Important parts are going to journeyman performers with increasing frequency. With the notable and lavish exception of Les Troy ens, new productions often seem skimpy. In the recent I Vespri Siciliani, for example, the staircase unit set was starkly handsome, but would have been more appropriate for the prison scene in Fidelio.

No Dinosaur. The indications are that the Met is now facing its fiscal woes more realistically. A new production of Don Giovanni has been scratched as have the free summer concerts in city parks. The 1975-76 season will be shortened by four to six weeks, an especially difficult step to take. "It is impossible to offer the greatest opera in the world to audiences some 200 nights a year," said Moore. "We are thinking in terms of 150 to 180 performances. This means that many of the Met's employees will have to find other jobs for three or four months a year. We should be able to help them." The house will need the help and sympathy of 14 unions to carry out the plan; most contracts guarantee year-round employment.

Meanwhile Schuyler Chapin is hunting for a new music director: "Someone who will be with us for ten months a year." Speculation about his choice ranges from Rudolf Kempe to Maria Callas, with 30-year-old James Levine, who now holds the title of principal conductor, having an inside track. The next months will be crucial both for Chapin personally and for the opera house. His task, as he admits, is to demonstrate that "the Met is no dinosaur ready to be buried with ringing salutes."

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