Copenhagen Pleasures: Part Two

Before leaving for Denmark, I'd taken the precaution of ordering tickets online for two tempting events-- a new staging of Giselle at the Royal Danish Ballet and a new production of Handel's Partenope at the Royal Danish Opera. Both were scheduled at the "Gamle Scene"-- the handsome old opera house in the square named Kongens Nytorv. And both, for reasons I'll explain below, were especially newsworthy. I suspected-- quite rightly-- that tickets might be difficult to get on the spot.

On October 25th, shortly after our arrival in Copenhagen, we attended Giselle. It was a lovely introduction to the Danish cultural scene, but also exciting because this production was Nicolaj Hubbe's first project in his interesting new job as director of the RDB. Though I hadn't seen Hubbe dance very recently, I knew him-- and his reputation-- as a splendid principal dancer with the New York City Ballet. I expected his history with the NYCB to shape what he'd do as director in Copenhagen-- especially in this important initial production. I guess I was looking forward to an edgy, Balanchine-inspired evening, rather than the conventional romantic version of Giselle that he did mount. Conventional, but beautiful! And beautifully danced by the long-legged, elegant Silja Schandorff and Nehemiah Kish, her Canadian Albrecht. I've since read that Hubbe dedicated this production to Henning Kronstan (an earlier dancer, ballet-master and director at the RDB) in whose staging he himself apparently danced his first Albrecht. I also heard that the second cast (we saw the first), with Mads Blangstrup and Gudrun Bojesen, had a very different feel. When I asked an usher about it, she gushed "Oh Mads-- he's so gorgeous!" Kish may not have been as dramatically compelling as his Danish colleague, but he was no slouch in the role. At any rate, the audience was ecstatic. Since this was the last night for Giselle, the applause went on and on. No one wanted to let the dancers go home.

Our opera experience a few days later was even more thrilling. But first I must write about our pre-opera cab ride with an articulate and intelligent driver (not at all unusual in Copenhagen!). When he learned that we were going to the venerable "Old Stage," and that we were a bit early, he offered to turn off his meter and take us for a short tour of the city. He particularly wanted us to see the Operaen-- Copenhagen's modern new opera house, which had opened in 2005. Parking at the edge of the Inderhavnen Canal, he pointed across the harbor to the striking, Henning Larsen-designed building, blazing with lights, on Holmen Island. As we looked across the water and nodded admiringly, the cabbie told us about Maersk McKinney Moeller, the Danish tycoon who had commissioned and paid for the entire cost of the expensive new structure. Moeller, whose family owns a vast container ship company, was for years considered to be Denmark's wealthiest citizen. (Lately, he's been replaced in that stratospheric niche by Kjeld Kirk Kristiansen, the head of Lego.) We had a lively discussion about the pros and cons of such beneficence. Only a day later, we would hear again about this prominent billionaire. Invited to pay a visit to new friends in Charlottenlund, up the coast from Copenhagen, we were given explicit instructions for approaching their house. It was accessible only from one end of their street, since the street was awkwardly divided in half midway by a barrier built to protect a wealthy neighbor-- this same Moeller.

But back to the opera. Again, we were present at the final night of a sold-out production. The lobby of the Gamle Scene was packed, the audience buzzing with anticipation as we all waited impatiently for the doors to open. This was not my first Partenope. In fact, I'd seen a glorious production of it by the same director-- Francisco Negrin-- at Glimmerglass in 1998. I rather doubted that many in the Copenhagen audience had caught that one. But they probably had seen, or certainly knew about, the RDO's 2005 Giulio Cesare, also directed by Negrin and with much of the same cast. It received rave reviews in Copenhagen as well as enthusiastic attention elsewhere when it came out on DVD.

Which explains why there was proleptic excitement for this new Partenope. Like Negrin's Giulio Cesare, it was a modern dress version-- witty and lively, full of humorous quirks and comic absurdities, but its modernity unblemished by "Eurotrash." Handel's music and its glorious lyricism, it goes without saying, is magnificent. I still remembered the terrific performances of it at Glimmerglass by counter-tenors David Daniels and David Walker. The RDO, on this last night, was equally memorable. Andreas Scholl, as Arsace, started out slightly wan, but quickly picked up strength and ended the evening singing powerfully and beautifully. Christophe Dumaux, a counter-tenor new to me, was a sweet-voiced, tender Armindo. I especially liked Tuva Semmingsen's peformance in the pants role of Rosmira. Only Inger Dam-Jensen, in the title role, seemed slightly outclassed. The orchestra-- the original instrument band Concerto Copenhagen led by Lars Ulrik Mortensen-- was outstanding and vigorously cheered by the audience. But so was the entire cast. Bravos, bravissimos, whistles and rhythmic clapping went on forever! In sum-- a wonderful Copenhagen evening.

Copenhagen Pleasures: Part One

I always like to travel in autumn, rather than in the summer months. The cool weather is better for touring, the colors richer, the crowds smaller, and cities are alive, humming with fall events. This year my husband and I decided to go to Copenhagen. Why? One reason was that we'd never been there. Yet, sight unseen, I already had an agreeable impression of Denmark. I liked the country's reputation for taking care of its citizens, for the relative smallness of the disparity between rich and poor, the supposed modesty of Danish lifestyles. Also appealing was the Danish history of innovative design, not to mention the Michelin stars recently awarded to several Copenhagen restaurants. On a map of Europe, I even liked Denmark's precarious position, its disparate parts jutting up energetically from the mainland towards Norway and Sweden.

Scandinavia wasn't totally virgin territory for me. I had been to Helsinki and loved that visit. But that was many years ago-- a work-trip to cover the opening of the then-new Kiasma contemporary art museum, designed by Steven Holl. Oddly enough, while we were in Denmark, Steven Holl's name cropped up again. His architectural firm had just won an international competition for a major Copenhagen commission-- a new and dramatic gateway to the city. To be sited at the Copenhagen harbor, Holl's so-called "LM Project" looks to be a stunner. (See pics at left for night and day views.) It will consist of two eccentric high-rise office towers set on opposing banks of the waterway and connected by pedestrian bridges 65 meters above the harbor. In these worrisome economic times, and in keeping with Denmark's commitment to alternative energy, it's notable that the buildings' public spaces will be constantly lit ("always glowing," in the words of the project statement) by electricity generated from wind turbines lining the bridges.

If my experience this fall was typical, the turbines should work fine. I can testify that there's no shortage of wind-power in Copenhagen. Or rain. Since, at least in autumn, the two often occur together, a hood on your waterproof parka turns out to be far more practical here than an umbrella. Umbrellas have a terrible tendency to collapse. Or to catch the breeze and make you fear that you'll momentarily be airborne above the Tivoli Gardens or the Stroget, Copenhagen's long pedestrian shopping street. Or perhaps you'll be dangerously blown about while trying to rush directly across one of those wide ten-traffic-lane avenues that are commonplace in this city. And what good is an umbrella when you're on a bike, which is how multitudes of Danes get from here to there, rain or shine.

I could see some of those never-ending streams of bicyclists from the wide picture window in our comfortable 15th floor hotel room at the Radisson SAS Royal. The expansive view-- onto the busy Vesterbrogade, Tivoli, and way out over the cityscape towards the Oresund Bridge to Sweden-- was marvelous. So, too, the good-natured, cheerful service from everyone at the hotel. And not only the hotel. The service people I met everywhere in Copenhagen-- in shops, supermarkets, restaurants, theaters-- all seemed to be amazingly tall, blond, good-loking, amiable and eager to be of help. And surprisingly fluent in English. Equally kind were those Copenhageners I boldly accosted on the street or in train stations or at bus stops to ask for assistance finding my way. Citizens on public transportation were generous with help, translating impenetrable (to me) announcements about delayed trains, arranging for bus drivers to indicate my correct stop, etc.-- all without being asked. (Danish public signage, on the other hand, was often peculiarly misleading...) Was I just lucky, mostly moving about in the right (i.e., upscale) parts of town, or was I in a country totally without spleen?

Well-- not entirely. In spite of Denmark's high standard of living and strict immigration policies, migrant issue are not unknown here. And neighborhoods, of course, vary. In Copenhagen newspapers (several have on-line English-language editions) I did read about the darker side of the city-- e.g., shootings and biker-immigrant clashes in the Norrebro area; violence, fires and destruction of squats in Christiania. And walking back to the hotel late one night through back streets beyond the rail station, I saw a lineup of obviously poor immigrants waiting to get into a shelter. So-- perhaps life is less good for those workers from Turkey, Somalia, Lebanon, Iraq.

For a tourist, in the center of the city, those problems seemed distant. More pressing was how to have enough time to see everything we wanted to see-- the Ny Carlsberg Glyptotek, the "Black Diamond," the Danish Design Center, the Caillebotte show in Ordrupgaard, Daniel Libeskind's Jewish Museum, the Louisiana Museum, the new theater, the art galleries, the shops, the palaces, the university, etc., etc., etc.
Next installment-- two terrific events we did see...