I was sent to the Met Opera last Tuesday (October, 1) with the mission of teasing out some kind of follow-up to all of the commotion surrounding the opening Gala (ie: the petition calling for the Met to dedicate the performances to the cause of LGBT people in Russia, since the two main attractions of the performance were Gergiev and Netrebko). Instead, I found deep and intense pathos at the end of a very peculiar day. I was not expecting to find this in the form of one of the most staunchly traditional (by our standards now) operas in the repertoire. But there you have it. It turns out even Tchaikovsky had his moments of being revolutionary.
Read about it here.