Wednesday, October 14, 2026

NYT - Martina Arroyo, Luminous Soprano Who Broke Barriers, Dies at 90

 

Martina Arroyo, Luminous Soprano Who Broke Barriers, Dies at 90

A leading star at the Metropolitan Opera in the 1960s and ’70s, she was one of the first Black singers to have a major stage career.  Martina Arroyo poses for a black-and-white portrait in costume as Aida, with a dress and fabric pulled over as a head scarf.

By Vivien Schweitzer

Oct. 14, 2026

Updated 10:06 a.m. ET

Martina Arroyo, a soprano whose rich voice carried with ease through the scores of Giuseppe Verdi and who was one of the first Black singers to have a major operatic career, died on Tuesday at her home in Manhattan. She was 90.

The death was confirmed by her representative, Miracle Management.

Ms. Arroyo and other artists of her generation, like Leontyne Price, Grace Bumbry, Shirley Verrett and George Shirley, broke color barriers in the opera world in the 1950s and ’60s, becoming stars at important houses.

At the Metropolitan Opera, Ms. Arroyo made her debut in a small role in 1959, but her big break arrived six years later, when Rudolf Bing, the company’s general manager, called and asked her to replace an ailing colleague as Verdi’s Aida.

Ms. Arroyo, whose career had been building slowly in Europe, initially assumed it was a prank. The evening, though, was a triumph. She was offered a contract; sang later that year as Elisabetta in Verdi’s “Don Carlo,” Leonora in his “Il Trovatore” and Cio-Cio-San in Puccini’s “Madama Butterfly”; and starred in three season-opening nights in the early 1970s.

Reviewing her in “Il Trovatore” at the Met in 1969, the New York Times critic Harold C. Schonberg wrote that she “always had a big, soaring voice. Now she sings with color, knows how to pace herself and produces tone after tone of focused beauty.” In a section on Verdi’s “Un Ballo in Maschera” in “The Metropolitan Opera Guide to Recorded Opera” (1993), Lord Harewood said that Ms. Arroyo’s Amelia, from 1975, was the best in the 14 classic recordings under review.

A frequent guest on Johnny Carson’s “Tonight Show,” Ms. Arroyo took an unusual path to stardom, briefly serving as a social worker and schoolteacher in New York City early in her career. She was down to earth and known for her sense of humor. Joking about the role she sang for her Met debut after winning the company’s Auditions of the Air in 1958, she recalled, laughing, that the offstage part of the Celestial Voice in “Don Carlo” was so tiny that her mother missed hearing her because of an ill-timed bathroom break.




In addition to the Met, Ms. Arroyo appeared at leading houses such as the Teatro alla Scala in Milan, the Lyric Opera of Chicago and the Royal Opera in London. While best known for Verdi, she was a versatile artist whose repertory ranged from Mozart to 20th-century composers like Stockhausen, Schoenberg and William Bolcom, and she gave the world premieres of works including Samuel Barber’s “Andromache’s Farewell.”


She sang with a powerful, luminous and expressive voice, and wanted listeners to know that she labored to achieve such lustrous results.




“If people think a kind of magic happens onstage, they ought to know that what they’re seeing is a lot of work,” she told The Times in 1972. “To me, ‘charisma’ is just a fancy word for rehearsals. And if I catch you using the word ‘effortless’ about me, I’ll laugh in your face.”

Ms. Arroyo, wearing a silk dress with a shimmering top, smiles as she sits next to Johnny Carson’s desk on “The Tonight Show.”

Ms. Arroyo with Johnny Carson. She appeared on Mr. Carson’s “Tonight Show” regularly in her heyday.Credit...Paul Drinkwater/NBC via Getty Images

Ms. Arroyo was born on Feb. 2, 1936, in the Harlem neighborhood of Manhattan, the daughter of Demetrio Arroyo, a mechanical engineer from Puerto Rico, and Lucille Washington, an amateur pianist from South Carolina.



The family, which also included an older son, placed a premium on culture. Ms. Arroyo sang in church choirs and took ballet classes, and with her parents frequently attended museums, concerts, plays, films and musicals.

Opera was not part of her upbringing, but while she was a student at Hunter College High School, she attended an opera workshop and was sent to audition for the vocal coach Marinka Gurewich, who later told the Times that she was as impressed by Ms. Arroyo’s character as she was by the teenager’s voice.

“To be a great singer means more than just a voice,” Ms. Gurewich said. “What struck me was this personality of straightforward determination without any of the unkindness that is so often included.”

Ms. Gurewich would be Ms. Arroyo’s teacher for the next four decades.

Ms. Arroyo’s parents initially worried about her passion for opera. “My father was so afraid I would have to wear a short dress and kick up my legs,” she recalled. “He finally found out more and saw an opera himself, and certainly my mother came to love opera and respect it almost more than I do. She became addicted to it.”

But the possibility of a career in the field still seemed far-fetched when Ms. Arroyo was getting started, in part because of a lack of models. It was only in 1955 that the contralto Marian Anderson became the first Black artist to sing a significant role at the Met.

Even after Ms. Arroyo’s parents began supporting her interest in music, they insisted that she also pursue a more reliable line of work as a backup. She received a bachelor’s degree in romance languages from Hunter College, followed by a teacher’s license and graduate studies in literature at New York University. She was a New York City welfare caseworker and a high-school teacher in the mid- to late 1950s.

Later, asked about the advice she liked to give young singers, she replied, “The only real answer that has remained with me has been the security of having had another profession.”

Ms. Arroyo won the Auditions of the Air by singing “O patria mia” from “Aida.” She then returned to her day job while also making her Met debut and singing around the country in opera and concerts. She then moved to Europe, giving well-reviewed lieder recitals and becoming part of the resident ensemble at the Zurich Opera.

In 1961, she married the Italian violist Emilio Poggioni, a relationship which ended in divorce, and later married Michel Maurel, a banker, who died in 2011. She has no immediate survivors.

She sang “Aida” for her final Met performances in 1986 and, after retiring from the stage in the early 1990s, devoted herself to teaching. She received the National Endowment for the Arts Opera Honor in 2010 and the Kennedy Center Honor in 2013.

As a professor at Indiana University, she taught a course in role preparation that laid the groundwork for the Martina Arroyo Foundation, which she established in 2003. Ten years later, she told The Washington Post that, while her singing career had been wonderful, “Life as I wanted it truly began for me with the foundation.”

The foundation long organized a six-week summer program, Prelude to Performance, that culminated in a fully staged opera at Hunter. Instead of focusing on technique, the program sought to help aspiring singers more convincingly inhabit roles. It was the kind of dramatic training that Ms. Arroyo felt had been missing from her own early studies, which had left her to her own instincts.

“I love Amelia in ‘Ballo in Maschera,’” she said. “I love Butterfly. She’s dramatic, she’s wonderful, she’s warm, she gives. The characters I don’t like, I don’t go near. Because if I don’t like her, if I don’t really love her, I can’t sing her.”


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Corrected on Oct. 14, 2026: An earlier version of this obituary misstated Ms. Arroyo’s year of birth and her age when she died. She was born on Feb. 2 in 1936, not 1937, and was 90 when she died, not 89.

We acknowledge mistakes in our reporting with corrections. If you spot an error, please let us know at corrections@nytimes.com.Learn more.

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Thursday, October 08, 2026

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Saturday, September 19, 2026

Review: CARMEN, Grand Opera House

Review: CARMEN, Grand Opera House NEW! Ireland Theatre Newsletter Get all the top news & discounts for Ireland & beyond. No password required. Enter your email address Sign Up Review: CARMEN, Grand Opera House Image 

When Georges Bizet’s Carmen premiered in Paris in 1875, the opening night audience walked in expecting a lightweight crowd-pleaser and walked out baffled by an uncomfortable, tragic turn of realism that shattered the cozy conventions of 19th-century opera. In Northern Ireland Opera’s striking new production at Belfast’s Grand Opera House, director Cameron Menzies engineers a fascinating reversal of that historical opening night. Arriving expecting a grand, reassuring hit, tonight's audience was initially reserved when met with a post-conflict, gritty backlot framed by chain-link fencing, truss structures, and sodium-yellow lighting designed by Niall McKeever. Yet by the final curtain call, the Belfast crowd completely understood the vision, fully embracing why this stripped-back version had to be told.


 Instead of glamorous Sevillian factory workers, the cigarette girls emerge from a shipping container looking terrified, functioning less like a theatrical chorus and more like victims of human trafficking. Menzies, who also designed the costumes, anchors the production in everyday realism. The chorus and gypsies look like people you would pass on O’Connell Street or sit next to on the Luas Red Line, complete with the conductor wearing a black Adidas tracksuit. 

These gypsies are not romanticized figures; they represent modern, suffering outsiders. Throughout the evening, the Northern Ireland Opera Chorus acts as a desperate political force, rioting and demanding peace in ways that mirror Ireland’s contemporary socio-political landscape. These dark social commentaries are anchored by Bizet's crucial "stage songs." The first act moves briskly despite its 95-minute runtime because numbers like the Habanera, the Seguidilla, and the explosive Act II Chanson bohème act as narrative engines keeping the momentum tight. 

In Menzies’ staging of that final scene, rather than relying on a romanticized knife stab, Stewart’s Don José strangles Carmen with his bare hands behind locked doors, transforming the murder into an excruciating window onto domestic abuse. As she dies, the women of the chorus enter dressed as black-widow mourners, forced to watch helplessly in a chilling reflection of escalating violence against women. 

 As the titular heroine, Ruby Dibble dominates the stage with formidable vocal control and magnetic dramatic authority. Opposite her, Mary McCabe is a magnificent revelation as Micaëla. Posed as an outsider of pure light within this grim landscape, McCabe delivers an exquisite Act III aria that earned the longest, warmest applause of the night. Among the supporting cast, Petra Wells (Frasquita) and Jenny Bourke (Mercédès) provide sharp character work, while Thomas Chenhall delivers a solid yet unmemorable Escamillo. 


 Where the production falters is in its tenor and technical execution. Noah Stewart starts strong as Don José, but when the Seguidilla hits, his vocals began to fail. He suffered noticeable vocal cracks, growing unsteady across Act II, and lost vocal projection entirely during the final act, making his duet against Dibble vocally painful to hear despite maintaining a strong physical stage presence. Compounding these vocal struggles was the technical execution of the surtitles. While many audience members might not strictly need translations for a repertoire classic like Carmen, having production-adapted surtitles that matched this director's vision would have escalated the performance even further for a younger, broader audience. 


Instead, they were frequently out of sync or dropped entirely. Most egregiously, the translation omitted Carmen's critical reprise line from the Habanera, "Prends garde à toi" ("Beware!"), dropping the central warning that defines the entire story. Later, the text incongruously displayed Carmen asking to be stabbed even though José held no knife. Despite these vocal and surtitle missteps, Menzies and Arrowsmith have crafted a vital, razor-sharp reinvention that balances Bizet's immortal melodies with a searing modern message. Carmen runs at the Grand Opera House, Belfast from 12 to 19 September 2026.

Carmen review — fiery singing but a whiff of school gym

 

Fiery Singing but a Whiff of School Gym

 



From left: Noah Stewart as Don José and Ruby Dibble as Carmen Neil Harrison


A new update of Bizet’s opera by Northern Ireland Opera has a compelling heroine — even if the staging isn’t wholly successful.

The golden albero yellow of Seville sours to shades of toxic lemon, nicotine stain and sodium light in this Carmen, which is updated in Northern Ireland Opera’s ambitious new production from 19th-century Spain to who knows exactly where, who knows when.

The director Cameron Menzies and set designer Niall McKeever argue that setting Bizet’s popular hit everywhere and nowhere allows us to ask what kinds of society produce men like Carmen’s killer, the misogynistic Don José, by letting us concentrate on the underlying, universal conditions.That’s an admirable aim and pertinent too, given that Northern Ireland was recently called “the most dangerous place to be a woman” in the UK. But the problem with ripping out context is that what’s left is often confusion.
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Instead of a backdrop that underscores the plot’s tinderbox blend of sultry seduction, intense passion and possessive jealousy, here the tension is leached out by an anonymous mix of wooden pallets, metal barrels and floodlights.




Plus, with benches, risers and faded floor markings, there’s more than a whiff of the school gym about it all, even though we’re in Belfast’s splendid Grand Opera House.
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Still, if the big dramatic idea doesn’t come off, there’s plenty to applaud elsewhere. It’s a nice touch to have a quintet of actor-musicians on stage, their music arranged by Greg Arrowsmith, who also whips up colour and excitement in the pit with the NI Opera’s orchestra.

Ruby Dibble as Carmen, interacting with a male performer.
The chorus proves one of the production’s great strengths
Neil Harrison
While Noah Stewart can hardly have been having his best night, audibly pushed to his vocal limits, it felt like the bones of a strong Don José were here. Mary McCabe’s Micaela conveyed touching sincerity and courage, while Thomas Chenhall’s Escamillo gleamed. And the dark hues of Ruby Dibble’s rich mezzo-soprano made her Carmen compelling.

Over the past five years, the indispensable NI Opera has been building its opera chorus. Here they soared. Adding colour and atmosphere as soldiers, cigarette girls, smugglers and citizens, the chorus was in fine voice, giving us one of the production’s most striking moments at the start of Act IV.

Singing at thrilling full throttle, the chorus sported Spanish-flavoured costumes and waved flags, creating a vibrant riot with masks, mantillas and even a motorbike. Into the mêlée entered Carmen in full flamenco garb, all dangerous red and black. If her death appears inevitable, destined by fate, this production reminds us that it is not. Instead, killing her is an active choice by the spurned Don José, the punishment he deems she will pay for her freedom. Centre-stage, he strangles her. This is the final image we are left with, grim and disturbing.

★★★☆☆
180min
Grand Opera House, Belfast, to Sep 19, niopera.com

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Monday, September 14, 2026

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