It was just another night at the opera. The bill: those old double-yoked war horses, Mascagni's Cavalleria Rusticana and Leoncavallo's I Pagliacci. Performed more than 200 times at the Metropolitan Opera, they were now rounding out a season that had only two more weeks to run. The casts were studded with familiar names, and in the pit was Fausto Cleva, veteran of the Met's Italian wing. But on this routine occasion the audience was treated to a beautifully sung, splendidly paced evening for which much of the credit went to two middle-aged American...
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