Let us begin with your recent visit to Transcarpathia. I understand that you and your wife have a special connection to the region. Could you share your impressions of the trip? Are there any traditions or memories linked to Transcarpathia that you preserve within your family?
It is interesting, because when I was a child growing up in New York, I had no idea that I had any connection to the Carpathians or Transcarpathia. I always believed my grandparents were Hungarian. My father was a well-known journalist – he began as a courier at The New York Times and eventually became its editor-in-chief, devoting his entire career to the paper. Yet, despite his profession, he never displayed much interest in exploring his family’s roots.
When he wrote his memoirs – about ten years before his death – titled City Room, recounting his life at The Times, he mentioned that his parents came from the same village, which he identified as Czech. He was unaware that it was, in fact, part of Ukraine. He believed it to be in Hungary. And indeed, both of his parents considered themselves Hungarian.
Interestingly, my grandfather was much older than my grandmother, although they were both from the same small village – Velyki Komyaty. Yet they never met there. In a classic immigrant story, they encountered each other in New York, on the Lower East Side of Manhattan, in the early 1900s. My grandfather rarely spoke about the past. He had been a rebellious teenager who had a falling out with his father – they were all Jewish. I am still not entirely sure whether there was a Jewish ghetto in the village or whether the entire village was Jewish. His father owned a tavern – a restaurant or an inn. According to my father, my grandfather quarrelled with his father, stole money from the cash register, and fled to America. A classic tale.
My grandmother, who was significantly younger, came from a very large family – she had 11 siblings, all of whom perished in the Holocaust. She had a deep passion for travel and bravely chose to leave everything behind to go to America. Both of them arrived in the United States before the First World War and met there.
I never gave it much thought as a child, although I knew I had Eastern European roots. My mother’s family was from Lithuania. One of her uncles was Jascha Heifetz, the world-renowned violinist. Her father came from Romania. So, I grew up thinking I was Lithuanian, Romanian and Hungarian – but certainly not Ukrainian.
After the full-scale invasion, I became actively involved in supporting Ukraine. I met Halyna Hryhorenko (a cultural manager and civil servant). I do not recall whether we met in Lviv or Warsaw – I saw her more than once. At some point, she promised to help trace my ancestry. I gave her the name of the village mentioned in my father’s book – at that time, it still had a Czech name. She conducted some research and discovered the Ukrainian name of the village – Velyki Komyaty. She said, “The next time you come to Ukraine, I will organise a trip.”
My wife, Keri-Lynn, who is the conductor of the Kyiv Camerata, arranged a concert in Uzhhorod. I met her in Vienna, and we entered Ukraine via Slovakia. She performed a concert in Uzhhorod. We also had a meeting with the head of the Transcarpathian Regional State Administration. Everyone there already knew this story.
The head said, “If both of your father’s parents are from this village, then you are half Ukrainian – it does not matter that they considered themselves Hungarian.” I replied, “Great!” It was a very touching realisation. I do not know if that makes me officially Ukrainian, but my sense of connection with Ukraine has grown significantly stronger.
It sounds like the plot of an opera or a film. Since 2022, the MET (Metropolitan Opera in New York) has actively supported Ukraine – notably, through the tours of the Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra, performances by Ukrainian opera singers, especially Lyudmyla Monastyrska, and the presence of the Ukrainian flag at the season’s opening. Over the past four years, have you noticed whether Ukrainian classical music has become more recognised by Western audiences generally – and by you personally?
Without a doubt, my understanding of and interest in Ukrainian music has grown immensely since the invasion. Like many others, I regret that I was naive in the early days of the war. We did not pay sufficient attention to what was happening.
Why were you naive?
That is a good question. I do not know. The world is overwhelmed by countless tragedies, and for some reason, it did not respond with the necessary outrage. But the full-scale invasion changed everything. Today, there is a concern that Ukraine may once again be forgotten. I have committed myself to ensuring that this does not happen.
A day or two before the full-scale war began, I was in Moscow – for the last time. I was working on a cultural exchange project with the Bolshoi Theatre – we were preparing joint productions, including Wagner’s Lohengrin. I attended the dress rehearsal of this opera while Russian troops were already massing at Ukraine’s borders and in Belarus. Yet no one believed war was imminent. I asked my Russian colleagues if they understood what was happening. They replied, “No, that is impossible.”
But it did happen. I returned to New York – and the invasion began almost immediately after my arrival. I promptly cancelled all contracts with the Bolshoi Theatre and announced that we would no longer cooperate with any organisation supported by the Russian government. Following extensive discussions with Anna Netrebko, our star performer at the time, I dismissed her, as she refused to publicly distance herself from the Russian regime.
Working together with Keri-Lynn, we began to consider other actions we could take. Just a few days after the invasion, we performed the Ukrainian national anthem. One month later, we held a special concert in support of Ukraine. We have undertaken many initiatives since then.
I have been engaged in cultural diplomacy throughout my life. I am 71 years old. In my early twenties, I served as assistant manager of the Boston Symphony Orchestra. Since the 1970s, I have been involved in numerous politically significant cultural exchanges. In the 1980s, I was the manager of the great pianist from Kyiv, Vladimir Horowitz.
I persuaded him to take part in a cultural exchange programme during the era of Gorbachev and Reagan, who had agreed on nuclear disarmament – with culture as the starting point. Horowitz became the first element of that exchange. I organised the entire initiative, bringing him to Moscow in cooperation with the US State Department. At the time, George Shultz was Secretary of State. I arranged Horowitz’s trip to Moscow.
I have also led many other projects involving Russia. For instance, I made a film about Mstislav Rostropovich and his wife, Galina Vishnevskaya. The couple were heroic in their defence of Solzhenitsyn. Although they were not killed – which was a very real risk – Brezhnev allowed them to emigrate, or rather, expelled them from the Soviet Union.
As a documentary filmmaker, I made a film about their return to Russia – the documentary is called Soldiers of Music. I regard it as an important work that captures the story of their heroism.
Before the invasion, I viewed cultural exchange with Russia as an effective tool for building dialogue between artists on both sides – American and Russian. In general, I believe cultural exchange to be immensely valuable. It fosters greater mutual understanding and contributes to a more civilised world, even amidst political tensions. However, in the case of Russia, everything changed after the full-scale invasion. Once it became clear that Putin intended to destroy Ukraine, my position on cultural exchange with Russia changed radically. I no longer wish to maintain cultural ties with murderers. Therefore, I have completely ended such cooperation.
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You mentioned that at the beginning of the large-scale invasion, people were, for the most part, very naive. Has anything changed in the last three and a half years? Do the United States and other countries still fail to understand the extent to which Russian culture is used as a propaganda tool – even as a weapon?
It is difficult to speak on behalf of an entire country. But just look at what is happening now. The American government has betrayed Ukraine. Yet precisely because I understand how Russia weaponises culture for propaganda purposes, I am helping Ukraine in return – helping to generate a form of positive “propaganda” in defence of its freedom.
That is why, in collaboration with the Polish government, the Polish National Opera and the Metropolitan Opera, we established the Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra – an artistic instrument that simultaneously supports Ukrainian performers and culture; boosts the morale of Ukrainians by showing they have international backing; and sends a message to Russia and Putin that Ukrainian art is alive and cannot be extinguished.
My knowledge of Russia allows me to understand how to resist effectively. That is why I am supporting the Ministry of Culture of Ukraine.
The First Lady, with whom I have had several meetings, recently asked me to consider new ways to support Ukraine. In response, I proposed the idea of creating a Ukrainian opera with global resonance. The libretto was written by an American playwright, the composer is the Ukrainian Maksym Kolomiets, and the story is one that must be told. It has been widely covered in the media, and even adapted as a play – but never before as an opera. This will be the first operatic production on this subject.
Why this particular story? After all, there are many tragic and powerful narratives that could form the basis of an opera.
Yes, but this story is uniquely powerful and deeply emotional. It is taking place as we speak. The children must be returned. There are more than 20,000 of them. And art is a means of reaching millions of people.
The opera tells the story of mothers who cross the front line to rescue their children from Russian captivity. The two central mother characters are fictional, but the plot itself is entirely true to life. There is even a character named “Luba Belova” – a Russian official responsible for the abduction of Ukrainian children. One scene shows her holding a press conference after being accused of war crimes, where she cynically claims that Ukrainian mothers are welcome to retrieve their children if they believe they were taken illegally. This is, of course, a blatant lie. Depicting such scenes in opera is incredibly powerful – and necessary.
The opera will premiere in Warsaw. We are also exploring the possibility of staging an earlier performance – potentially even here. The director is the outstanding Polish artist Barbara Wysocka. When it premieres at the Metropolitan Opera, it will be broadcast in cinemas worldwide. It will also be shown on television and released as a recording.
This is a way to immortalise the story – to create a significant work of art based on world-changing events. It will help Ukraine. And it will also help opera as a genre.
In order for opera as an art form to survive, I sincerely believe it needs new stories, new operas, and new artistic vitality. These must also be grounded in serious subject matter – narratives that resonate with contemporary audiences.
To what extent was the Metropolitan Opera involved in the creation of this opera – in the process itself?
I am involved in everything. As producer of the Metropolitan Opera, I am responsible for securing funding, hiring directors and performers. I have many excellent colleagues who work alongside me, and we are fortunate to have the distinguished conductor and music director Yannick Nézet-Séguin on board.
But ultimately, the responsibility lies with me. Many of the ideas come directly from me.
Are Ukrainian artists involved in the process?
As the libretto is written in English, it is unlikely that Ukrainian singers will be involved in the American production. We have not yet completed the casting. I have already selected two performers for the leading roles of the mothers for the MET production. One is Aleksandra Kurzak, a Polish soprano who mentioned that she may have Ukrainian ancestry. The other is the American soprano Erin Morley. They will perform the opera’s two central roles.
If the performance is staged here in Ukraine – or rather, when it is staged here…
Yes, I prefer “when” as well.
We hope it will take place before the Warsaw premiere (currently scheduled for autumn 2026 – ed.). We are in the midst of discussions regarding potential opportunities, but I am not in a position to announce anything publicly yet.
Ordinarily, developing an opera takes five years. In this instance, I am doing everything possible to accelerate the process. This is an express project because it is essential to tell this story as soon as possible. That is why, two weeks ago, I submitted a portion of the aria to The New York Timesfor publication – to begin sharing the story with the public. I am not sure if you saw it. I would not typically do such a thing. But I am using the creation process of this opera to tell the story step by step, as it unfolds.
Normally, we withhold everything from the public before a premiere – just as one would with a film, to avoid revealing scenes in advance and thereby spoiling the experience. But this time is different. The approach is different because of the political context.
In the United States?
Because of the political situation in Ukraine. Let me rephrase that – because of the political situation in the world.
That is right – in the world.
That is why it carries different meanings for different people. But it remains critically important.
Now that we have discussed the opera, let us move on. At the MET, you created a training programme for Ukrainian artists. What was the motivation behind this initiative, and what outcomes do you anticipate?
The Ukrainian participants we have hosted so far have primarily been interns in theatre-related fields. I created this programme in partnership with the Ministry of Culture. The idea was to provide young Ukrainian professionals working in theatres or opera houses with the opportunity to observe how a large institution such as the MET operates, and to gain hands-on experience.
But it would be better to ask the participants themselves how they felt about it. I hope they had a positive experience. I think some benefitted more than others. Nevertheless, we are committed to continuing. I told the First Lady just a few days ago that I would like to expand the programme to include young Ukrainian singers, as we already have a programme for young artists. Those who joined us previously were not performers, but individuals still in training – students, for example – people who might one day hold my position, so to speak. That is, individuals working behind the scenes in various departments of theatres or opera houses.
I would also like to expand the programme to include Ukrainian composers – and to invite Ukrainian singers. We are ready to do more.
I cannot avoid asking you about Anna Netrebko. In 2023, following the scandal in 2022 – when, as you mentioned, she was dismissed for refusing to distance herself from the criminal actions of the Russian regime – she demanded compensation from the MET. Was it $360,000?
Yes.
What was the outcome of this case?
There were several proceedings. There are many unions in the United States – the MET has fifteen. One of them is AGMA, the American Guild of Musical Artists, which represents singers. Netrebko submitted a claim to AGMA, arguing that since I had dismissed her despite her existing contracts, she should receive compensation in accordance with those contracts.
An arbitration hearing was scheduled. I refused to settle the case voluntarily. I said I did not want to pay her anything. I insisted that only the arbitrator should make the decision. Normally, such disputes are resolved through compromise. But I maintained that I had dismissed her for moral reasons, and that if the arbitrator required us to pay, we would do so – but only under legal compulsion. That is, only if the arbitrator explicitly ordered us to do so.
In the end, the arbitrator ruled that part of her claim was valid, and part was not. We paid only the portion deemed legitimate. Afterwards, she filed a separate lawsuit. This is an entirely new legal case, and it is still ongoing. She brought the case on several counts – not only against the MET, but against me personally.
And you have no intention of settling that case either?
No. This is a matter on which we will not compromise.
But it is important to emphasise that I gave her the opportunity to publicly distance herself from Putin. She told me she could not. I believe she had certain conversations with the Kremlin. As I understand it, she returned to me and said, “I stand with my country.” That is when I dismissed her. Her later statement – a month afterwards – in which she claimed to be against the war was, in my opinion, insincere. It was issued only after her dismissal. From a legal perspective, I believe that statement was not genuine. I do not believe she meant it.
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I would like to return briefly to the subject of Ukrainian classical music and the Western repertoire – not only at the MET. What can be done today, outside Ukraine, to ensure there are more Ukrainian stories, more Ukrainian operas and more Ukrainian artists included in the repertoire? And how can we ensure that this interest does not fade once the war ends?
I do not wish to describe the situation as a good thing, but one of the positive consequences of it is that it has created an opportunity for a much greater presence of Ukrainian art – both visual and musical – outside Ukraine, particularly in the West. For example, when my wife curates the programme for Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra concerts, she always includes a Ukrainian work.
Here is another example of how we are trying to draw attention to the opera The Mothers of Kherson. This summer, during the Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra’s fourth European tour, the concert programme will open with a suite from The Mothers of Kherson, which we commissioned Maksym Kolomiets to compose. Although the opera is still in progress, there will be a 10–12-minute orchestral suite that will serve as the opening piece. This is another means by which we are supporting the project.
Last year’s tour included Viktoriya Polyova’s Bucha Lacrimosa – a deeply powerful and emotionally charged work that leaves a lasting impression. At the first concert at the Metropolitan Opera, we performed Stankovych’s choral piece Prayer for Ukraine. And in every programme, we have also included Skoryk’s Melody – it is extraordinarily beautiful music and appears consistently.
Of course, the work that Karolina is doing with the exceptional Kyiv Camerata is also extremely important. As you know, this ensemble is a leading platform for contemporary Ukrainian music. Thanks to Karolina’s involvement, they are performing more frequently outside Ukraine and creating more opportunities for Ukrainian composers.
But in May, the MET staged Tchaykovskiy’s The Queen of Spades…
Yes.
Why is Russian classical music still so popular in the United States and the West? How can this phenomenon be explained? After all, we recall that it was Tchaykovskiy whose music the Russians played among the ruins of the Mariupol Drama Theatre. It is essential to explain this to Western audiences: on the one hand, The Queen of Spades – on the other, the Mariupol Drama Theatre.
I completely understand this. And I fully recognise why there is no “grey area” in Ukraine – why everything is seen in terms of black and white. Because you are at war. Because they are trying to kill you.
That’s right.
If I lived in Ukraine, I would not allow Russian music to be performed. I would not allow the Russian language to be spoken. However, my position is somewhat different – more complex – because I lead an international opera institution. And Tchaykovskiy is a genius. So is Shostakovich. They lived long before Putin. Shostakovich was nearly destroyed by Stalin. Rachmaninoff as well. But yes – they were Russian. I understand you. And I do not dispute Ukraine’s stance.
For me, Tchaykovskiy is one of the greatest composers in history. And audiences listening to his works at the MET do not associate him with Mariupol – simply because they do not know that his music was played there.
That’s right. But here’s the question: do we have a chance to explain that to people? At least to give them some context?
For the past four years, every Metropolitan Opera programme – when you open the booklet and take your seat – begins with the statement: “The Metropolitan Opera supports Ukraine’s fight for freedom.” This appears in every programme. So the audience is clearly aware of the MET’s position.
Here is the programme – I have it on my phone!
Yes, that’s it! What you’re saying is important. We must educate people. And help them understand that Russian music is often used as a tool of propaganda.
Just look at Valeriy Gergiyev. He is, in my view, a thief – Putin’s cultural henchman. His “glorious concerts” in Georgia, Syria, Aleppo – all of this was covered in The New York Times. And those were critical reports, not favourable ones. Readers of The New York Times know what is happening in Russia – and they understand it.
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In conclusion, I would like to ask about opera more broadly, and the global situation with classical music. Opera is currently experiencing a worldwide crisis: audiences are ageing, and the number of enthusiasts is declining. How is this affecting the MET?
Yes, without question. Since the start of the pandemic, I have placed a strong emphasis on contemporary opera. The Mothers of Kherson is part of that initiative. I believe that for opera to stay alive, it must evolve – just as cinema has evolved, visual art has evolved, and theatre has evolved. We cannot continue telling the same stories endlessly.
We certainly need new productions of the classics. But opera remained largely unchanged throughout much of the 20th century. Opera houses such as the MET had no difficulty filling their auditoriums. Every seat would be sold. And audiences were content to hear the same works by Verdi, Puccini and Wagner. But over time, that audience aged and passed away.
This is precisely the crisis I encountered when I became general manager of the MET 19 years ago. I was invited because the board of directors wanted change. And I tried to bring about change – while respecting tradition, I also sought to introduce innovation. I worked to transform the way the MET engages with the world – for example, through cinema broadcasts. That initiative was mine.
In Ukraine and in many Eastern European countries, opera audiences are noticeably younger. I do not know why that is. But prior to the war, I travelled extensively to opera festivals and noticed the difference.
I saw it too – I attended opera performances in Kyiv both before and during the war. And yes, your audience is younger.
It would be interesting to understand why.
When was the last time you were at the MET?
Oh, before COVID. Although – no, wait – it was the Los Angeles Opera with Zubin Mehta. I managed to hear him!
If you came now, you would see a much younger audience. The average age is now 44.
Yes, when I arrived at the MET, the average audience age was approximately 66. Now it is 44.
This transformation has occurred over the past five years. The problem in America is that we do not receive government support. And even if we did, we would likely lose it under the current administration, which does not support the arts. In fact, the MET receives no public funding whatsoever. So we rely entirely on private donations. And younger audiences, of course, are not as financially secure as older ones. We have to wait until they grow older – and wealthier.
But I remain quite optimistic, because today’s audience is significantly younger and more diverse. It better reflects the values of contemporary society.
The goal of any theatre should be to cultivate an audience that mirrors the diversity of the city in which it operates. I cannot say that the MET’s audience fully reflects the diversity of Manhattan’s population, but it is far closer to that ideal than it was 20 years ago.
Does the MET have any Russian donors?
No – there are no major donors. There may be a few small ones, but there are certainly no oligarchs.
You mentioned the political culture of the American government. What exactly has changed for the MET in recent times?
Nothing, really – because we do not receive any government support.
Can you give an example?
This is not specific to the current government. For many years, the total budget of the National Endowment for the Arts – the principal agency responsible for public arts funding in the United States – has been approximately half the annual budget of the Metropolitan Opera. That is the entire national budget for supporting the arts – only half of what we require to operate.
What is the MET’s annual budget, if I may ask?
Over $300 million per year.
And one final question: I understand that recently the Russian ambassador attempted to obtain tickets…
I said no.