New York

No singer today more sharply divides opera fans than does the Russian soprano Anna Netrebko. Her admirers thrill to her robust stage presence and plush, vibrant tone; they celebrate her distinctive fashion sense and crave details about her glamorous private life. Her detractors insist that her celebrity compromises her artistry; they deride her interpretive choices as obvious, fault her diction as imprecise and insist that her top notes no longer ring as purely as they once did.

Yet Ms. Netrebko's star power remains undisputed. On Monday, for the second consecutive year, she opens the Metropolitan Opera's new season—this time co-starring with the American tenor Matthew Polenzani in Bartlett Sher's new production of Donizetti's comic opera "L'Elisir d'Amore."



Ms. Netrebko has sung the role of Adina in "Elisir" at major houses for more than a decade, though never before at the Met. It is the sort of part—light and bright—that brought her to fame. But she will soon leave such characters behind, she says.

"The thing is, my voice changed a lot—enormously," Ms. Netrebko insisted over lunch at a Lincoln Center restaurant earlier this month. She was dressed casually—"for rehearsal," she explained—in a matching brown top and shorts, a multicolored scarf binding her hair, her huge Prada sunglasses resting on the table.
"I'm a different person," she said. "I look different, and I'm different in my mind. Well, I'm 41 years old—time to grow up. The last two or three years, I was trying to figure out where I'm going. I tried to postpone heavier repertoire. But now I'm saying goodbye to -inas"—a suffix that often denotes ingénues in opera—"and I'm very happy about that."

She calls this shift "the big move" and cites her age and motherhood as its chief causes—three years ago she gave birth to her first child, a son, Tiago, whose father is the Uruguayan bass-baritone Erwin Schrott. "After the baby, I got bigger, and I like it," she said, adding, almost reflexively, a digression on our culture's preoccupation with weight. "I like me better now than when I was young and skinny. I don't understand this extreme fashion for being anorexic-skinny. We forgot about women with curves, real women. We're not embracing that anymore. You should not starve yourself with stupid diets, which I don't believe in anyway. But it's not only about the way I look. It's just that I'm different. It's good; it's interesting. I'm more serious, more responsible. Of course, when you have a kid, things change."

The soprano needs no prompting to name the roles she expects to sing in the not-too-distant future. Tatiana in Tchaikovsky's "Eugene Onegin" is an obvious one; she is to open the Met's 2013-14 season with it. And having received mixed reviews in Massenet's "Manon" at the Met last season, she will try "Manon Lescaut," Puccini's take on the character, rumored for Munich in 2014. Ms. Netrebko is also promising new roles by Verdi, including Leonora in "Il Trovatore" and the title character in his little-known "Giovanna d'Arco." But the part she seems most excited about is Lady Macbeth in Verdi's treatment of Shakespeare's Scottish play. "It is coming, but not that soon," she said. "As a soprano who sings Lucia di Lammermoor, I have the high notes and the trills. No problems there. But going into the low registers is lots of work." To underscore her commitment, she mentions a recently completed recording of Verdi arias—"my new repertoire"—to be released by Deutsche Grammophon next year.

Even Wagner looms. In 2016, she is scheduled to sing Elsa in "Lohengrin" in Dresden under the baton of Christian Thielemann, whose "demonic energy" she likens to that of Valery Gergiev, the Russian conductor who has played paterfamilias to a generation of singers from the former Soviet Union, including Ms. Netrebko. She is also interested in exploring at least the orchestral songs, if not the operas, of Richard Strauss. "He understood and felt a woman's voice," she said. "Everything he did was just to open it up, to make it sound beautiful."
But plenty of parts do not interest her. "There are some roles I just don't like," she said, "ones I don't feel I can bring something special to. Therefore I'm not singing them. They are gorgeous but not for me. Desdemona"—in Verdi's "Otello"—"I never sung. I have the voice, yes; but the personality, no. Same with Maria in 'Simon Boccanegra.' And I would never do 'Madama Butterfly,' even if I could—or 'Suor Angelica,'" both by Puccini.

She forswore Gilda in Verdi's "Rigoletto" mostly "because it is very tough to sing 'Caro nome.'" For effect, she takes a huge intake of breath to indicate the struggle. "You have to feel what's in your body," she said. "I won't sing it, no. Bye-bye." But she is dropping two roles reluctantly, Gounod's Juliette and Massenet's Manon. "I still can play young girls, but it's like squeezing a rag," she said, miming the action. "I have to make my voice much smaller. And then the critics say, 'Her voice is too big for these roles.'"

The move to heavier parts will likely mean less time for comic roles, like Adina in "Elisir," which will disappoint not only Ms. Netrebko's fans but also the soprano herself. "What I like about the comic roles is that there's plenty of room for you to be happy," she said. "And if you are happy, you are excited, and if you are excited, you can excite the audience. I love it. There's not too many of them, unfortunately. So if I do play them, I really enjoy them."

Ms. Netrebko's friendly manner and years in the spotlight suggest an artist at consummate ease on the stage, but don't let appearances fool you, she cautions. "You never can feel relaxed, because you always have to be at your best," she said. "And you're more scared of opening night because everyone is judging you—plus there's mean critics." She adds that Monday's opening night will be broadcast live to screens at Lincoln Center and Times Square. "No pressure? What are you talking about? Of course, it's pressure. But the thing is, we can handle it. That's why we are who we are.


Mr. Mermelstein writes for the Journal on classical music and film.