Rudy! Rudy!

The Times profiles an opera singer whose story will at least become a fantastic made-for-TV movie, showing what would happen if Hoosiers were set on the Upper West Side:

Until 18 months ago, Erika Sunnegardh, a soprano, had never sung an opera role on stage.

For nearly 20 years she toiled as a waitress, caterer and tour guide in New York. Sure, there was singing: a few recitals and plenty of funerals as a church cantor in the Bronx. Often the choice boiled down to rent or voice lessons.

But in a story that will give a jolt of hope to every would-be performer with a serving tray, Ms. Sunnegardh, 40, has been assigned to appear today at the Metropolitan Opera in the title role of Beethoven’s “Fidelio” as a last-minute substitute for an ailing Karita Mattila. What’s more, the performance is one of the house’s Saturday radio broadcasts, heard by 10 million people around the world.

Compare it to the Yankees starting a pitcher who had done nothing more than toss batting practice, or the president appointing a beat cop as defense secretary. In the annals of opera, it ranks with Plácido Domingo stepping in for Franco Corelli in 1968 to make his Met debut.

Astonishingly, the Met embraced Ms. Sunnegardh solely on the basis of two brief auditions in May 2004, well before her first appearance on any opera stage.

In order not to disrupt the fairy tale, she had to turn in a great performance. The Times reports that if it wasn’t exactly perfect, it was nonetheless great:

A number of people in the audience, perhaps aware of her story — years of working as a waitress, singing at church, and a barren career (until now) — walked out with red-rimmed eyes.

When she came out for her first curtain call, she put her hands together in front of her face and said, “Thank you very much.”

She turned to look at the chorus behind her, which included several former conservatory classmates and neighbors in her building in Riverdale, and raised her hands in acknowledgment. They, in turn, cheered her, she said later in her dressing room.

. . .

The pressure on Ms. Sunnegardh was enormous. Not only was she singing a difficult role before a packed Met, but the performance was being broadcast worldwide to 10 million people.

She had difficulties in Act I: a brief memory lapse and what she called “little mishaps” that made her feel “human.” But she warmed up. “The second act felt like it was really on,” she said.

. . .

In her dressing room, after she had showered and changed into a black dress, she received a stream of visitors. One was Peter Gelb, the Met’s incoming general manager. “So we’ll talk?” Ms. Sunnegardh asked. “We will talk,” he answered.