EX TENEBRIS CRESCIT FLOS
A Night at the Opera
The Enjoyment of a Unique Art Form
January 22, 2006
Arrival and the Audience
I have gone to many classical music performances, but it has been a number
of years since I have been to the opera. Although I enjoy it, I never seem
to think of going. The Utah Opera has been performing Puccini's
La Rondine, and the music class I am taking attended the dress
rehearsal. I was busy that night, so I chose to attend a regular performance
on Friday, January 20, instead. I went alone since I like to plan these
sorts of activities at the last minute and I don't like to deal with finding
other people to join me. It is easier for me to pay attention anyway when
I am not with someone who may distract me. So I arrived by myself about a
half hour before the performance.
Whenever I attend any kind of event, I pay attention to the audience. The
people at the event can be almost as fascinating as the performance itself.
Classical music performances tend to attract people in the upper classes of
society, or people who like to appear as if they are in the upper classes.
These are the only events at which I am not the only person wearing a fur coat.
In fact, mine wasn't even the best. I do have a very nice mink jacket, but
the rich ladies who have thousands of dollars to spend on a coat can certainly
outdo mine! I don't really care; although I like fur coats, I have more
important things on which to waste my money. Almost everybody, myself
included, was dressed in the fanciest clothing. I wore one of my favorite
outfits, a loose-fitting black dress from the 1930's. Other women wore some
incredible outfits; I was especially envious of a woman in a sexy, and
expensive-looking, backless halter dress. Unfortunately, I don't look good
in a backless dress, so I don't think I will be getting one.
My seat was near the left side of the mezzanine. Although that would not
seem like the best seat, it gave an excellent view of the stage. The Capitol
Theatre is an excellent opera house, an old-fashioned, highly ornate theatre
that would be prohibitively expensive to build nowadays. A number of years
ago, the theater was meticulously restored, and it has held up well; I only
noted a bit of peeling plaster. The seats are comfortable, albeit a bit
cramped. This became especially noticeable when a very large man sat in the
seat next to me. Why is it that, whenever I go to a concert, it seems like I
always get a seat next to some big oaf with halitosis who takes up a lot of
space? Oh well. I'm used to it. I need a lot of space between me and the
next person in order to truly feel comfortable, and I seldom have that luxury.
Perhaps next time I should buy three seats and sit in the center one, leaving
the ones on either side empty!
The Performance
Act I opened immediately; there wasn't much of an overture, just a brief
introductory passage before the action began. A poet sang of love and
romance in the wonderfully corny fashion of the nineteenth century, and
described Paris as the best place to find love, while
Magda (a lady married to a rather dull wealthy man) and three of her lady
friends listened to his words (and ate it all up). The costumes were lovely;
the long flowing dresses of that time period have always appealed to me. Now,
I'll have to get on the web and find some to buy! I especially loved the
lavender dress of one of Magda's friends, but I would; I love all shades of
purple. The maid provided comic relief, behaving in the stereotypically coarse
manner of the lower classes, but exhibiting the common-sense wisdom that always
eludes the rich. Magda sang about a past whirlwind romance in which she snuck
out of her old aunt's house and had a brief affair with a man with a dark
mustache. The line about the mustache (unfortunately I don't remember the
precise lyric) was so corny that I almost laughed out loud! But what would
opera be if it wasn't corny. During this act, the son of a friend of the dull
husband, Ruggero, entered and bantered a bit with the occupants of the house.
As the scene ended, the maid put on some of
Magda's clothing (and exhibited a poor sense of fashion), and joined the
poet as they headed to a popular nightclub. Magda disguised herself in
working class clothes and snuck out of the house, her head full of the poet's
words and the memories of her previous romance, and headed for the same
nightclub.
Act II opened on the nightclub. As Magda entered, a group of creepy
students immediately accosted her. This is precisely why I do not go to
nightclubs (aside from the unpleasant acrid smoke); creepy men always seem to
hit on me, and I am definitely not interested in them. Ruggero sat alone at
a table, and Magda made for him to escape from the students. She only intended
to sit there a moment, but Ruggero (not recognizing her) immediately became
infatuated. A romance quickly blossomed, accompanied by numerous lyrics
exalting their love with verse so sweet and corny that I wanted to vomit! Of
course, had it not been this way, I would have been disappointed. The maid
and the poet entered a bit later, creating a touchy situation. Magda was
afraid of being recognized, and the maid seemed to recognize her, but the poet
(of course knowing what was going on) tried to convince the maid that she was
wrong. Continuing with her comic relief role, the maid got drunk and
embarassed the poet. Magda's husband came into the club, and Magda informed
him that they were finished. The scene ended, and Magda and Ruggero headed
off for the Riviera.
Act III opened with more corny love lyrics, but things quickly turned
serious. Ruggero intended to marry Magda and had obtained the consent of
his parents. Of course, in the society of the day, that could not happen;
Magda was already married and divorce was not a concept for people of her
social class. Meanwhile, the maid and the poet appeared, and they argued.
The maid and Magda were reunited. Magda reluctantly turned down Ruggero's
proposal, and he sang on and on and on in the typical operatic fashion about
how hurt he was. Again, operatic corniness reared its head, but I would have
been sorely disappointed if it hadn't. Magda returned to her life of luxury
with her dull husband. Of course, had this been in the modern day, Magda
would have obtained a divorce, and she would have married Ruggero; his
parents' consent would have been unnecessary. Society certainly has changed.
This opera was as delightfully corny as any of its time, and I enjoyed it
thoroughly. The performances were excellent, although the orchestra
overwhelmed the singers at times; perhaps the acoustics of my location made
this worse. None of the voices grated on me, although when they got loud it
did hurt my ears a bit. Since this was a lighthearted comic opera, nobody
died. Those scenes in which a character dies slowly, singing an aria for
what seems like an eternity, while he or she gradually sinks to the floor,
have always been among the most ridiculous scenes in opera, but this one,
mercifully, had none of those. All in all, it was well worth seeing, and I
would strongly recommend it.
Observations
The subject of romance, as it is portrayed in operas such as La Rondine,
many other operas, and numerous works of literature of the day, always makes
me think of my own views. All my life, I have been the quintessential
anti-romantic. Cynicism forbids me from believing in whirlwind romance, or
"love at first sight". Real life is far more complex. I have seen too many
abusive relationships and unhappy marriages for me to believe that the romantic
ideals ever happen. This opera, even, makes a nod to that; the theme of the
unhappy marriage is certainly present. But the theme of the wonderful,
exalted romance seems quite unlikely, however appealing it may be. True,
even I sometimes dream of such a thing. In my dreams, the ideal lover
appears from nowhere and sweeps me off my feet; I find my mindmate and soulmate
and live happily ever after. But when I wake up, I realize that this is
unlikely. I suppose I don't want to deal with the reality of the situation;
I would rather live my life alone. I have made it to my mid-30's without
ever being in love, and I simply do not understand it. Perhaps for me, this
is why this opera seems so far removed from reality. But perhaps Magda's
romance with Ruggero reflects my ideal dreams, and her dream drew me deeply
into the story in spite of the corniness and my cynicism about the subject.
Maybe one day the woman, man, or androgyne (I'm not overly picky) of my dreams
will fly in and sweep me off my feet, but until then I'm not holding my
breath. I live a full life anyway, and I'm not sure I really need romance to
be happy. Oh well; perhaps one day I will find out what it is like to be in
love. Maybe. Maybe not.
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