My invitation from the folks at Opera Birmingham was to write a piece about the experiences of a first-time operagoer. To be completely fair, it was my second, but the first was long ago. I’m revirginized.
My theme is the close relationship between those moments of beauty in the arts and those other moments that support them. I recently read John Steinbeck’s East of Eden: “It would be reasonable to suppose that a routine time or an eventless time would seem interminable. It should be so, but it is not. It is the dull eventless times that have no duration whatever. A time splashed with interest, wounded with tragedy, crevassed with joy – that’s the time that seems long in the memory.”
For lovers of opera, any performance absolutely “seems long in the memory” because they feature interest, tragedy, and joy. Which is why, when these lovers talk with you about “opera” – as a generality – they get excited in remembering these moments. They can go on and on with superlatives about how beautiful it all is.
That’s maybe the first intimidating problem for someone new to opera. When you’ve heard people talk about the opera like it’s one step removed from a heroin high, there might be some disappointment when you go and it’s not a Hurt Locker, roller-coaster thrill ride from start-to-finish. And it’s not. Almost all arts performances are more nuanced than that.
So when a new person goes to an opera and it’s not all 3-D explosions and fireworks, the first impression might be that something is wrong with them. That they somehow don’t “get it”. That all the people around them are somehow specially educated or have good genes or that you need some kind of pedigree to enjoy an opera. And sometimes – let’s admit it – there are blue bloods who try to reinforce this impression. The danger of this way of thinking is that new fans might tune out and classify it as boring before they even hear the good stuff.
As a soccer fan, I’ve spent a lot of time defending the sport to Americans who insist it’s that same kind of boring. It’s true that there’s not (usually) a lot of scoring in a 90 minute soccer match. And a lot of it seems like just kicking a ball around. But that’s true of American football too – heck, they take more time between every play than any play lasts. And baseball, of course, has long stretches of nothing.
As any good dramatist knows, however, these spaces can build and fill with dramatic tension. Not every kick can be a goal. Not every pass can go for a touchdown. Not every swing of the bat can be a game-winner. But you’re there, waiting for it, shivering with antici-
In the same way, I can’t name more than four tracks off The Joshua Tree – easily one of the greatest rock albums of all time. I’ve written down my favorite lines from the play Equus – but not every word is magic. When I watch a good dance performance, it’s mainly a few singular moments that I’ll remember later. But it doesn’t mean the rest of it isn’t essential. No performance would work with just its Sportscenter highlights. (And neither does Sportscenter…)
Opera in general – and The Marriage of Figaro – is the same way. For me, it starts to really cook when we first meet the Countess (Susanna Phillips) at the beginning of Act II. I’m not suggesting that any other part is routine or interminable, but I’m sure Mozart knew brilliantly how to build tension and lead you along and into the parts that are great. The Countess’s initial song is great, along with pretty much anytime she sings with Susanna (Michelle Areyzaga). At the end of Act II, there’s a wonderful musical argument between three good guys and three bad guys all on stage at once. At the beginning of Act III, Susanna and the Count (Corey McKern) have a duet that I’ve been humming a part of ever since. Then the Countess has an aria near the end of Act III which is the perfect example of why all those experienced operagoers talk in superlatives. She’s absolutely memorable.
There’s never enough opportunity to talk about costuming and set design, but Opera Birmingham did a great job on the look of this show. All four acts featured a change in palette. This and the costumes worked to make some great visuals. For example, I’d love a composed picture of the stage with the chorus when they first enter in Act I.
Thanks once more to Daniel Seigel and all the people with Opera Birmingham for letting me go along for the ride. Congratulations and best of luck to performers Jason Hardy (Figaro) and Carrie Kahl (Barbarina) who got engaged onstage immediately after the performance. The “Marriage of Figaro” – indeed!
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