Last Tuesday night was the opening of New York City Opera's Candide, the final work for this spring season.  And what a way to finish the year!  If you are within 100 miles of the State Theater during the month of April, there is absolutely no reason you can't come down and see this marvelous, historic, trend-setting production.  Also -- New York City Opera's "Opera for All" program is offering $25 orchestra level seats!  Seriously now, if you come to Candide because of my gushing response and find yourself truly disappointed, then contact me and we'll do a depression screening on you.  If everything checks out and you still have heavy-duty problems with spending 25 bucks to see theater so thrilling and polished, then I'll convince New York City Opera to give you a refund.  Except to prove your dissatisfaction, you're going to have to sit through another performance with me next to you.  And if you smile just once during the performance, bet's off!  It's impossible to watch this production without grinning like a goon.

 

When New York City Opera promotes, advertises, and generally raises hell about its production, it has every right to create as big a hullabaloo as it wants.  Candide was practically resurrected at the City Opera back in the early 1980s.

 

 

Candide is essentially an operetta based on the novella of nearly the same name by Voltaire.  The great thing about this work is that it's sung in English and the libretto is nearly perfection.  It manages to be profound and insouciant at the same time, and it's all done with a brevity that easily fits on the supertitles (which you generally don't need anyway because of the superb diction from the performers).  As a result, not much preparation is needed to have a rollicking good time.

 

Candide was a French satirical work written by Voltaire during the Enlightenment.  In it, he railed against the dominant philosophical system of his day -- the theory of Optimism created by Leibniz.  Optimism is the idea that humanity must, and does, live in the best of all possible worlds.  Why?  Because God created the world.  And if God is presumed to be a benevolent deity, then surely the world he created is the best possible one for us.  For those who remember high school calculus, Leibniz is the also the guy who invented calculus backwards, using the integral instead of differentiation, as Sir Issac Newton did.  Surely for a man to have created the calculus backwards, without a purpose in mind (Newton only came up with it because he needed more advanced techniques to describe his theories of mechanics), he needed to believe fervently that he lived in the best of all possible worlds... otherwise, why not just forget it all and toss back a drink at the local watering hole?

 

Anyhow, in 1755 there was a catastrophic earthquake in Lisbon which occurred on All Saint's Day, and it strongly influenced many thinkers, including Voltaire, to reject the indiscriminately saccharine ideas of Optimism.  To get oriented to this opera, all you need to know is that Candide's main character, is well, Candide.  He is young, innocent, and not super-bright.  He represents the tabula rasa which Voltaire uses to prove his point.  Candide falls in love with the local beauty in their idyllic little village of Westphalia, Cunegonde (her name means something unique to women, not necessarily G-rated).  These lovebirds and their friends are indoctrinated by their teacher, Dr. Pangloss, in philosophies reminiscent of Optimism.  Candide is banished for seeking extracurricular pleasures from Cunegonde and henceforth begins a whirlwind saga where harsh realities of a non-Optimism world are seen.  Rest assured, though, that there is a happy ending.

 

I'm not going to say any more because when you enter the State Theater to see Candide, you're really boarding a ride that exports you on a journey all over the world.  The sets are magnificently exuberant and the singers bring you into their reverie, performing not only on stage but out among the audience as well.  The entire experience is an in-your-face, let's-go-along-for-the-ride kind of evening that creates a visceral thrill rarely had in a theater that's not IMAX.  All throughout, the genius of Leonard Bernstein's score evokes exotic locations with brilliant, foreign motifs.  But this is also the man who brought us West Side Story and Our Town, so in climaxes like "Make Our Garden Grow," the music goes straight to the heart and there are few dry eyes in the house.

 

I was so excited on opening night that I risked certain banishment from the ushers and tried to snap a picture of the delicious staging.  It didn't quite come out -- all the more reason for you come see it yourself!

 

As with all opening nights, it was a different sort of crowd.  More high-rollers, you might say -- snappily dressed and ordering champagne at the interval.  From the few I spoke with, it seemed many had seen the production in the past and couldn't pass up seeing it again.  The elderly couple next to me were in tears at the end of "Make Our Garden Grow."  They also watched the performance through opera glasses, which was odd.  You have to understand that I had seats in row D, which can't be more than 15 feet from the stage.  Unless your vision is egregious, the only thing opera glasses might do from row D is perhaps to let you see the pores on Cunegonde's face!  I'm definitely looking forward to getting older.

 

Stephen and Gail, a middle-aged couple I spoke to at the interval, remarked that they thought "every [opera] house needs a good frolic now and then, at least once a season."  Certainly, Candide fits the bill for New York City Opera this spring.  They reminded me that next door at the Met is a fantastic production of Hansel and Gretel -- another exuberant and over-the-top opera with creative staging that certainly could be their frolic for the year.

 

Oh, and one last thing: I was saying that Candide was practically resurrected at City Opera. About that -- you see, Candide initially opened on Broadway as a musical in 1956 and was poorly received although Bernstein's music was undeniably profound and charming -- so it became sort of a cult hit.  Despite this, the production itself had a hard time finding traction anywhere.  So it was re-written and re-worked over the years into other versions with moderate success -- the most popular of which actually omitted more than half of the musical numbers!  Finally in the late 1970s, opera companies began expressing interest in a version truer to the original, with more of Bernstein's score intact. One of City Opera's benefactors then approached Beverly Sills with funding, and Bernstein set to work on it with director Hal Prince.  Shortly thereafter, a new two-act version debuted at New York City Opera in 1982, and it has since become the standard version performed in opera companies around the world.

 

This is the production that made Candide the great hit that it is today.  It all started here --and the tradition is still going strong. You absolutely have to come see it.

 

By the way, as if the opera weren't enough excitement, while you're at the State Theater you might as well check out some of the fantastic non-acoustic art they have in the public spaces.  On the opening night of Candide, I met up with Andrew, my old roommate from college -- it had been nearly four years since we'd seen each other!  He's working in the city now and has a keen eye for visual art.  He noticed that there was a Jasper Johns sculpture hanging on the first floor's west side lobby.  We checked with a very nice volunteer manning the information desk named Ellen.  Indeed, it was a Jasper Johns --whose work was recently featured in a special exhibit at the Met Museum.  In fact, the entire theater is filled with notable art-- most noticeable perhaps being the two enormous female nudes at either side of the promenade, each carved out of a single block of Carrara marble!  So there is truly something for everyone here at City Opera.  But please come more for the music than the two nudes, for they are idealized and abstract whereas the music is not; particularly with Candide, which is as accessible, entertaining, charming, profound, and giddy as you can get in an opera house!

I walked into school on Monday morning, the morning after I saw New York City Opera's production of Candide, and was greeted by a few of friends who asked how I had liked Candide.  I could not think of a response.  I stared at them, completely mute, for a good minute until one of them repeated, "Sonia... how was Candide?"

 

"How was Candide?" I asked, "HOW was CANDIDE?  It was Voltaire's genius plus Bernstein's genius plus New York City Opera's production genius.  It was geniusly genius!"

 

"Right..." they all said, backing away slowly.  "'Geniusly genius...'"

 

My voice teacher, who was at a different performance, thought that the production was a bit "too much;" too long, too overdone, too big.  While I could possibly understand the complaint about the show's length, I wholeheartedly disagree that it is overdone.  In fact, I wholeheartedly disagree with any negative comment about this production.  In my mind, there is almost nothing that could detract from the genius of the music, the text, and the way New York City Opera put it all together.  In fact, I think that New York City Opera managed to perfectly compliment the absurdity of the text with the elaborate set, costumes and props.  I was a fan especially of the small stages on the big stage that allowed the different story lines to flow together very smoothly.

 

The "Note on Candide" in the program really spoke to the genius of both Voltaire and Bernstein.  The note describes the "conglomeration of tango, polka, mazurka, barcarolle, Neapolitan bel canto, Germanic Chorale" and the other types of music that Bernstein wrote into the score.  This mélange of genres helped highlight the radically different places that the characters travelled to, and the individualities of each character.  The paragraph on Candide (the novella, not the opera) made me laugh out loud during intermission.  It describes the meaning of the names Voltaire chose for his characters (i.e. Cunegonde from the Latin for "vulva.")  The only thing I could think after reading this note was, "Dear god, could these two men have been any more detail oriented?"  It's no small wonder that the amalgamation of these two works is so ridiculously perfect.

 

I feel like I have to say a thing or two about the singers.  At first I found the fact that they were all mic'ed a bit strange.  I know that Broadway singers tend to be mic'ed and it's not that this made me think any less of the singers, but the sound felt so out of place at the State Theater that I didn't quite know what to make of it at first.  Once I got used to it, however, I found the singers to be very impressive.  I've heard that it isn't easy for Broadway singers to make the transition into a sound that is more suited to an operetta.  If this is in fact the case, these singers did a praiseworthy job of it.  A few of them were also far younger than most singers you see onstage in an opera (Lauren Worsham, who plays Cunegonde, graduated from college in 2005!); I always find it extremely exciting to see young adults who are already so successful.

 

Candide's finale, "Make Our Garden Grow," is really one of the most beautiful things I have ever heard.  It is the perfect way to end an operetta that is abundant with firework-y and hilarious musical numbers ("Glitter and Be Gay," "The Old Lady's Tale"). "Make Our Garden Grow" juxtaposes perfectly with all of these; it is beautiful, simply and unarguably beautiful.  I'm not a particularly sentimental person, but this song always makes me a bit teary, and seeing it live made me that much more emotional.

 

This is the best of all possible music, the best of all possible novellas, and the best of all possible productions.  See it.  Seriously.

This past Tuesday, I left after my final class prepared to go see Candide.  (My preparation involved meeting up with a dear friend and grabbing dinner.)  As we entered the lobby of the theater, I thought back to my experience at Candide's final, non-dress rehearsal: directors conferring at the production table, cast members plopping down with a book after an extravagant musical number, ensemble members chatting quietly on the sidelines.  Remember how I said that the show was mesmerizing with virtually no set, costumes, or props?

 

When I entered the theater, I was overcome with immense anticipation.  What would the set look like, since the show is already so appealing by itself?  The set, as it turned out, succeeded in engaging the audience even more.  In this production of Candide, the story is presented as if by a troupe of traveling actors on a pageant wagon.  The effect is very welcoming; the production fully embraces the fact that we are all sitting in a darkened room to watch a story.  In fact, the cast walks through the audience at many times during the performance!

 

Out of the troupe of players comes Richard Kind, who narrates as well as plays various roles.  In a recent interview, Kind said that he wanted to focus on making clear the drastic changes in plot throughout the story of Candide; he succeeded with flying colors!  Even as a longtime fan of Candide, I have never understood the story more.

 

The rest of the cast of characters are just as strong: Daniel Reichard wins hearts as a tenderly oblivious Candide, Lauren Worsham and Judith Blazer are equally hilarious as two generations of spunky beauties, and the juxtaposition of Kyle Pfortmiller's beautiful baritone and youthful antics was hysterical.  One of my favorite standout performances was that of Jessica Wright as Paquette.  Maybe it was the surprising power and timbre of her voice, maybe it was her naïve playfulness, but I look forward to seeing more from her.

 

For all of you who have yet to see Candide, be sure to check out New York City Opera's Opera-For-All program.  You get to sit in the first two-three rows of the entire theater for only 25 dollars!  If you sit in the first couple rows, the cast will walk right by you, and if you're lucky, Richard Kind might just sit on your lap!  As for me, I'll be seeing Candide again next week!

Recently, I sat down with Katherine Benfer and Beth Pensiero, two of City Opera's chorus members.  It was incredibly fun chatting with these two longtime choristers who love their job and had some great things to say.  And they were very gracious with a novice interviewer!  Afterwards, they gave me a backstage tour and took me around the State Theater.  I snapped a few shots (below) as we ran around before they got ready for Tosca.

 

 

Beth Pensiero:  There's a range of reactions.  Some people are impressed... and some people are just bewildered, they're not sure what it means.  They don't understand what the job entails, what the schedule's like.  Some people will be impressed, some people will be like, "...oh...you sing, that's nice"

 

Katherine Benfer:  A lot of times they ask you if you get paid for that!  Oh yes you do, as a matter of fact! [laughs]

 

 

Beth Pensiero:  Depends on the complexity of the show.  If it's a big show and there's a lot of chorus in it, they might take a few weeks to work us into a show little by little till production week, which is intense.  If we're singing offstage most of the time and maybe sing onstage for ten minutes, they won't spend much time with us.

 

Katherine Benfer:  We have to learn the music cold, first.  So you have a musical rehearsal, then you have a staging alone, then you stage one opera and perform another.  That's the hardest and it's what we're doing right now.  We had a stage rehearsal of Candide this afternoon from 11:30-5:00pm, and then we have a show tonight, which can go to 11:00pm.  So this is the 12-hour day with a break in between.  At the end of the season, there's a week or two when we're free during the day and just do shows at night.  That's what helps us survive!

 

 

Katherine Benfer:  I think the difference with this career is that you perform.  There's a huge level of intensity and fitness.  Performing is like sports; you work and work and work and work and two minutes later it's over.  There's a huge intensity, and you're acutely aware of everything.  I could compare it to being a surgeon.  They have to study and study and study and they have one shot to get it right.

 

Beth Pensiero:  Performing is a high energy thing.  You can do your paperwork and sit at your computer and not be at your best, physically.  But when you're performing, you must be energized.  But you have to be relaxed as well so your body and your voice will respond.  It can be very demanding.

 

 

Katherine Benfer:  Well, the chorus -- and the orchestra, too -- our job is to help the soloists out, we give them space or guide them.  We know what's going on -- sometimes better than the soloists!  They might know their arias better but we know the show as a whole.  We energize the production, too.  Sometimes, when the chorus comes on, it's like..."let's bring the circus in here and liven things up!"

 

 

Beth Pensiero:  Well, as an example, we've been working very intensely on Candide lately.  It's kind of like an opera in a way but it really is an American musical, too.  This version was written years ago for New York City Opera.  It's a play within a play.  We, the chorus, are an invited audience to watch the story of Candide.  And we sit on the sidelines and watch the action.  But there are these big chorus numbers where we're asked to participate and comment.  We're onstage from the top of the show to the end of the show.  We get to be soloists in a way.  We are on our best behavior -- in character all the time.  It can be very tiring but it's a lot of fun, too.  Alternately, there's the King Arthur chorus, which just comments on the action from the pit.  That's totally different.  Then there are the Puccini operas.  Like in Tosca, we're part of the story.  We're part of the crowd, we're the churchgoers, and we're in the background.

 

Katherine Benfer:  And our purpose there is to reflect the spirit of the time.  In Tosca, we express the agony of the fascist state.

 

 

Katherine Benfer:  And sometimes, the audience can identify with us, too.  We're onstage there and they identify with us as we comment on a situation.

 

 

Katherine Benfer:  I came here from a church-singer background.  I wanted to try this art form and explore it.  What better way to understand it than right from the middle.

 

Beth Pensiero:  I worked with the Opera [Company] of Philadelphia for a few years.  Then I ended up moving to the New York area and I decided to audition here.  The timing was right; they needed someone for a soprano spot and it ended up being me!  And that was 24 years ago and I'm still here!  It's been a way to make a living and have a lot of experience singing with different types of opera.  And we get to go on tour every once in a while, which has been fun.

 

 

Katherine Benfer:  This job has broken me out of who I thought I was.  Imagine you have to look in the mirror every day to put on makeup and see all those wrinkles.  But you put on a different wig and a different outfit -- and you don't get a choice as to what you wear or what wig they hand you -- and this image of yourself gets shaken up a little.  And that can be a very good thing.  You do have to leave your ego at the door, though.  "I'm sorry, I always part my hair on the side!" -- Well, that's not going to work here.  They're going to give you a fright wig or they'll want you to be a madam [of a brothel].  What do you say to that? "I'm sorry, I can't, I'm Episcopalian?" [laughs]  No, you do what they tell you!  And it's good to be flexible, to look at yourself in the mirror and get over yourself.

 

Beth Pensiero:  One of my favorite things about the job is when we participate in an extraordinary production.  We get to do a lot of good stuff with conductors and directors but every once in a while there's an extraordinary experience.  It's wonderful; you get to experience these people and their music in a very special way.  There are good singers and there are great singers.  Renée Fleming was in our Marriage of Figaro production!  And my ears pricked up and I went, "Oh wow, who is she?" and ten years later she's a big star at the Met!

 

 

Beth Pensiero:  Yeah.  So, that's fun.

 

Katherine Benfer:  And I love when you finish a production and you hear the applause and you know you've done really good work. You can't buy that. That's the priceless part of the MasterCard.  [laughs]

 

 

Beth Pensiero:  There's a lot of controversy about the direction of opera today.  And we wonder about the next generation; whether it will end up being the next opera audience.  We want to see this art form continue to flourish, yet we want to keep our standards high.  I really hope that it's true that we are attracting the next generation.  There's so much culture and beauty in opera.  I would hate to see it become a dying art form.  I really want to see it flourish.  That's my hope for the future.

 

Katherine Benfer:  We do care about it, beyond a paycheck.  We just had the television special of Butterfly and I know a lot of people who watched it and were impressed.  They bought tickets to the opera.  It was a wonderful thing.

 

Beth Pensiero:  Yes, there was a lot of positive feedback.

 

Katherine Benfer:  And the houses were packed out there.  This is important to us.  We believe in it.

After seeing the ad for the New York City Opera Thrift Shop numerous times in the opera playbills, I finally decided to stop by and check out their merchandise.  The City Opera's thrift shop, located at 222 E. 23rd Street, offers (but is not limited to) the usual variety of secondhand men's and women's clothing.  The extensive selection of women's wear occupied much of the store.  Prices were reasonable and reflected the quality of the garments, many of which were from high-end designers.  Menswear was limited to three racks tucked in the back of the shop, separated into tops, bottoms and jackets.  Women can easily find a great outfit (especially for the opera!) while men will have to do some scavenging.

 

A walk past the fashion options and up to the second floor reveals various pieces of home furnishings, wall art and a large variety of literature.  Hidden in the corner was a box full of old opera recordings -- a steal at $1 each, but only on vinyl.  A couple of framed, vintage opera posters caught my eye, but the price range of $40-$75 didn't agree with my wallet.

New York City Opera's thrift shop is not only a great place to find secondhand goods, but also an easy way to support City Opera.  If you want to donate stuff, they'll cover the cost of your taxi ride there, or if it's large enough, you can schedule a free pick-up.  All donations to the thrift shop are tax deductible and all proceeds benefit New York City Opera.  This really is an ingenious fundraising idea on their part!

 

In other news, I have been readying myself for City Opera's Candide for quite some time. Even before being offered this student correspondent position, I've had my eye on the production.  Not only is Candide one of my favorite novels, but Leonard Bernstein is one of my favorite composers and his not-quite-opera, not-quite-musical adaptation of Voltaire's classic is one of his many masterpieces.  When I first heard "Make Our Garden Grow," the glorious finale, I was blown away; and hearing other pieces from Candide, especially "The Best of All Possible Worlds" and "Glitter and Be Gay," I was immediately drawn to it.

 

So when the staff from marketing mentioned that they had set up a window at the Barnes & Noble at Lincoln Triangle, I vowed to check it out.  The window display, featuring some costumes, sketches, and various knick-knacks from the show, was very well put together.  There were many pieces, worthy of taking a good look at and the vibrancy of the display certainly caught my eye.  If you're in the area, it's definitely a great photo-op!

Early this season, I came down to New York City Opera to sign my contract for this blog.  Afterward, Jaime in the marketing office was nice enough to give me a quick tour of the State Theater.  It was unbelievable.  I got to meet one of the sopranos who is singing in Candide, Lielle Berman. 

 

You have to understand that opera stars can be difficult, but she was the opposite of what you hear about divas.  They used to say that if Kathleen Battle wanted the air conditioning turned down in her limo, she'd call up her manager, who'd call up the limo company, who'd call up the limo driver. 

 

Anyhow, I think Ms. Berman sensed that I was in awe of meeting her and she tried to put me at ease, saying, "Gosh, so you're in medical school.  That's incredible."  But honestly, this woman gets up on stage, opens her mouth, and fills the several thousand cubic meters of air in front her with truly sinful noises, sending shivers up the 2,000+ bodies and gaping mouths in front of her.  She stands on the same wooden planks that Beverly Sills walked.  She breathes the air Placido Domingo breathed.  Medical school seemed unbelievably rudimentary at that moment.

 

She was eating chili.  I should have asked her if that's good for the voice.  She asked if I was musical or played an instrument but I was too humbled to say anything about the fact that I studied piano at Peabody and opera at Yale.  This was a diva.  She was eating chili.  Okay, on with the tour before I start peeing my pants, Jaime.

 

After the tour I said goodbye to Jaime and wandered over to the Met gift shop (that's at the Metropolitan Opera, the other opera house next to the State Theater).  This place is really like an Alcoholics' Anonymous for opera nuts.  What happened to me that day is very common.

 

"Hello, I'm Mary from Rhode Island.  Oh goodness, you're so young and I think you might have a better memory than me.  I'm looking for a recording with the Berlin Philharmonic and this young man helping me is wanting to know who the conductor was... do you know?  He's the new one, the British one with the funny teeth."

 

I told her it was Simon Rattle and she practically started crying.  "My God, yes!  Oh I tell you, my mind isn't fresh when I feel irregular."  Then I got another tap.

 

"Excuse me, I'm Norman.  I'm looking for a Faust with Di Stefano before he had his nose fixed.  Have you heard it?"

 

"Oh," I said.  "I've never been able to find an early recording here.  Have you tried the internet?  Sometimes you can find great CDs on places like eBay or Amazon."

 

"Oh... I've heard of the internet but I don't know.  Can it be trusted?"

 

Sigh.

 

About 20 feet away, at the entrance to the shop, the theft alarm went off for the 7th time since I'd come in.  And for the 7th time that day, I heard, "Ma'am!  Ma'am!  Not to worry, it's your hearing aid that keeps setting off the alarm.  No, no -- I know you paid, it's the hearing AID."

 

Norman and I started talking about Roberto Devereux, which I'd heard many times but had never seen.  It's possibly one of the hardest bel canto roles for soprano ever written, practically impossible to sing.

 

"God.  I mean, hot damn, you know?  There was no one like Beverly Sills in that."

 

From the clips I'd heard, I had to agree with him.  This was another one of the holy grails Norman was looking for.  I mentioned to him that she never performed it at the Met, only at New York City Opera.

 

"Oh, of course, that was at the City Opera in the 70s," said Norman.

 

I asked him if he wanted to walk over there and see if they had any recordings.

 

"Hot damn.  You're right," he said, and we were off, side-stepping the 8th hearing-aid alarm.

 

Sadly, the New York City Opera gift stand was closed when we got there.  Norman walked around the lobby and looked wistful.  I asked him what separated City Opera-goers and Met-Opera goers of his age.

 

"Well," he said, "The City Opera... I don't know.  Damn, those were the days.  It was hot then, you know.  Hot damn, it was hot!  It's always been hot.  But after a while, I just started going to the Met."

 

"Norman, it's absolutely hot now," I said.  "It's positively smoldering!  You should come see King Arthur before its run concludes."

 

"You know what, maybe I will.  Hot damn, maybe it's time."

 

Well, we said goodbye.  I still didn't know the difference between old folks at the Met and old folks of New York City Opera, but I had heard "hot damn" uttered more times in one day than I had in the last year.

 

I will preface this entry by saying that I have an unwarranted but fairly strong aversion to Puccini's music.  I went to New York City Opera's production of Madama Butterfly feeling apprehensive about the experience.  I wondered how I would be able to sit through three hours of Puccini when I could hardly listen to three arias in a row at home.  I was pleasantly surprised to find myself enjoying almost every minute of Madama Butterfly.  I will not chalk this up to the music -- my Puccini aversion is still alive and well -- but the incredible singing and the striking lighting and sets made it all seem worthwhile.

 

I was not particularly blown away by the first scene.  I think this is because, having never seen this opera live before, I found the affectation of Japanese mannerisms and customs to be slightly awkward and very strange.  I found myself wondering if the opera would make any sense at all if it was set in another time period, or a different country.  I later decided that no, it absolutely would not, but it was an interesting thought all the same.  The love scene at the end of the first act captivated me; the floating orchestral and vocal music with the white costumes against the indigo sets were so incredibly striking, both aurally and visually.

 

Madama Butterfly is one of New York City Opera's most popular and most praised productions; this could explain why I noticed so many tourists in the lobby at intermission.  It was fairly exciting to see people from so many different countries at one performance in New York.

 

The second act began as enticingly as the first act ended.  Madama Butterfly's big aria, "Un Bel Di" was sung superbly and acted so delicately that it really blew the audience away.  The applause lasted a good while longer than any other ovations I can remember at New York City Opera.

 

The visuals in the second act were what really made this show special for me.  I was shocked by how effectively they used lighting, props and the set to convey the different emotions that Butterfly was feeling.  From the shower of rose petals on the ivory sheet during the excitement of the flower duet, to the red sun that lit up the stage when Butterfly stood waiting in vain for Pinkerton; and finally, the simplicity and slight disarray of the set when Madama Butterfly finally decides to take her own life.

I brought my friend, Michael, a film student, to Madama Butterfly this Sunday.  His only previous opera experience was seeing John Adams' Doctor Atomic at the San Francisco Opera when it was first commissioned: he didn't like the music of Doctor Atomic.  I wondered how Butterfly, a staple of opera repertoire everywhere, would fare with him.

 

Butterfly's first moment relaxed me into the production with its sheer appropriateness.  At lights up, we see Pinkerton approaching the house he has just leased from Goro, the marriage broker, who is with him -- in silhouette!  The effect is reminiscent of Byobu, the Japanese art of screen painting.  Once the screen doors separating the audience from the action are opened, though, we realize that the set for the jagged incline to the house is, incongruously, a set of neat steps painted sky blue.  Once screen doors appear on the upstage side of the house, however, the space seems comfortably transformed into an effectively intimate playing space.

 

As Benjamin Franklin Pinkerton, James Valenti sang with a clear, ringing top; his youthful energy translated well for Pinkerton's childishness.  Shu-Ying Li displayed a great handle on the role of Cio-Cio-San (her bio says that since 2002, she has sung in over twenty productions of the opera), singing with intensity and a beautiful pianissimo that only got better into as the performance went on.  Standout moments for me included the juvenile way Pinkerton rolled on the floor out of excitement at the prospect of meeting his bride, and Cio-Cio San's hilarious description of American divorce court.

After the opera, Michael and I had a conversation about what he had just seen:

 

Me: What would you say was your favorite element of the performance today?

 

Michael:  I really liked how they did the lighting of the sun and the color changing.

 

Me:  What would you say was the element that you most had trouble connecting to?

 

Michael:  I don't really listen to classical music.  I get interested when I hear about a Philip Glass opera or a Steve Reich opera, but that's the extent of my classical music taste -- very modern, very specific.  As for this, I feel like I am seeing it but not fully appreciating it because it is such an acquired taste.

 

Me:  What about this new exposure to opera intrigued you?

 

Michael:  What really appealed to me was that it reminded me of film.  There was something that felt kind of cinematic about watching that opera, because there's music all the way through.  And like a movie, there's music all the way through to carry your emotions, even when they're just walking around and not singing.  That was interesting.

 

Me:  What, to you, is the biggest difference (aside from obvious differences) between taking in an opera versus taking in a movie?

 

Michael:  In film, you're sitting up close and it's easier to get immersed into that other world.  With opera, there's a lot of exposition to build to the last act when you are really into the character and their struggle.  People are impatient; that's probably why less young people are seeing plays and operas.  We are the generation of the moving image; for instance, I just mentioned the sun.  I just mentioned how I liked the sun and how the color of the lighting changed; that's the result of putting the audience into this world of the character.  She was at that sunrise and the music was playing and the sun slowly changed color.  That was like her waiting and going through all of those emotions.  You could feel it and see it without her singing it and saying it.  That's what I like about film; there's less focus on talking, on saying what it is.  It's more about showing the audience what it is.

 

Me:  What about opera could you see yourself growing more loyal to with time and more exposure?

 

Michael:  The music.  My music taste is always changing, shaping, evolving.  When there's music playing throughout and there's someone singing their emotions, I like that.  I love music; it's such a big influence on me.  Music plays to your emotions, and so do non-musical plays.  

 

I agree that opera is a very different experience than any other performance event.  When I saw my first opera, Puccini's La Bohème, I was -- more than anything -- intrigued; it was not an obsession at first glance.  After exploring it further, my mere curiosity grew to devotion.  When I went to see Bohème, I had already acquainted myself with the music; it was the experience of live opera in front of me that was unfamiliar.  My biggest advice to Michael and anyone else who might be exploring opera for the first time is simply this: listen to the music before you go.  If you are planning on going to a concert, it usually helps if you know what kind of band is playing.

 

Also, for any opera beginners (and/or devotees), see Candide!  It's ridiculously funny and Bernstein's score is simply to die for.  If any of you do go out and buy the CD or borrow it from the library, some standout songs are "The Best of All Possible Worlds," "Glitter and Be Gay," and "Make our Garden Grow."  I am going to observe my first rehearsal of Candide soon; I'll let you all know the scoop!

Sir John Falstaff is one of Shakespeare's most beloved and memorable characters.  You've got to wonder why; he's a monument to gluttony, has more than a slight penchant for the bottle, and is about as disreputable and dishonest as knights come.  But as the story goes, he was so popular with even Queen Elizabeth that after his appearance as a character in Henry IV, she requested a play starring Falstaff.  This became The Merry Wives of Windsor, a comedy set in Elizabethan England.

 

As in so many of Shakespeare's comedies, the plot is a little complex.  Sir John Falstaff, short on cash, decides to woo a couple of rich (and married!) women to pay for some wine and fine dinners.  He writes two identical letters to the ladies, who figure it out and decide to play a joke on Falstaff.  This leads to some confusion when one of the ladies' husbands believes he's being cheated on -- with Falstaff.  He schemes his own revenge on his wife, complicating her joke on Falstaff.  In the meantime, their daughter tries to escape an arranged marriage with a frighteningly old doctor.  Of course, the ladies get the last laugh of the play, with the daughter managing to pull off a marriage with her true love, and the other ladies teaching Falstaff and their husbands a lesson in female intelligence (assumedly a nod to Queen Elizabeth).

 

Giuseppe Verdi's operatic vision of the play retains all the wit and quickness of the original play.  Though he only wrote a couple of comedic operas, Verdi's Falstaff is a tight and well-managed piece.  Verdi recognized the importance of comedic timing and Falstaff lacks the drawn-out 'aria scenes' in most operas.  It's a high-action piece with quick dialogue.  New York City Opera's production is lively and entertaining without being over-the-top.  Some scenes are so laced with sprightly, musical conversation that watching the stage is a little like trying to take in two or three games of table-tennis at once.  But it never becomes overwhelming, and the actors toss the humor around without missing a beat.

 

As a comedy, Falstaff makes a great first opera, and I met several happy newcomers to opera throughout the evening.  Julia, a music theater student, was experiencing her first comedic opera.  "I really like modern things, but it's nice to see where everything came from," she told me.  "And it's nice to have a bit of everything."  Falstaff is a marvelous bit of comedy.  While it might lack memorable, hum-able melodies or a grand story, its witty charm and quick action makes it wonderful fun.  Go see it; you've only got two performances left!

Before I start on my first experience at New York City Opera and the production of King Arthur, I'd just like to give everyone a couple of notes about myself.

 

My appreciation of performance art (until now) consisted largely of musical theater, mostly Broadway shows and community and high school theater.  Through grades 3-12, I sang pretty much every male voice part (oh, voice changes!) and was part of the New Jersey State Honor Choir.  While I had never been to an opera until last Saturday, I have long-appreciated the voices that come out of opera -- performers like Pavarotti, Fleming and Bocelli are only a few opera singers who can be considered some of the most amazingly talented musicians of all time.  Needless to say, I was very excited about the opportunity that New York City Opera had offered to me.

 

My experience started with a visit to the marketing department in the dungeon-labyrinth offices beneath the State Theater.  There, I met with a member of the marketing staff to choose dates to attend this season's five operas and pick up my tape recorder and digital camera.  (Thanks, New York City Opera!)  Shortly thereafter, we took a short tour of the theatre -- enjoying part of a dress rehearsal and some behind-the-scenes stuff.  It was definitely a great way to be introduced to the theater and New York City Opera.

One Saturday, I caught the final performance of King Arthur with my friend Heather, who is also new to opera.  We grabbed dinner at the Whole Foods salad bar in Columbus Circle -- college student life and the Upper West Side restaurant prices don't mix -- and then headed over to Lincoln Center.  We were seated in the fourth ring, which I'm not used to (there's often no more than one mezzanine in a Broadway theatre) but they certainly weren't bad seats.  I've been seated up in the top tiers of venues like Radio City, NJPAC, and Carnegie Hall, and this experience was no different.

 

 I thoroughly enjoyed the opera as a whole and was entertained throughout the performance.  With that said, I was completely lost during much of it.  I skimmed through Wikipedia's article on the opera prior to attending, but I guess I didn't take much of that with me.  After Act I, I realized that I probably should have read the program notes.

 

I'm used to musical theater, which is much easier to follow.  I'll be sure to do my research on my next opera, Tosca, before attending.

 

I'm not a huge fan of Baroque music, especially when it is set to words as it would be in an opera like King Arthur.  I don't think the Baroque style is nearly as exciting as other classical styles.  That is, of course, not to downplay Henry Purcell's talent -- it's simply not my cup of tea.  Still, I would've liked to hear the chorus a bit better.  Heather, a percussionist and self-proclaimed orchestra lover, thoroughly enjoyed watching the percussion section of the orchestra, especially the tambourine playing.

 

There are parts of this production that I absolutely loved.  Mark Morris' choreography is often described as witty, humorous and innovative; his work with King Arthur is no exception.  The maypole dance scene was the most intriguing (and first) maypole dance I had ever seen.

 

I thought that the wintry first scene of Act III was brilliant -- the freezer idea was an ingeniously modern way of creating a "frozen universe," and the warm sun-like lighting afterward to melt it was the perfect contrast.  When it came to the forest scene, though the plush animals had no voice parts, their actions were extremely entertaining and the scene as a whole was complete genius.  Additionally, the final scene was also very enjoyable.  Though I find no significance in the throwing of paper airplanes, it was fun to see them stuck in the curtain and darted at cast members' heads.  (If you do know of a reason for the paper airplanes, please comment!)

 

Overall, my first opera experience was a great one, and I'm looking forward to the next.  I'm sure I will enjoy Puccini's Tosca -- I've heard many arias from Puccini operas and am aware that his are some of the best loved.  I adore the intermezzo from Manon Lescaut, which my friend Heather recorded with the New Jersey All-State High School Orchestra.  Naturally, I'm very excited for the next performance. Thanks for reading and watch out for my coverage of Tosca!