Phantom Opera

The Metropolitan Opera New York City

Opera always surprises my senses with its cacophony of music, voices, performance, costumes, fantastical scenery, and raving applause. It sweeps me into a make believe world with elegance and richness I encounter no where else. I ignore the research that says opera as a contemporary art form ceased to exist in 1970 because only 10% of all contemporary operas play annually. I think contemporary opera is too close to the reality we try to escape through entertainment. New composers have stripped opera of its magic. Would you even like singing about Nixon in China? I didn’t.

If opera is dead, why do opera houses and companies continue to exist in cities throughout the western world? Opera houses of grand stature, like the Met in New York City, Covent Garden in London, and Wiener Staatsoper in Vienna were life-time ‘bucket list’ experiences for me. The intimacy of smaller scale historic beauties like Las Scala in Milan, Hungarian State Opera in Budapest, and Palais Garnier in Paris captured me heart. Solidly reliable houses as the Civic Opera House in Chicago and Kennedy Center in Washington, DC earned my loyalty. Even fragile petite houses, such as the Lyric in Baltimore, and Opera Memphis in Memphis, Tennessee, are worthy. I believe opera lives when people find melodies, drama and burlesques of past and imaginary worlds.

I’m certainly not an expert on the form. My father thought classical music was Henry Mancini, who I consider being the father of elevator music. This lack of musicality is genetic. None of us can carry a tune. Imagine my embarrassment and shame at being dismissed from the lunch time junior high school chorus of over 30 students.

Now, visualize my surprise and delight when I found opera in 1984, when a friend and I went looking for new entertainment adventure. We’d seen Broadway musicals, jazz concerts, and plays of serious drama and comedy. Classical music concerts failed us. I was always dozing before intermission, proving that music alone is not a sufficient adventure. Finally, we tried opera and I never looked back. True, some people think opera is just melodramatic soap put to music. In ways, it is. Remember, there were no daytime soaps or prime time thriller dramatic series on television until the late 1950s.  

It’s amazing what can happen when you have a passion for opera. Back in 1992, I treated a guy to his first opera, The Czar’s Bride, for his birthday at the Kennedy Center. He fell for me and, most importantly, the opera. We’ve been together for 29 years. You never know what will spark a guy!

My favorite operas premiered between 1880-1925. My opera passion springs from Puccini. He bewitched me with his masterwork, Madama Butterfly. Without subtitles, this melodramatic story left me gasping for breath on the edge of my seat. His vivid character portrayals and heart wrenching melodies perfectly captured the excitement of anticipation, yearning of committed love, and torture of betrayal. I dissolve into tears at every performance.

I know some people are fervently passionate about football. But, hey, each to her own.