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.

If I had any complaint about the performance, it also applies to other shows I’ve attended.  When someone has a camera, they seem to think they can do anything they want.  I sat in the center and under the balcony on Friday.  Above me, somewhere in the dark, was a photographer taking pictures.  During the whole show, everyone in my section (at least) had to listen to a loud clickCLICK, clickCLICK, clickCLICK.  I assume this was a professional photographer – not just someone in the audience.  But it’s entirely inappropriate to use noisy equipment at any kind of subtle musical performance.  I’m there using my ears to listen to the orchestra and the singers – not an incessant clickCLICK.  You should be embarrassed.  And if it had been anyone else, you would have been shushed.  I hope other organizations who host photographers will tell them that making noise during the performance is completely unacceptable.

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!

In my earlier piece on the upcoming performance of The Marriage of Figaro by Opera Birmingham, I suggested that it might be more enjoyable if you learned a little more before you went.  After seeing three rehearsals – and in an effort to help with my own understanding – here’s my completely amateur (and possibly completely wrong) rundown of essential plot points:

BACKGROUND

• (As introduced, good guys are listed in GREEN, bad guys in RED.)
• For something which is considered among the finest of the fine arts, it’s fun to remember that this opera is pretty much all about sex.
• The major plot device is that the local Count has recently abolished the rule that allows him to take the virginity of every new bride in his territory.  See?
• The action takes place all in one day in the Count’s castle.

Act I

• Susanna is an attractive servant who works directly for the beautiful Countess.
• Susanna and Figaro (wily like Bugs Bunny) are in love and plan to be married today.
• When we first see them, she is excited about the wedding, but he’s so excited about the sex that he’s measuring out a space for their bed.
• The first obstacle to the marriage is that the Count still lusts after Susanna, even though he’s agreed to abolish his noble right to have her first.
• The Count has offered money – a dowry – to Susanna if she submits to him willingly.
• The Count has given the couple a room in his castle which is very near his own room – supposedly so Susanna can serve the Countess better, but in reality so he can be closer to her himself.
• Figaro and Susanna plot to foil the Count’s lust.
• The second obstacle is that Figaro owes money to an old battle-axe, Marcellina – who absolutely worships him – and he has promised to marry her if he can’t pay her back.
• Marcellina plots with a lawyer, Bartolo, to manipulate the Count into marrying her to Figaro.
• Cherubino is a talented, handsome teenage boy (played by a woman) who is a mischievous scoundrel.  He’s recently gotten his full, adult dose of testosterone and is relentlessly driven to try and have sex with all the girls.  He is especially enamored with the Countess.
• At the beginning, the Count has already caught Cherubino with one of his earlier conquests, Barbarina, and has angrily (and jealously) banished him from the castle.
• The Count catches Cherubino in the room with Susanna and is re-angered.
• The Count is convinced to forgive Cherubino but commissions him far away into the army.
• Figaro tricks the Count into blessing his marriage in front of the peasants and affirming that he won’t take the virgin brides anymore.

Act II

• The Countess ruminates on her husband’s unfaithfulness and wants his love.
• Figaro schemes with Susanna and the Countess against the Count.
• Their plan is for Susanna to tell the Count to meet her in the garden for the sexual tryst, but instead to send Cherubino – dressed like Susanna.
• Cherubino – ever the lover – attempts to woo the Countess by singing a love song before they put him in girl’s clothes.
• When the Count interrupts, the women hide Cherubino in the closet.
• The Count suspects that a man is in the closet and he and the Countess argue.
• The Count plans to break down the closet door and takes the Countess with him out of the room to fetch tools.
• Cherubino leaves the closet and jumps out the window into the garden.
• Susanna gets into the closet and re-locks the door.
• The Count and Countess return and she confesses that Cherubino is crossdressed in the closet.
• In a rage, the Count opens the door and Susanna walks out, confusing everyone.
• The women blame the incident on the Count’s suspicious jealousy.
• The Count begs the Countess for forgiveness.
• Figaro enters to say that the wedding festivities are starting.
• The Count wishes Marcellina would arrive and stop the wedding.
• Antonio, the gardener at the castle (and Susanna’s protective uncle), enters and says that a man just jumped out the window and crushed his flowers.
• Figaro explains to the Count that it was him – not Cherubino – who jumped out the window.
• Antonio shows Cherubino’s army commission to the Count – which was lost when Cherubino jumped from the window.
• Figaro explains to the Count that Cherubino gave the commission to him because it was missing the proper seal – which it is.
• The Count is confused, confounded, and angry.
• Marcellina, Basilio, and Bartolo enter to ask the Count to force Figaro to marry Marcellina.

Act III

• The Count is still angry and confused about how to proceed.
• Susanna tells the Count that she will meet him that night in the garden for the sexual tryst, though her real plan is now for the Countess to dress like Susanna and wait in her place.
• The Count overhears Susanna and Figaro conspiring and, re-angered, decides that Figaro must honor his contract with Marcellina.
• While trying to weasel his way out of the contract, Figaro tells that he was kidnapped as a child, does not know his parents, and has a birthmark on his arm.
• Marcellina recognizes the birthmark and is revealed as Figaro’s mother.  She fingers Bartolo as Figaro’s father.
  
• Mother and son cannot marry and the Count’s revenge is foiled.
• Susanna enters to pay Marcellina (out of her dowry?) to save Figaro for herself.  She sees Figaro embracing Marcellina and is angry and saddened.
• The situation is explained to Susanna, who is pacified.
• Bartolo is reluctantly forced to agree to marry Marcellina.
• The Countess considers her husband and these shenanigans.
• The Countess and Susanna write a letter to the Count, reminding him to meet her in the garden.  The fasten the letter with a pin, but ask the Count to return it.
• Although Cherubino should be gone, he just won’t leave the castle (and all its women).  The Count is angered until Barbarina defends him by asking the Count if she may marry Cherubino.
• The peasants rejoice – again – because the Count has agreed not to bed virgin brides anymore.
• Susanna gives the letter to the Count.
• Both couples are wed and they dance.

Act IV

• The Count gives the pin to Barbarina to return to Susanna, but she loses it.
• Figaro gives Barbarina a new pin, but is crushed when he thinks that Susanna really is going to meet and let the Count have her in the garden.
• Susanna and the Countess arrive – with the Countess dressed as Susanna.
• Ever-present Cherubino arrives and hits on the Countess – who he thinks is Susanna waiting there for the Count.
• Cherubino accidentally kisses the Count, who intercedes.
• The Count accidentally hits Figaro, who intercedes.
• Although they are being spied on, the Count is left alone with the Countess (as Susanna) and tells her he loves her.
• The Count gives the Countess (as Susanna) a ring as a token of his love.
• They hide as they realize they are being watched.
• Figaro and Susanna talk in the darkness, but he mistakes her for the Countess.
• The Count re-enters, looking for Susanna, and everyone hiding is revealed, exposing the plot against him.
• The Countess enters and shows the Count the ring – catching him in his unfaithfulness.
• The Count begs forgiveness – again.  She forgives him – again.
  

The Most Famous First Page of Any Score in All of Opera?

A lady named Hermione Lee says that all marriages are inexplicable.  Yeah, and a guy named Harold Bloom goes on to say that Shakespeare taught us the black box theory of marriage.  We never know why we married, why marriage did or didn’t work, and, after it crashes, we can’t recover the black box.

Such is love.

There were twenty or more singers at the Opera Birmingham rehearsal for The Marriage of Figaro on Saturday.  And just about the first thing I noticed was – when the singers weren’t actually singing – how “over it” many of them seemed to be.  During this all-afternoon run-through – which is admittedly work for them – there were lots of times when singers were off to the side, “off stage”, waiting around for the moments when they got to perform, looking a little bored, typing on laptops, i-tech, and cellphones.  Or maybe just snoozing.  I thought, “Do they not like this?”

So I’m there for the whole afternoon to watch from the sidelines and – of course – I’m spellbound by the whole thing.  Even with no costumes, no sets, no orchestra, and few real props, it’s a terrific performance.  Not just the singing and dramatic details, but just the spectacle. In contrast to what I thought about the singers, I could barely take my ears off it.  And I wondered how it would be possible to sit in that room and not pay attention.

But after sitting there a while and watching the performances, I’m certain my first impression of those singers was wrong.  It’s kind-of like something I’ve occasionally called The Bob Dylan Effect: What would it be like to be married to a genius?  Someone who could be effortlessly new all the time?

For example, let’s say I somehow wrangle a date with Regina Spektor.  I’ll admit that I’d probably get a bit nervous.  In fact, I’d probably be in awe, just on general principles, and then even more amazed that she somehow liked me back.  Shoot, let’s be honest, I’m amazed when anybody likes me back.  Let’s say – just in bizarro world – that I manage to marry Miss Spektor.  (As long as I’m dreaming, I’d like a pony.)  How long could it last that I could sit around and listen to her singing and tinkering around at the piano, before I got up and needed to do something else?  Would I listen less as years went by?

Like Billy Crystal says in When Harry Met Sally, “You take someone to the airport, it’s clearly the beginning of the relationship.  That’s why I have never taken anyone to the airport at the beginning of a relationship.  Because eventually things move on and you don’t take someone to the airport and I never wanted anyone to say to me: How come you never take me to the airport anymore?”

Put another way, I’ve been lucky to date a few truly beautiful girls and found that – directly contrary to what I thought would happen when I was fourteen – after a while, I start paying attention to her as something entirely more than just beautiful.  In fact, I can almost forget the beautiful part.  Until we’re at the grocery store and she walks back an aisle to get some salad dressing or something and I get absorbed in some other thing until I happen to look up and see this beautiful girl from a hundred feet away and having just an instant to wonder “holyCOWwhoisthat?!?” before realizing that it’s my girlfriend and it makes me amazed all over again that such a beautiful girl could think it was cool to hang out with me.

Or maybe, when you date someone, you tend to stay pretty close to her when you’re out and you don’t get enough chances to appreciate her from ten feet away, or a hundred feet away, or the next table over at a restaurant, or to just stare at the back of her head like we all used to do in school.  Those perspectives are mainly for the people outside your relationship.  Those people who can still see her and be spellbound by how beautiful she is.  But you’ve traded those perspectives for a closer and more complex view.

Back to those opera singers . . . they’re inside the relationship.  At some point, they met the opera and they were spellbound because she was so beautiful.  And they asked her out.  One date became two, two became three, and the blink-of-an-eye later, they were studying and training and singing – pressed right up close and in a relationship with this beautiful thing.

When I was fourteen, I misjudged marriage too.  I read Romeo and Juliet, looked around at adults, and thought, “How is it all so routine?  Where’s the passion?”  But it’s there.  You don’t commit to a relationship – or spend your Saturday afternoons at practice – without a good bit of passion.  And love.  And a comfortable, well-worn, mutual respect after years of wrestling around with one another.  Relationships are full of nuance.

On the other hand: “Genius, and not marriage, is my subject, and the age-old advice not to marry a genius probably is sound enough.”

Thanks again to Daniel Seigel and Opera Birmingham for letting me watch another Marriage of Figaro rehearsal.