Theatre might should be marked with a “degree of difficulty” rating.

In some sports (the ones that maybe really aren’t sports), the way they get judged is to rate how hard something is and then score participants based on how well they did it.  For example, in diving, a tuck reverse double somersault from a one meter springboard is a “2.3″.  That’s almost meaningless to me, too, but that’s just what divers do.  For a high jump, you just set the bar, measure, and see whether you cleared it.  Because high jump is a sport.  Unlike ice skating or cheerleading.

Similarly, some things in theatre are more difficult than others.  Putting on Equus is maybe harder than Driving Miss Daisy.  I’m not saying that it’s easy to put on any particular show.  Getting the people together and moving in the right direction is always an amazing and laudable effort.  But I think some shows have a higher “degree of difficulty” to perform and perform well.  Put another way, some shows carry a higher risk of failure or leaving an audience unsatisfied.

To break it into parts, there can also be individual, discrete pieces of theatre that are more difficult for performers.  Certain songs are just plain hard to sing.  Certain lines are hard on the tongue.  Certain characters are difficult to get right.  Certain moments or emotions may be tough to convey.  Maybe the beautiful dress the Costume Coordinator made for you makes it impossible to dance and sing.

While watching the musical Grey Gardens – as presented by Dane Peterson’s Theatre Series – I couldn’t help but think how difficult it seemed.  Whereas I believe likability and charisma are the most important assets for a performer – whether you’re playing good or evil – these characters seemed to have been written as mostly unsympathetic.  This kind of writing asks a lot of your actors.  If your character is kind-of a jerk, you’d better be a very likable jerk.  To this day, I can’t explain the popularity of Seinfeld.  Although I have to say that Leah Luker’s performance as “Little” Edie Beale often gave me reasons to pull for the character and Carole Armistead as Edith Bouvier Beale had the likability thing down pat.  Though he plays a rascal, I also liked Brad Simmons as George Gould Strong and I especially liked his voice.

I’m no expert, but it seemed like many (or most) of the songs in Grey Gardens were written to be flat-out hard.  This is part of the “degree of difficulty” I’m talking about.  I understand that these kinds of songs can take a lot of mental energy for a performer.  And that it takes substantial work to get the technical details right.  But this doesn’t free anyone from a responsibility to act.

I’m not usually wowed purely by masterful technique.  In the world of musical theatre, I generally want to find a groove where the performers don’t seem like they’re performing at all.  Any singing should mostly feel like a seamless part of the character.  No matter how gifted your voice, in musical theatre you shouldn’t forget the theatre part.  No one is allowed to ignore other actors while they flirt with and sing to the audience.

Thanks to Dane Peterson for working hard to bring a difficult and unusual musical to the Birmingham stage.

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.