Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. (I’m not even Catholic, but this seemed like the most appropriate way to open this.)
This past Tuesday night was the final Metropolitan Opera simulcast of the season- a repeat of Rossini’s The Barber of Seville. I was especially excited about this because I missed the first act of the live showing back in March, thanks to a wedding which Kathy and I sang for that day. (I ran back to the theater as fast as I could and managed to see the second act, but could hardly wait to see the whole thing.) Marshall drove over from Whitewater to watch the rebroadcast- not exactly because he missed the performance the first time around, but rather because he saw the first performance THERE- at the Met. He was in New York City and attended that performance in person, but was anxious to see what the production was like when viewed on a big cinema screen and heard over cinema speakers. He loved it- and I loved it- and so did the forty- plus people who were in the theater with us. (The repeat showings are not sold out like the live simulcasts have all been, but this seemed like a very respectable crowd for a weeknight.) It was absolutely wonderful in every way- a terrific production, and a cast that could not be beaten. (My favorite tenor in the world, Juan Diego Florez, stole the show, as far as I’m concerned- but everyone sang and acted up a storm. One little bonus- During one scene when Florez’s character is in disguise, he got his big hat and fake wig knocked right off his head. . . and although he managed to slap the wig back on his head almost immediately, it was obviously not fastened at all . . . and he had to play the rest of the scene with his wig barely staying on- and he didn’t miss a beat. It was amazing to see that! What a pro! ! !)
Now my sin. During the half hour before the showing began, we saw a notice flash on the screen many times over- absolutely no recording equipment of any kind is permitted at this event. Which I fully understand- the Met does not want someone smuggling in a video camera, recording a simulcast, and then duplicating it and selling it. So never in a million years would I bring in a video camera or do any of that.
What I did do, however, was sneak in my little camera and take a few pictures of the screen. . . for no reason other than to have something to help me remember what this experience was like. I brought the camera in a canvas bag, held it really close to my chest, and did it in a way that I thought would attract absolutely no notice. (Except for Marshall right next to me, who threatened to make a citizen’s arrest on the spot but decided against it. . . probably because he didn’t want to deal with the police station interrogation.)
Imagine my chagrin when I bumped into Carthage student Jennifer Cobb on the way out of the theater- I gave her free tickets from the radio station – who immediately said, a little too loudly, “You were taking pictures!” She was sitting six rows behind me and at least ten seats over from me – but noticed my little “activity” without the slightest trouble. Oops. I guess I’m not as accomplished a sneak as I thought I was. (It’s probably just as well that I don’t make my living as a double agent.) It turns out that she saw the little screen on the camera and thought I was messing around with my cell phone until I accidentally took one picture with the flash on instead of off. Oops. (Talk about your dead giveaways.) So I thought I would come clean in this forum, so all of you can be aware that I’m not quite the boy scout that you thought I was. I promise that I still help little old ladies across the street, I give the money back when I’m given too much change, and the worst four letter word I ever say is Darn.
There’s just this one thing. . .
Pictured above: Mezzo soprano Joyce DiDonato as Rosina- during her curtain call, as the final credits rolled on the screen.