In a weekend that was chock full of singing, playing and conducting, it was a very sweet relief to be just an audience member for several hours Saturday afternoon, with no responsibility except to enjoy myself. The occasion in question was the kickoff of the second season of movie theater simulcasts from the Metropolitan Opera. And what a way to kick things off – with Charles Gounod’s lush and heartfelt setting of Shakespeare’s “Romeo and Juliet.” Marshall had some sort of conflict, so he wasn’t able to be there, which really made me sad. At least I got to go with my voice student and friend Trevor Parker . . . and another student of mine who is now a Carthage voice colleague of mine, Sarah Gorke, ended up there as well. Also there were a number of Racinians who are taking a four-part opera class I’m teaching for the group Adventures in Lifelong Learning. We had our first session Friday morning, with me talking about the first two operas in the simulcast season and showing excerpts from each.
A word about the concept itself, seeing an opera at the movie theater, which may strike you as terribly strange. . . maybe akin to going to a cathedral to watch sumo wrestling. But trust me- it is the greatest innovation since the electric can opener. Opera is a wonderful thing to experience on a big screen with big speakers – and especially when it is as fine a performance as we saw Saturday afternoon. Gounod’s opera is a lush, passionate setting of Shakespeare’s tragedy, with gorgeous music not only for the singers but for the orchestra as well. (Some of the most exquisite moments come in the preludes, interludes and postludes.) The two leads were to die for, both literally and figuratively. Anna Netrebko is a magnetic personality onstage and really embodied Juliet quite convincingly- and if anything I liked Roberto Alagna as Romeo even more so. He is probably the most famous exponent of this role in the last quarter century, and one thing which really aided his impact when he first did the role was that while he was debuting in the role at London’s Covent Garden, Alagna’s real life wife was dying of cancer. So that terrible tragedy off the stage only enhanced the poignancy of what happened on the stage and deeply endeared him to a public already in love with his wonderful voice and charismatic stage presence.
I love this story, and I have ever since attempting to read the whole play in high school. (I was so proud of myself for almost finishing it, until Marshall informed me that it’s the shortest of the great Shakespeare plays. I suppose it says something rather unflattering about me that I didn’t have the fortitude and focus to get the job done, and I shudder to think of how I would have fared with something longer and tougher.) I suppose my introduction to it was seeing the classic film version when we still lived in Decorah (I was in junior high at the time.) I saw it as part of some sort of field trip, and I can still remember the laughter ringing out through Decorah’s VIking Theater at that fleeting moment when you see the bare behind of Romeo for about a second and a half.) Americans can be such idiots, and we sure start young, don’t we?) Oddly enough, the first time I saw R&J onstage in a live performance was not the play nor any of the operatic settings of it. . . but rather the ballet setting by Prokofiev. Kathy and I saw that at the National Theater in Prague, from front row center seats, and it remains one of the most glorious things I have ever seen. We were close enough to the stage that we could practically feel the sweat of the dancers on our skin – and as the story reached its tragic conclusion, I cried away half of my bodily fluids.
At the Lyric Opera of Chicago I first saw Bellini’s operatic version of the story – I Capuletti e Montecchi – and some years later got to see Gounod’s better-known version. Marshall had to miss that performance for some reason, and Pastor Jeff Barrow from Holy Communion was my date. It was his first opera, and I gotta say that this down home, country music-loving, basketball-playing theologian from Montana actually enjoyed himself thoroughly, although he joked later that after that much culture in one night, he was mightily tempted upon exiting the opera house to crunch a beer can against his forehead.
I had no such sensation after Saturday’s performance. Part of me I suppose wanted to curl up under the seat and sob for the rest of the afternoon. But the rest of me was amazingly exhilarated by seeing and hearing something so incredibly exciting and heartbreaking. And as I exited, I had to tamp down the urge to run up to people heading for other theaters to waste two hours of their lives watching “Fred Claus” and urge them to join the world of the civilized. Of course, such conduct can get one escorted rather brusquely from movie theaters, and I want to be free to return for Hansel and Gretel on New Year’s Day. And because it’s a happier – albeit scarier – story, I won’t be drenching my popcorn with my tears. . . something else to look forward to.
pictured: an illicit picture taken by yours truly of the curtain call at the end of Saturday’s simulcast – Anna Netrobko and Roberto Alagna accepting the ovation of the capacity crowd at the Met.