(no, this post is not about a web browser)
Went to The Opera last night. Il Trovatore, by Verdi. (The name means Troubador, but I call him the Tenor.) I went with a bunch of grrlfriends, including Grrl.
Okay, so I go to movies all the time. Concerts less frequently (even so, this year's been very good for concerts). Plays less than that. An opera combines concert and play. But opera resembles a movie, too. Specifically, art-house foreign flicks, where you watch the action all the while reading the subtitles to know what those foreign people are saying. Il Trovatore is in Italian, and rather than having projected subtitles below the stage (where they'd interfere with the conductor's wild baton motions), they're supertitles, projected above the stage.
Over the course of four acts, I observed how a particular thought or conversation was repeated over and over. Take this (my vague recollections)
I love him; I cannot think of not loving him. He invades my dreams.
As the woman sings, those words appear. And disappear. She keeps singing. No new words appear above. So she must be singing those words over and over again. That happens throughout the opera: they repeat, repeat, repeat the same thoughts. They repeat, they repeat, they repeat the same thoughts.They repeat the same thoughts.
The story of Il Trovatore (It's okay, I'm not giving away the story. There's even a synopsis online):
There are two men -- a baritone and a tenor-- who love the same woman. Ya gotta know how it's gonna turn out: the tenor gets her, or at least gets her love and devotion, but this being an opera, things don't turn out quite so happily ever after.
An opera is far more complex. It has backstory. And the Backstory is what prevents the Tenor from really getting the Woman in the end. In fact, the Backstory kills them both. But I like the way Verdi did it; he begins the opera with a kind of he-said/she-said chorus, where we hear two different sides of the same backstory events.
First we hear from the He-said side, where spurned Baritone's captain of the guards tells guards a whole story involving kidnapping of Baritone's brother by an evil gypsy woman, burning at the stakes, baby skeletons in the ashes, and the unknown whereabouts of kidnapped brother. The guard-chorus replies, "The evil of this story fills our hearts with hatred. If we find her, we will kill her, send her soul to hell where her evil mother resides." Operas: delicate stuff, that.
Then we get the scene that establishes the beautiful woman and her two rivals. Woman loves Tenor. (Supertitles outweighed by singing) Swordfight between rivals. Stopped by woman. Rivals run off, presumably to fight it out on their own.
Then we get the She-said scene. Gypsy camp chorus. Famous opera song. You'd know it if you heard it. Then gypsy chorus goes offstage, leaving one woman and the Tenor. Woman tells story of her mother's death by burning. Horror, horror. It's worse tho: Because her mother, before they put her to flames, called out to daughter, "Avenge me!" Daughter tells how she avenged her mother, by casting the kidnapped boy into the fire. But too late, she realized it was her own son she killed. (supertitle:singing ratio heavily biased toward singing) Duet between gypsy daughter and tenor. Oh no, I was carried away with my memories, you're my dear son, didn't I raise you with a mother's love? (Audience thinks: oh shit, he thinks she's mom, but she's not and isn't this all complex?)
Woman thinks Tenor is dead from previous swordfight, is about to join a convent. Baritone, who thinks he killed Tenor, hears of Woman's impending nun-dom and arrives at convent to change that. He sings to his guards (more singing than supertitles), the only altar she's going to is the one to marry me. Nuns and woman arrive. Baritone springs from shadows to take her off. In midst of his "you're coming with me" song, Tenor arrives. Joy and wild singing by woman, I can't believe my eyes it's you; forget this convent, let's get married. Baritone seriously pissed.
Intermission.
Then by operatic plot-twist stroke of luck, gypsy daughter/mother is captured by Baritone's army. Baritone overjoyed, describes how torturing mother will torment rival tenor. Baritone repeats his evil schemes lots more times after translation was projected. Gypsy mother wails her fate. Audience thinks, this dude's evil.
Word of gypsy mother's capture reaches Tenor, who was in luxurious house of Woman, getting ready to marry her (she's actually a queen, but we never learn of what). I love you, but I also love my mother, he sings. (oh, the drama!) My love and devotion for you will strengthen me and make me fight harder, faster, better. (lots more singing than supertitles) He runs off in pursuit. She strikes dramatic pose in ornate chair.
Now Gypsy mom and Tenor son are captured. Woman is outside the Baritone's torture chambers (enormous chains decorate set, redefining the meaning of "over the top"), Tenor, offstage, sings farewell to her and she replies. The singing:supertitle ratio heavily weighted toward singing.
Then Baritone appears, and Woman pleads for Tenor's life. Baritone displays full extent of evilness by describing all the cruel things he'll do to his rival, so jealous is his love for her. If only I could think of something to inflict a hundred times the pain that I am doing so now. Audience thinks: That Baritone is clueless about how to woo a girl; does he think she's gonna love him for that? Woman asks for mercy. Baritone talks theology: mine is a god of vengeance. Lots of singing, sprinkled by supertitles. Then Woman says, spare his life I'll give you mine. Baritone believes her.
Gypsy mother and Tenor in jail cell. Can't sleep. Upcoming threat of death simply too awful. Gypsy mother remembers her mother's death. Awful, awful, awful. Woman enters, tells Tenor to go. Tenor, being jealous (he's got a rival, you know), thinks she caved to Baritone. Accuses her. She says, Go, go. I am weakening. (more singing than supertitles) This poison is working too fast. Tenor realizes mistake. Final song in which Woman sings her love and devotion to him, even in death. Baritone arrives to hear that he's been foiled. He catches woman as she dies. Orders his guards to execute Tenor. Guards take Tenor away.
Gypsy mother cries, wait stop! Musical flourish and red lights at back of stage, and Baritone cries, Too late. he's dead. Then Mother says, He was your brother. My mother is avenged.
Curtain.
After all the repeated portions throughout most of the opera, Verdi was damn quick to bring things to a close. NONE of that repeated chorus at the end (He is your brother, your brother, he is your brother. He is your bro- o- o- o- ther. My mother is avenged. After all these years, finally, finally. My mother is avenged, avenged, avenged. Finally, my mother is avenged.)
Just this
"he's your brother.
My mother is avenged."
Curtain.
I didn't see any punk rockers there, that I could tell, tho I had heard the NPR interview about how punkers are the new young opera audience.
The best comment of the evening, from one of the friends who went (whose brother sang opera) "I learned all my Italian through singing opera, so I can kill someone in a swordfight, but I couldn't go to a grocery store in Italy and ask for something."
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