More than ten years ago, my ninth-grade English teacher arranged for our class to see a performance of Der Rosenkavalier. The story was complicated and mature, the music was unfamiliar, and at that time I understood half the languages I do now, German certainly not being one of them. I was not in any capacity to appreciate the fine qualities presented to me. Under these circumstances, I fell in love with the opera.
Jose asked me about this last night. How does a person get to like, or get to know, the opera? I think we were discussing this with the presumption that the opera, realistically, is not really an accessible activity either because of what it costs or the language barrier alone. Or because it's boring and really requires a lot of patience to sit through. Whether one thinks of it as high-brow or not, the reason I provided was this: "If others go, then I go."
Well, I really was too mentally dead to give a more analytical reply. (He did, after all, ask me during the intermission after Act III, which was particularly hard to sit through.) We like things simply because we know we like them. I do know the moment when I loved the opera and wanted to see a bunch more. It was sometime in the middle of Der Rosenkavalier, when the light was streaming across the stage so artfully it seemed that the sun was indoors, and I heard a mezzo soprano aria as sung by Frederica von Stade. That was it.
So then I got a Frederico von Stade CD, which had her recording of Voi che sapete. I was fourteen and would listen to it while doing my Algebra II homework. Then, it seemed too improbable that I would ever get to see a whole production The Marriage of Figaro someday.
That much anticipated someday was last night. After nearly twelve years, what I have to report is that Mozart was one crazy bastard. He probably should have consulted a script editor before bringing Figaro to final. Our general reactions were, "More antics?" "This is getting out of hand..." and "Why can't they just stop lying?" We were weary to read the synopsis past the first act lest our confusion cause a worse headache, and yet, not reading ahead was akin to not being prepared for class. Four acts of foibles -- I have had less trying nights of entertainment.
But it was worth it. Cherubino, Act II, the last few bars sung by the page asking the Countess and Susanna if they would explain love. I waited a long time for those two minutes -- twelve years, and two acts.
Sunday brunch was at Hugo's. I was a lucky beneficiary of Southern hospitality. Made me want to move to Texas, for a second there. A friend of mine will be gearing up to take another state Bar, which really got me thinking. Sometimes, it really is that simple.
Voi che sapete che cos'e' amor,
Donne, vedete si l'ho nel cor.
You ladies who know what love is,
See if it is what I have in my heart.
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 4:54 PM
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