Birthday Opera

A few weeks ago (3/28/07), Virginia took me out to dinner and the opera for my birthday (which was 3/26/07). Neither of us had been before, so it was a new evening for both of us. We ate at a very nice Chinese/Japanese restaurant near Lincoln Center called Empire something-or-other. Delicious food! We shared shrimp shiu mai and a honeydew bubble tea that tasted like it was made with fresh honeydew melon. (Mmmm!) We each ordered a different entree. Mine was a chicken dish with slices of mango and a mango sauce; Virginia's was (I think) some sort of Empire or Imperial chicken or maybe Phoenix something; both were delicious.

Afterward, we walked four blocks to Lincoln Center and the Metropolitan Opera House, the architecture of which is stunning. (One thing I must say in New York's favor is that it is filled with beautiful, modern architecture. I don't put those two descriptors together lightly, either--usually, I am very turned off by what passes for architecture these days. But this city, being one supposed center of everything, seems to get the good architects at their best, so that even if there are boring skyscrapers and ugly buildings, they fade into the background behind the structures that surround them.) The Met is, I think, five stories tall at least, and its exterior sides and roof (except for the front) are constructed of pale gray stone. The front of the building is clear glass supported by several evenly spaced black posts or frames (probably metal) that run from ground to roof. The first floor has a ceiling, mostly, except for part that is open to two large grand staircases that ascend to the second floor. The second floor and above are open--without ceiling at the front half or so. The third, fourth, and fifth floors do not stretch to the front of the building, but rather gracefully hug the walls and the area outside the auditorium. The whole thing is lit by many glass chandeliers designed to look like three-dimensional snowflakes or crystals and glass wall lamps of somewhat similar look. At night from the outside, one can look in and see the whole beautifully lit space beckoning. The opera house installs artwork of various sorts--often translucent or of a shape that makes an interesting silhouette--on the second floor near the front glass wall.

The opera auditorium itself is equally beautiful, with level upon level of comfortable velvet-lined seating and railings that look down over a large stage and orchestra pit. V and I estimated (by rough count) that perhaps 800-900 people could sit on most levels, and that the first could probably hold more. So verging on 5000 people can fit in the auditorium/theatre. The walls of the house are lined with angled wood (?) panels that reflect sound toward the farthest reaches of seating, so that even sitting on the topmost level, as we were, you can hear the performers with amazing clarity--even when they sing from backstage.

The opera we saw performed was La Traviata, a Romantic piece with music by Giuseppe Verdi and libretto by Francesco Maria Piave, and based on the novel La dame aux Camélias by Alexandre Dumas, fils (Alexandre Dumas, Jr., the son of the Alexandre Dumas who wrote The Three Musketeers). The plot, as V will tell you also, is rather silly: a courtesan and party girl named Violetta Valéry comes home with a crowd of her 30 best friends to dance away what's left of the night. She has fainting spells due to her early-stage tuberculosis, and so her friends leave her alone for a bit; they go dance in the other room. One of her guests, Alfredo Germont, stays behind to confess his love to her. She denies her ability to love, but warms quickly to him, and suddenly (Act II), they've been living together for a few months in a country house outside of Paris, shunning Violetta's old life. However, she's been selling her belongings to support them, and when Alfredo discovers this, he races off to Paris to set things right, presumably by burning through his own fortune. This leaves an opening for Alfredo's disapproving father to appear and sell Violetta a crock, saying that her relationship with Alfredo has destroyed the fortunes of Alfredo's sister. (?!) Daddy leaves, Alfredo returns, and Violetta steals away, sacrificing her love for her love's family. Alfredo decides she has left him for another man, pursues, wins a small fortune from the man in a gambling match, and still doesn't get Violetta back. Then, some months later (Act III), Violetta is dying alone (save for her servants) in her original home. Alfredo returns to her, having been told about her sacrifice by his father. Her hope renews, she feels like living again. Alfredo's father returns, apologizes, and welcomes her as his daughter; Violetta and Alfredo confess their love again, and then she dies. Everyone is sad.

The music is lovely, however. The orchestra at the Met is excellent, and the singers are phenomenal! Apparently, too, many performers practice one part in particular and perform it all over the world, rehearsing for many operas at once. Principals are often booked years in advance. Pretty amazing.

We managed to sit next to two lovely people, Leonda and Arnold Finke. They were very kind and generous, explained much about opera to us (they've been going for 25 years at least). We managed to chat more in the lobby during one of the intermissions; Leonda sculpts and does all sorts of art (she's very good, too--we looked up her work later), and Arnold is immensely proud of her. (He told us privately about the awards and recognition she has received; it was really cute and sweet!)

So really, we had a wonderful evening, and I'm tremendously lucky to have the love of a woman like Virginia who is amazing in her own right and goes out of her way to set up things like this for me. Thank you, Virginia! I love you!