In light of an actor's comments (I have refrained from mentioning his name in previous posts, and will continue to do so) regarding the cultural validity of opera, I can't think of a better rebuttal to him and those who share his views than this performance of La Bohème (the link takes you to a place where you can watch it).
I have always loved the opera, but my experience with it has been either from an orchestra pit (where I couldn't see the stage), through reading a piano-vocal score with a translation, listening to recordings following the libretto, or watching select staged separate scenes. This was a first time for me to experience whole opera without any kind of distraction.
I loved being able to see such an excellent-in-every-way performance in my living room, with my husband (who was also seeing the opera for the first time), a full box of tissues, and an extra handkerchief. And as a full-blown adult I found that I brought much of what I have learned (through literature, music, and studying history) into the experience. I hear so much more after living an inner-voice string-player's life, and through writing music myself that I can marvel on a whole new level at how magical Puccini's orchestration and vocal writing is.
In this opera you get the greatest contrasts imaginable: the most intimate moments of deep emotional communication between lovers, two monologues that pass seamlessly into a duet, and an aria that a basso sings to his coat, presented here with tasteful serious devotion (my attention was drawn to the bassoon doubling, which might suggest to some directors and conductors a sense of the absurd). This was a believable love song, sung by an extraordinary basso. And then there are the raucous songs, dances, and banter that are more like vaudeville acts than what anyone would expect from a serious opera about love and death.
In contrast to the intimacy between Mimi and Rodolfo, where they seem to be the only two people on the earth, illuminated only by moonlight, Marcello and Musetta's on-stage relationship is never private. But Musetta's transformation from a person of ill repute into a truly great human being is front and center. Maybe the public Musetta was always different from the private Musetta (we will never know). She had to make a living, right? In my mind Marcello's only saving grace is that he can't help loving her.
The second act crowd scene in this production, which contrasts the intimate ending of the first act, is a marvel in every way. The stage is filled with people, action, props, storefronts, tables, animals, and a marching band of children snaking their way through a two-level crowd. There is extraordinary choral singing, and real dancers doing work that requires real skill: appearing to be clumsy, moving gracefully in an animal costume, and lifting people.
In 1830s Paris (and for a long time before that) a woman without inherited wealth (property, that is, on which she would "earn" a certain amount of money on from rent) had to rely on men to care of her needs. She had very few ways to keep herself alive, unless she was a clever monster like Balzac's Cousin Bette.
And if a woman inherited a great deal of wealth, she couldn't have access to it unless she was married. Consider the case of Winneretta Singer (the Princesse de Polignac), who had a marriage of convenience with the titled-but-poor Prince de Polignac (both were gay), and used her wealth to promote musicians and commission music from composers. She even got a title, and the freedom that having vast amounts of money offers to live life on her terms. Most women didn't have her good fortune.
Beauty, if you had it, served as currency for women. Mimi and Musetta were/are two such women. In this opera they exist in a sea of male characters who present a buffet of negative male characteristics: self absorption, cluelessness regarding women and regarding relationships, jealousy, helplessness, and sentimentality that tell us a lot about the human condition in 1830s Paris. We can recognize these less-than-desirable male characteristics in the rich and powerful leaders of industry, government, and communications that elbow their way to our televisions while we wait for a portion of the news, a video, or a movie to begin.
We watch the cultural powers that be do their best to supress the rights that women (half the world's population) have worked for centuries to achieve and still struggle to maintain. Mimi asking Rodolfo whether she is still pretty just as she is about to die really drives the above point in the previous paragraph home for me.
Michael, who hadn't slept well the night before, was afraid that he might nod out during the opera. That didn't happen. Giocomo Puccini, Franco Zeffirelli (the director of the production), the fabulous cast, the astounding set designers and builders, and the conductor Keri-Lynn Wilson didn't let it happen. If anything the absolute balance between emotional intensity and comic relief made watching an energizing and refreshing cathartic experience. There's nothing like a series of good cries to bring your feelings to the surface. All your feelings.
Experiencing the world through feeling and connection is what makes us human. Becoming reacquainted with those feelings through an opera like La Bohéme (i.e. Puccini's operas in general), reconnects each of us with our humanity.
That is why I know that I need to spend more time with the operas that I love. Fortunately there are a great many operas available through the PBS App that we have on our television (because we support PBS). And we have a great collection of DVDs both at home and at the local University library.
I cried real tears when Rodolfo cried in response to a selfless gesture of kindness from Musetta. And when Mimi died (it isn't a spoiler that she dies at the end), I cried for her and for her friends. But I also cried for what I fear: the end to funding from the federal government for musical organizations like the Metropolitan Opera, which cannot sustain itself on money from supporters alone (including corporate sponsors), that accessible ultra-high quality performances like this one might not be able to happen anymore.
Michael, who hadn't slept well the night before, was afraid that he might nod out during the opera. That didn't happen. Giocomo Puccini, Franco Zeffirelli (the director of the production), the fabulous cast, the astounding set designers and builders, and the conductor Keri-Lynn Wilson didn't let it happen. If anything the absolute balance between emotional intensity and comic relief made watching an energizing and refreshing cathartic experience. There's nothing like a series of good cries to bring your feelings to the surface. All your feelings.
Experiencing the world through feeling and connection is what makes us human. Becoming reacquainted with those feelings through an opera like La Bohéme (i.e. Puccini's operas in general), reconnects each of us with our humanity.
That is why I know that I need to spend more time with the operas that I love. Fortunately there are a great many operas available through the PBS App that we have on our television (because we support PBS). And we have a great collection of DVDs both at home and at the local University library.
I cried real tears when Rodolfo cried in response to a selfless gesture of kindness from Musetta. And when Mimi died (it isn't a spoiler that she dies at the end), I cried for her and for her friends. But I also cried for what I fear: the end to funding from the federal government for musical organizations like the Metropolitan Opera, which cannot sustain itself on money from supporters alone (including corporate sponsors), that accessible ultra-high quality performances like this one might not be able to happen anymore.
Mimi, who is music personafied, comes to the end of her life too soon because she hid the fact that she was sick (except she shared it with us, the audience), and wasn't able to get medical care (which may not have been able to save her). Paris in the 1830s suffered from food shortabes, food shortages, cost of living increases, and widespread cholera, that, in the spring of 1832 killed 100,000 people all over France (18,402 in Paris).
There were, of course, many people who died because of lousy medical care.
The real possibility of performances at this extraordinary level fading into memory comes because of a government that will not use its vast resources to fund arts institutions and make performances of operas affordable both for the audiences and for the people putting on the productions. Instead they threaten universities, systematically silence broadcasting companies, and flood disinformation, propaganda, gold coins, and ever-changing views of reality through preferred pipelines. I think of the squandered money that could have gone to so many organizations that have been dedicated to improving the lives of people in America, Many organizations have, until recently, kept the country from descending into something like the documented chaos that Paris (and Europe in general) experienced in the 1830s.
The real possibility of performances at this extraordinary level fading into memory comes because of a government that will not use its vast resources to fund arts institutions and make performances of operas affordable both for the audiences and for the people putting on the productions. Instead they threaten universities, systematically silence broadcasting companies, and flood disinformation, propaganda, gold coins, and ever-changing views of reality through preferred pipelines. I think of the squandered money that could have gone to so many organizations that have been dedicated to improving the lives of people in America, Many organizations have, until recently, kept the country from descending into something like the documented chaos that Paris (and Europe in general) experienced in the 1830s.
The lack of human rights, the ability of one person to get away with owning another person and disposing of that person when s/he is no longer of value that was still going strong during the middle of the ninetenth century suddenly doesn't feel like it was very long ago. As they say, "What happened once upon a time happens all of the time."
Here's the link to the opera again. Remember, it isn't available after April 4th.
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