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How to Enjoy an Opera

How to Enjoy an Opera

It takes a bit of work to enjoy an opera, but doing so will change your life in great ways.

Opera going is not like movie going.  Most movie-goers want to know just enough about the plot to be interested in seeing the film.  They don’t want to know too much about how the story unfolds—or how it ends—because it spoils their fun.  Surprise is what makes seeing a movie for the first time delightful.

With opera, quite the opposite is true: the more you know about the story, the more you enjoy the performance.  If you go without knowing what’s going to happen beforehand, you will be too lost and frustrated to realize all the show has to offer.

And what does opera have to offer?  Since its early years, opera has been regarded as the presentation of all the highest arts in one place.  It features poetry, drama, acting, painting, sculpture, elaborate costumes, lavish upholstery, and these days, bleeding edge technology.  Oh yes, and music, too!

Really, opera is nothing short of an artistic smorgasbord.  So do your homework and don’t miss out on all the goodies.

Read the Synopses.  Before attending the show, familiarize yourself with the complexities of the plot.  Once informed, you can focus on the other elements of the show.  Otherwise, your eyes will be fixed on the supertitles rather than the stage.  If you already know what’s happening, you can actually listen to the music, admire the scenery, and bask in the holistic theater experience.

Get some historical background.  While not essential to enjoying the opera on a basic level, you are guaranteed to appreciate the show much more with historical context.  When does the opera take place?  What is the historic backdrop of the plot?  What was going on in the composer’s country of residence the year he wrote this opera?  Verdi, Puccini, and Wagner were especially nationalistic composers.  As such, their operas often have intriguing political undertones that were controversial at the time.

Listen to recordings.  Figure out what famous songs you should listen for.  Each opera has at least one classic aria or orchestra bit that made it so famous.  Watch several versions on YouTube and you’ll be so thrilled when you hear it during the live performance.  You’ll get swept up in the excitement of the opera experience.  You’ll finally understand why those fanatics in the box seats scream “Brava!” at the end of each aria, clapping and nearly thrusting themselves off the balcony.

Learn something about this interpretation.  If possible, read about the version you are going to see.  What are the director’s dramatic choices?  Is the show in a traditional or a modern setting?  What was the most costly part about putting this show together?  What technical difficulties did they have to get around?  All these facts will sharpen your eyes and deepen your appreciation for what is being presented.  They might even keep you from feelings of confusion or outrage at the interpretive decisions.

Watch another version.  You really start to appreciate opera when you watch different versions of the same show.  While exposing yourself to so many different interpretations of the same music and plots, you’ll even start to form your own opinions about how directors really “should” bring the story to life, and how each aria really “should” be sung.  You’ll become an opera snob before you know it!

Seeing an opera is fun, but it’s even more enjoyable to bring friends to the show.  I like to discuss the opera with my friends afterward.  They often notice things I didn’t.  When they share their thoughts with me, I really feel like I got my money’s worth.  Once you convert your friends to this way of seeing an opera, you’ll all become fanatics in no time.

The Mahler Effect

The Mahler Effect

Gustav Mahler Conducts the Vienna Philharmonic, by by Max Oppenheimer, 1935

I was so moved the first time I saw Gustav Mahler Conducts the Vienna Philharmonic at the Belvedere in Vienna, Austria.  It may not look extraordinary in a pixilated rendering, but its life-size original is breathtaking. 

The mark of a great painting is its appeal to more senses than just sight.  In this painting, not only can you see the wind blowing through everybody’s hair; you feel it.  Though non-existent, you become convinced that there’s an actual breeze in the room.  This effect blurs the separation between the artwork in front of you and your reality on the other side of it.  You are transported from your world into Max Oppenheimer’s fantasy.  It thrills and frightens you at the same time.

As you analyze the windy effect of this painting, a riddle emerges.  The Golden Hall doesn’t have windows, so . . . aha!  The epiphany appears.  It’s not a literal gust of wind that Oppenheimer paints so eloquently.  It’s the unearthly whirlwind of passion that sweeps up each orchestra member—and you, the viewer.  It’s rather Pentecostal in nature.  The solemnity of said passion is expressed in everybody’s prayer-like closed eyes and bowed heads.

One would think this painting has inspired so many orchestra members around the world to grow their hair out–as indeed, many have.  What is more becoming of a musician than a swooshy, aerodynamic hairstyle?  As a violinist sways with each bow stroke, his hair punctuates each movement.  What a brilliant way to get the audience more visually involved in the performance!

Few paintings capture the dynamic movement of orchestral music as well as this masterpiece does.   The wind effect is largely to credit for this.  The brush strokes themselves are lively and add to the sense of mobility.  The timpani player’s multiple mallet heads clearly illustrate a rapid drum roll.

Max’s decision to squish everybody together helps, too.  Each player’s individuality becomes irrelevant as they perform, move and breathe as one musical organism.  Mahler is the nucleus, the DNA code, the brain and heart, the mastermind.  Every line in the painting points directly to him, as he’s placed conveniently at the center of all activity.

Despite the sheer amazingness of this aesthetic gem, hardly anyone has heard of it outside of Vienna.  I couldn’t find any historical information on the painting online, and a search through print materials was equally hapless.  Perhaps I was wise to forgo my original dissertation idea in college.  I wanted to explore how artistic portrayals of Gustav Mahler reflected European ideologies of the time.  Due to the lack of reliable information, I abandoned the project.  I hope one of these days some more daring student will pick up where I left off.