Last Saturday, I decided to give the opera another go. I’d gone once before more than a decade ago whenI saw Manon Lescaut. I didn’t like it. Much of what I remember is based on the fact that it took the heroine forever to die. The story was slow. The singing endless, and Manon just wouldn’t get on with the tragedy and end herself.

But I was never easy with the idea that that sole opinion would stand for my whole opinion on opera. As an artistic-minded person, I’m more than aware that art forms come in more varieties than atoms. They exist to hit, bond, split and smash against others in their efforts to become something meaningful. After that decade, I felt brave enough to give opera another try.

The L.A. Opera has enjoyed a lot of prosperity recently. I’ve read nothing but good critiques in the L.A. Times and the maestro puppeting the strings is none other than Placido Domingo himself! I jumped on board, drove down to the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion at the Music Center, bought my ticket and got ready for a bunch of death in the tragedy of Tosca.

I absolutely loved it.

Here’s why I think opera is not mainstream:

1) A lot of popular songs, musicals and television shows are based on language whether sexual, political or intellectual. Characters race through dialogue peppered with cultural references, puns, innuendo and etc. In opera, because of the language barrier, the audience misses that. If there is a subtle humor in words, rhyme or accent, it is most likely lost, even among a culturall diverse audience. (When wandering through the theatre before the show started, I heard the English, Spanish and Italian language from more than a few seats.)

2) Popular music today is based on a rhythm or beat. It’s easy for listeners to catch it, bob or sway to it, and enjoy from there. Opera’s a bit more complex. Like a classical piece, listeners are supposed to pick through the layers. It’s not a bob and sway kind of music, but a sit back and be kind of music. Don’t process. Don’t search for theme. Just let it overtake you as you begin to see its layers.

3) In musicals and movies, language is always first. Music is an ornamentation; it is a device to spur along the dialogue and plot. In opera, the music is the main communicator. The words are just ornamentation. In fact, while watching Tosca, I began to feel like the opera’s score was like a poem. It’s not so much that the listener needs to understand every line and stanza to enjoy the piece. Instead, they just need to catch the feeling.

That’s my new opinion of the opera. Perhaps it was because the production was exceptionally fine. Perhaps it was because unlike other, more classical operas, had more lyrical librettos. Tosca jumps right into the action.

Act 1: Escapees! Political revolution! Faith vs. Non-Faith! Church vs. Radicals! Jealousy! Betrayals!

Act 2: Torture! Ultimatums! Blackmail! Lust! Love! Sacrifice! Murder!

Act 3: Dawn! Death!

Actually, what was interesting was that Act 3 was the most mellow. Instead of blowing the execution of the hero up into a melodrama, the production presented it as mundane. Perhaps that was Puccini’s point: In the scheme of life, Cavaradossi’s death is just another execution, and Tosca’s eventual suicide is not a “bang” but a “whimper.” Considering that Act 1 opens with a chase and Act 2 opens with a song on lust, Act 3 opens with no people, no lights, no nothing. For 20 or so minutes, the orchestra plays the calm morning, signaling that life is going on even as the life of our protagonists is about to end.

Opera. Go figure. I like it.

Anyway, I have a point to all this. Puccini’s opera had life, death, hope, sorrow, and so does this blog. The time has come to reinvent it again!

I’m bringing in a fellow blogger/writer to add her perspective on L.A., writing, art and whatever moves the artistic soul. We hashed out a plan in Starbucks this evening. The company will be so pleased that great writing was inspired within its walls! I sometimes think that is Starbuck’s secret hope–that it will birth greatness. We’ll see!

Oh yes, the lavender is in reference to the plan in my backyard that has died. However, an unhatched egg was discovered in the pot. (It’s mother took flight when humans approached.) We can’t possibly water the lavendar plant now as it might make the mother decide not to come back. Nor can we discard the plant. Metaphor time! So the plant will stay much like this blog. Even though it withered, life has been left behind and will hatch into something new!

See, it’s a metaphor! I’m kind of talented like that.

–SD