Category — Site Authors

“Just Wen Bo chillin with his boys.”

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As the curtains drew open and fell into an elegant drape, they revealed vibrant colors and pure merriment that accompanied the mood introduced by the orchestra.  Watching the scene unfold was like watching a masterful painting reworking itself seamlessly and beautifully.  There was a feeling only the Metropolitan Opera could give a person, that they were transported somewhere completely different to enjoy an art of a different age.  I’ve never truly appreciated opera and have often fallen asleep during them.  The smooth movement and seemingly never-changing singing used to wear on my eyes and ears and draw me into a deep lull.  When I was young, I would be woken up with the sound of my aunt’s voice (a choreographer who took me to some shows and rehearsals); the night of Rigoletto, I was determinedly staying awake helped by the gentleman snoring loudly next to me.

Perhaps it was because I actually knew the plot of the opera that made it more interesting to see; knowing what’s going to happen allows one to be entranced by the costuming, set, music, and emotion.  From a vibrant set in Act I to the darker set of Acts II and III, a warm, burgundy material was prominent in the costumes of the Duke, Rigoletto, Gilda’s nurse Giovanna, and Countess Ceprano.  The color seemed to be symbolic of the curse and the pain the Duke causes; the Countess Ceprano is representative of the Duke’s disrespect for women, their significant others and relatives and Giovanna is representative of her inability to successfully care for her charge.  Rigoletto wears quite a bit of the burgundy in his jester outfit, but in the next scene where he meets Sparafucile, he only wears a small cape of the color.  As soon as he enters the house, it is removed and alternately placed around his daughter and himself.  Maybe it wasn’t intentional, but an interesting detail to explore.

Aside from the costuming, George Gagnidze’s portrayal of Rigoletto was so powerful and I was unaware of his illness during the performance.  The voice and acting of the Duke was quite commendable as well.  I was pleasantly surprised by Gilda’s piercing voice which by the end had an eerie but enjoyable ring.  I found Sparafucile’s voice to be the most impressive; it had power but sweetness to it that fit his cunning and vicious role in the play.

I stayed awake the whole opera, my eyes following the subtle movements of the dresses, then the exchange between father and daughter, and the final bit of the curse as the actors ran around the set; if only I could have heard the music without the accompaniment of deep inhales and exhales.  However, the grandeur and feeling provided by the orchestra, the set, the singing, the actors, and the entire production made it worthwhile.  The curtains were drawn down as gracefully as they were opened to mark the end of a picturesque production.

Oh the irony…

I think the photo speaks for itself. Some people find very creative ways to protect their bicycles from this harsh world.

Opera has never amused me. For one thing, Italian is not a language which I particularly enjoy listening to.  Two, the overdose of dramatic irony always greatly irritates me. Thirdly, the three operas I had seen were in uncomfortable theaters with sound systems that were less than adequate for the deep, full-bodied voices of opera singers.

I walked into the Metropolitan Opera House with the same low expectations I had for the other operas I had seen. When the orchestra began warming up, I sighed, wishing I was at the New York Philharmonic instead, so I could hear the music without the distraction of loud, non-rhyming singing. I braced myself for three hours of frustration.

When the curtains opened, and with the first line of lyric, I thought that maybe, just maybe, this opera could be different from the others that I had seen. The set was breathtakingly realistic, with a sky that seemed to go on endlessly. The costumes were bright with richly colored fabrics, but managed to stay away from the gaudiness that many opera costumes have. Everyone’s voices were unified and, lo and behold, the singing actually added to the orchestra, rather than distracting me from it.

I would have completely changed my opinion of opera, had it not been for the usual  ironic ending. When shows, plays, operas, anything have endings like the one Rigoletto has, I cannot help but feel like my time was wasted. After such passion between the duke and Rigoletto’s daughter, after Rigoletto goes through so much to protect her, his efforts are all in vain. I cannot understand the point of watching something which ends in tragedy. Even though the music was much more beautiful than any I had heard at an opera before; even though I could appreciate the huge amount of talent the opera singers had as their crystal clear voices rang out in soprano, alto, tenor, and bass, I still left with the same overall opinion of opera. It does not amuse me.

Everyone looks up in anticipation as the sparkling chandeliers in the theatre rise and the lights dim. When the golden curtains pull open, the stage fills with a flurry of color and music. It is the scene of a ballroom, the men and women dressed in luxurious, intricate costume. A man in a deep red suit steps forward and the theatre fills with his rich, powerful voice. It is the duke, played by Francesco Meli. His presence fills the room as he shares his amusing but demeaning views on women. His confidence as he makes advances on the countess, right in view of her husband, charms the audience as well as the duchess.

Rigoletto, played by George Gagnidze, contrasts sharply with the elaborate people of the court as he hobbles onto the scene. He joins the duke’s tenor with his deeper baritone voice. The husky quality to Rigoletto’s voice assists in his image as a lonely deformed man, separated from the people that surround him. The audience is even more impressed by Gagnidze when, during the first intermission, it is announced that he has a cold but has consented to continue as Rigoletto for the remainder of the show. After intermission, I felt myself playing closer attention to his performance to see if the cold had any effect on it but his voice and passion remained strong and steady.

One powerful scene in Verdi’s Rigoletto takes place in the courtyard of Rigoletto’s house. The audience is introduced to his daughter and learns how close their relationship is since all they have is each other. Rigoletto’s daughter, Gilda, is played by Christine Schafer. Her soprano voice was light and beautiful, however it was hard to follow sometimes. Her voice did not project as well as that of the other singers and therefore seemed weaker. This may have been an issue with the sound system, but this is not likely since all the other voices came across clearly. I nevertheless enjoyed the range of Schafer’s voice, a change from the men’s voices. When Gilda performed duets with Rigoletto and later with the duke, the fusion of the deep and high notes created a beautiful harmony.

The plot of Rigoletto was interesting and exciting. The set was beautifully constructed, from the rugged stone walls of Rigoletto’s courtyard to the duke’s luxurious ballroom. The bright colors and intricate designs of the costumes were eye-catching and engaging. There was not a dull moment during the performance. The story began at the carefree duke’s ball and progressed to reveal Rigoletto’s daughter and her short love affair with the duke. The ending of Rigoletto was surprisingly tragic, with poor Rigoletto left suffering while the immoral duke continued to happily live his superficial life.

I would definitely recommend seeing Rigoletto, especially as a beginner’s first opera. It was not too long and appealed to the audience in many aspects, such as costume, set, and plot. The different singers covered a wide range of vocals and this diversity led to an exciting and engaging performance, both visually and aurally.

Call me old fashioned, call me weird, but the feel of a beautiful theater makes me tingle to my bones. There is just something about a well-respected stage that feels regal and intimidating – and Lincoln Center is the holy grail of soul-tingling theaters.

Even the word “theater” seems so inadequate. In no way can what I saw last Thursday night be called simply a “theater.” As I walked up Lincoln Center’s slippery stairs in my soaked, slippery shoes all else floated away. Conversation didn’t matter, the fact that I was severely underdressed didn’t matter, and the fact that I was drenched to the core didn’t matter. I set my eyes on the fountain, romantically lit by the large, elegant buildings surrounding the square. People were everywhere, almost gliding around in their suits and heels. I felt like I should have been hand in hand with Daddy Warbucks.

As I ran inside to keep my hair somewhat dry, I stopped dead in my tracks. I don’t think I’ve been so stupefied in my life – everything was so lovely. The huge marble staircases wrapped around the entrance, engulfing me and all the other opera-goers that night. Once I took my head out of the clouds, I was sitting down, people-watching. At that point I didn’t need to see the opera. What was more interesting, to me at least, were the people. Excited families sneaking pictures, old couples quietly waiting, Macaulay students chatting to each other. Pure human interaction and excitement.

I sat on the edge of my seat like a little kid at their first baseball game. As I watched for the chandeliers to rise (as a very knowledgable opera-goer I know pointed out would happen), I could not contain myself. I watched, transfixed, as the lights dimmed (the most exciting part!). The curtains opened, and I almost jumped in my seat I was so happy.

Call me weird, I love going to shows. There is something about those mysterious curtains, and the nervous chattering, and the lights dimming, that I just just can’t wait to see what’s in store. It probably has something to do with the feeling I get when I’m on the opposite side of the curtain.

The view from my side of the curtain, Thursday, was phenomenal. It was a blur of huge costumes and insane voices. I may have been more excited about the experience than I was the actual performance, but there is no harm in that. The performance was so alien to what I am used to on the stage that it was intriguing – the set up was so totally separate from the theater I know. But in it’s novelty, it became all the more fun.

I only dozed off once, and I am proud of that.

Verdi’s, Rigoletto, was the first opera I have ever seen, and it without a doubt left an amazing first impression. From the moment I walked into the beautiful, luxurious Metropolitan Opera, I could tell that it was going to be something special. The size and structure of the theater itself is something marvelous to look at. I have never witnessed something like it before so it was a special sight for me.

When the chandeliers started to rise and the lights began to dim, the sudden chatter and anxiousness of the audience abruptly came to a halt. Everyone’s eyes were fixed on the stage waiting for Rigoletto to begin. I thought it was tremendously put together how the orchestra began playing moments before the curtains unveiled the characters. It set the scene well when the curtains finally opened and there was a party going on. I felt the music, setting, and plot meshed well together at all times.

I thought the actors of Rigoletto were extraordinary. The voices they have are unbelievable. The base they have in their voice and their ability to hold notes as long as they do is truly remarkable to witness. Rigoletto, played by George Gagnidze, managed to persevere through his cold in order to put on a superb performance. At one point after finishing a final note, you could actually see him start to cough. He had to fight the whole night to give the impression that he was feeling alright and he did an amazing job at it.

I think that discussing Rigoletto in class before going to see it helped capture and understand what was happening during the opera. I was never lost or confused on what was happening even though it was in Italian. Knowing the plot beforehand and having the translation in front of my face helped keep my focus on what was happening. I didn’t have to do any catch up on what had occurred. All in all, I think that Rigoletto was a phenomenal first opera to see with all its history, tradition, and flavor.

As I boarded the E train, heading back home from school on Wednesday, little did I know I was going to have the most entertaining train ride of my life.   “Are you scared of sitting next to me, because I’m black?” a young black woman asked an old Asian woman who had just gotten out of her seat. “Why would you think that? It’s because I have to get off in a few stops,” replied the Asian woman in her accented English.  The situation began to heat up, as both women began to yell back and forth.  “People in New York are so racist, thank god I’m moving back to Philadelphia,” the black woman hollered.   “You’ve got to be kidding me! I’m a minority also, and I’m not racist against anybody, whether they are black, white or yellow,” the Asian woman responded.   Soon, things became physical, as they began pushing and shoving each other.  At this point, everyone on the train cart had their eyes glued on these two women and the show they were putting up.  Luckily, not only did I get to watch the show, I had front row seats! “America is a diverse country.  For goodness sakes, our President is black. Your color is not the reason why I got up.  I got up because I have to get off soon,” the old Asian woman reasonably explained.  However, the younger woman wouldn’t give up, saying, “You think you are better than me?”  The older woman’s stop had arrived, and she peacefully walked out while the other woman continued to yell at her.  “Only in New York” one of the passengers said, making everyone laugh.  The New York subway is truly an interesting place.