Occasionally, when you start to think that you've seen New York City, something will come up that completely sweeps you off your feet. Such was the case with last Thursday night's experience at the opera.
On Thursday night I had the chance to see my very first opera, Mourning Becomes Electra, with the rest of our group at Lincoln Center. The night's event included a pre-opera talk, dinner and the magnificent show. Aside from the location of the show and the knowledge that this opera was a tragedy, I knew absolutely nothing and was wholly unprepared for the emotional intensity I was about to experience. The pre-opera talk was given by a young soprano, who would burst into musical lyrics to illustrate a point. Her vocal range was immense and served as an introduction of what was to follow in the actual show. She discussed the themes of Mourning Becomes Electra. Set at the end of the Civil War, the opera followed the tragic Oedipus Rex cycle, whose characters were fashioned after ancient Greek tragic ancestries. The myriad of Greek names she threw out into the air was lost among the audience, who focused instead on the simple tragic theme of the story.
After the talk, we went through a series of hallways that eventually led us downstairs towards our dinner destination. On the menu that night was wine, salad, chicken or fish, and dessert. Feasting upon the artistic displays of food everyone had a chance to talk and catch up. It was a good time to hear about others' internships and experiences of the city.
Following dinner, we walked as a group into the theater. Known as the "jewelry box" the combination of the opera stage and surrounding seats truly gave the impression of a circular, plush, red velvet, sparkling treasure box. Looking up at the ceiling, I noticed that the tiny lights shining down on the stage gave the entire scene a diamond, star-speckled effect. Sitting down in my seat, I awaited the start of the show.
Three hours and several intermissions later I am still amazed at the intensity of performance on the stage. This was certainly a tragedy, and the scale of the heartbreak, shame, guilt, anger and despair did not diminish quickly. These emotions were thrust into the audiences through sound and were absorbed over and over again. I found myself entwined with each character and the opera's ultimate outcome. The actors' impeccable voices penetrated my mind long after the show was over, so that on my way home I was certain that the sounds of the subway train arriving and the sound of police sirens wailing were instead people singing the tragic circumstances of their lives. The lingering effect that this kind of experience has is priceless. You walk in ready to be entertained. You walk out breathless, emotionally charged and drained at the same time, with voices still ringing in your mind and ears.
