Showing posts with label opera. Show all posts
Showing posts with label opera. Show all posts

Thursday, December 25, 2025

Opera is Funny, and I Don't Care Who Knows It

 

Image purchased from Shutterstock

Opera is serious, right?  It’s a fusion of music and drama.  The characters fall in love, sometimes with someone who doesn’t love them back.  Someone usually dies, sometimes more than one person.  Ancient gods go gaga over a magic ring.  Leading ladies die of tuberculosis, poison, murder, and suicide.  All kinds of dramatic things happen.  If the opera is a comedy, the audience is permitted to laugh at the funny parts, but most operas are tragedies, not comedies. 

A great performance is usually greeted with bravos and ovations.  Sometimes the audience stands up to applaud, not just when they are all putting on their coats to try to get out of the theater before everyone else stampedes out the exits.

However, funny things can happen during performances, sometimes unplanned.  There is ample opportunity for things to go wrong, and they sometimes do.

For instance, there was once a performance of Puccini’s Tosca where the entire show was ruined by a gunshot.  In this opera, all three leading characters die in a literal case of overkill.  The tenor dies in the end by firing squad.  In this production, the sound of the shot was provided by a man backstage shooting off a blank bullet from a handgun.  On one memorable night, the gun failed to go off.  The conductor held the orchestra on a chord, waiting for the gunshot.  The tenor stood and waited.

There was no big bang from backstage.  The tenor looked at the conductor.  The conductor looked at the tenor.  Finally, the conductor gave a signal.  The tenor fell down.  The firing squad exited the scene.  The orchestra continued playing the music.

The gun went off.  The audience dissolved in laughter.  A super-dramatic tragedy was instantly turned into a comedy.

In the early twentieth century, the great tenor Leo Slezak was known, among other roles, for his portrayal of Wagner’s Lohengrin in the opera of the same name.  In this opera, the knight Lohengrin makes his entrance and exit in a boat pulled by a swan.  Either this is a magical swan or swans in the Middle Ages were super birds, with the strength of huskies, able to draw a boat with a fully grown man inside.

In one performance, the boat failed to appear for Lohengrin’s exit.  Seeing this, Leo Slezak calmly turned to the audience and asked, “What time is the next swan?”

The man often designated the greatest singer of all, the early twentieth-century tenor Enrico Caruso, made his own onstage amusement by pulling pranks.  During the second act of Puccini’s La Bohème, which takes place in a café, he would take prop paper and prop menus, draw caricatures of male sexual organs, and pass them on to his female colleagues.  He also once handed a hot sausage to a famous soprano during a performance.  She was not amused.

The great Italian bass Cesare Siepi was known for his portrayal of Mozart’s Don Giovanni in the opera of the same name.  At the end of this opera, the protagonist is taken down to Hell, accompanied by a chorus of demons and a lot of smoke onstage.  During one performance, the trap door that was supposed to take Don Giovanni to Hell got stuck on the way down.  Mr. Siepi stepped out of it and back into it, and it stuck again.  The handsome bass was up to the occasion.  He turned to the audience and said, “Oh my goodness, how wonderful!  Hell is full!

Fortunately for the art form and the people who practice it, instances like the ones above are the exception rather than the rule, but when they happen, they become the stuff of legend.


Tuesday, December 13, 2016

Excerpts from my Book, "Opera For People Who Don't Like It"

Opera For People Who Don't Like It is a drop-dead funny, completely painless look at the art of opera and the people who perform and produce it.  It is beautifully illustrated by the talented comic artist Peter Fay.

It is available on Amazon.com in paperback and Kindle formats.

Here are a couple of short excerpts from the book.

From Chapter 4:
"Operatic characters don’t die like everyone else. For one thing, they die singing. I don’t know about the rest of you, but if I were dying of some awful disease or someone had just stabbed or poisoned me, the last thing I would want to do would be to sing about it. “Somebody call 911!” would be my most likely reaction, provided, of course, that I were capable of making any sound at all. Most likely, I’d just fall back and die and leave the commentary to someone else.

In Act I of Mozart’s Don Giovanni, Don Giovanni (Italian for Don Juan – same guy, different language) has just broken into the bedroom of an attractive woman, with the idea of breaking into her. She isn’t about to take that lying down, and she makes enough noise to wake up everyone, including her father. The father and Giovanni get into a sword fight, which lasts about thirty seconds until Giovanni runs him through.

You’d think that would be the end of the elderly man, but it isn’t. Damned if he, Giovanni and Giovanni’s servant don’t spend the next minute or so singing a trio about how the old man’s soul is slowly leaving his “palpitating bosom.” It’s only on the final cadence of the trio that the old man is finally able to die and be done with it. The poor man gets no rest even then, though. Toward the end of the opera, he comes back as his own statue, just to scare the life out of Giovanni. He succeeds."

From Chapter 14:
"Here is a list of frequently asked questions, along with answers you might get from a singer who is in the mood to be snarky.
Can you break glass with your voice? No. Nobody can do that. If you ever find anyone who can, please warn me ahead of time, because I won’t want to be standing in front of him when he opens up with one of those pinging notes. If he can break glass, think of what he can do with my fragile brain cells.

Where do you sing? I’m like a streetwalker. I perform for whoever pays me. I travel around a lot. So you won’t have to worry that I’ll commandeer you into coming to my next performance. It’s in Tokyo.

What do you think of Luciano Pavarotti? I don’t know. I never met the man and, considering that he’s dead, I don’t think I’ll get an opportunity now. I do love his singing, and I’m sorry that he was silenced so soon.

Is it true that opera singers are temperamental? No. And if you ask that again I am going to kick you in the ass.

How many hours a day do you practice? I practice until my neighbors start throwing rocks through my window. (In other words, I don’t get as much opportunity to practice as I would like, and I’m not about to let you know that.)

What advice can you give to someone who wants to have a career as an opera singer? Find something else to do that has less aggravation and pays better."












Sunday, July 10, 2016

I'm on YouTube!

It has happened, to me, of all people!  I'm on YouTube!  I have arrived!

Actually, I put myself on YouTube, after I gave a reading and a book signing today.  I had my friend Joan, who was attending, hold my iPhone and take a video of me.  When I got home, I sent it to YouTube.

It's still a big deal.  At least I think so, and I'm the one in the video, so I get to say if it is a big deal or not.  Those are the rules.

Here it is:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bdqTdLa_z6A


Opera is Funny, and I Don't Care Who Knows It

  Image purchased from Shutterstock Opera is serious, right?  It’s a fusion of music and drama.  The characters fall in love, sometimes with...