classical music for dummies

“Classical music isn't a secret society unless we allow it to be.”

—Brigid Delaney, The Guardian, Oct. 16, 2015

CLASSICAL MUSIC FOR DUMMIES

Attending a classical concert or an opera can be an intimidating prospect for newer patrons, but not to worry--on any given night there is a wealth of knowledge and guidance to be gleaned from the more experienced audience members surrounding you. The following are tips and tricks gathered at symphony halls and opera houses across the country.

Don't let something as simple as a cold deter you from attending a performance. You paid for your ticket and are entitled to attend in any state of medical indisposition. Coughing is encouraged, and you will soon note that many others in the audience will join you in solidarity. Nobody minds! However, if you do prefer to use cough drops for the sake of your own comfort, please follow proper etiquette and bring lozenges wrapped individually in crisp plastic. Store them at the bottom of a purse or satchel with a large Velcro closure. Reseal the Velcro firmly every time you retrieve a lozenge, so that when you need another one later on it will be sure still to be there.

Going to the opera or symphony may sound fancy, but really it is no different from watching DVDs on your couch in the living room. Bring a bag of crunchy snacks and a bottle of sparkling water or soda, if you'd like! Just be sure to open these items as slowly as possible, as you will find this helps to mute any noises produced. If someone rudely asks you to be quiet, tradition dictates that you may intentionally chew more dramatically and rustle your snack bag more vigorously. If you bring a metal canteen with water, don't neglect to add ice cubes.

There is plenty of legroom in the rows of seats in most concert and opera houses, so do not be afraid to bring along a large tote bag or backpack. It can sit at your feet and won't bother anyone. It's also a convenient way to transport your snacks!

It is unnecessary for you to have to miss any incoming phone calls or text messages. Under no circumstances should you feel obligated to turn off your phone or mute its ringtone. Your personal communications are more important than any musical performance, and the artists recognize and appreciate that. You are also encouraged to take photos (a flash is advisable), and naturally you may check your email during longer works of ten minutes or more.  

If you are enjoying the music, some "air conducting" and humming along would not be amiss. You may also bob your head or use your entire leg to keep time. It is important that nearby patrons understand how much you appreciate the music, and this is a great way of showing them.

It is likewise important to impress on your neighbors your command of grammatical gender and number in Italian. Shout “bravo,” “brava,” “bravi,” or “brave,” depending on need. Shout these words confidently and smugly, with exaggerated articulation, so that your linguistic prowess may be fully recognized. There is no need to wait for the end of a piece; a slight pause in the music suffices. Musicians have famously large egos, and they especially enjoy shouts of “bravo” and its variants while they are still in the middle of their work.

At the opera, overtures and other purely instrumental sections are considered unimportant; feel free to use these intervals as a chance to chat with your neighbor.

Don't bother to read the synopsis if you are attending an opera with someone who knows the story, since your friend can easily keep you apprised throughout. Request that he or she communicate using a stage whisper, so that the sound will travel quietly yet effectively. This type of opera aficionado can also be a terrific source of valuable ongoing color commentary, such as "That was a long scene," "It's about love and betrayal," or "This singer is from Poland.” 

If you don't have a knowledgable friend to take with you to the opera, you may want to consider using the flashlight feature on your cell phone to assist in reading the synopsis during the performance. The same naturally goes for program notes at the symphony. There is no need to waste your time reading anything before the performance or at intermission.

Your opinion matters! For example, you can and should shout “AWFUL!” at the conclusion of any piece written after 1935. At the opera, onstage abominations such as modern dress or projected images should be met immediately with muttered derision. It is well known that understanding an opera is difficult enough without having to watch it being performed by people who are not wearing hoop skirts.

Napping is expected and encouraged.

Comments on sets/costumes/direction of SFO’s Lucia

(Disclaimer: not a coherent essay, more like a list of observations.)

We are in a nonspecific “near future dystopia” (per director’s own program notes). The world is cold and forbidding—marble, hard surfaces, sharp angles, roiling ocean views. It is beautiful to look at, but intimidating, oppressive, and impersonal. The front curtain projection with the opening in the marble wall narrowing in on itself hints at the suffocating forces that will close in on Lucia. (Update: I noticed that the 'porthole' in the marble gets smaller and smaller each time we see it throughout the opera.)

If you were not specifically told this was the near future, it would be easy to believe it was the present. I like the implicit message in that—the dystopia is already here. The fact that I noticed an actual real estate ad in the program with an $11+ million Pac Heights estate for sale that looked remarkably like Enrico’s living room was a nice bonus.

Family ties are important only insofar as they generate wealth or other advantages. Is it a family or a corporation or a political unit or some combination? Enrico is obsessed with power and influence, but also suffers hugely from anxiety. His obsessive tendencies are evidenced in his manner: stiff, doesn’t like to be touched, needs objects to be arranged just so (e.g., Lucia slightly disturbs the objects on his desk and he is immediately concerned with realigning them), always wearing gloves (germ phobic?). This motivating factor behind his actions (being a control freak with crippling anxiety, that is) makes him a more sympathetic character than the typical Enrico, who can be a cookie cutter jerk. And we are being shown perhaps that obsession and mental instability run in the family.

The clothing and mannerisms of the guards in the opening scene suggest a special forces unit—disciplined, impersonal guns for hire; men in black. Normanno and Alisa have severe, almost angular costumes (even Alisa’s bangs are hard-edged). Enrico is elegant and fastidious in his light suit and gloves. Lucia, on the other hand, in her soft, full, princess-like dress and oversized cloak/hood, looks like someone out of another era or even a fairytale; she does not belong in this world.

Enrico’s estate seems to be perched on a rocky cliff. Again, the setting is beautiful but also harsh and bleak. Nothing here is cozy or welcoming. Lucia is the only person or thing here with soft edges.

Lucia’s wedding dress is quite severe, however, with a high neck and tight bodice, very different from the more billowing style she wears when behaving as her true self. Her flowing hair is likewise pulled into a flat, tight style. It is like watching someone in an extremely elegant straitjacket.

The guests’ dresses at the wedding reception seemed to perplex many viewers, since they seemed more old fashioned, with their full skirts, than other clothing in the production. I took them as a nod to recurring/cyclical ‘retro’ fashion trends, the same ideas recycled over and over with a few new touches. The dresses technically are all unique, yet the overall effect (same basic style, same color palette) is of a uniform, and the one whimsical, potentially personalizing touch—an oversized floral hat—is worn by every woman in the room. This is a society of barely veiled conformity.

I love Arturo’s plaid suit, fur-trimmed jacket/cape, and pompadour hairstyle. The plaid is a funny nod to the Scottish setting, and the over-the-top styling of both the clothes and the hair (another recycled retro look, but seen only on him) suggests he is far less fettered by society than those around him. Indeed, he is described as nouveau riche; the rules of how to be rich haven’t been passed down to him over generations. Arturo just wants to have some fun, for chrissake.

I even love Raimondo’s clothing, in that it reminds me of something they might wear on a Star Trek style planet-that-is-similar-to-Earth-but-not-exactly. It’s us, but not quite. What can we learn from this world? This production is asking similar questions.

The chessboard-like floor is probably the most bang-you-on-the-head-symbolic part of the set, but I confess it took me a while into the dress rehearsal before I had the ‘aha’ moment about it, so I wouldn’t call it too heavy-handed. Lots of floors are, in fact, checkered. And of course it makes a point about the situation being primarily a strategic or political game--with Lucia as pawn--and that makes the story’s consequences for Lucia all the more infuriating.

At the dress rehearsal, the ghost version of Lucia that appears at the end had small, delicate antlers on a natural crown; the antlers were gone on opening night. (I had joked on Twitter that Piotr Beczala must have a clause in his contract requiring antlers in every production, since they had featured prominently in Iolanta at the Met as well.) This was the only last minute change I noticed that I thought was unfortunate. The antlers had reinforced the idea of Lucia’s being a gentle, innocent creature pursued by human hunters. The antlers also kept up the feeling that she was somehow of another world.

Some comments I have seen suggest there is an erotic desire in Enrico towards Arturo, but I think that reading is off, or at least is too literal. In the scene where Lucia is finally agreeing to marry Arturo, she is seated with Enrico at her feet, and he behaves like a lover, stroking her skirt and looking up at her longingly. Avarice is expressed as erotic desire. Any similar-seeming urges towards Arturo have the same basis: the passion for wealth has overwhelmed Enrico's capacity to have interpersonal relationships grounded in anything else. The only time Enrico expresses anything like tender emotion is when he is anticipating increased wealth and power. (Update: I noticed later that when Arturo arrives chez Ashton for the wedding, Enrico gets a barely contained look of eagerness on his face, and stands with outstretched arms and wiggling fingers, as if to say, "Ooh, come to daddy!" or maybe just "Gimme gimme.")

I suppose it is a cliche to talk about updating an opera to make it "relevant," but ultimately I think that is what this production does successfully and quite stylishly. The work is presented as written, but these aren't characters distanced from us by time and outdated social customs; these characters might be us.

Update 10/11: Just back from a third viewing, where I noticed another nice touch. When Raimondo comes from the bridal chamber to tell the guests what has happened, he has blood on his hands, and he rubs them together anxiously. This is especially effective as he sings the line (approx.) "I hope this girl's blood-stained hands don't bring the wrath of God down upon us all." He and we all know that he is deeply culpable in this situation (as are all the other primary male characters, down even to Normanno).

I heard someone wonder what was in this for Arturo, since he has the money Enrico craves so badly, and Enrico is on the verge of collapse. But Arturo is an arriviste, and by marrying into an established family (or acquiring insider status at an established, respected corporation, if you want to look at it that way) he is getting something--gravitas--that you can't just buy in the Neiman Marcus catalog. He has plenty to gain from marrying Lucia.

I keep thinking more about Alisa. Her clothing and mannerisms tell us that she is part of this corporate world, but we also see that she has very little power in it. When she tries to persuade Lucia to give up her affair with Edgardo, it is because her insight into the reality of their world tells her that Lucia's romantic sensibility will be her ruin. Throughout the opera we see Alisa trying to argue with the men around her, as if pleading angrily and desperately for her friend; she is repeatedly rebuffed. 

Yesterday I heard someone defending Edgardo, saying that he pledged to be faithful and did in fact write letters to Lucia, as promised. But it is a total jerk move to coerce a young woman into being your wife (even if she's just your unauthorized moor-wedding wife) right before you head off to another country for an extended period. This is just a more romantic-seeming way of asking her to wear a chastity belt. I mean, please.

Update 10/21: I noticed a new thing today, from the balcony viewpoint--when Lucia signs the wedding contract, everyone on stage (which includes all the wedding guests) crowds behind her, leaning forward expectantly. It's a nice, almost literal image of social pressure.