Metropolitan Opera
You’re literally enveloped in red velvet. The walls are red velvet. The floor is red velvet. The seats are red velvet.[1] You feel like you’ve just stepped inside an enormous beating heart and you’re a blood cell, instinctively falling into the pulsating rhythm of all the other cells coursing through the arteries (the hallways), the auricles and ventricles (the grand staircase), back into the body (your seat) and maybe even venture out onto the balcony (the lungs) overlooking the communal fountain in the plaza.[2] At every twist and turn, you think you’re going to bump into somebody. That’s because the building’s design fosters a cascading flow of humanity that spills out and collects in pools on each level where co-mingling is unavoidable. Magically, there’s just enough space for you and everyone else. . .
You’re in the Metropolitan Opera House, which hearkens back to an era of elegance when gentlemen wore hats and ladies wore gloves and stockings. You can totally picture James Bond sidling up to the bar in his white tuxedo flanked by two femme fatales.[3] Although it recently celebrated its 50th birthday, this is the “New Met.” The original building at 39th and Broadway didn’t have enough backstage capacity to handle the massive set pieces and technology required to create the larger-than-life spectacle that audiences were demanding, so the Met directors hired Wallace Harrison to design a gargantuan new opera house as the centerpiece of the Lincoln Center for the Performing Arts.
The New Met’s opening performance on September 16, 1966 was the world premiere of Samuel Barber’s Antony and Cleopatra, choreographed by Alvin Ailey with sets designed by Franco Zeffirelli, featuring the phenomenal Leontyne Price in the starring role. In the audience was everybody who thought they were somebody.[4] RFK and his wife Ethel were there. So were Teddy and Joan Kennedy. Lady Bird Johnson (the First Lady at the time) arrived with the President of the Philippines, Ferdinand Marcos, and his wife, Imelda, who wore a hand-sewn gown made from pineapple fibers embroidered with pearls and a fan-shaped pearl-studded tiara.[5]
Arrive an hour early to give yourself plenty of time to explore the building in all its voluptuous glory and splendor. Don’t think for a moment they’ll let you linger after the final curtain. The ushers do a marvelous job of herding the masses out the doors like bouncers at closing time. In the basement level (where you’ll also find the coat check), the walls are lined from floor to ceiling with black-and-white photos of all the legendary opera singers who have performed at the Met over the years. On the side of the stairway opposite the coat check, there’s a fantastic portrait and sculpture gallery honoring superstars such as Enrico Caruso and my personal favorite, Placido Domingo, who is still performing and conducting at the Met, 50 years after his first Met performance in 1968.[6] And on the Grand Tier level, don’t miss the two enormous murals painted by Marc Chagall called The Sources of Music and The Triumph of Music, which are estimated to be worth $20 million.[7]
Word of warning - you know how you’re supposed to wear protective eyewear when looking directly at the sun during a solar eclipse? Well, the same thing could be said about the crystal chandeliers in the lobby.[8] They’re like stars exploding in space, which is basically a nuclear reaction.[9] The human eye has not evolved to witness anything supernova bright. Put on your shades before you look at them. No one warned me, and I swear my eyesight has been permanently damaged as a result.
Whether you’re an opera fan or not, you should try to visit the Met at least once in your lifetime because it’s an unforgettable experience. The acoustics are so sensitive that you can hear the singers beautifully from the higher levels of the Dress Circle and Balcony. In fact, many seasoned opera goers prefer these seats because the sound travels up in the same way heat rises. But if it’s too inconvenient and/or cost-prohibitive for you to endure the ordeal of NYC, where it feels like a giant vacuum cleaner is sucking money out of your wallet at supersonic speed, there are some excellent alternatives.
For the low low price of FREE, you can listen to the live broadcast of every Saturday matinee performance at the Met on practically every classical music station in the U.S. and Canada.[10] Celebrating its 87th season and currently sponsored by Toll Brothers, it’s the longest-running live classical music broadcast in the U.S. and arguably the best. Producer Mary Jo Heath and commentator Ira Siff are a treasure trove of information. They provide you with background knowledge on the composer, libretto, and production details of the opera you’re about to hear, which gives you physical and historical context. Better yet, they conduct interviews with the performers during intermissions, which gives you an intimate understanding of the emotions, motivations, and challenges they encounter as they literally breathe new life into their roles, thereby deepening your appreciation of this centuries-old art form.
As if that weren’t enough, since 2006, the Met has been streaming the Saturday matinee performances live in HD at 2,200 cinemas in 70 countries around the world! You can check the Met’s website at https://www.metopera.org/season/in-cinemas/ to find out of these HD broadcasts are being shown at a theater near you. I can’t recommend this experience highly enough, especially if you’re new to opera. For a fraction of the ticket price, you will get a birds-eye view of the performers, ornate costumes, and lavish set pieces down to the last detail. I sat in the front row during the HD broadcast of Madama Butterfly starring Kristine Opolais and I could see her bare toes peeping out from under her gown, the beads of perspiration between her eyes and her epiglottis quivering in her throat. I kid you not. The actual Met audience who were literally in the same room with her couldn’t possibly have felt as close to her as I did. During intermissions, the camera keeps rolling, so you get to see all the frenetic backstage activity. And you get the added benefit of watching Mary Jo interview the performers. The actual Met audience doesn’t get exposed to any of this, which makes you feel special while you munch on your popcorn and raisinets. You’re at the movies, so you’re comfy. But you’re also at the opera, so you’re oh-so-sophisticated. It’s two different worlds colliding into one perfect dramatic storm where it’s okay to cry, even if you’re a man. It’s dark. No one will know.
[1] You have the sensation that the ceilings are covered in red velvet too, although they probably aren’t.
[2] I highly recommend stepping outdoors. For some unexplained reason, Opera season takes place during the cold weather months. After hours of sitting around in hot dry air that’s already been breathed in and out hundreds of times by hundreds of people, that cool fresh air feels so freakin’ good. Ok, it’s NYC air so it’s not really fresh but compared to the oxygen-depleted air inside the Met, when you take a deep breath, you will feel like singing the 4 Non-Blondes Song to the people at the fountain “Hey, Hey, Hey What’s Going On!”
[3] Even 007 would gasp at the prices, though. A glass of sparkling wine cost $18.00 and this is just Domaine Chandon, not expensive champagne. Oh, and you don’t get a glass flute either. It’s plastic.
[4] Except for Jackie Kennedy. Reporters waiting on the stairs were disappointed when the former First Lady didn’t arrive escorted by Samuel Barber as expected. She was in Boston entertaining British students who were the first to receive scholarships awarded in honor of her late husband. Always seeking to avoid the spotlight that followed her everywhere, she spent the rest of the weekend in Cape Cod. For a reprint of the Met opening night report written by Nancy Johnson and published by the New York Daily News on Sept. 17, 1966, see http://www.nydailynews.com/entertainment/theater-arts/metropolitan-opera-house-opens-drawing-socialites-1966-article-1.236102
[5] Boasting a shoe collection of over 3,000 pairs, Imelda Marcos was symbolic of the extravagant excess of the ruling class in a country where 80% of the population was living below the poverty line.
[6] Domingo was a last minute substitute for Franco Corelli in Adriana Lecouvreur opposite famed soprano Renata Tebaldi. Since then, he opened the Met season 21 times, surpassing Enrico Caruso’s record by 4.
[7] For more details, see the New York Intelligencer article The Met Borrows Against Lobby Chagalls at http://nymag.com/news/intelligencer/55026/
[8] The chandeliers were donated by the Austrian government as a token of appreciation for U.S. assistance via the Marshall Plan after WWII. I’m not convinced they weren’t purposefully trying to blind us and take over the world.
[9] If you want to geek out on the chemistry and life cycle of stars, check out http://www.bbc.co.uk/schools/gcsebitesize/science/add_aqa/stars/lifecyclestarsrev3.shtml
[10] For example, there are 10 radio stations in Alaska broadcasting the Toll Brothers broadcast of the Metropolitan Opera matinee every Saturday. Who knew there were 10 classical radio stations in Alaska?
