Like lots of other people, I've been fascinated by Laura Barton's reaction to an immersion in opera. And, as a paid-up opera chick who knows absolutely nothing about rock, I am going to do the experiment the other way round. She's already helping me draw up a list of gigs to go to.
I felt for Laura - I completely agree about the rudeness of patrons at the Royal Opera House (is it the fact that people have paid so much for their tickets that makes them sharpen their elbows so viciously at the bar). And I have had some hilarious run-ins with fellow opera-goers at Glyndebourne. (There are many anecdotes in this category - the last was an old gent of a certain age exclaiming loudly, "Do you think that man has forgotten to get out of his pyjamas?" in reference to my boyfriend's rather nice, but not black-tie, Nicole Farhi shirt.
But... Oh Laura. I felt so disappointed - and I felt that operas she went to were all wrong.
Rake's Progress I love - but it can feel chilly and the energy can die off towards the end. Mozart I would just steer clear of as a beginner-in-opera. Peter Eötvös' Love and Other Demons I felt just didn't come off, despite a rather beautiful production; and I can see why, as a lover of García Marquez, it would have disappointed her.
I think Dave Simpson's comment on Tom Service's blog on the same subject is grist to my mill - as a newcomer to opera he recently had a great experience with two works that I think would have been great as a first go. Eugene Onegin - which was also on at Glyndebourne this summer - is so beautifully made and so emotional I feel Laura would have warmed to it. The music is just ravishing. Ditto Madama Butterfly; I feel it would have been hard not to have admired the spectacle of the Anthony Minghella production for ENO that Dave is referring to. Also on my prescription list would have been something like Janacek's Jenufa for narrative clarity and pure emotion (not to mention fabulous, extreme music and not much in the way of repetition, which Laura mentioned getting weary of). I might also have suggested Carmen; or something like Richard Jones's hilarious production of L'Heure Espagnole and Gianni Schicchi for the Royal Opera House a year or so back. And she'd get the lovely tune (O mio babbino caro) in Gianni - and who can complain about that? Then maybe Turn of the Screw: again an impeccably made opera with real spine-tingling horror to it.
If my experience is anything to go by, opera is a very acquired taste. I grew up in Stoke and there wasn't much opportunity to hear it when I was a kid. When I was quite young, I remember loving Patrice Chéreau's Ring Cycle, which was on the telly on Sunday evenings. I hadn't a clue what was going on, and no one in my family was remotely into opera, but it was fantastical, fairytale-like, and epic - and I responded to it on those terms. I still have vivid stage images in my head from it. Then a long gap until an ENO Carmen - very spectacular, 1950s trashy, a real car. And, lucky me, there were some good friends who dragged me to see things like Turn of the Screw and A Midsummer Marriage when I was a student. But - leaving aside the early Wagner wonderment - it took me a really, really long time to love opera. I didn't warn to it after five operas - it was more like 20. I don't know what made me persist - but I did, to my enormous enrichment. I guess you wouldn't write off, say, contemporary art or poetry after five attempts. So I will continue to evangelise for opera... and in the end, we may convert Laura!
