During the summer of 2008, I took Paul Glover to see Mozart's
Le Nozze di Figaro at the Santa Fe Opera. It was his first opera, and one of my favorite performances yet. Afterwards we were both elated with the production, the atmosphere and each other. We walked out and saw a poster advertising the 2009 season. Don Giovanni. Still on a Mozart high, we giggled with excitement at the possibility of attending that performance in a years time.
The summer of 2009 came, and we found ourselves broke and lazy. "When are we going to get up to Santa Fe?" was a sentence we muttered every now and then, both of us trying to ignore our lack of finances.
Well, two nights ago I decided to just buy us standing room tickets. I've done standing room at a few opera houses, and it truly never bothered me. Plus, why shell out more than 300 dollars for seats when we could pay 14 dollars each?
True to our gracelessness, Paul and I were running late. Salmon and goat cheese in tow, we snacked away on our would-be tailgate dinner as I sped to make the performance. True to form, we made it with very little time to spare.
My pockets began to swell. Since the performace was not sold out, they ushered the standing room section to the seated rows. We were able to sit in the middle of the opera house, a few rows behind the orchestra. Seats worth hundreds of dollars were ours for fourteen. Honey, that's a night at the pictures. Bowling. A particularly indulgent trip to noodle neighborhood.
The Santa Fe Opera has the most elegant, unique, downright beautiful set design I have ever seen. I enjoy red velvet and monstrous chandeliers, of course. But this open air opera, with the overture timed with the sunset, just makes my heart melt.
For years I have daydreamed about set designs for my favorite operas. I've made illustrations, written descriptions and even constructed a pop-up book due to this desire. It's an artform I try to involve my non-musical self in anyway possible. Well, the famous Commendatore finale of Don Giovanni completely overwhelmed my most creative dreams. It was not Party City tacky like some I've seen, it was not ultra modern to the point of obnoxious, it was nothing but perfect. White lighting against a red brick set, illuminated ghostly cabinets, golden statues of hands and lifeless marionettes. The Commendatore himself was brilliant in white with a blood splattered uniform. Trap doors made his apparitions even more haunting, as he stalked the set demanding either Don Giovanni's apology or his soul. The demonic chorus appeared subtlely with candles in tow.
It was breathtaking, beautiful and terrifying. I didn't know whether to scream, cry or squel with delight.
So I did all three behind my clasped palm.
Since I obviously can't share photos of that fantastic performance, here are some of us looking cute.
Best boyfriends yet.
Dapper and ill, literally.
