From the ground level until the ceiling, rows upon rows of red velvet seats rise in a steep slope out from the opera stage. Tiny bunches of light sparkle on the golden ceiling like snowflakes serve as a reminder of the upcoming winter season. As we settle in our seats, anticipating the show, slowly the lights begin to dim and the curtains roll open.
On stage, two men are singing in what sounds like Italian, it must be since it is the language of opera, in an old apartment building. The audience and I are not forced to envision what the building looks like, with only a few chairs and a table to hint the locale. Rather, an entire top half of a building rises, seemingly out of the ground, with the ceiling and front wall cut open so the audience is allowed to see in. The likeness is so exact, I have to remind myself it is not real.
For the first few minutes, I enjoy the beautiful, musical notes of their foreign speech as empty words with unlimited meaning. That is, until I realize the translation to their speech is provided on the seatback screen in front of me. Within minutes, I become absorbed into the timeless love story of La Bohème.
The audience meets Rodolfo, a poet, and his artist friend shivering by the stove on a cold winter’s night. In an effort to keep warm, they decide to burn Rodolfo’s play script, tossing the crumpled papers into the fire. Those familiar with the Broadway musical and feature film Rent will recognize the moment’s parallels to its opening sequence. Soon after, Rodolfo meets Mimi, who arrives to find a flame to relight her candle and the two rapidly fall in love, singing along its journey.
While watching their performance, I wonder what the difference is between operas and musicals. The opera, like the musical, is the fusion of music and words – the words describe the plot while the music conveys the rich, underlying emotions. Words are the dry backbone of the story which music fills with life and vitality. The difference, however, is that operas rely more on music and that musicals rely more on words. Therefore, in general, musicals require better acting while operas require higher vocal quality. Though in musicals some words are merely stated, in an opera every word is sung, every sentence is a lyric. Opera, in a sense, is one long, beautiful song come to life.
The plot continues and Rodolfo soon discovers that Mimi is terminally ill. The audience mourns the transience of their love, relating to the human experience of living in numbered days and of loving in the face of death. Knowing it will end, we love anyway. And the resonant notes of their song linger in the air around me.
Recently, on the drive home to Ohio for Thanksgiving, I watched a video by Yale Professor Shelly Kagan, in which he questions whether living a longer life is necessarily better. On a chalkboard, he graphs two sample lives: one barely adequate life (1 point) for 30,000 years and one pretty good life (50 points) for 150 years. By calculating the area of the two lives (30,000 vs. 7,500), he states that it appears that living a barely adequate life for a long time is better than a good life for a shorter time. Kagan concludes, surprisingly, that most people would still rather choose the shorter good life, placing a larger emphasis on quality, rather than quantity, of their lives.
I feel this attitude is reflected in the audience’s reaction to La Bohème. The world of opera as a whole will always prefer beautiful transience to dull longevity. I argue that when the curtains close on the final scene of La Bohème, the audience is consoled over the bitterness of death with the depth and quality of their love. Even though it exists for such a short amount of time, it still exists and that makes all the difference in the world of opera. The audience is left with the feeling that the story is not over, but lives on in that moment in which it existed, forever and always. And perhaps, in some way, it does.
La Bohème is playing at the Metropolitan Opera until January 24, 2015. Tickets are available on its site.