There has been much talk (and screaming and shouting and
general drama) about the plight of the New York City Opera over the past year
or so. I’ve heard musicians and singers
debating hotly about it during rehearsal breaks, FaceBook pages and groups have
been set up at which people write angry and pointed statements about whether
City Opera should continue, and there has been much written about it in the
press, as well. As one of the many
American singers who got an early break on the New York City Opera stage, I
care very deeply for the company and the people who have devoted their lives to
it.
On Valentine’s Day, I journeyed down to Brooklyn to see the
company’s production of La Traviata,
going not only show my support for the company, but also my dear friend Laquita
Mitchell, who after years studying at the Manhattan School of Music and in the
Houston Grand Opera Studio together, has become like a sister to me. As I rode the train to the Brooklyn Academy of Music, I felt a bit of
the usual resentment that it takes so long to get to Brooklyn from Manhattan
(and, yes, I realize that I’m offending many Brooklyn-fans by saying that out
loud…I just have yet to fully embrace the boroughs…forgive me!), and I tried to
pass the time by listening to music on my iPhone, and watching the other subway
riders around me. Glancing at the time
as my train rolled into Atlantic Station, I realized that I was a bit late, and
sprinted up the stairs and around the corner to the theater, opening the doors
to mass chaos. BAM was so crowded, I
could barely find the box office let alone the entrance to the theater. People of various young ages and in various
states of dress-up were milling around, desperately trying to find the end of
the Will-Call line, jostling each other impatiently in an effort to get to
their seat before the curtain rose. I
felt suddenly as if I was at something that was hip, cool, and vibrant, and
despite my irritation at being pushed about in a crowd – I was overjoyed to see
that there was a crowd there. I took my
seat, and I saw that the house was packed – there was barely an unoccupied seat
anywhere to be found. As I settled into
my chair, waiting for the show to begin, I thought about all of the shouting
and screaming about trying to shut the City Opera down, and how the Opera is a
shell of it’s former self, replaying all of the debating and infighting that
I’ve observed from afar this past year in my head.
Just as the house lights dimmed, and the conductor made his
entrance in to the pit, I heard the young couple behind me whisper to each
other:
“Have you ever even been to an opera before?
“No – I haven’t.”
“Neither have I – and I’ve always wanted to go…I’ve always been curious to see what it’s like.”
“Me too – this is exciting!”
“It sure is!”
And then I thought – THIS is all that is important. THIS is why we need a City Opera. No matter where the show is.
The conductor raised his baton, and the violins began the
show…
