We are Wagner virgins no more! Michele and I went to see Tristan and Isolde live from the Met yesterday at the Lensic. But first we had a hearty late breakfast at Tia Sophia's so we could enjoy the opera without having to worry about staving off the hunger pangs of midafternoon or the second intermission, whichever came first.
Throughout the first act, the guy next to me kept saying, "Wow!" and we agreed with his assessment (but not with his rudeness in talking out loud), because Deborah Voigt, whom we heard in recital in Santa Fe, and Robert Dean Smith were excellent vocally and were good actors in a park-and-bark. I also liked Michelle DeYoung; I love mezzos. The opera didn't seem 20 minutes long to us, but, as I said, we are Wagner neophytes.
By the second act my enthusiastic neighbor had left the embrace of Polyhymnia and was deep in the arms of Morpheus.
At the second intermission, many in the audience were outside fortifying themselves with the snacks they had brought. We noticed jelly bread, granola bars, pastries, and such heartier fare as ham-and-cheese sandwiches. Inside, the ushers were remonstrating with an elderly gentleman in front of us for bringing in his thermos of coffee into the theatre. He remarked mildly that he had already finished his coffee and was just screwing the cap back on.
We also saw our former neighbor, Ginny R., who said we should read Wagner's biography, because all his operas about "sex and dirty stuff" will make suddenly make sense. She says hi to everyone.
The woman who directed the production for the cinema was roundly booed during the credits. I thought the effects were interesting, but after a while, it seemed that we were watching a movie, and all sense of seeing a live opera was pretty much lost.
After the opera we went to the creperie at The La Fonda Hotel, near the banks of the big Rio Grande River, for a snack. I hate it when the waiter asks, "Are you still working on that?" as if what what's on the plate is a pile of building rubble I'm trying to move. Our waitress yesterday didn't even ask that. She removed Michele's plate because it was obviously empty and Michele had put down her fork. The waitress, plate in hand, then stood in front of me as I continued with my Nutella crepe. Finally she asked, "Do you want me to take your plate?" I said, "No, thank you. I'm still eating." She looked down at at my plate and the half crepe remaining and said, "Oh! I'm sorry!" hustled away, and hustled back with the check.
Here's the link to What's Opera, Doc, because I had trouble uploading the video.
A River to Skate Away On
5 years ago
3 comments:
I've never gotten around to reading the big biography of Wagner but I haven't had to to realize that the Liebestod is the most sensual music ever written. The sex here certainly is not "dirty" but is blissful.
We went to a frou-frou restaurant recently. Mike's plate had been licked clean, he had moved it aside, and the waiter came by, motioned to the empty plate and asked, "Are you still enjoying that?" Later in the same meal, he pointed to our obviously empty bread basket and asked, "Are you still enjoying that?" I said, "No. The bread is all gone."
Duh.
I liked the French Pastry shop's crepes.
I might have to work on going there to eat.
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