Blog Crashing the opera

Young folks new to opera do not come expecting a toe-tapping, knee-slapping good time, right? Well, it may not have been toe-tapping, but Madison Opera's rendition of Mozart's Cosi Fan Tutte, which ran on March 13 and 15 at Overture Hall, held out the possibility that opera can still offer some youthful vigor. It's even possible that all the penis jokes, men wearing big mustaches (or "feathers of love," as it read on the projected supertitles), and women in drag alienated some of the largely senior-citizen crowd at Sunday's performance. If you wanted to feel young at an opera, this was as good a chance as any.

The opera, whose title roughly translates to "they are all like that" ("they" meaning women), hinges on a sexist wager. Cynical old bachelor Don Alfonso, listening to his two young friends Ferrando and Guglielmo go on about what paragons of virtue their fiancées are, challenges them to bet some money on it. He bets that if they give him one day and do everything he asks, he will prove that their fiancées are like all other women—fickle. The men accept, telling their fiancées that they have been called into battle and must leave immediately. They then return, disguised as exotic Albanians, and try to seduce the other's beloved. To their horror, they succeed.

If you've never been to an opera, Mozart is an easy place to start. His operas are often funny and relatively short—for an opera, at least. Because most operas were written before television, movies, and even affordable books (or libraries), opera-goers of the past expected hours of entertainment. Mozart probably knew the story of Cosi was a forerunner of today's dumb comedies, but he uses beautiful music to make folks actually care about what happens to these characters. And it is surprising how much I found myself caring, considering that the lyrics are in Italian. It's like watching a foreign film—you quickly get used to reading the English translations and almost forget that you are reading along. Trust me, it happens and when it does, the whole thing doesn't seem so inaccessible anymore.

On its surface, the story is completely ridiculous (though perhaps no more so than Will Ferrell in Blades Of Glory and certainly less so than Shawn and Marlon Wayans in White Chicks). It's implausible that these women would not recognize their boyfriends in their absurd disguises (think Disney's Aladdin with an extra helping of sequins and glitter) and porn star mustaches. But that's not really the point here. Cosi Fan Tutte puts all of its characters to the test and each is found to be human, even if the realization comes with a little buffoonery. The story really does hit on timeless themes—love, betrayal, friendship, loyalty—they just come packaged in a different way.

Perhaps the most inaccessible thing about opera, once you acclimatize to it, are the ticket prices. They're incredibly expensive, which might explain the older crowd in attendance. The whole thing has the feeling of an Event with a capital E. Men wear suits or even tuxes, and women show up in formal dresses. If opera companies want to stay relevant, they would do well to offer cheaper tickets and an atmosphere that feels more welcoming to people of all styles of dress. I'm not saying you should wear torn jeans to the opera, but you shouldn't have to wear sequins to enjoy the show. Of course, there's no telling how this proposition would bear out at, say, Madison Opera's upcoming production of Faust (May 15 and 17)—will there be dick jokes? Or at least some fake Albanians?