Why so serious? Sarah Coburn and Peter Strummer in a scene from Tulsa Opera's "The Barber of Seville."
A day or so ago, Anastasia Tsioulcas, one of the hosts for National Public Radio’s classical music blog “Deceptive Cadences,” posited the question,
“Is Opera Stuff (Only) Rich People Like?”
It’s hardly a new question – the debate over the perceived “elitism” of the fine and performing arts has been going on for decades. But what prompted Ms. Tsioulcas’ comments was the juxtaposition of all those people protesting down Wall Street way, and two stories in the New York Times.
One was about how the Metropolitan Opera has managed to raise $182 million in contributions in the current economy. The other, a restaurant review, compared the price of a meal at Per Se (which starts – starts! – at $295 per person) with the cost of an aisle seat in the orchestra section of the Metropolitan Opera house ($330).
I’ll pause now, to allow eyes to reinserted into their sockets, for the blood pressure to subside, for the gorge to cease rising.
Of course, we are talking about New York City prices here, and everything is overpriced in New York City. One can buy a subscription to Tulsa Opera’s three opera productions for $100 less than one aisle seat at the Met.
And, as someone who’s been to the Metropolitan Opera House (to see the original production of Julie Taymor’s take on “The Magic Flute”), the orchestra level is not necessarily the place to be. My seat for “The Magic Flute” was listed by altitude, yet I was able to see and more importantly hear everything perfectly.
Ms. Tsioulcas followed her original post with
one made up mostly of the comments her first post received that more or less told her the original question was bunk – that the art form flourishes in numerous locales outside the 212 area code; that tickets to live opera (and now the broadcasts to movie theaters that the Met and other opera companies are doing) are quite affordable; that the Hollywood concept of opera audiences consisting solely of begowned blue-haired ladies and tuxedoed gents is about as realistic Krakatoa being east of Java.
But to tell people that money really isn’t an object when it comes to tickets and there are no jackets required at the opera house or the concert hall isn’t likely to get them to attend.
That’s because money isn’t really the reason why the performing arts tend to get tarred with the epithet “elitist.” It’s because these forms of entertainment are perceived by large portions of the public as either irrelevant (which is another way of saying “wasn’t created in the last 50 years”) or pretentious (meaning that there exists a daunting amount of information and scholarship about these art forms).
While there is a smidgen of truth behind these ideas – yes, a lot of the standard repertoire of opera and classical music can be dated by century, and some lovers of these art forms can get more than a little starchy about why what they like is so important – for the most these are empty arguments.
Classic works on any given art form endure because they are able to connect directly with the human heart and the human soul.
Or, in the case of Tulsa Opera’s production of “The Barber of Seville,” the funny bone.
I’ve seen a number of productions of this opera by Rossini, and most of them have been “amusing.” You chuckled here and there, nobody died at the end, and it was fine.
But this production, which wraps up its run this weekend at the Tulsa PAC, is truly a comedy. The opening night performance was one of the few times I’ve heard actual belly-laughs coming from a Tulsa Opera audience.
It’s a testament to director Tara Faircloth’s staging, and to her extremely gifted cast that this 195-year-old work is as fresh and as immediate as it is.
Pretentious? How can you call any show that includes at least three Danny Thomas-style spit-takes AND a slow-motion fight scene worthy of the Three Stooges pretentious?
Irrelevant? How can a show that is designed to make you laugh, while delighting the eye and ear at the same time with lovely sets and gorgeous music and singing, be irrelevant in these less-than-happy times.
Besides, it’s cheap. Tickets start at $10. Performances are 7:30 p.m. Friday and 2:30 p.m. Sunday at the Tulsa PAC.
