Gounod's Romeo et Juliet

 

 

The Mrs. surprised me a few weeks back with tickets to the opera Romeo et Juliet. With the exception of discovering and purchasing an antique triple-record recording of Turandot in an antique store back in January, I haven’t really listened to any opera in six or seven years. Since we’ve moved down here to Texas in the summer of ’21, I had a hard time getting into anything musical. Then, I had a six-month fling and re-acquaintance with the music of Yes, and then, about a year-and-a-half ago, I started collecting classical music records on a whim, which I listen to on an almost daily basis.

 

So I was quite excited with this upcoming event.

 

The last time the wife and I attended the opera was to see La Boheme at Lincoln Center in New York City, a Christmas present for me from her. This was early January of 2017. While not a big fan of the music per se, I found the sets phenomenally imaginative and the performances incredible. Two intermissions allowed us to stretch our legs and quaff some flutes of champagne. During one of those intermissions I turned around and Nicolas Cage was standing directly behind me, all alone, just soaking in the atmosphere. It was all I could do to keep my wife from engaging him in conversation (as I got the vibe he wanted to be alone), but in retrospect I should have let her pounce.

 

Anyway, I was looking forward to a little Dallas culture. We’d been to the city’s classical enclave before, to see Little One in her final performance on stage with her classmates at the Dallas Symphony one afternoon. I had just purchased a new suit and a couple of shirts, so we all got snazzed up and motored down to Dallas, a thirty mile trip directly south, after making sure Patch was safe and secure and had supper ready and waiting to be reheated.

 

First we had a delicious early dinner at a great little spot we found and often take the girls for celebrations. Then off to the show itself, at the Winspear Opera House, a few minutes’ drive away. True, we did have nosebleed seats, and also true, it was extremely claustrophobic with the narrow seating, and further true, the degree of elevation gave me a slight vertiginous feeling. But I enjoyed it nonetheless.

 

My copy of the Romeo and Juliet playbill, 

with the opera record I bought the following week 

in the background.

Now, it doesn’t compare to a New York City production. There was only one set, which had to make do for everything from a castle celebration, the fields beyond the city walls, and Juliet’s bedroom. But they made it work with inventive lighting, even though it gave the whole thing more than a slight nod to (much despised) post-modernism. The choice of clothing was interesting too – the Capulets dressed in a cross between Southern Confederate haute couture meets Star Trek: The Next Generation, while the Montagues were garbed in 1930s Prohibition gangster threads. A gun was used to kill Tybalt. There was a female cast in a relationship with the head nurse, either in an attempt to be “edgy” or maybe the role calls for a mezzo-soprano, I dunno. The cast was multi-racial and multi-ethnic, which was okay for me since this was definitely a meritocratic venture.

 

The only prior experience I had with Gounod was listening to the opera Faust for two weeks borrowed from the library, something like fifteen years ago. I don’t remember anything about it, except a vague feeling I liked it. To these admittedly amateur ears, opera falls into two broad categories. Is the music in an opera stand-alone, or is it only to strictly support the singing? I’m more a fan of the former, which is why I prefer Wagner over Verdi, the latter of whom I consider a master of the second category. Gounod, to me, is the French Verdi. The music was quite good, but I couldn’t hum anything afterwards.

 

None if this is to disparage the vocal performances. Juliet and Romeo were both phenomenal. Juliet in particular, especially in her ability to sing and project while laying down in her bed, running, dancing, you name it. They’re not just standing still on stage belting it out. Romeo was fighting, running up and down stairs, writhing on the floor at one point, all while singing perfectly in key to the entire opera house. That part was simply amazing.

 

There was one intermission, only 20 minutes in length so we could not stray too far from our seats. Alas, no celebrity sightings – didn’t bump into Jerry Jones or Matthew McConaughey or Mark Cuban. Regardless, it was quite an enjoyable experience. Looking forward to a nifty gift of tickets to the symphony this Christmas. And I will stay open to exploring more of Charles Gounod’s works. Might listen to his Symphony No. 2 in Eb over the weekend one night while everyone’s asleep in the house.

 

Happy listening all!