After Attending San Francisco Opera's Production of "Tosca"

When Michael and I were living in Boston, at least twice a year, we would take a weekend trip from Boston to New York to visit friends. We always had such a grand time, going sightseeing or visiting museums, eating out, playing cards until 2 or 3 am, as well as to squeeze in a show or two. Sometimes we would attend a concert at New York Philharmonic; sometimes we would watch a play, such as the obnoxious playwright Tom Stoppard’s “The Invention of Love”. One New Year’s eve, we had great south Indian food for lunch and saw “Proof” starring Mary Louise Parker in the afternoon. On another trip back from New York, Michael suggested dropping by unannounced to visit a friend living in Providence. We were so amused to see how surprised she was when she opened the door. That was back when we engaged often in such “spontaneous living”…. I am amazed that I still remember all these details of our New York trips!

We only started attending operas fairly regularly after we saw the Metropolitan Opera’s production of “Tosca” (the first opera we saw at the Met) – we sat so far from the stage that we needed binoculars to see the singers’ faces, only to realize that it’s best not to see them (hint – it takes great lung capacity to sing those arias, and generally skinny people do not have huge lung capacity). Since then, we have not seen any operas that rival the Met Opera’s magnificent productions, in Boston, San Diego or Los Angeles.

This past week, Michael and I attended San Francisco Opera’s performance of “Tosca” at the War Memorial Opera House. Maybe it’s because I was paying more attention, or maybe it’s because opera is considered a “higher” form of art than say, ballet, I had the impression that most of the people at the opera were not only quite old, but also very “distinguished-looking”. Of course, it is not surprising to see more old people at the operas – opera is not exactly as popular or “modern” as “American Idols”! People were dressed much more nicely at the opera than at ballets or other regular concerts – I felt really dowdy looking so heavily pregnant, and missed the days when I was as skinny as these other women wearing evening gowns. When the opera was over, quite a few limos were waiting outside to pick up old ladies gingerly walking in their high heels (yes, they were still wearing high heels).

Perhaps our tastes in music have got more selective – I remember being moved to tears by the arias sung by Mario towards the end of the opera at the Met, but this time, both Michael and I thought that overall “Tosca” was not even one of Puccini’s best. In addition, while we are not opera aficionados, we can still tell that the opera singers were not as good as the Met Opera ones. Don’t get me wrong – they still are very good, but their voices just did not grab me the way a truly great opera singer could.

Come to think of it, these traditional art forms such as opera and ballet are facing challenges from the new forms of art and entertainment every day, enhanced by technology and rendered easily accessible by internet. Michael pointed out how the seats at opera houses are so small and uncomfortable compared to the stadium seats in movie theaters. Well, I suppose that cannot be changed easily, and nor can opera houses afford to give people any more space without charging a real fortune. In a way, implicitly we are asked to put up with a lot of inconveniences to enjoy these traditional art forms – the price to pay for “acting” cultured. Being so much bigger and so much less mobile these days, I definitely find the seats a lot more uncomfortable than just a few weeks ago! I thought to myself , “I used to not even notice such things, but now I notice everything. I must be getting old!”

Leaving the War Memorial Opera House on this recent Tuesday night, I noticed how empty the streets were, with the exception of the limos and the taxis that waited outside to pick up passengers. I recall, somewhat nostalgically, that in Manhattan, when we got out of the Met Opera at close to midnight, the city was still bustling with energy, traffic, people and neon lights, even in the dead of the winter. Once we even went to get hot and spicy Korean food at close to mid-night, and it was downright fabulous and intoxicating.

Come to think of it, the Korean food (if reproduced) might not taste so amazing today, because by now we have had many exciting experiences that the bar for excitement has got higher and higher. Alternatively, it is possibly due to the fact that as we get older, we get more jaded. Back then, the ability to see a Met Opera followed by mid-night Bibimbap with freshly made kimchee could make us giddy beyond imagination. But it was mostly internal rather than external factors that have contributed to our fond memories. Back then, we were just so easily excited, amazed, surprised, and impressed, not to mention the fact that we were impoverished graduate students who had not seen the world yet.

Therefore, to be fair, perhaps the Met Opera was not really so much superior to the San Francisco Opera. The difference might be entirely in our minds. We remember the Met Opera as so much more lively, beautiful and memorable, perhaps because we see ourselves in those days through a certain filter, hopeful, energetic, innocent and beautifully young.