Trip to the opera to watch ‘Aida’ rekindles love of multifaceted art

PORTLAND - It has been more than 10 years since I’d seen a production by the Portland Opera Company, and the experience of watching “Tosca” among a glittering crowd of music lovers had been a memorable one. I was a wide-eyed 22-year-old wearing my most formal attire, a silver floor-length skirt and teetering heels, and although I’d spent the previous winter experiencing extravagant theatrical productions in London, I was duly impressed by the opulence of the evening.

I came home from the event with a bumper sticker reading “Nights of Passion, No Regrets in the Morning” advertising the Portland Opera, which remained on my car until it was hauled away for scrap a year later. The relationship that began with that dramatic opera date ended in an appropriately operatic fashion by my mid-20s, and my taste for opera fizzled for awhile.

But as old memories faded, and my close friend Kate’s pursuit of her own operatic dreams intensified, I was able to regain my enthusiasm for the art form, and when she became a full-time member of the Portland Opera chorus last year, I knew it was time to step back into Keller Auditorium and experience opera anew.

So, on Saturday night, the closing night of the spectacular “Aida,” I sat in a box seat given to me as a birthday gift from Kate, wearing a black cocktail dress and a shimmering blue and silver wrap, and I peered over the box to the crowd below.

Although Keller is not an extravagant or particularly historic space, the lack of ornament doesn’t detract from the feeling that the audience is somehow connected to musical history in a very deep way. I imagined the opera scenes from “The Age of Innocence” by Edith Wharton, or even further back, those that took place in “Les Liaisons Dangereuses,” by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos.

The opera was a place where one went to be seen, dressed in the very finest attire, perhaps using the opportunity to secretly communicate with a lover, or spy on an enemy. Where you sat, and with whom, was of great importance. When Countess Ellen Olenska appears in the box of the Mingott family in “The Age of Innocence,” it demonstrates to shocked onlookers that the family is supporting the Countess’ decision to flee her troubled European marriage. And when the Marquise de Merteuil’s many exploits are made public in “Les Liaisons Dangereuses,” in one of the film versions of the book, she is publicly shunned at the opera, and flees in disgrace.

There was nothing particularly dramatic about my opera companions Saturday night; they appeared to mainly be composed of middle-aged couples taking the opportunity to dress up and enjoy an amazing performance. Chatting with them during the first intermission, I found that most of them were long-time opera lovers, and a few were singers or musicians themselves. And all of them were completely enamored with this version of “Aida.”

Although my eyes were of course drawn to my friend whenever she appeared on stage, wearing a giant Geisha-like wig and a late-19th century gown complete with bustle, I can say without prejudice that the production was absolutely stellar, and during the final scene, as Aida and Radames embrace in the tomb, and Amneris mourns above them, I was not the only one with tears in her eyes.

The opera was often a place where more shocking events and risqué behaviors could be depicted before genteel audiences, and this production of “Aida” was no exception. In fact, I was profoundly disquieted by a rape scene in Act Two that does not normally appear in the opera, and speaking afterward with my friend, found out that my reaction had been shared by many others. In my opinion, the scene was disturbing and unnecessary, but artistic interpretation often includes shock value intended to shake the audience out of their complacent enjoyment of a production.

Regardless, the performances were so outstanding that I left the auditorium on a cloud, and felt that my enthusiasm for the art had been completely revitalized, and I felt reconnected to generations of operagoers before me. So perhaps Countess Olenska did not eat a giant pretzel during intermission, but I’d like to think the Marquise de Merteuil would have looked approvingly at my turquoise heels.

For more information about the Portland Opera, see www.portlandopera.org.

Theresa Hogue can be reached at theresa.hogue@lee.net or 758-9526.