A night at the opera

Yet another wonderful night at the opera! Tristan und Isolde! We knew it was going to be long – four hours – so we prepared beforehand. I drink about one cup of coffee a year, and this was it! A lovely cappuccino with way too much sugar. And it was a good thing. The four hours didn’t include the intermissions, so it was actually five plus, and ended way past Rebecca's bedtime. But, amazingly, the time flew along with Isolde’s soaring song.
In my youth, when I was filled with adolescent angst, and wanted to intensify my turbulent emotions, I listened to Tristan und Islode again and again. Dark, brooding, tempestuous, passionate, wonderful! Now, in my hardened old age, I felt that they should just accept life’s rotten apples and get over it.
Whenever I watched it on the opera stage of my mind, it was always a Teutonic Pre-Raphaelite vision. The production this evening was definitely more Cabinet of Dr. Caligari. For me, the visual aspect is a big part of the opera experience, and in that respect, this production didn’t cut it! But otherwise, it was wonderful. At the end, there were sniffles from the seat next to me, and on the way home, shocked denials as to any resemblances to Caligari.