Reviewers seldom find it necessary to note the atmosphere surrounding a performance. But in the few incidences that such regard is necessary, one must pay close attention to those elements.
The atmosphere Sunday evening surrounding the Lied Center was that of incredible arrogance.
Perhaps I say this simply because I am part of a generation of youth that has been raised with completely different values, but I cannot help but mention this notable air. The traditional stereotype of snooty-nosed, opera-glass-wielding 60-somethings was well manifested.
Call me cynical, but it seems ironic that the American "appreciation" for Italian opera differs so much from the true roots that founded the art form.
During the creation and evolution of Italian opera, attending a performance was almost like a carnival. Vendors walked the aisles during arias, and "women of the night" could easily be found between acts. If you felt a pang of hunger during a moving love duet, a hearty meal was never far away.
And now, an accidental sneeze is shunned and the rustling of an overcoat seems punishable by death.
But with all of that, I must say that Teatro Lirico D'Europa's production of Verdi's classic tale, "Aida," was magnificent in every sense of the word. He created a story of love, deceit, compassion and, finally, death.
The moving story of Aida, a young Ethiopian slave, and her tragic love affair with her owner's lover, Radames, proves to be as touching as ever. Verdi has provided us with a tale applicable to life, yet imaginary in nature, without compromising his ability to resolve it all with a chilling denouement.
Perhaps this would all be for nothing were it not for a performance so finely tuned and beautifully crafted that even a young lad from the world of the footlights could appreciate the art which is opera.
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