Why do I go to opera?

I made it to work this morning on time – well, Southern time anyway. That’s saying something since at midnight I was still on the train home from New York, returning from the Brooklyn Academy of Music and New York City Opera’s new production of Powder Her Face by Thomas Adès. Going to the opera midweek ain't easy – and to Brooklyn?! So why do I do it?

Some people go for the spectacle. It can be the most spectacular art form we know; check out the images from the Met’s over-the-top productions of Aida and Turandot. I can appreciate excess, but that’s never WHY I go.

For the plot? Well, no, I don’t think anyone ever goes for the story, since they are so often silly, stilted and unbelievable.

For the music? Definitely! Der Ring des Nibelungen, Wagner’s magnificent four-opera cycle, features arguably the greatest Western music ever written and can be enjoyed eyes open or shut. It’s simply glorious.

How about going to the opera for the singing? Well, yes, certainly. Listen to Renata Tabaldi singing “Un bel di vedremo” from Madama Butterfly or Kiri te Kanawa’s shimmering version of “O mio babbino caro” from Gianni Schicchi. Who wouldn’t want to be in the house to hear those sung live?

The Metropolitan Opera boasts arguably the best orchestra in America, so I go to the Met to enjoy them and in hopes of hearing a wonderful singer. At City Opera, on the other hand, I’m looking for something new to me, and for the chance to see more cutting edge productions.

Last night I went for the naked men.

I had been only mildly interested in Powder Her Face, for modern opera does not have a great track record with me. I usually find it strange and non-lyrical, screechy rather than pretty. The staging is often interesting and the music sometimes compelling, but the vocal lines almost always leave me wishing I had simply bought the Opera Without Words edition.

I had decided against the Adès piece, but then read this in the New York Times: “While the Duchess, the opera’s main character, reflects upon her circumstances as the promiscuous wife of the Duke of Argyll, 25 fully naked men amble out of her bed, bathtub and armoire, stretching and lolling like drowsy cats.”

THAT certainly caught my eye and made me rethink the plan. I’m not embarrassed to admit it: I like looking at naked men. The idea of over twenty of them on BAM’s not terribly huge stage intrigued the hell out of me. Not enough to pay full price for a seat ($100 where I sat) but TDF was offering tickets for $44 – that’s about two bucks per nude dude. A bargain!

So how was it? Well, it was both more than what I expected and exactly what I expected. The music was strange: the pit contained very few strings and lots of winds, brass and percussion playing this odd, sometimes-jazz, sometimes-show tune score. The NY Post said it was a “nerve-jangling score, which sounds like Stravinsky, Ravel and Alban Berg run through a Cuisinart..” The vocal lines were as weird as I expected.

But the naked men were amazing. I had assumed they’d mostly have their backs to us and, since I had read that many of them were simply watching a video on stage, I figured there’d be little to see. WRONG! There was a lot to see and it was clear what these non-singing actors had to do to measure up.

Was it great opera? Hell no. But a bit of voyeurism now and then is not a bad thing.

Full disclosure: lots of reviewers loved Powder Your Face. The Times called it an “astonishing, precocious masterpiece.” You can read the complete review here.

There was a LOT more than this on display at BAM last night.