La Traviata
Giuseppe Verdi
Opera Lyra Ottawa
Let me be upfront: the only opera experience I had had before March 21 was through my grandparents’ speakers. And while I’m being upfront, let me be honest: I thought opera was for people aged 60 and up. I wasn’t really open to any experiences that involved orchestras or singers that could hit notes I thought might break glass.
So when I attended the National Art Gallery’s (NAC) performance of La Traviata, I was in for a rude awakening. For those of you, like me, who are not “in the opera know,” La Traviata is the opera they see in 1990’s Pretty Woman. If that still doesn’t ring any bells, the plotline closely mirrors Baz Luhrmann’s Moulin Rouge!. A courtesan and a young man fall in love, are driven apart and, at the end, the courtesan dies of tuberculosis.
Seems simple enough, but as the first few bars of the opening came to life, I couldn’t help but be drawn in. At the very least, the National Arts Centre Orchestra deserves to be commended. They set the tone for each and every act.
Now, I don’t pretend to be an opera connoisseur, but for me, the characters of the story— based on Alexandre Dumas’ “La Dame aux Camélias”— turned my experiment into an experience. I may not have fit in with the overwhelming elderly demographic for this opera, but that didn’t seem to matter. La Traviata may be melodramatic and unrealistic, but in some ways it seems universal. Near the end, as I looked around the audience, I couldn’t believe the number of heads nodding along to the music or those trying to nonchalantly wipe away their tears. It seems, as cliché as it sounds, that music speaks to all ages.
It was a sad story, but the performances of the leads Violetta (Corinne Winters) and Alfredo (Eric Margiore) made it real. The opera spoke of love, loss, and all the in-betweens you expect from a romance. It told the tale of misunderstandings— the idea that all you need at the end is love. Corny? Perhaps. But I guess they wouldn’t keep telling it if it didn’t speak to its audience on some level.
Even as a 21-year-old fully invested in this century and all the modern gifts it has to offer, there was something beautiful about the 17th century music that was played that night. Something that believed in romance, and yearning, and the idea that love was both the root and answer to all of life’s problems. It was a beautiful story, beautifully told, and a nice romantic reminder that didn’t come in rom-com form.
It may sound sentimental but, in all fairness, I can’t help myself. I was one of the sad saps left crying at the end.
