Effort and the Opera

This post has nothing to do with anything except random clips from operas that Celestine likes. Be forewarned, there is no moral to this tale except: Celestine has opera envy.




Years ago, (well, not that long ago) a delusional young Celestine went in for a singing lesson, bearing in one hand a copy of the lovely recitative and aria from Le Nozze di Figaro, "Giunse alfin il momento/deh vieni non tardar" (here sung superbly by Alison Hagley). Feeling very distinguished with her newly-found aria, she marched in proudly.
Half an hour later, a terrified Celestine came to a horrific conclusion: she could not roll her R's.
"No--like this." said her teacher, rolling an R in a lovely, authentically Italian way.
Celestine tried to mimic the sound. What came out was a harsh, guttural R more suited to the Queen of the Night than Susanna.
The teacher began to laugh, "That would be great if it was German!"
By the end of the lesson, Celestine found herself horrified at the simple fact that she was incapable of rolling an R.

It is, coincidentally, both common and uncommon. Renee Fleming was unable to roll her R's for a long time, but very few singers are entirely incapable of trilling R's.

To this day, a year and a half later, I am unable to roll my R's. I can, however, still eek out a trill or two here and there. Whatever training I absorbed, unfortunately, did not make up for the defects of nature; all the same, I maintain a certain enjoyment in the knowledge that I can still hum out Mozart when I wish and pretend to be highly intelligent and cultured because of it. Mozart does not a wise person make; but it is a nice touch to add whenever one can't think of anything to talk about. Mozart is the musical equivalent of the weather; always suitable to talk about. In fact, whether you like Mozart or not, he serves so well for fudging conversations that he is almost universally beloved as a Certified Distraction.

There is, however, a certain charm to Mozart operas that are rarely found in others. Contrast, for example, the utter hilarity of the libretto of Le Nozze di Figaro with--well, just about any other opera out there. As Bugs Bunny so famously said, "What did you expect in an opera, a happy ending?"
But they do exist. Don Giovanni, for example, ends well for everyone except the titular character (who is summarily dragged down to Hell--what do you mean, that isn't a happy ending?!).



Gilbert and Sullivan, while not strictly operas, also frequently end well. On the list of not-well-ending operas would be Madame Butterfly, La Traviata, Lucia di Lammermoor and Carmen--not to mention La Wally. And, of course, Faust. These are not, you see, uplifting stories.

But some opera is just...happy. The sprightly music from Figaro are cheery, happy little tunes (if it is not blasphemy to call it so), and the hilarious just-about-everything from Cosi Fan Tutte are uplifting, even if the lyrics are...not.



And then, of course, there's always the occasional drinking song...



Now, if only we can teach the drunk college students to sing Verdi.