Salome is perhaps the reason I like opera.

When I was in high school, a french horn player named Michael Gast played Salome for me. He explained what was happening in the music as well as the plot. It was like watching a hockey game with someone who not only knew about hockey, but knew rude stories about all the players. There are a lot of rude stories about the players in Salome.

Watching it now, there’s something familiar about this opera but I can’t quite put my finger on it. There’s lingerie and death and sex and more sex and death and cryptic innuendo and… sweet baby Elmo, I’m watching a Lady Gaga video.

As with many of the best sex and violence operas, Salome is a Bible story. It’s the story of King Herod, his prisoner John the Baptist/Jokanaan and his stepdaughter Salome. Herod recognizes that John/Jokanaan is in tight with God and doesn’t especially want to turn him over for execution because, you know, plagues of locusts, 40 days 40 nights, whale indigestion, blah blah blah. Herod is also a lecherous ass.

The whole opera takes place on one set, which probably pissed the union right off. In the middle of the set is a grill covering a pit which leads to the green room in which Jokanaan hangs out. He sings up through the grill just often enough to make everyone nervous.

Narraboth, the captain of the guard, starts the ball rolling with his wing man, the page. The page warns him about Salome, but Narraboth’s eyes go all twirly and he won’t shut up about her until Jokanaan starts bellowing biblical prophecy. Note: do not invite prophecy-spewing guests to parties and leave the opening to their prisons where people can hear them.

Salome comes away from the feast because she can’t stand how Herod looks at her. She hears Jokanaan and asks who he is. She quizes the guards about him, and then asks to see him. The guards are not down with that and, since they are probably eunics, don’t give in. Narabaath is not a eunic.

He brings out Jokanaan, who launches into a tirade about Herodias - Salome’s mother/current wife of Herod. Herodias richly deserves his wrath. Salome listens and thinks he’s a total dreamboat, or at least her kind of effed-up. Jokanaan asks who she is and when she identifies herself as the daughter of Herodias he tells her to go to the wilderness and eat nuts and berries until she’s redeemed of the Lord. She counter-offers with a suggestion to just do it right here, right now. Narraboth is all kinds of jealous and kills himself. No one notices. Salome keeps begging Jokanaan to kiss her.

“I’ll be in my dungeon if anyone needs me” Jokanaan mutters over his shoulder, descending back into the pit/green room and pulling the grate shut behind him.

Herod and Herodias appear and Herod asks for Salome in a manner inappropriate to their stepfather - stepdaughter relationship. Herodias may or may not junk kick him and tell him to stop being such an a-hole.

Jokanaan puts in his two cents. Herodias tells him to zip it and taunts Herod for being afraid of him. Herod waxes theological, Nazarenes talk of miracles, Herodias is annoyed and the choir dozes. On a roll, Herod asks Salome to dance for him, summoning her stripper pole. She says no. He says “please oh please I’ll give you a pony.” She says no. He says “anything you want! I’ll give you anything you want! Pleeeeeeeze…..?”

“Promise?”

He promises on a stack of lunch meat. Salome dances. There is nudity. And then she asks for the head of Jokanaan on a silver platter. Herod faints. Herodias cheers. She gives his ring to the soldiers and issues the command.

In the dungeon the soldiers are all drawing straws. Salome waits, tapping her watch. Finally the head appears.

Salome takes the head, reminds it of the refused kiss, and snogs the severed head of Jokanaan.

Herod screams like a little girl and tells the soldiers to kill her. They do.

The end.

If you are wondering what has gotten into us, we are posting fast and furiously because Trout Towers is hosting Opera Hell Week: Seven Days, Seven Operas and the Trouts’ friends need all the help they can get. The seven operas are: La Fille du Régiment, La Bohème, Tosca, Romeo and Juliet, Salome, The Barber of Seville and Magic Flute. Feel free to follow along.

They’re watching streaming HD from the Metropolitan Opera’s Met Player. It’s cheap and there are tons of operas to watch.* We at Opera Betty maintain that HD opera broadcasts are a gateway to hardcore live opera use. First one’s free.

And now, to Tosca!

I love Tosca because the first video I ever watched of it featured a not particularly attractive or svelte Tosca and when she threw herself from the ramparts she did so with the finesse and grace of a rhino on fire. It was truly hilarious and I rewound it mercilessly.

Tosca also has some of my favorite music - Scarpia’s “Va Tosca” (with the Te Deum in the background) and the scene in which Tosca is heard singing outside Scarpia’s window. Listen for it.

Act I takes place inside a church in Rome. Angelotti, an escaped political prisoner, rushes in, finds a hidden key and ducks  into one of the gated chapels. Mario Cavaradossi is painting a fresco of the Madonna in the church and returns to work soon after Angelotti’s arrival. Recognizing Mario as a fellow Bonapartist, Angelotti reveals himself. No, not like that.

Mario locks the door to the church and offers Angelotti help. The locked door rouses the suspicions of the already jealous Tosca, a famous opera singer. Opera singers are like that. He manages to shoo Tosca away, but not before she notices the Madonna looks like someone she knows. She leaves,  a ticking bomb of jealousy. The woman Mario is painting as the Madonna happens to be Angelotti’s sister but neither Tosca nor Mario know that. The only reason it’s important is the sister left clothes for Angelotti because he likes dressing in women’s clothing when he’s escaping from prison. Angelotti leaves his sister’s fan behind because it doesn’t match his eyes.

Angelotti and Mario hear the cannons signaling an escaped prisoner and dash off together. Angelotti will hide at Mario’s pad. Wearing his sister’s dress. Oh, the indignity.

Tosca comes back to find Mario gone.

Scarpia, the chief of police, wants Tosca in a not particularly healthy relationship kind of way. He finds the fan and uses it to get Tosca in a twist about Mario and Angelotti’s sister. She storms off to find Mario and Scarpia sends a spy after her. This is when he sings the “I love it when a plan comes together” aria, accompanied by a bunch of choirboys.

Act II is in Scarpia’s apartment. He’s having dinner by himself because everyone hates him. His window is open and this is when you hear Tosca singing below. He sends a message to her to come up when she’s quite finished.

The spy he sent to find Angelotti returns, without Angelotti. To appease Scarpia, he’s brought Mario instead. The two bicker about where Angelotti is long enough for Tosca to arrive. And then Scarpia sends Mario off to be tortured.

Eventually Tosca can’t stand the sound of Mario being tortured and she spills the beans. Mario is brought out and told that Tosca gave up Angelotti’s hiding place. He is displeased. They usher him off to prison.

Tosca asks Scarpia what his price is to release Mario, which is a big mistake. Scarpia cannot resist a woman who hates him and absolutely cannot wait to get his hands on Tosca. He tells her as much. She sings “Vissi d’arte” which is quite famous and is about how she’s dedicated her life to art and love and a hell of a lot of good it’s done her.

Scarpia says, “I’m having him executed, so, uh, what do you think? You? Me?”

Tosca says “you are one seriously creepy dude so make it quick and make sure Mario and I have travel papers to Bermuda.” Scarpia tells his henchman to make it a mock execution and gives him the signal about what kind of mock he means.

Alone with Tosca, Scarpia writes the requested letter and signs it just as Tosca, seriously grossed out at the thought of him, spots a knife on his table. And kills him. You go, girl.

Tosca then scampers to find Mario in prison, where he’s already singing about how much he loves her. They sing together and she tells him she killed Scarpia. He thinks that’s totally hot. She tells him not to worry and brings him up to speed on the mock execution and the trip to Bermuda.

The guards come get Mario. He’s very brave since they’re not really going to kill him. After the firing squad has mockly executed him and gone off to breakfast, Tosca tells Mario he can get up. He doesn’t get up because they left out the mock part when they executed him.

There’s a kerfluffle as Scarpia’s minions discover she’s killed him and they come for her. Since Mario’s already dead and there’s nothing to live for, she tosses herself over the wall - either to her death or into a gorse bush. It’s hard to tell how high up they are.

and…. curtain.

*this is, sadly, a neither paid nor requested endorsement.

Photo by Cory Weaver. Courtesy of San Diego Opera

La Bohème is stupidly famous because who doesn’t like an opera about garrets and poets and coughing? It is pronounced “Lah Boe-EM” and means “Bohemia.”

Rodolfo, Colline and Marcello are friends. Rodolfo is a poet, Colline a philosopher and Marcello a painter. They are a trifecta of monetary disfunction. The opera opens on Rodolfo, burning pages of his writing to keep warm. Schaunard, their musician friend, arrives saying he’s landed work. They all go out on the town with promises from Rodolfo to join them.

Mimi arrives, saying her candle has “blown out.” Rodolfo lights her candle (not a euphemism, yet) and sends her on her way but it “blows out” again and then she “drops her key”  and there’s some groping in the dark and singing and lo and behold the next thing you know they’re in love.

They leave to go join the others and Rodolfo buys her a bonnet which she will probably have to burn later to keep warm.

At the cafe, Marcello’s ex, Musetta, arrives with her sugardaddy, Alcindoro. Musetta sends Alcindoro off on some errand and they all have a splendid time and leave him with the bill.

In act 3 Mimi confides in Marcello that she wants to leave Rodolfo because he is so horribly jealous. Shortly after, Rodolfo talks about dumping Mimi because she’s so fickle and flirty and we’re all “wha…? When was she fickle and flirty? She hasn’t done anything but cough.” This is because there was an act 2.5 and we missed it. In act 2.5, the librettist wrote a scene where Musetta introduces Mimi to a Viscount and Mimi is indeed fickle and flirty. Who can blame her? She’s broke and dying and Rodolfo is kind of whiney.  The scene didn’t make the cut and no one bothered to proofread the rest of the libretto.

Rodolfo then admits that the real reason he wants to leave Mimi is that she is sick and probably dying and he is too poor to take care of her and is probably, in fact, making her sicker with his poetry. She overhears this and rushes to Rodolfo. They decide to stay together until spring or until one of them gets a paying gig, whichever comes first.

Later, the three friends are doing whatever it is they do in their garret when Musetta rushes in and tells them Mimi is dying. They all run around like chickens, trying to help, but she dies anyway.

The end.

I hesitate to add that La Bohème was the basis for Jonathan Larson’s Rent.

I’m not going to tell you how to pronounce Il Barbiere di Siviglia because it’s kind of like ordering Mexican food. I mean, if you’re at La Scala, you should probably brush up on your Italian but otherwise it’s perfectly okay to just order the chicken burritos.

If that did not make sense to you, this opera is only going to make it worse.

Let’s start with the characters. Count Almaviva is in love with Rosina. Rosina is the ward of Dr. Bartolo. Dr. Bartolo wants to marry Rosina. Rosina wants to marry Count Almaviva. Figaro helps make it all happen. Figaro is the Barber of Seville.

Almaviva arrives with his servant Fiorello and a band of musicians. They stand beneath Rosina’s balcony and Almaviva serenades her at dawn. Late sleeping Rosina does not appear. The musicians, telling each other to be quiet, wake the whole town.

Almaviva pays them and sends them away. He sticks around, hoping to see Rosina and have a word with her. He hears Figaro approaching and ducks into a doorway. Figaro is a loudmouth.

Figaro arrives and sings the Bugs Bunny aria.

Did you know that if you search online for Rabbit of Seville, the only videos you find are in Spanish? It’s true.

The Barber words are slightly different from the Rabbit version. This one is about how resourceful he is and how everyone is always asking him for something and calling him.

“Figaro! Figaro! Feeeeeee-ga-row!”

He goes on and on about how great he is and how nothing gets done without him. It would be annoying if he weren’t so darn charming.

Figaro and Almaviva recognize each other and Figaro asks what brings the Count to town. Almaviva explains about stalking Rosina.

Rosina appears on her balcony holding a note. Just as she sees the Count Almaviva, Dr. Bartolo comes out and demands to see the note. Rosina convinces him she’s just written out the lyrics to an aria from a popular opera. Dr. Bartolo does not like opera, the people who watch it, or the people who perform it. She accidentally drops the note and asks Bartolo to get it, knowing he won’t bother. She signals to Almaviva that it’s for him.  Bartolo shoos her inside.

The note says that Rosina has noticed Almaviva and she thinks he’s kind of cute. Bartolo will be going out soon and she hopes Almaviva will introduce himself.

Bartolo does go out, and Rosina appears on the balcony. Almaviva sings to her, calling himself Lindoro so she doesn’t fall for his title and wealth. It’s like Coming to America except they don’t come to America. He tells her he can’t offer her anything but his devotion. She swoons. He swoons. She hears someone coming and goes inside.

Almaviva hires Figaro to help him marry Rosina.

Bartolo has conscripted Basilio to help him finagle a marriage to Rosina. Madness ensues. The Count arrives as a soldier and again as a substitute music teacher (Alonzo). Bartolo tricks Rosina into thinking that Lindoro is  tricking her into marrying Count Almaviva and he does not love  her at all. Rosina agrees to marry Bartolo and confides that Lindoro/Alonzo/Almaviva and Figaro are planning to sneak in that night. They plan to trick them when they arrive.

Except when they arrive, Lindoro/Alonzo/whoever-the-flip-he-is tells Rosina he’s actually Count Chocula. Wait, no, Count Almaviva. She is tickled pink. A notary arrives to draw up the marriage contract between Bartolo and Rosina. Figaro has the notary make the contract between Almaviva and Rosina. The Count asks Basilio to be a witness. Basilio obliges. (Ballistics and bribery may or may not have been involved. )

Bartolo arrives, but it’s too late. There’s much rejoicing. The Count lets Bartolo keep Rosina’s dowery, which makes everything right in Bartolo’s world. Chorus sings. Curtains close.

The end.