A Standing Ovation

My passion for the grand opera began in the world's smallest opera house. It is located on a side street in Warsaw and there are more people in the cast than there are in the audience. As a young man of fifteen years, I was captivated by Mozart's 'Escape from the Seraglio'. After my return from Poland I began to further discover the art form. Most of this exploration took place at the LA Opera.

After every performance, the Angeleno opera-goers would begin to applaud. Eventually almost all of them would stand up in accolade to the performers. I always assumed that this was simply polite behavior, despite overhearing the occasional grumble that standing ovations "come like pennies in L.A. these days."

I did not realize how true that statement was until I started regularly attending performances at the national opera house in Budapest. Unlike Californians, the Magyars demonstrate their appreciation for the lead performers after each act. The amount of applause is directly connected to a spectator's opinion of the artist's performance. Standing up after the finale is strictly reserved for exceptional productions.

More importantly, Hungarian opera fans take the time to make their approval known. At the Dorthy Chandler theater, flawless arias by Placido Domingo are met with little more then a bit of polite applause. This could not be further from the truth at the Budapest opera. I will never forget the audience's reaction after one of the main leads opened the second act of Bank Ban with a stunning solo. The show stopped for a full 10 minutes. Applause came in synchronized waves as the packed theater meaningfully demonstrated its approval.

It is also permissible to express one dislike. When the tenor's voice cracked during 'La Donna e Mobile' most of the audience loudly booed him. It was the first time I had ever seen this done.

When my time in Budapest is over I will have seen more than 8 performances at the Magyar National Opera. It is one of the things I will miss most. Los Angeles may showcase some of the world's best artists, but in Budapest the singer's performance actually counts for something.

Last night, I saw Puccini's 'Turandot'. It was one of the most amazing operas I have ever seen. For the first time, I noticed that a few members of the audience had gotten to their feet in true recognition. Still seated, I clapped thunderously until the final curtain.