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.

Arts and Culture

During my first month in Budapest much of what I have learned about the Hungarian world view has been through their fine arts. My journey into the Magyar mentality began, as much does, in the Opera house. I had decided at the last minute attend the performance of a Hungarian opera entitled "Bank Ban" or The Viceroy Bank. Judging by the sheer number of dark themes, the opera was the darkest I have seen to date. It dealt with corruption, betrtrayal, rape, revenge, murder, infanticide, suicide, and plain simple death, in the space of just 3 hours. Unlike in many Slavic cultures there does not seem to be much glory in such suffering.

Even more interesting, was the attitude that Hungarians have to the production itself. The following evening I accompanied my landlady, a pianist, to a performance of the National Philharmonic. We took the tramwaj to the venue, along with one of her friends, a violinist in the concert. Instead of focusing on the Magyar national opera company's many strengths, he baselessly complained that it was inferior to Vienna's. Having seen both companies preform, it is my experience that, euro for euro, the opposite is true. They also told me that Magyar National Opera was in talks with Placido Domingo to bring the opera I had seen to LA, but that such talks were halted when LA Opera ran out of money. While they did bitterly complain about such mis-fortunates, it is important to note that the also warmly joked that exporting the opera was unnecessary as LA, in the person of myself, had come to them.

At the concert, one of the featured pieces was a suite from Bartok's ballet "The Miraculous Mandarin." Among other things, it dealt with the suffering of city-dwellers, through the main character of a whore, during the industrial revolution. During the intermission we discussed the present day implications of the piece. I pointed out that the subject matter and music, while avant-garde when it was premiered, fails to raise an eyebrow in the present day. This points to the increased callousness of man. My landlady agreed, but pointed out that, within the story, what positives there are remain timeless.

It seems to me that the Hungarians take a long term view when it comes to their philosophy of life. While the world inevitably gets worse over time, within those negatives one can always find reason to make life worth living. As I responded while the lights dimmed for the second movement "The more things change, the more they stay the same" Ironically, this is this mentality from which Hungary draws it's comfort.