Sunday at the opera

Since we’re officially season tickets holders to…wait for it…the San Francisco opera, I’ve been getting my opera fix on. Today, nothing could go wrong. Hell, the Giants couldn’t go wrong. Buster Posey couldn’t go wrong. Andres Torres couldn’t go wrong, but he was wronged (and there is a difference, btdubs).

The matinee today was The Marriage of Figaro. Pure Mozart sexiness. The overture is very recognizable, and I almost wet my pants with those first notes being played by the orchestra. The feeling of recognizing touches of his pieces and the quintessential signature elements of his work in the music of Figaro was breathtaking. For example, I would describe some Mozart elements as separated string sounds and for lack of better words, non-lyrical piano work. Don’t take that in a negative light, I’m just not in the best state of mind to describe art.

Anyway, the opera was incredibly lighthearted. I went in with only a vague knowledge of the plot, and was pleasantly surprised at the comedic touches and the refreshing fact that this was a very ensemble cast performance. The titular character, Figaro, without a doubt got less screen time than his lover, Susanna, and both got less singing time than the role of the Countess. Go ladies! And of course I’m a feminist, but I absolutely loathed the role of a horny young man being played by a woman. Sure, she was talented, but I think it’s understandable to be annoyed when the man is singing a duet with a woman and I can’t tell whose voice is whose. My grandma told me that the roles like those are oftentimes written explicitly for women as the music is arranged that way. It still doesn’t make incredible sense to me.

Best part though? Let me explain: there’s a screen above the stage that tells you the English translations. During the intermission and breaks in between the acts, t

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