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OPERA

GUIDE

September 1, 2026 Dear Opera Curious and Opera Lovers alike, Boston Lyric Opera is thrilled to welcome you to the Emerson Colonial Theatre for our new production of William Tell, which reimagines this epic, rarely performed opera for contemporary audiences. Opera has a way of tapping into big emotions in a way that’s hard to describe. There’s something incredibly powerful about experiencing the human voice live in the theater, and I believe that whether you’re new to opera or have loved it for years, there’s always something new to discover. To help make your experience even richer, we’ve put together this Guide. It’s designed to give you a little background on William Tell, its themes, and how these themes resonate today and throughout this production. By providing historical and contemporary context, along with tools to thoughtfully reflect on the performance before or after you attend, we hope to make your experience a memorable one. Boston Lyric Opera inspires, entertains, and connects communities through compelling performances, programs, and gatherings. Our vision is to create operatic moments that enrich everyday life. As we develop additional Guides, we’re always eager to hear how we can improve your experience. Please tell us about how you use this Guide and how it can best serve your future learning and engagement needs by emailing education@blo.org. If you’re interested in engaging with us further and learning about additional opera education opportunities with Boston Lyric Opera, please visit blo.org/youth-and-schools to discover our programs and initiatives. We can’t wait to share this experience with you. Warmly,

Nina Yoshida Nelsen Artistic Director Boston Lyric Opera

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Synopsis

Cast

A Sharp Knife For A Dangerous Opera

Our Story and Its Players

Listen Up!

Guide To Listening

The History of Opera

The Science and Art of Opera

Notes to Prepare for the Opera

Costume rendering for William Tell with crossbow, designed by Vita Tzykun. Image courtesy of Vita Tzykun.

WILLIAM TELL

SYNOPSIS

By Alexandra Dietrich, Assistant Stage Director / BLO Jane & Steven Akin Emerging Artist

ACT 1 An Allemanian film crew shoots propaganda footage of a fictional Helvetian "workplace" — proof for audiences elsewhere that the territory is stable and its people content. Guards hand out clean smocks for the cameras. Helvetians — famous for their singing — reluctantly sing an Allemanian folksong for the camera; some on-camera, most off-camera, providing the soundtrack. Ruodi, a local tech worker and recreational sailor, is discovered slacking off the singing, and texting with his love interest on his smartphone. He is forced under threat of torture to improvise a song to the poem he wrote for his fiancé. When the Allemanians' workday ends, the Helvetians begin secretly preparing a wedding ceremony for three young couples, among them Ruodi and his soon-to-be husband. The ranz des vaches (a work song traditional to the region) sounds as the signal for a holiday weekend to begin. Once the Allemanian crew and guards leave, the Helvetians convert the space into something of their own: creating the space for a secret triple wedding, with forbidden red ritual garments pulled from their hiding places. Hedwige and Jemmy—Tell's wife and daughter—greet Melchtal, a respected Helvetian oligarch who had previously collaborated with the Allemanians and is now rekindling his relationship with the Helvetians. Hedwige, the community's spiritual leader, asks Melchtal to bless the three couples, though his own son, Arnold, withholds himself from the festivities. Arnold had served as an officer in the Allemanian forces before the occupation, and is secretly in love with Mathilde, an Allemanian elite he once saved from an avalanche. As Arnold sits lost in thought, torn between his love for Mathilde and his loyalty to his people, Melchtal reproaches his son, suggesting that he also should have found a partner by now to take part in the sacred Helvetian ceremonies. Costume rendering for Melchtal, designed by Vita Tzykun. Image courtesy of Vita Tzykun.

The Helvetians leave to continue preparations, and Arnold remains behind. He privately ponders his feelings for Mathilde. Finding Arnold alone, Tell presses him to declare his loyalties. Arnold wavers. Tell urges him to remain true to his people by fighting for Helvetian freedom. Horns sound, announcing the impending arrival of the tyrannical Gessler. Arnold agrees to help the Helvetian Resistance, but remains conflicted, knowing that it would mean saying goodbye to Mathilde. The secret wedding ceremony commences, guarded by William and other Helvetians armed with crossbows. Melchtal and Hedwige bless the three couples as singing, dancing, and an archery contest unfold. Jemmy emerges victorious in the archery tournament. Amid the shouts and cheers, Jemmy notices Leuthold, a Helvetian who has killed one of Gessler's soldiers after the man brutally assaulted his daughter. Leuthold has fled to the festival, hoping to escape Gessler's pursuing soldiers by crossing the lake. Ruodi refuses to ferry him across, both because a storm is brewing and because he was just tortured by Allemanian guards and knows well the price of defiance. Tell volunteers to brave the storm himself and deliver Leuthold to safety, as the advancing Allemanians demand his blood. With Tell's help, Leuthold escapes. Gessler's soldiers, led by their captain Rudolph, demand to know who aided Leuthold's escape, threatening the guilty party with imminent death. Melchtal urges the Helvetians to hold their silence and is taken captive. Rudolph singles out a Helvetian woman to make an example of her, and he and his soldiers begin to publicly assault her. Melchtal intervenes to save her, and Rudolph, enraged, brutalizes him before his fellow Helvetians.

ACT 2 Mathilde, a member of a powerful Allemanian oligarch family, finds her way to a forest clearing where she is to meet Arnold. She is uneasy in occupied territory and unaware that Melchtal has been taken. Self-possessed, and increasingly sickened by the world that raised her, she has come to see Arnold as her way out of it. As night falls, Arnold appears in the forest. Each confesses their longing and desire, only to despair Costume rendering for Gessler, designed by Vita Tzykun. Image courtesy of Vita Tzykun.

at the obstacles before them. The two try to find a version of a future that the current political order would recognize and settle on Arnold taking a commission in the Allemanian ranks. Hearing William Tell and Walter Furst approach, Mathilde slips away, promising to return to Arnold the following morning. William and Walter, a Helvetian Resistance commando, press Arnold about his love for Mathilde, questioning his loyalty to his people. Incensed, Arnold declares he will fight for the Allemanians—but then learns from Walter that his father, Melchtal, has been executed by Rudolph. Overcome with despair and guilt, Arnold reaffirms his allegiance to the Helvetians and vows revenge. The three pledge to win Helvetian independence or die in the attempt. Footsteps approach as representatives from the neighboring peoples of Unterwald, Schwyz, and Uri arrive, pledging their communities as allies to the Helvetian cause. Together, they resolve to avenge Melchtal's death, bring down Gessler, and drive out the Allemanians.

ACT 3 At a lavish state event celebrating his rule, Gessler has invited his most supportive oligarchs to witness the unveiling of a new surveillance device. Helvetians are ordered to come forward and be scanned so their biometric data can be collected. Tell and Jemmy are among those in attendance. While some, seeing no alternative, submit to the scan, Tell refuses. Rudolph arrests him, recognizing him as the man who helped Leuthold escape. Tell attempts to send Jemmy to protect Hedwige and alert their allies for the coming uprising, but Gessler orders his guards to detain her as well. Enraged by Tell's defiance, Gessler commands him to shoot an apple from atop Jemmy's head with his crossbow, warning that refusal will mean death for them both. Jemmy reassures her anguished father, confident in his skill as a marksman. Tell implores his daughter to stand perfectly still, and he succeeds.

Costume rendering for Mathilde, designed by Vita Tzykun. Image courtesy of Vita Tzykun.

As the Helvetians erupt in cheers, Gessler notices that Tell had kept a second arrow at the ready. Tell admits that had his shot struck his daughter instead, the second arrow was meant for Gessler. Furious, Gessler orders his guards to seize Tell and Jemmy, but Mathilde rushes in just in time to take the girl into her protection. The Helvetians plead for mercy on Tell's behalf, and when Gessler refuses to relent, the Helvetians join hands in resistance. With nothing left to lose, William leads them in a chant, cursing Gessler. The Allemanian soldiers scatter as the Helvetians rise up, destroying the biometric scanning machine and forcing Gessler and his men to retreat.

ACT 4 The Allemanians retaliate by setting the Helvetians' cities ablaze. As families flee their burning homes, Arnold manages to save a family photo album that, unbeknownst to him, conceals a secret map to weapons hidden by his late father and William Tell. Joined by other Helvetians ready to fight, he distributes the hidden weapons among them, and—now armed—they set out for battle. A storm has swept in over the lakeshore. Hedwige, determined to go after Gessler herself in search of her husband, is held back by the Helvetian women, who fear she too would be taken captive. Jemmy, returned to her mother by Mathilde, tells Hedwige that Tell can be freed with Mathilde’s intervention. Leuthold arrives and reports that Tell has escaped. Reunited with her father, Jemmy hands him his crossbow and arrows. With a single shot, Tell kills Gessler, crying out: "Let Helvetia breathe!" Walter enters with a group of Helvetians and is astonished at the sight of the escaped William, who tells him that Gessler is now dead, but Helvetia can’t be free while Altdorf is still occupied. Arnold then arrives with news that, after heavy casualties from his unit, Altdorf has been liberated. Victorious in battle alongside his wounded countrymen, he reunites with Mathilde, who declares her allegiance to the Helvetian cause. The storm passes, and light shines over a newly liberated Helvetia. As families reunite, the losses of battle are keenly felt. The Tell family offers comfort to a grieving widow, bearing witness to the truth that freedom is never free. Costume rendering for Hedwige, designed by Vita Tzykun. Image courtesy of Vita Tzykun.

CAST William Tell – baritone Hedwige, William Tell’s wife – mezzo-soprano Jemmy, William Tell’s daughter – soprano Mathilde, an Allemanian woman from a powerful family – soprano Arnold, Melchtal’s son – tenor Melchtal, a respected Helvetian elder – bass Gessler, an Allemanian dictator – bass Rudolph, Gessler’s military captain – tenor Walter Furst, a Helvetian solider – bass Ruodi, a tech worker – tenor Leuthold, a Helvetian – bass

Costume rendering for Helvetian citizens during the finale, designed by Vita Tzykun. Image courtesy of Vita Tzykun.

A SHARP KNIFE FOR A DANGEROUS OPERA

Crafting a New Edition of Rossini’s Guillaume Tell By David Adam Moore & Vita Tzykun, Co-Directors

Most people have heard William Tell without ever knowing that it was William Tell. A two-minute stretch of the opera’s overture —music that has scored countless cartoon chases and commercials — is among the most recognized pieces of music in the Western canon. Yet the opera that produced it, Rossini’s Guillaume Tell, remains one of the least performed masterworks of its caliber, primarily due to its staggering original duration of nearly four hours. Commissioned for the Paris Opéra, it was tailored to an institution whose patrons demanded total spectacle: high drama, virtuosic singing, extended ballets, grand processions, striking tableaux — a

veritable marathon of high art. Yet even for an audience accustomed to such richness, the opera’s sheer length proved unsustainable: cuts were deemed necessary after just three performances. Today, almost no companies stage this opera in its

Still from a 1963 Cheerios commercial where Bullwinkle recites a William Tell-inspired poem. Photo credit: Jay Ward Productions, Inc.

entirety, and almost every company that stages it at all presents a version that someone — at some point — reworked. The liberating thing for us was that there is no single “correct” Guillaume Tell — no untouchable order to violate. Every prior production had already made its own arrangement of the puzzle pieces. That gave us permission to make ours. Rossini wrote Guillaume Tell in 1829, at thirty-seven, at the height of his powers — and then, famously, never wrote another opera again, despite living nearly another forty years. As his magnum opus, Guillaume Tell represents both the summit of his ambition and the weight of his excess. Our task in reimagining the work was to distill it down to its narrative essence, separating the dramatic engine that drives the plot from the ornamental proof of how much one man could create within a single masterpiece. For us, the core thesis of the piece is the primal urge towards freedom and the astonishing lengths people will go to reclaim it when threatened. Once we zeroed in on that message, it guided every decision about what propelled the storyline forward and what diluted it or held it back. The question we kept returning to was never “How short can we make this?” It was “Does this minute earn its place?” Every scene we kept had to do real work: advance the story, deepen a character, or actively sustain the emotional temperature of a moment.

A GUIDING HAND In this process, we were fortunate to have the visionary director and theatre innovator, Anne Bogart, as our guide. As a director, Anne has spent decades reshaping what a piece of theatre can be, building a career on asking what an audience actually needs from a work, rather than deferring to what tradition says they should have. As BLO’s Artistic Associate, she brought that same instinct to our work on William Tell. Our discussions with her led us to ask why a scene needed to exist at all, why it needed to happen where it happened, what an audience was meant to feel in it

Gioacchino Rossini by Étienne Carjat, 1865, restored by Adam Cuerden. Public Domain

that they could not feel somewhere else, and how one scene could contribute more effectively to propelling the next. Those questions may appear deceptively simple on the surface; yet they are often the most difficult ones to answer. Musically, we were guided throughout by the generous, collaborative approach of David Angus, BLO’s Music Director and the conductor of this production, who helped ensure that every key musical moment found its place in our version of the piece. He rescued a couple of treasured passages and helped us to bridge sections where harmonic progressions and melodic gestures could be made to flow into one another more smoothly. His command of music theory, stylistic knowledge, and musical sensitivity were invaluable assets in making this edition work.

THE CRITERIA: TENSION AND RELEASE The cutting itself followed a principle both of us teach at the Eugene O’Neill Theater Center’s National Theater Institute and at the University of California, Davis. The rule is easy to state, hard to apply: each scene’s music and text must bear a causal relationship to the scene that follows it. That causal chain generates momentum, and momentum sustains the larger arc of tension and release across an entire evening. This reframes what cutting actually is. It is not subtraction; it is construction — rewelding the links of a score so that each scene loads

the spring for the next, so that every moment earns the right to pull attention toward what comes after it. A passage could be gorgeous, but if it fails to hand off the tension that the following moment desperately needs to inherit, we choose to let it go.

TWO LENSES As a director/designer team, we brought our own instruments to the cutting table. One of us, David, happens to be an operatic baritone who sings dozens of leading roles on the world's major stages, spending much of his life inside these scores, at the front edge of the action. That vantage point confers a particular kind of knowledge: navigating a threehour dramatic machine in real time, you learn exactly where an audience’s attention is transfixed, and where it begins to drift. That sense of musical and theatrical time became invaluable in deciding where momentum was being gained or lost. Vita brings a different native grammar entirely, one rooted in her experience designing for film and for pop concerts for artists like Lady Gaga, Courtney Love, and Liz Phair — worlds where visual pacing is everything, and where an audience is never captive for more than a couple of hours at a time. In those mediums, every second has to actively re-earn attention. That instinct, born from forms in which you cannot afford a single moment of drift, is uncommon in opera and precisely what a distillation like this one demands. The singer’s

inside-out sense of theatrical time and the designer’s outside-in sense of the cut turned out to be two routes to the same question: does this moment move us forward, or does it ask an audience to wait?

A WORK THAT HAS ALWAYS BEEN REMADE The permission we felt to reshape this opera is not a modern liberty. It is written into the work’s entire history — beginning with Rossini himself. In addition to the cuts made during its 1829 premiere run, by spring 1831, Rossini and his librettist Hippolyte Bis had prepared a three-act edition, repurposing the overture's galloping finale as its new ending. This version became the basis for the Paris Opéra's future productions. If the composer was willing to take the knife to his own magnum opus, no company since has felt bound to preserve it whole. The tradition runs deeper than length alone. Because the opera’s subject — a people rising against an occupying tyrant — posed a political problem, censors across nineteenth-century Europe forced it into hiding. In Italy, where the work glorified a revolutionary figure defying authority, productions were limited: Naples’ Teatro San Carlo staged it in 1833 and then gave no further production for roughly fifty years. Elsewhere, the opera survived by disguising its own coordinates entirely. To slip past official scrutiny, it was performed under other names

and in other settings, with completely reworked libretti to match — as Hofer, the Tell of Tyrol in London, as Charles the Bold in St. Petersburg, as Guglielmo Vallace — the William Wallace of Mel Gibson’s Braveheart — at La Scala in Milan in 1836, and as Rodolfo di Sterlinga in Bologna. The story of liberation had to keep changing its face in order to be told at all. The source material proved even more dangerous. Schiller’s 1804 play, on which the opera is based, became so politically charged that it was eventually banned outright. Before the Second World War, Hitler embraced the Tell legend — he had quoted Schiller in Mein Kampf

Portrait of Hippolyte Bis (also known as L.F. Bis) by Jean-Francois Garneray, 1825. Public Domain

and approved a German-Swiss coproduction of the play — but on June 3, 1941 his government banned it entirely. The reason remains undocumented, though it is generally linked to the play’s glorification of tyrannicide and to a failed 1938 assassination attempt on Hitler by a young Swiss man, Maurice Bavaud, later dubbed “a new William Tell.” Hitler is said to have lamented that, of all writers, Schiller had chosen to immortalize a Swiss marksman who struck down a tyrant. A story about killing an oppressor had become too dangerous for an oppressor to allow. The lesson of that history is clear: Guillaume Tell has always been a vessel for whatever freedom struggle its moment required. To relocate it is not to impose politics on a neutral work. It is to join a lineage in which relocation and reinterpretation are not modern indignities but the oldest survival strategy the work has ever known.

WORLD-BUILDING: OUR HELVETIA Our own relocation follows that same instinct. We transpose Rossini’s Swiss struggle into a world whose power dynamics feel immediately familiar to contemporary audiences. The first step was to create some space between our story world and any extant national identities or conflicts. We renamed the story’s rival nations in our discussions, design materials, and rehearsals. The

libretto does much of the work for us here, as we had only to use Anglicized forms of the words it prefers: Helvetians came from L’Helvétie, the French libretto’s term for Switzerland — and Allemanians came from L’Allemagne, its term for the land of the Austrian invaders. In our world, Helvetia is a recently failed democracy that has become fragmented through economic disruption and political collapse. In the wake of this turmoil, Tell’s clan of Helvetians has had its independence seized by a faction of a loose confederation of authoritarian oligarchies, led by the warlord Gessler. Gessler and his magnate allies seek to

Painting of playwright Friedrich Schiller by Ludovike Simanowiz, 1793-1794. Public Domain

erase Helvetian identity, extract the people’s labor and resources, and exert total control over every dimension of public and private life. Using cues from the libretto and a variety of cultural references, we’ve fleshed out two starkly contrasting cultures to guide the design, behavioral logic, and stage action. The Helvetians are egalitarian, deeply spiritual, and fiercely communal, their existence organized around family, ancient ritual, and an unapologetic love of life. Their clothing reflects both their poverty and their resilience: layered, repaired, earth-toned, shaped by handme-downs and proximity to nature. Hidden from the authorities, their sacred ritual garments — embroidered, bright, adorned with symbols drawn from folk traditions — represent an underground continuity of identity and defiance. As the resistance intensifies, tactical layers begin to emerge: vests, balaclavas, and deliberate flashes of forbidden color. Red, explicitly banned by the Allemanian regime, becomes the ultimate symbol of resistance and cultural pride. The Allemanians, by contrast, are defined by uniformity, efficiency, and hierarchy; their palette is dark, their silhouettes sharp and angular, their dress immaculate — the visual language of dominance. Rigid gender norms govern every aspect of Allemanian life, while Helvetian society openly honors and celebrates love in all its forms, including same-sex unions, as part of communal life.

Only two characters move between both worlds. Arnold, Helvetian by birth, once served in the Allemanian army and stands ready to return — driven not by ideology but by love: his devotion to Mathilde, an Allemanian woman who belongs to a powerful family allied with Gessler. Mathilde carries her status lightly; though born into the occupying culture, she internally holds the values of the people it oppresses. In the end, she crosses the line entirely, forsaking her privilege to stand alongside Arnold and the Helvetians — a reminder that allegiance, unlike birth, is a choice.

A FOCUSED VIEW This world, with all its specificity and urgency, is what our cut makes possible. Clearing away what was written for another century’s expectations lets the core stand exposed — and that core turns out to be startlingly familiar to modern audiences: a story about occupation, the attempted erasure of a culture and its refusal to vanish, and the staggering price people will pay to reclaim their freedom. What emerges from our edition is not a smaller Tell but a concentrated one: an action-forward, two-and-a-half-hour drama that moves with the momentum of a thriller while keeping Rossini’s grandeur fully intact.

OUR STORY AND ITS PLAYERS By BLO Staff

William Tell is a story whose themes many of us may find familiar. We may find threads of its ideas woven into our families’ histories, our personal lives, and our collective experience of the present moment. Consequently, we invited our artists – our most visible storytellers – to share how William Tell connects to their lives and experiences. The questions below use William Tell as a starting point. Beyond this, they reflect broader themes of BLO’s 50th Anniversary season: who we love, what we miss, and what home means to us. These ideas are also shaping Boston's Community Opera, which premieres in May 2027. As you explore the following reflections from our artists, we hope that you will take a moment to sit with these questions for yourself, your loved ones, and your community.

On what we miss — home, memory, and what we carry The people of William Tell find their homeland under threat and are willing to risk everything to fight to keep it. How has your own home – or your understanding of it – changed, shifted, or expanded during your life?

Dana Lynne Varga (Jemmy, cover): I grew up in Westchester, NY. Upon visiting Boston as a young teenager, I felt inexplicably drawn to this city, like an invisible force. I knew almost immediately that it was my true home. I never expected to consider anywhere other than my childhood home my true home, but it was as if my entire being knew it was where I belonged. I moved to Boston at 17 and have been here for over two decades. I can't imagine living anywhere else.

Sohyun Cho (Chorus member): Before coming to the United States, I thought of home simply as the place where I was born and raised. But after

moving across countries, studying abroad, and building a new life here, my understanding of home has changed. I’ve come to realize that home is not just a place. It is where the people I love—my family, friends, and the people who become family—are. It is also the connections we create through music. Whether we are in a rehearsal studio, on an opera stage, in a classroom, or even gathered in an ordinary park, those moments of genuine connection can feel like home.

Anonymous: My home(s) have shifted a few times from location to location, but family remains a constant, so a relocation instantly becomes home.

Is there a place, a tradition, or a person you've ever had to leave behind? What do you miss most, and how do you keep it close?

Anonymous: Where I grew up, the small town I left... I love traveling there and bringing back mementos (food, clothing, etc.) as reminders.

On what we fight for — community, resistance, and the future William Tell is about ordinary people coming together to resist oppression. What moments of community solidarity have you witnessed, taken part in, or been inspired by – either personally or in the broader world?

Dana Lynne Varga: The community solidarity of the singers in Boston is something to behold, and something other cities should strive for. Together we have stood up for fair pay (almost doubling the average church pay across the greater Boston area) and created dozens of companies, organizations, choirs, and projects to provide opportunities. Boston singers watch out for each other, refer each other for jobs, and work together to keep our arts scene vibrant.

Sohyun Cho: One of the places where I feel this most deeply is in the rehearsal room. There is something extraordinary about a group of people coming together to tell the same story. We each bring different experiences, emotions, and perspectives, yet we dedicate our time and energy to creating something larger than ourselves. Through that shared purpose, strangers become colleagues, colleagues become friends, and together we build a temporary home.

Anonymous: My family goes to our local polling place for a sense of community.

Have you or your family lived through a time of standing up to power, experiencing displacement, or starting over? What did that ask of you, and what did it reveal?

Nina Yoshida Nelsen (Hedwige, BLO Artistic Director): My grandparents were Japanese American, both born in the United States. In their late teens/ early twenties, during WWII, the U.S. government forced them from their homes in Los Angeles into an incarceration camp at Poston, Arizona —two of roughly 120,000 people incarcerated, two-thirds of them American citizens, whose only "crime" was their ancestry. My grandparents didn't know each other before camp. They met there, behind barbed wire, in the middle of being told by their own country that their presence was a threat. My grandfather later volunteered for the 442nd Infantry Regiment, the segregated Japanese American unit that became the most decorated for time served in U.S. military history — men who fought for a country that had just imprisoned their families. I didn't inherit this as a lesson so much as a texture: how my family talks about hardship without self-pity, what we consider worth fighting for, an instinct toward quiet endurance I've had to learn when to override. In my family, standing up to power didn't look like one dramatic act. It looked like a generation rebuilding a life anyway, and the next refusing to let the silence become permanent. What it asks of me now is to tell the story out loud, in rooms that would rather not sit with it. What it revealed is that displacement doesn't end when the circumstance does — it gets metabolized and passed down for generations. My work, as a performer and now as an artistic director, is largely an argument with that inheritance: using the visibility my grandparents were denied so the next generation can fight less hard to be seen.

What kind of home do you intend to build – for yourself, your family, or your community?

Nina Yoshida Nelsen: The home I want to build is one where art in Boston makes the world more just and more beautiful — not as an abstraction, but as a daily practice. When I think about what I have the opportunity to build, I think about a legacy: what my kids — and their kids — will inherit from the choices I'm making now. For me, that means treating Boston Lyric Opera not just as a producer of performances but as a builder of community — a place where the art reflects the city it serves, where a young Asian American singer can see someone who looks like them in a leading role, where audiences who might never have felt invited to the opera find a reason to walk through the door. It means using the platform I have now, as someone who fought for visibility as a performer, to

make that visibility structural rather than incidental — so it doesn't depend on any one person's advocacy to exist. I think about impact in terms of decades, not seasons. The programming decisions, the commissions, the partnerships I build today are the home and community my grandchildren will inherit— a Boston arts community where justice and beauty aren't in tension, where the work is good enough to move people and honest enough to cause them to think about the world they inhabit, and where the door I walked through gets a little wider for everyone who comes after me.

On those we love — and those who shape us Who were the heroes of your childhood? Think of public figures, family members, fictional characters, and people you encountered in your daily life. What did they teach you about courage and what it can look like?

Anonymous: JFK for me, even though I was very young when he was assassinated... I was inspired by his life.

William Tell turns on the bond between a parent and child under impossible pressure. What relationships or circumstances have led you to understand what you'd risk for the people you love?

Anonymous: I went through a divorce and was separated from my young son.

On telling this story — in this time and place Which aspects of this story speak to you? Which are you most eager to bring to life?

Dana Lynne Varga: I admire the bravery of my character Jemmy, putting full faith in her father's ability with a bow and arrow and encouraging him despite her life being at stake. Her commitment to the cause is evident and her bond with her father even more so.

What do you hope our audiences take with them after experiencing this story?

Dana Lynne Varga: Freedom is won through sacrifice and community strength.

Sohyun Cho: Beyond its story of courage and resistance, [William Tell] reminds me that home is something we create together. It lives not only in the places we come from, but also in the communities we choose to build and the stories we share.

Anonymous: Strength of community.

LISTEN UP!  by BLO Staff

Everybody knows the overture to William Tell, but most only know the fourth part – you may recognize it as the theme to The Lone Ranger – so I recommend that everyone starts with the first 3 minutes of the overture, which features amazing, passionate music for a quintet of solo cellos. This immediately announces to the world that this is not the Rossini of The Barber of Seville, with his delicate orchestral humour and spectacular coloratura singing. Instead, we enter the world of early Verdi: real passion (verismo) and very different, powerful, expressive vocal writing. It is really not very far from William Tell to Rigoletto! There are three beautiful standout arias, which sometimes get performed in concerts, so you might have heard them before: •

“Sombre forêt” (track 25) at the start of act 2, when Mathilde is awaiting Arnold, her lover

•

“Sois immobile” (track 54, or CD3 track 6) in act 3, where Tell begs his daughter Jemmy* to keep still when he shoots at the apple on her head

•

“Asile héréditaire” (track 60, or CD3 track 12) early in act 4, where Arnold mourns the loss of his father

However, my favourite music is the love duet between Mathilde and Arnold, “Doux aveu!” (track 28, or CD2 track 7) – exquisite lyrical writing for the voices, which intertwine beautifully, to delicate woodwind accompaniments. There are many picturesque choruses, but I always find that the big ensembles are where composers really let go and reach expressive heights. The heart of this opera for me is the so-called quartet, which includes the chorus of soldiers as well (track 51, or CD3 track 3). This is where Tell gives away his devotion to his child, which leads to the famous test. After a martial opening, Tell sings wonderfully long lyrical lines, and the texture builds up, with the voice of his child floating over the top of the ensemble. *In the original opera, Jemmy is William Tell’s son.

The final chorus and ensemble (final track) is very unusual: no fireworks, just a wonderful, long and slow transcendental buildup for the full company as they realise a new age is dawning. The opera ends in this warm, trance-like mood, with none of the usual high energy finale excitement. This is a very original work, and not at all what one might expect from the more familiar music that Rossini wrote before. It is deeply passionate and expressive, and one can only wonder how much further he might have developed if he hadn’t simply stopped writing operas after this wonderful final work. I can’t wait to work on it with our spectacular cast, chorus, and orchestra!

GENERAL QUESTIONS TO GUIDE YOUR LISTENING • What instruments do you hear? • How fast is the music? Are there sudden changes in speed? Is the rhythm steady or unsteady? • Key/Mode: Is it major or minor? (Does it sound bright, happy, sad, urgent, dangerous?) • Dynamics/Volume: Is the music loud or soft? Are there sudden changes in volume (either in the voice or orchestra)? • What is the shape of the melodic line? Does the voice move smoothly, or does it make frequent or erratic jumps? Do the vocal lines move noticeably downward or upward? • Does the type of voice singing (baritone, soprano, tenor, mezzo, etc.) have an effect on you as a listener? • Do the melodies end as you would expect, or do they surprise you? • How does the music make you feel? What effect do the factors above have on you as a listener? • What is the orchestra doing in contrast to the voice? How do the two interact? • What kinds of images, settings, or emotions come to mind? Does it remind you of anything you have experienced in your own life? • Do particularly emphatic notes (low, high, held, etc.) correspond to dramatic moments? • What type of character (romantic, comic, serious, etc.) fits this music?

Costume rendering for a Helvetian bride and groom, designed by Vita Tzykun. Image courtesy of Vita Tzykun.

THE HISTORY OF OPERA People have been telling stories through music for millennia throughout the world. Opera is an art form that is over 400 years old, with roots in Western Europe. Here is a brief timeline of its lineage.

RENAISSANCE 1500-1620

BAROQUE 1600-1750

CLASSICAL 1730-1820

Please note that all date ranges for these time periods are approximate, and notice that some even overlap. 24

ROMANTIC 1790-1910

20th CENTURY 1900-2000

RENAISSANCE (1500-1620)

1573 The Florentine

Camerata was founded in Italy, devoted to reviving ancient Greek musical traditions, including sung drama.

1607 Claudio Monteverdi

(1567-1643) wrote L’Orfeo, the first opera to become popular, marking him as the premier opera composer of his day and bridging the gap between Renaissance and Baroque music. His works are still performed today.

1598 Jacopo Peri (1561-

1633), a member of the Camerata, composed the world’s first opera – Dafne – reviving the classic myth.

Toccata from L’Orfeo. Claudio Monteverdi Favola in musica. Reprint of the First Edition of the Score, Venice 1609 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

1637 The first public opera house, Teatro

San Cassiano, was built in Venice, Italy.

BAROQUE (1600-1750)

1673 Jean-Baptiste Lully (1632-1687), an Italian-born

composer, brought opera to the French court, creating a unique style, tragédie en musique, that better suited the French language. Blurring the lines between recitative and aria, he created fast-paced dramas to suit the tastes of French aristocrats.

1689 Henry Purcell’s (1659-1695)

simple and elegant chamber opera, Dido and Aeneas, premiered at Josias Priest’s boarding school for girls in London.

1712 George Frederic Handel

(1685-1759), a German-born composer, moved to London, where he found immense success writing intricate and highly ornamented Italian opera seria (serious opera). Ornamentation refers to stylized, fast-moving notes, usually improvised by the singer to make a musical line more interesting and to showcase their vocal talent.

Dido and Aeneas, 1747, Pompeo Batoni [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

1805 Ludwig van Beethoven

CLASSICAL (1730-1820)

(1770-1827), although a prolific composer, wrote only one opera, Fidelio. The extremes of musical expression in Beethoven’s music pushed the boundaries in the late Classical period and inspired generations of Romantic composers.

1816

1750s A reform movement, led by

Christoph Willibald Gluck (1714-1787), rejected the flashy ornamented style of the Baroque in favor of simple, refined music to enhance the drama.

The Magic Flute playbill for the premiere, 30 September 1791 [Public domain], via

1767

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. Posthumous painting by Barbara Krafft in 1819 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (1756-1791) wrote his first opera at age 11, beginning his 25-year opera career. Mozart mastered and then innovated in several operatic forms. He wrote opera serias (serious operas), including La Clemenza di Tito; and opera buffas (comedic operas) like Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro). He then combined the two genres in Don Giovanni, calling it dramma giocoso (comedic drama). Mozart also innovated the Singspiel, a German sung play featuring spoken dialogue, as in Die Zauberflöte (The Magic Flute).

Gioachino Rossini (1792-1868) composed Il barbiere di Siviglia (The Barber of Seville), becoming the most prodigious opera composer in Italy by age 24. He wrote 39 operas in 20 years. A new compositional style created by Rossini and his contemporaries, including Gaetano Donizetti and Vincenzo Bellini, would, a century later, be referred to as bel canto (beautiful singing). Bel canto compositions were inspired by the nuanced vocal capabilities of the human voice and its expressive potential. Composers employed strategic use of register, the push and pull of tempo (rubato), extremely smooth and connected phrases (legato), and vocal glides (portamento).

1853 Giuseppe Verdi (1813-1901)

completed La Traviata, a story of love, loss, and the struggle of average people, in the increasingly popular realistic style of verismo. Verdi enjoyed immense acclaim during his lifetime, while expanding opera to include larger orchestras, extravagant sets and costumes, and more highly trained voices.

ROMANTIC (1790-1910)

Giuseppe Verdi, by Giovanni Boldini, 1886 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

The Golden Age of Opera 1842 Inspired by the risqué popular entertainment

of French vaudeville, Hervé (1825-1892) created the first operetta, a short comedic musical drama with spoken dialogue. Responding to popular trends, this new form stood in contrast to the increasingly serious and dramatic works at the grand Parisian opera house. Opéra comique as a genre was often not comic, tending to be more realistic or humanistic instead. Grand opera, on the contrary, was exaggerated and melodramatic.

1865 Richard Wagner’s

1871 Influenced by French

operetta, English librettist W.S. Gilbert (1836-1911) and composer Arthur Sullivan (1842-1900) began their 25-year partnership, which produced 14 comic operettas, including The Pirates of Penzance and The Mikado. Their works inspired the genre of American musical theatre.

(1813-1883) Tristan und Isolde was the beginning of musical modernism, pushing the use of traditional harmony to its extreme. His massively ambitious, lengthy operas, often based in German folklore, sought to synthesize music, theatre, poetry, and visuals in what he called a Gesamtkunstwerk (total work of art). The most famous of these was an epic four-opera drama, Der Ring des Nibelungen, which took him 26 years to write and was completed in 1874.

Richard Wagner. Photo taken 1871 in Munich via Wikimedia Commons

1927 American musical Mikado theatre poster, Edinburgh, 1885 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

ROMANTIC (1790-1910)

theatre, commonly referred to as Broadway, was taken more seriously after Jerome Kern’s (1885-1945) Show Boat, with words by Oscar Hammerstein II (1895-1960), tackled issues of racial segregation and the ban on interracial marriage in Mississippi.

1874

Johann Strauss II, (1825-1899) influenced largely by his father, with whom he shared a name and talent, composed Die Fledermaus, popularizing Viennese musical traditions, namely the waltz, and further shaping operetta.

1922 1896

Giacomo Puccini’s (1858-1924) La bohème captivated audiences with its intensely beautiful music, realism, and raw emotion. Puccini enjoyed huge acclaim during his lifetime for his works.

A scene from a 19th-century version of the play The Barber of Seville by Pierre Beaumarchais. Its origins in the commedia dell’arte are shown in this picture, which portrays Figaro dressed in the costume and mask of Harlequin. 1884 [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

Scott Joplin. Public Domain.

1911 Scott Joplin,

(1868-1917) “The King of Ragtime,” wrote his only opera, Treemonisha, which was not performed until 1972. The work combined the European lateRomantic operatic style with African American folk songs, spirituals, and dances. The libretto, also by Joplin, was written at a time when when African Americans in the southern United States rarely had access to literacy resources and education.

Alban Berg (1885-1935) composed the first completely atonal opera, Wozzeck, dealing with uncomfortable themes of militarism and social exploitation. Wozzeck is in the style of 12-tone music, or serialism. This new compositional style, developed in Vienna by composer Arnold Schoenberg (1874-1951), placed equal importance on each of the 12 pitches in a chromatic scale (all half steps), removing the sense of the music being in a particular key.

Porgy and Bess by the New York Harlem Theatre 2009. Courtesy of New York Harlem Theatre

1987 1945 British composer Benjamin

Britten (1913-1976) gained international recognition with his opera Peter Grimes. Britten, along with Ralph Vaughan Williams (1872-1958), was one of the first British opera composers to gain fame in nearly 300 years.

20TH CENTURY (1900-2000)

John Adams (b. 1947) composed one of the great minimalist operas, Nixon in China, the story of Nixon’s 1972 meeting with Chinese leader Mao Zedong. Musical minimalism strips music down to its essential elements, usually featuring a great deal of repetition with slight variations. Pulitzer Prize-winning contemporary composer Ellen Reid. Photo courtesy of Ellen Reid

1935 American

composer George Gershwin (1898-1937), who was influenced by African American music and culture, debuted his opera, Porgy and Bess, in Boston, MA with an all-African American cast of classically trained singers. His contemporary, William Grant Still (1895-1978), a master of European grand opera, fused that with the African American experience and mythology. His first opera, Blue Steel, premiered in 1934, one year before Porgy and Bess.

1986

Leonard Bernstein via Creative Commons

1957

Leonard Bernstein (1918-1990), known for synthesizing musical genres, brought together the best of American musical theatre, opera, and ballet in West Side Story, a reimagining of Romeo and Juliet in a contemporary setting.

Anthony Davis (b. 1951) premiered his first of many operas, X: The Life and Time of Malcom X, which reclaims stories of Black historical figures within the theatre space. He incorporated both the orchestral and vocal techniques of jazz and classical European opera in his score for a distinctly American sound, and a fully realized vision of how jazz and opera are in conversation within a work.

Today

Still a vibrant, evolving art form, opera attracts contemporary composers such as Philip Glass (b. 1937), Jake Heggie (b. 1961), Terence Blanchard (b. 1962), Ellen Reid (b. 1983), and many others. Composers continue to be influenced by present and historical musical forms in creating new operas that explore current issues or reimagine ancient tales.

Six-time GRAMMY® Award-winning jazz musician and composer Terence Blanchard. Creativity Commons

Photograph of William Grant Still taken by Carl Van Vechten. Creativity Commons

THE SCIENCE AND ART OF OPERA

So Young Park as the Queen of the Night in Mozart’s The Magic Flute. Photo: Eric Antoniou

WHY DO OPERA SINGERS SOUND LIKE THAT? Opera is unique among forms of singing in that singers are trained to be able to sing without amplification, in large theaters, over an entire orchestra, and still be heard and understood! This is what sets the art form of opera apart from similar forms such as musical theatre. To become a professional opera singer, it takes years of intense physical training and constant practice — not unlike that of a ballet dancer — to stay in shape. Poor health, especially respiratory issues and even allergies, can be severely debilitating for a professional opera singer. Let’s peek into some of the science of this art form.

HOW THE VOICE WORKS Singing requires different parts of the body to work together: the lungs, the vocal cords, the vocal tract, and the articulators (lips, teeth, and tongue). The lungs create a flow of air over the vocal cords, which vibrate. That vibration is amplified by the vocal tract and broken up into words by consonants, which are shaped by the articulators.

BREATH:

VIBRATION:

Any good singer will tell you that good breath support is essential to produce quality sound. Breath is like the gas that goes into your car. Without it, nothing runs. In order to sing long phrases of music with clarity and volume, opera singers access their full lung capacity by keeping their torso elongated and releasing the lower abdomen and diaphragm muscles, which allows air to enter into the lower lobes of the lungs. This is why we associate a certain posture with opera singers. In the past, many operas were staged with singers standing in one place to deliver an entire aria or scene, with minimal activity. Modern productions, however, often demand a much greater range of movement and agility onstage, requiring performers to be physically versatile, and bringing more visual interest, authenticity of expression, and nuanced acting into the storytelling.

If you run your fingers along your throat, you will feel a little lump just underneath your chin. That is your “Adam’s Apple,” and right behind it, housed in the larynx (voice-box), are your vocal cords. When air from the lungs crosses over the vocal cords it creates an area of low pressure (Google The Bernoulli Effect), which brings the cords together and makes them vibrate. This vibration produces a buzz. The vocal chords can be lengthened or shortened by muscles in the larynx, or by changing the speed of air flow. This change in the length and thickness of the vocal cords is what allows singers to create different pitches. Higher pitches require long, thin cords, while low pitches require short, thick ones. Professional singers take great pains to protect the delicate anatomy of their vocal cords with hydration and rest, as the tiniest scarring or inflammation can have noticeable effects on the quality of sound produced.

RESONANCE:

Without the resonating chambers in the head, the buzzing of the vocal cords would sound very unpleasant. The vocal tract, a term encompassing the mouth cavity, and the back of the throat, down to the larynx, shapes the buzzing of the vocal cords like a sculptor shapes clay. Shape your mouth in an ee vowel (as in eat), then sharply inhale a few times. The cool sensation you feel at the top and back of your mouth is your soft palate. The soft palate can raise or lower to change the shape of the vocal tract. Opera singers often sing with a raised soft palate, which allows for the greatest amplification of the sound produced by the vocal cords. Different vowel sounds are produced by raising or lowering the tongue, and changing the shape of the lips. Say the vowels: ee, eh, ah, oh, oo and notice how each vowel requires a slightly lower tongue placement and slightly rounder lips. This area of vocal training is particularly difficult because none of the anatomy is visible from the outside!

ARTICULATION:

The lips, teeth, and tongue are all used to create consonant sounds, which separate words into syllables and make language intelligible. Consonants must be clear and audible for the singer to be understood. Because opera singers do not sing with amplification, their articulation must be particularly good. The challenge lies in producing crisp, rapid consonants without interrupting the connection of the vowels (through the controlled exhalation of breath) within the musical phrase.

Perfecting every element of this complex singing system requires years of training and is essential for the demands of the art form. An opera singer must be capable of singing for hours at a time, over the powerful volume of an orchestra, in large opera houses, while acting and delivering an artistic interpretation of the music. It is complete and total engagement of mental, physical, and emotional control and expression. Therefore, think of opera singers as the Olympic athletes of the stage, sit back, and marvel at what the human body is capable of! 35

DIFFERENT VOICE TYPES

Opera singers are cast into roles based on their tessitura (the range of notes they can sing most comfortably and effectively). There are many descriptors that accompany the basic voice types, but here are some of the most common ones:

Tenor:

Soprano

Baritone:

Bass

Baritone

Tenor

Contralto

Mezzo-Soprano

Bass:

The lowest voice, basses often fall into two main categories: basso buffo, which is a comic character who often sings in lower laughing-like tones, and basso profundo, which is as low as the human voice can sing! Doctor Bartolo is an example of a bass role in The Barber of Seville by Rossini.

A middle-range lower voice, baritones can range from sweet and mild in tone, to darker dramatic and full tones. A famous baritone role is Rigoletto in Verdi’s Rigoletto. Baritones who are most comfortable in a slightly lower range are known as BassBaritones, a hybrid of the two lowest voice types.

The highest of the lower-range voices, tenors often sing the role of the hero. One of the most famous tenor roles is Roméo in Gounod’s Roméo et Juliette. Sometimes, singers with lower-range voices also cultivate much higher ranges, singing in a range similar to a mezzo-soprano or soprano by using their falsetto register. Called the Countertenor, this voice type is often found in Baroque music. Countertenors replaced castrati in the heroic lead roles of Baroque opera after the practice of castration was deemed unethical.

Each of the voice types (soprano, mezzo-soprano, tenor, baritone, bass) also tends to be sub-characterized by tone descriptors such as “lyric” or “dramatic.” Lyric singers tend toward smooth lines in their music, sensitively expressed interpretation, and flexible agility. Dramatic singers have qualities that are attributed to darker, fuller, richer note qualities expressed powerfully and robustly with strong emotion. While it’s easiest to understand operatic voice types through these designations and descriptions, one of the most exciting things about listening to a singer perform is that each individual’s voice is essentially unique, so each singer will interpret a role in an opera in a slightly different way.

Soprano: Mezzo-Soprano: Contralto:

The lowest of the higher treble voices has a low range that overlaps with the highest tenor’s range. This voice type is less common.

Somewhat equivalent to an alto

role in a chorus, mezzo-sopranos (mezzo meaning “middle”) are known for their full and expressive qualities. While they don’t sing frequencies quite as high as sopranos, their ranges do overlap, and it is a “darker” tone that sets them apart. One of the most famous mezzo-soprano lead roles is Carmen in Bizet’s Carmen.

The highest voice. Some subtypes of the soprano voice include coloratura, lyric, and dramatic sopranos. Coloratura sopranos specialize in being able to sing fastmoving notes that are very high in frequency, often referred to as “color notes.” One of the most famous coloratura roles is the Queen of the Night in Mozart’s The Magic Flute.

THE PHYSICS OF OPERA SINGERS What is it about opera singers that allows them to be heard above the orchestra? It’s not that they simply singing louder. The qualities of sound have to do with the relationship between the frequency (pitch) of a sound, represented in a unit of measurement called hertz, and its amplitude, measured in decibels, which the ear perceives as loudness. Only artificially produced sounds, however, create a pure frequency and amplitude (these are the only kind that can break glass). The sound produced by a violin, a drum, a voice, or even smacking your hand on a table, produces a fundamental frequency as well as secondary, tertiary, etc. frequencies known as overtones, or as musicians call them, harmonics. The orchestra tunes to a concert “A” pitch before a performance. Concert “A” has a frequency of about 440 hertz, but that is not the only pitch you will hear. Progressively softer pitches above that fundamental pitch are produced in multiples of 440 at 880hz, 1320hz, 1760hz, etc. Each different instrument in the orchestra, because of its shape, construction, and mode in which it produces sound, produces different harmonics. This is what makes a violin, for example, have a different color (or timbre) from a trumpet. Generally, the harmonics of the instruments in the orchestra fade around 2500hz. Overtones produced by a human voice—whether speaking, yelling, or singing— are referred to as formants. As the demands of opera stars increased, vocal teachers discovered that by manipulating the empty space within the vocal tract, they could emphasize higher frequencies within the overtone series—frequencies above 2500hz. This technique allowed singers to perform without hurting their vocal cords, as they are not actually singing at a higher fundamental decibel level than the orchestra. Swedish voice scientist Johan Sundberg observed this phenomenon when he recorded the world-famous tenor Jussi Bjoerling in 1970. His research showed multiple peaks in decibel level, with the strongest frequency (overtone) falling between 2500 and 3000 hertz. This frequency, known as the singer’s formant, is the “sweet spot” for singers so that we hear their voices soaring over the orchestra into the opera house night after night. 38

Prof. Tecumseh Fitch, evolutionary biologist and cognitive scientist at the University of Vienna, explains the difference between a fundamental frequency and formant frequency in the human voice. For an opera singer, the lower two formants (peaks on a graph) determine the specific vowel sound. The third formant and above add overtones that are specific to each particular singer’s voice, like a fingerprint. When two people sing the same note simultaneously, the high overtones allow your ear to distinguish two voices.

A RESONANT PLACE The final piece of the puzzle in creating the perfect operatic sound is the opera house or theater itself. Designing the perfect acoustical space can be an almost impossible task, one which requires tremendous knowledge of science, engineering, and architecture, as well as an artistic sensibility. The goal of the acoustician is to make sure that everyone in the audience can clearly understand the music being produced onstage, no matter where they are sitting. A perfectly designed opera house or concert hall (for non-amplified sound) functions almost like gigantic musical instrument.

Boston Opera House, Photo by John Wolf

Boston Symphony Hall, opened in 1900, with acoustical design by Harvard physicist Wallace Clement Sabine, was the first concert hall to be designed with acoustic principles in mind. Each seat was mathematically designed and placed for acoustical perfection.

Reverberation is one key aspect in making a singer’s words intelligible or an orchestra’s melodies clear. Imagine the sound your voice would make in the shower or a cave. The echo you hear is reverberation caused by the large, hard, smooth surfaces. Too much reverberation (bouncing sound waves) can make words difficult to understand. Resonant vowel sounds overlap as they bounce off hard surfaces and cover up quieter consonant sounds. In these environments, sound carries a long way but becomes unclear or — as it is sometimes called — wet, as if the sound were underwater. Acousticians can mitigate these effects by covering smooth surfaces with textured materials like fabric, perforated metal, or diffusers, which absorb and disperse sound. These tools, however, must be used carefully, as too much absorption can make a space dry — meaning the sound

onstage will not carry at all and the performers may have trouble even hearing themselves as they perform. Imagine singing into a pillow or under a blanket. The shape of the room itself also contributes to the way the audience perceives the music. Most large performance spaces are shaped like a bell – small where the stage is and growing larger and more spread out in every dimension as one moves farther away. This shape helps to create a clear path for the sound to every seat. In designing concert halls or opera houses, big decisions must be made about the construction of the building based on acoustical needs. Even with the best planning, the perfect acoustic is not guaranteed, but professionals are constantly learning and adapting new scientific knowledge to enhance the audience’s experience.

NOTES TO PREPARE FO You will see a full dress rehearsal – an insider’s look into the final moments of preparation before an opera premieres. The singers will be in full costume and makeup, the opera will be fully staged, and an orchestra will accompany the singers, who may choose to “mark,” or not sing in full voice, to save their voices for the performances. A final dress rehearsal is often a complete run-through, but there is a chance the director or conductor will ask to repeat a scene or section of music. This is the last opportunity the performers have to rehearse with the orchestra before opening night, and they therefore need this valuable time to work. The following will help you better enjoy your experience of a night at the opera:

THE PERFORMANCE:

•

Arrive on time! Latecomers will be seated only at suitable breaks in the performance and often not until intermission.

•

Dress in what you are comfortable in so you can enjoy the performance. For some, that may mean dressing up in a suit or gown; for others, jeans and a t-shirt is fine. Generally, “dressy-casual” is what people wear. Live theatre is usually a little more formal than a movie theater.

•

At the very beginning of the opera, the concertmaster of the orchestra will ask the oboist to play the note “A.” You will hear all the other musicians in the orchestra tune their instruments to match the oboe’s “A.”

•

After all the instruments are tuned, the conductor will arrive. You can applaud to welcome them!

•

Feel free to applaud or shout "Bravo!" at the end of an aria or chorus piece if you really liked it. The end of a piece can usually be identified by a pause in the music. Singers love an appreciative audience!

•

It’s OK to laugh when something is funny or gasp at something shocking!

•

When translating songs, and poetry in particular, much can be lost due to a change in rhythm, inflection, and rhyme of words. For this reason, opera is usually performed in its original language. In order to help audiences enjoy the music and follow every twist and turn of the plot, English supertitles are projected. Even when the opera is in English, there are still supertitles.

•

Listen for subtleties in the music. The tempo, volume, and complexity of the music and singing depict the feelings or actions of the characters. Also, pay attention to repeated words or phrases; they are usually significant.

OR THE OPERA THE PERFORMERS: The singers, orchestra, dancers, and stage crew are all hard at work to create an amazing performance for you! Here’s how you can help them. • Lit screens are very distracting to the singers, so please keep your phone off and out of sight until the house lights come up. • Due to how distracting electronics can be for performers, taking photos or making audio or video recordings is strictly forbidden.

EACH OTHER: The theater is a shared space, so please be courteous to your neighbors! •

Please do not take off your shoes or put your feet on the seat in front of you.

•

Respect your fellow opera lovers by not leaning forward in your seat so as to block the person’s view behind you.

•

Do not chew gum, eat, or drink while the rehearsal is in session. Not only can it pull focus from the performance, but the ushers are not there to clean up after you.

•

If you must visit the restroom during the performance, please exit quickly and quietly.

Otherwise, sit back, relax, and let the action onstage pull you in. As an audience member, you are essential to the art form of opera — without you, there is no show!

Have Fun and Enjoy the Opera!