Stephen Pickles
Interval Talk
Opera lovers are to opera what rioting football fans are to the Cup Final: an undesirable element. Almost all of them are boring to distraction, bourgeois vultures so utterly sedentary in their theatrical tastes that it is not surprising to hear their unconsidered applause acknowledging the most dreadful performances. An evening at the opera is still regarded as a special treat, something to do whether informed about it or not. Thus it is that the audience presents a bizarre conjunction of total ignorance and programmed knowledge: the young merchant bankers striving to impress some pale English virgin, as if Covent Garden were on the same circuit as Ascot and the fourth of June; old Tory crows, bejewelled as if it were an official reception or exclusive fascist function. The expense of such an evening is something which in itself delights those who associate costliness with quality. It is rarely a proven equation, but they are hardly likely to realise that. To appreciate the amusing foibles of these enthusiasts at play, it is necessary to catch them in the intervals. Rheingold, Salome and Elektra are to be avoided since they have no interval breaks, and consequently afford little of the class-system’s vaudeville. During these serious operas, many of the audience are regretting that they did not pee at the very last minute, and the toilets throng after the Gods have entered Valhalla.
Intervals are when the audience gets its chance to perform.
A: She looks so much fatter as Leonora.
B: It’s the trousers, my dear. They’re all the wrong cut.
A: But in Geneva she was quite a thin Isolde, I thought.
B: Vocally, you mean?
A: Perhaps we were sitting quite far back. That was
Sign Up to our newsletter
Receive free articles, highlights from the archive, news, details of prizes, and much more.@Lit_Review
Follow Literary Review on Twitter
Twitter Feed
It is a triumph @arthistorynews and my review @Lit_Review is here!
In just thirteen years, George Villiers rose from plain squire to become the only duke in England and the most powerful politician in the land. Does a new biography finally unravel the secrets of his success?
John Adamson investigates.
John Adamson - Love Island with Ruffs
John Adamson: Love Island with Ruffs - The Scapegoat: The Brilliant Brief Life of the Duke of Buckingham by Lucy Hughes-Hallett
literaryreview.co.uk
During the 1930s, Winston Churchill retired to Chartwell, his Tudor-style country house in Kent, where he plotted a return to power.
Richard Vinen asks whether it’s time to rename the decade long regarded as Churchill’s ‘wilderness years’.
Richard Vinen - Croquet & Conspiracy
Richard Vinen: Croquet & Conspiracy - Churchill’s Citadel: Chartwell and the Gatherings Before the Storm by Katherine Carter
literaryreview.co.uk