A Journey of Faustian Proportions

Friday was filled with unexpected moments; I managed to crush a deadline at work before it could me, I bumped into a really good little jazz combo at a restaurant I was expecting to be a quiet little place, enjoyed interesting conversation with a single serving friend and successfully stifled laughter that might have seen me expelled from the opera house.

My friend Deborah and I went to see the Canadian Opera Company's production of Faust. When we arrived, an elderly gentleman had his cane resting on my seat. He moved it so I could sit down and held it in his hands. I told him if he wanted to rest it between our seats, he was welcome to and he said he'd be fine and didn't want to forget it when he left. A couple more moments of settling in and the show began.

Faust, as an old man, sits centre stage, clutching a cane singing about how life has trapped him, and how he'd give anything to be young again. Considering the gentleman next to me, this seemed a lot like art imitating life. The beauty of David Pomeroy's vocal performance in the title role though quickly drew me away from those thoughts and deeper into the story. Faust trades his soul for a return to youth and the promise of love by striking a deal with Mephistopheles. You know this is disaster.

A lot of the grandeur I enjoy about opera was on display with some excellently performed scenes, a standout being the festival complete with fireblowers, acrobats and a huge Mother Earth puppet. Photo of Me and Deborah an Earth Mother Puppet

There were some bits of awkward staging, some minor scenery glitches and a missed lighting cue or two but I seem to be the only person that is annoyed by these things.

At intermission, I stood in the cold with Deborah while she smoked and I talked about smoking.

When she decided it was time to go and powder her wig, I returned to my seat. I asked the old gentleman what he thought of the production and he became quite animated.

I'm completely tone deaf you know!!; I'm only here to look at the sets and the lighting; don't you think that last bit with all the flowers was ridiculous? You do know that flowers don't typically all grow at the same height?

We shared a few laughs at some of the more ridiculous conceits of the production and I asked if he worked in theatre. He said no, I just like approaching staging and lighting from an intellectual standpoint and figuring out what I would do differently. I told him that I was here first for the music and singing and he said that together, we'd make one hell of an opera goer.

On the new opera house, he said I loathe it! It's so Canadian, could it be any more boring than this? I had to agree that it was a bit beige for my liking although much better acoustically than the previous venue. Before the curtain went back up, he managed commentary on the way people dress when going to the opera these days along complete with a 'we used to dress just to get on an airplane' tag which I found charming.

In the second act, there a few more technical glitches and at one point a minor character wearing a brace and using crutches tripped on the edge of the set and nearly pitched over. It was as unintended as the urge I had to burst out laughing. I clamped my hand over my mouth and kept it there while my stomach tensed to suppress the urge.

I enjoyed losing myself for a few hours in things I love to do. And the two vocal performances I enjoyed most happened to be by Canadians. Perhaps someone is conciously trying to paint in colours meant to offset all that beige?

It struck me a short while later that the old man I'd talked to was an older version of me. I was pleased to see that I wouldn't be begging the devil for a return to youth but rather would be still relishing in the opportunity for an occasional curmudgeonly outburst.

I just hope I do it with the same twinkle in my eye.