I’m a casual opera nerd. My parents have recently become likewise, and this past weekend they came into town for an Aida/Tosca double-bill.

They mentioned after the fact that people in the bathroom were fighting about the production of Tosca. Some people sided with The New York Times review that calls shenanigans on the staging update and points out that the opera got too sexy, and the sets too spare. Other people thought the update was great, and that the detractors were just married to the long-standing Zeffirelli production and couldn’t accept change.

Now, I appreciate the chasm that will inevitably form between old-school opera fans who come back every year to see their favorite shows restaged the classic way, and the new opera fans that opera houses are courting in a desperate attempt to keep from going out of business.

On principle I support the latter. At its heart, the singing and acting of the leads is what makes an opera great, and from all accounts (even the Times), the Tosca in this production is outstanding. My parents raved so much that I’m buying tickets myself. If the corrupt police chief Scarpia gets three buxom ladies to pull a Dracula’s Wives on him when he talks about his dark desires, and it gets people in the door, then no one should complain, right?

Except, this is the publicity still they released for this show:

…because nothing looks more darkly alluring than a photo-op staged like the first half of a gum commercial?

(I don’t care, I’m totally still going.)

(Also, I hope people are still arguing when I go. I get such a kick out of the idea of nicely-dressed middle-aged ladies throwing down over whether or not the staging detracts from the power of the score. Go, ladies, go!)

Last night I got to see La Traviata at the Met. I took the super-cheap seats in the nosebleed section – absolutely last row, approximately half a mile above sea level, holy crap. I am not afraid of heights, but even I spent a moment hoping that, despite the flaky ceiling, the place would not collapse. That’s a long fall.

Anyway, the cheap seats are also where the students sit when their teacher makes them go see an opera so that can talk about it in their European Lit seminar. The place was overrun with expensively-dressed adolescents swapping spit in the middle of Violetta’s heartbreaking confrontation with Alfredo’s father, where he asks her to leave his son so his daughter’s engagement isn’t called off. Weeping, she reveals she’s dying of The TeeBee and couldn’t possibly leave Alfredo, and Dad’s like, “Oh, that’s sad – so, can I help you pack?”

(Anja Harteros knocks this out of the park, by the way. Most gorgeous Violetta I’ve ever heard. If you can spare 15 bucks, totally go.)

By the end of the second act (a huge set piece that looks like an honest-to-God ballroom, covered in extras, all with gorgeous costumes – Franco Zefferelli, ladies and gents) Alfredo and Violetta have violently parted – she for his sister’s sake, him because he’s a total assface and throws money at her in the middle of a party.

Intermission. The lights go up. Teenagers pile out of the cheap seats to go make out noisily in the hallway instead of in the seats.

One girl turns to her friend. “God, I hope they get back together soon!”

So, it was clearly somebody’s first opera last night!

Best part – in the last act, Violetta is in the last stages of The TB. The doctor says she has only a few hours to live – but she’s feeling better! She’s sad – but then Alfredo shows up! They’ll be together forever – coughing fit! Nope, nope, she’s fine, she’ll make it, oh bliss! – hang on, gotta sit down – What’s this? Strength fills her, she can take on the world, life is going to hand her every – FALLS DOWN DEAD.

So that girl had a really rollercoaster set of fake-outs, which was fun. (For me.)