La Dame Aux Camélias

Last week, we went to the Opéra Garnier to watch John Neumeier’s La Dame Aux Camélias, based on the book by Alexandre Dumas, fils. Truth be told, I was not really looking forward to it. It had been really hot every night and I had been feeling constantly tired from not sleeping well. Also, two nights prior, we had gone to the Opéra Bastille for a performance of L’Elisir d’Amore, which was almost unbearable because of the stuffiness of the theater. I was afraid of a reprise of that night. And when I read the program and saw that the ballet was 3 acts with 2 intermissions, I wanted to cry.

But I was pleasantly surprised.

First of all, the Opéra Garnier is spectacularly beautiful. Check out a juxtaposition of both opera houses. We were all installed in separate boxes on the first and second balconies. The feeling of being shown to your private box was very old world grandiose. (Of course, I immediately thought of Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman – the scene with the opera glasses. “These are broken. Mine are broken.” Ghetto ghetto me.) The paintings on the ceiling by Chagall were luminescent and whimsical. I thought the ceiling both contrasted and complemented the lavishness of the theater. I really dug the decor although I don’t usually like ornate and fussy things. And to add to my surprise and delight, each box had its own air conditioning vent. It was simply too much!

I’ve been to a few ballets in my lifetime but I can’t say that I have loved any of them. So, I was tickled that I really enjoyed this one. This is despite the fact that I couldn’t see the right side of the stage. (Our seats were nice, but not that nice. After all, budget is the theme of the program.) But I figured, no worries, anything vastly important would happen center stage. And for the obstructed scenes, I shamelessly leaned out of my balcony and craned my neck. Ce n’est pas mal.

It was a tragic love story so there was not much sleuthing needed. The costumes, by Jürgen Rose, were very beautiful and ethereal. My favorites were what looked like woolen winter dresses that became wispy silky nothingness when the ballerinas danced and leapt. It was magical. The choreography was very sensual, very carnal. There was a lot of touching and kissing and fondling. I mean, a lot of it. Which is usually pas de problème, except…

…did I mention that I was seated next to a nun? (We had an extra ticket and invited her to come with us.) I noticed that she was clapping with approval in the earlier scenes of the ballet. Then as the story got hotter and heavier, she just sat there while the rest of the audience was clapping with delight. I felt guilty clapping. Should I not clap either? Is it sinful to clap? Especially because during the intermissions, she and I would talk about the costumes, and the décor, and other innocent and neutral things like dolphins, cute sea creatures and the like, I felt like I was betraying her. (I thought it was really cute that she asked me if there are dolphins in the San Francisco bay.)

Then, there was the scene where a male ballerina was completely naked. Granted, we only saw him from behind, but I was wondering the entire time, what she must’ve been thinking. Not to mention the scene where the two lovers were frolicking in the country and ended up in the throes of ecstasy. I wanted to crawl into a hole. Note to self: if you have to sit next to a nun, make sure the ballet is The Nutcracker or something similarly innocent.