I’m not exactly a stranger to opera. I was singing in one at 11, have attended them at opera houses on either side of the planet for years and have a huge collection of them on CD and DVD. From the deservedly obscure (and auditorially distressing!) Maxwell-Davies The Lighthouse to the tub-thumpingly popular and hum-able Verdi Aida, I’ve seen a lot of them, and have heard a lot more of them than even that.
One might reasonably expect, perhaps, that I would as a result be familiar with what must rank as one of the most popular operas to have been written in the last hundred years or so: Madama Butterfly. But in respect of that work, my level of ignorance is vast and all-encompassing. I am not, after all, a huge fan of Puccini at the best of times: Callas could make Tosca riveting, but otherwise I always found Puccini a bit over-ripe, melodramatic and fundamentally unconvincing. Butterfly rather got overlooked, therefore, in the general disdain.
However, several decades late, I did finally listen to it (for the very first time) this weekend… and was immediately blown away by it. If you like your operas a bit syrrupy, this one will fit the bill. I don’t mind a surfeit of saccharine myself, so I was in my element! There’s really no point me waxing lyrical about the beauty of some of the score, though: have a listen for yourself. First, there’s this little piece, as Butterfly leads her friends up a hill, telling them that she’s the happiest woman on Earth because she’s about to meet the American, Pinkerton, whom she will marry (and be dumped by: all men are cads, as she will soon realise!) And then there’s this, the “humming chorus”: the now-abandoned Butterfly gets ready to spend the night in vigil, waiting (in vain, as it will turn out) for Pinkerton to return to her, after three years’ absence.
I kick myself whenever this happens: I finally come to realise something lots of other people have known for years. I seem to have wasted so much time in ignorance! Better late than never, I guess.
