Is ignorance ever a positive thing? I know no Italian and I have never seen the Broadway musical Rent. Furthermore, I have never been to an opera in my life. Taking these three things into account, I felt rather ill-prepared to watch La Bohéme—that immortal Puccini opera even plebians like me are aware of. Would I like it, even if it’s in Italian? Will I cry, like those sensitive leading men in romantic comedies? Does it imply something horrible about my psyche if I don’t cry? These and other more serious questions tumbled in and out of my consciousness in the week leading up to Day Zero: the La Bohéme technical dress rehearsal that I managed to wangle an invite to (Many thanks, by the way, to Ms. Lorna Lopez and to Ms. Karla Gutierrez for making this possible, as well as to Director Floy Quintos for being nice enough not to mind the intrusion, and for gamely answering our questions in the open forum).

But one man’s ignorance is another’s tabula rasa, and you could not get any more tabula rasa than I was. So I looked forward to my operatic deflowering with naïve enthusiasm, holding onto my ignorance with a death grip. I figured that I was the acid test: if I managed to enjoy it, even with all those counts against me, then you probably will too. (Also, I have the nagging feeling that I’m one of the five people of my demographic—middle class Filipino, early twenties—who has not seen Rent. I mean, there’s even a movie version, so I have no excuses, really. =D)

So going back to my original point: Did I like it? Even if it was in Italian, and I had no knowledge of the plot, and there were no subtitles to be found anywhere? Even if I was, godammit, an opera virgin and an admittedly ignorant one to boot?

All I can say is, La Bohéme is a gentle way to start, if it’s your first time too.

Let’s start with the music, because taking language out of the equation, your senses are heightened to what you can relate to, which is the score.  Signor Puccini did know a thing or two about music, wouldn’t you say?
 

The orchestral accompaniment is at turns sweeping and grandiose, whimsical and light, and gentle as a breath. But these words mean nothing. I stare at them and they are just adjectives that do not describe. Music is something that must be experienced, as cliché as that may sound. On the merit of the orchestra alone, I would recommend that you see the local production. In this case, it is the Philippine Philharmonic, conducted with painstaking and passionate attention to detail by Helen Quach. I also recommend that you take deep breaths while you listen. The resonance produced by the expansion of the chest cavity seems to enhance the experience. (It’s either that or the increased oxygen making me inordinately happy. The cellists could probably see my silly grin from the orchestra pit.)

Of course, the heart and soul of opera are the singers and their inhuman vocal ranges! =) The opera singers in the local production are revelations, performing over the din of the orchestra without the benefit of a single microphone. I was told by my friend David that sometimes in operas, either the set itself is mic’ed or there’d be an overhead microphone. But no artificial amplification for these artists. You’ve got to admire the cojones of that, right? There were a few odd patches where the orchestra predominated, but on the whole, the cast did a stellar job. I expect they’ll be even better come opening night.

Of the cast we saw, the stand-out performances for me were by Gary del Rosario as Rodolfo and Jennifer Uy as Mimi, although the rest of the singers are extremely good as well. There is a lot to be said for being expressive while doing the intense vocal acrobatics required in opera. And Mimi singing in bed! Wow, don’t even get me started.

But what about the story?

Seeing as I have not “spoiled” myself by reading English translations before watching the opera, I could say that (1) yes, the score does carry you seamlessly through each Act (but the Acts, in relation to each other, have abrupt time jumps), and (2) there are many ways to tell a story aside from actually telling the story.

Firstly, the set is a character in itself, depicting the changes in moods and seasons, and aiding greatly in nonverbal storytelling. Though the production used the original libretto, the setting is greatly different from Puccini’s, transplanted to contemporary Metro Manila. Thus, there is a preponderance of barong-barong, rusty corrugated iron and cyclone wire. It mostly works though. Poverty is timeless. So is love. So is lust. So is death. And so on.

Also, the way the scenes are choreographed makes for easier comprehension of events. Act Two, which all happens in a busy market, is particularly brilliant. However, it gets a little hairier in Acts Three and Four, because the events are more introspective and harder to express through action alone.

That’s why it’s good to watch this with a knowledgeable friend. =) So I cheated a bit.

I also watched with my mouth open half the time. Such is the purpose of the dark.

(La Bohéme will have a limited run from October 3 to 5 at the CCP. Like the proverbial snowflake it is beautiful, unique and short-lived: only three performances. Suportahan po natin ang mga artistang Pilipino. For more information, and to order tickets, visit TicketWorld.)