Watch, Be Watched, Bewitch at the Paris Opera by Devanshi Mody
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And to think this masterpiece of 19th-century theatre architecture was almost not completed.
The ‘New Opera’ was commissioned by Napoleon III in his ambitious project to transform the capital. In 1863, architect Charles Garnier began construction, soon impeded by technical problems - like the inundated foundation. Incidentally, this inspired the legend of the lake immortalised in Leroux’s novel, The Phantom of the Opera.
In 1870, war broke out against Prussia. France was defeated and ruined. The Imperial Regime fell. Funds lacked for completing the New Opera. Moreover, it recalled the extravagances of the Imperial Regime, provoking protests that it was an unjustifiable luxury. But in 1873, a fire destroyed the then extant opera, necessitating completion of the New Opera on borrowed funds.
Thus came into being Palais Garnier, the thirteenth Parisian Opera since Louis XIV established the institution in 1669. Over 120 years old, this world-renowned monument of sublime and original architecture is classed a historical monument.
The vogue of opera, public demand for lyrical art and inadequacies of scenic equipment at Palais Garnier led Mitterand to commission construction of the Opera Bastille in the 1980s. The contemporary architecture of Carlos Ott is marked by transparency of the facades and use of identical materials in the interior and exterior. Bastille offers a unique ensemble of representation space with an immense hall of 2703 places, an amphitheatre of 500 places and a studio of 200 places, surrounded by vast foyers.
The spectacular Palais Garnier and the modern monstrosity Opera Bastille together comprise the Opéra National de Paris. People prefer going to Palais Garnier, arguably the most breathtaking opera house in the world. Indeed, some refuse to go to productions at Bastille.
Alas, often the best productions, especially classical ones, are at Bastille. Firstly, operas are almost exclusively at Bastille (which has better acoustics/facilities) whilst crowd-pulling ballets like Swan Lake and Romeo and Juliet too are at the more capacious Bastille. One is generally compelled to go to Bastille, even if one does not appreciate its architecture.
I have been to the opera in several cities. Nothing rivals the Parisian opera. The Parisian ardour for art makes opera-going in this city unique.
Only in Paris would people queue 6 hours for opera/ballet tickets. The “regular” queue comprises people buying tickets at any price. Alongside is the queue of students and unemployed/senior citizens, because a splendid system allows them to buy unsold first category tickets just before the performance. For these tickets, people queue hours.
Whilst a student, I recall dashing at 8.00 a.m. one Sunday morning to Opera Bastille expecting to be first in the “reduced-price-tickets” queue for the matinee of Tchaikovsky’s Sleeping Beauty. But the queue had begun at 7.00 am. You would imagine people had better things to do on a Sunday morning!
I queued up daily for an entire week for tickets. I left Paris without seeing Sleeping Beauty.
One obstacle to procuring those student tickets is tourists who descend in masses – especially Japanese and American. The Americans go for cheaper tickets but the Japanese buy the most expensive ones leaving no last minute “left-overs”. Ah, if only Louis Vuitton were open 24 hours, it would eliminate the Japanese contingent…
One problem with Parisian enthusiasm for opera is that it engenders a flourishing black market ticket trade. Yes, €5.00 tickets go for €50.00. Secondly, spectators indiscriminately applaud everything (as at some mediocre performances I recently attended) encouraging compromised standards. Nevertheless, mostly the productions are excellent.
Irrespective of the quality of production, it is always a treat to go to Palais Garnier. At the entrance to the building, under the immense cupola, statues crown the edifice: there are Roman warriors and rearing Pegasuses, whilst Apollo on the highest point of the building brandishes a lyre, as if blessing the city.
One ascends the Grand Staircase, in coloured marble, to the auditorium. Under the staircase is the ‘Rotonde’ where Garnier “had the impertinence” to sign his work, a practice unprecedented at the time.
The auditorium with its sumptuous red and gold décor is breathtaking, dazzling the grand 5-tiered crystal chandelier comprising 400 lights and weighing eight and a half tons. Only Chagall’s controversial anachronistic painting replacing Lenepveu’s original, violently contrasting with 19th-century exuberance, detracts.
There’s more art appreciation at the interval. Traverse the ante-foyer covered in vibrant mosaic on gold plating. Enter the famous Grand Gallery - an architectural and decorative sensation, it comprises works by Baudry, Delauny etc and required ten years of work.
Garnier’s concept for his gallery was original: high, gilded, ballroom-like (rented out for galas), it evokes a castle gallery. Garnier hoped for a social utopia - the mingling of all social categories of spectators. Indeed, when the opera opened, spectators spent ages touring and admiring these sumptuous gilded salons, making intervals interminably longer.
Furthermore, the Garnier Gallery triggered a little social revolution. Indeed, at that epoch, women visited the opera accompanied by their husband/father/chaperon, were confined to their boxes and not permitted to visit the foyer. In 1875, curious about the splendours of the Grand Gallery, women too wished to visit it and abandoned their boxes. Scandal resulted, with cries that it was immoral and invited conjugal infidelity. The Grand Gallery was re-christened “L’Allé des Soupirs” (Path of Sighs), but the interval “wander” and feminine liberty were established.
So today, we are treated to a further aesthetic experience during the interval: admiring Parisians. Particularly at a premier, spectators are predominantly Parisian (tickets go months in advance, restricting tourist invasion). The most exquisite of Parisian ladies gracefully glide around, champagne glass in hand, flaunting solitaires - a bewitching parade of elegance. Silks and furs, impeccable coiffure, inevitable Chanel hand bag, incomparable chic… One wishes the interval would never end.
But return to the auditorium one must. The production is superb. May the fat lady never sing…
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