Bohemian love: Santa Fe Opera’s 'La bohème' makes for a memorable first date

Overture

It was our first date. We were both “bohème” virgins. And neither of us had been to the Santa Fe Opera before, since we were both relatively new to the state. “Art galleries” and “live music” were mutual interests on Tinder, and we had both swiped right.

As an arts writer who gets invited to things, I had found myself in possession of two reviewer tickets for the opening night of Giacomo Puccini’s “La bohème” at the Santa Fe Opera. And Danielle, as it happens, was working for the Four Seasons, which was catering the fancy pre-opera tailgate party. She tried to score us dinners, but they were already sold out.

“Do you want to try and meet at Tesuque Village Market? We can grab a drink/snack there,” she texted.

“OK let’s do that!” I replied. “I was gonna try to go on a wild goose chase tracking down a table chairs food candelabra etc. but that sounds more chill! Lol.”

We enjoyed a free-flowing conversation over dinner and arrived at the opera just as the sun was beginning its descent, casting flecks of orange onto the green rolling hills. A few lingering opera tailgaters were still sipping wine on folding chairs in the parking lot.

Walking into the open-air opera house, we were taken with the view. Danielle tried unsuccessfully to capture the expansiveness on her phone.

“Do you think I’m cute?” I asked.

“I think you’re so cute,” she replied. “Let’s go check out that terrace.”

The Stravinsky Terrace is named for the Russian maestro, Igor Stravinsky, who was involved with the Santa Fe Opera from its inaugural season in 1957. As we stood on a bench to marvel at the sunset, we snapped a selfie and shared our first kiss.

Then, we took our seats, orchestra right.

Act I

“La bohème” begins in a cramped writer’s garret — a slightly larger version of the one-room wooden attic I was living in just one year ago in Brooklyn. My bathtub was right next to my bed, and I was constantly bumping my head against the sloping wall-ceilings. At least I didn’t have to share that space with three other starving artists, the way the writer Rodolfo does in the opera.

Rodolfo is burning his latest manuscript to keep warm, which brought to mind my own years of precarity as an underemployed art critic, and the nightmare of unpaid heating bills piling up.

Rodolfo’s manuscript is a steamy love scene, and there’s lots of great wordplay in the libretto about the “burning passion” of his words literally burning in the wood-fire stove, which I enjoyed.

Danielle tried to put her head on my shoulder, but her view was blocked by the man in front of us. So, we found a new comfy position with my hand on her thigh.

The Chinese tenor Long Long plays Rodolfo, and he is breathtakingly great. Not only is his voice strong and resonant, but he brings tremendous emotional complexity to every phrase. The bass, Soloman Howard, has a notably commanding voice, as well.

From the moment Rodolfo and Mimì meet, their chemistry is electric — a testament not only to his and Texas-born soprano Sylvia D’Eramo’s acting skills but the efforts of intimacy coordinator Andrew Moss, as well.

Mimì ekes out a living embroidering flowers for rich women’s party dresses.

“They’re just like us,” I said.

Danielle, I had learned over dinner, has always worked in hospitality, and I’ve always worked in the art world. So, we’re both used to hobnobbing with elites at fancy Champagne parties, while often — at least in my case — being totally broke.

Act II

The claustrophobic attic splits open and rolls away. In rolls a glorious set piece, the restaurant Momus with its high ceilings and glittering chandeliers — the epitome of Parisian Art Deco sophistication. Scenic designer Allen Moyer has outdone himself.

The decision to update the opera’s setting from the 1830s to the 1920s, by the way, makes the whole production all the more dreamy and romantic.

To the left of the restaurant, we see Ángel Vargas as the puppeteer Parpignol in the foreground, charmingly interacting with a supremely talented chorus of children. Kudos to children’s chorus director Willem Van Schalkwyk for bringing out their best. Other characters of all social classes mill about in the streets beneath an iconic onion-domed advertising kiosk.

In the deep space of the backless proscenium, we see the actual sky. And the opera is timed perfectly so the darkening sunset dissolves into night by the act’s end. How extraordinary!

Emma Marhefka, who was a Santa Fe Opera apprentice last year, shines as the stylish and flirtatious flapper, Musetta. Like the rest of the cast, Marhefka is a very fine comic actor and dancer, as well as a singer.

This is not one of those static operas where everyone just stands around and sings. Director James Robinson makes full use of the stage, with more action and movement than I’ve ever seen in an opera. Act II, for instance, includes an impressive bit of slapstick involving a porcelain dish being tossed among bumbling servers in tuxedos. And Marhefka does a dance routine that’s both sexually provocative and hilarious.

Act III

Danielle and I returned to the Stravinsky Terrace for intermission. She went off to the restroom, and I told her I’d wait in line to get her a glass of Champagne.

She rejoined me just as I was asking if my free drink tickets included Champagne.

“No, but Champagne is still free,” they said.

Due to a misunderstanding, we ended up with two flutes of Champagne and two glasses of rosé. And I don’t even drink.

At this point, they were ringing the bells for us to return to our seats, but we couldn’t go back with the alcohol. So, we sat on a long bench on the terrace, which gave us an excellent view of the orchestra pit.

We clinked our glasses, took a sip of Champagne and kissed.

“Just write in your review that you spent Act III on the terrace to better observe the orchestra,” Danielle said.

“I’d better take notes, then,” I said.

In my iPhone Notes, I wrote, “Conductor exhibits passionate grace or graceful passion.” I couldn’t decide how to phrase it. But it was wonderful to watch the Mexican-born conductor, Iván López Reynoso, who had his United States debut with the Santa Fe Opera’s production of “The Barber of Seville” in 2022, moving with such fluidity. And I was impressed, throughout the opera, by how the trills of the woodwinds merged perfectly with the voices of the sopranos, and how the orchestra always complemented but never overpowered the singers.

Danielle and I were cuddling now, and enjoying the crisp evening breeze. We both noticed the harp player, Grace Browning, plucking her strings with precision and authority. This is her 10th season with the Santa Fe Opera, and her mastery shows.

Sitting up there on the terrace while everyone else was back in their seats made us feel a bit like high schoolers skipping class to go hang out on the roof — something I used to do. Danielle finished her Champagne and moved on to the rosé.

“This feels so Bohemian, doesn’t it?” I said.

“Do you think they’ll kick us out?” she said.

Act III, of course, is when the characters’ relationships crumble. But we were still basking in the excitement of our own budding romance.

Act IV

During the scene change, we rushed back, swapping seats with each other in the process.

“I’m sorry, but can you go back to how you were?” the man behind us said. “It was perfect before.”

My big mop of hair was blocking his view.

“Oh, I’m so sorry,” I said. We switched back.

Although “La bohème” is a tragedy, and Act IV gets very dark indeed, there’s a fair amount of humor sprinkled in. And I was consistently blown away by the physical acting chops of the singers, particularly Efraín Solís, the baritone who plays Schaunard. At one point in Act IV, he does a rolling pratfall across the stage, then gets up and continues singing without skipping a beat. Amazing!

Mimì’s health has declined now, and her hands are ice-cold. Back in the audience, the chill of the desert night was setting in, so I warmed Danielle’s hands in mine.

“La bohème” is 130 years old and one of the most frequently performed operas in the world. Still, I won’t spoil the ending for those who don’t know.

Opera in the U.S. these days is sometimes thought of as an archaic pastime of an Old Money class who hardly exist anymore, but in Puccini’s time, it was popular entertainment, and here in Santa Fe, it still mostly is. The tickets aren’t cheap — although they’re about half the price of the Metropolitan Opera in New York — but the breezy open-air venue and pre-opera tailgating make the experience both casual and glamorous. It’s luxury within reach, and nothing about it feels stuffy.

“La bohème” is sometimes characterized as a “starter” opera, although, for whatever reason, I had seen many operas but never “bohème.” What I will say is that the Santa Fe Opera’s current production is particularly approachable, with incredible sets and highly physical acting. So, don’t feel intimidated if you’re not an opera person. And if you can afford to splurge on the good seats, do it. It’s absolutely worth it.

“Thanks again for inviting me,” Danielle texted the next morning, followed by the “two hearts” emoji. “I had so much fun last night!”

“Me too,” I replied. “Definitely the best date I’ve been on in quite a while.”

Only time will tell if our story becomes a comedy or tragedy worthy of the stage.