Through “Recounting the Classics,” pieces of classic culture will be explored to discover their influence and effect on modern culture.

Three hours straight of the most dramatic vibrato imaginable. A CD, 1.3 hours long… and that’s just the highlights! Don Giovanni was going to take a lot of patience.

Sure, I love a good show, especially in New York. But going into Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart’s Don Giovanni, my only impression was what I had seen of the movie version: people harping on and on about their feelings (we don’t need to hear that you’re dying for three minutes straight — just save your breath and die already!), people overreacting to everything, people solving problems by killing people and people seducing people.

In all fairness, I was genuinely looking forward to some of the more famous songs in this opera (how can you not love a dead man’s statue ominously belting out, “Don Giovaaaaaniiiii!”?). I had never seen a live opera before, and a production at the Metropolitan Opera House is not something to complain about.

There were definitely some positives competing with the negatives. Thus, I can sympathize with the opera antagonist as well as the opera enthusiast. However, after those three hours, I’ll go ahead and side with the enthusiast.

After my slight panic of nearly getting stuck in a tiny room leading to our seats, I found myself situated in a massive, beautiful theater. Sure, my legs were cramped into a tiny corner, but soon enough the last thing I was thinking about was my legs. Once Leporello (Bryn Terfel) began the first song (after the epic overture), I was glad that I sat through the movie. This allowed me to actually know what was going on, and know what the songs were actually about.

Since Don Giovanni is in Italian, a translation was definitely necessary to undersand anything. To solve this problem, each seat had a monitor to follow along with the lyrics. I expected it to be a tedious task moving my eyes from the stage to the monitor, and back again. However, it turned out to be incredibly useful that the singers repeat themselves over and over, because I only had to look at the monitor once every few lines.

I was even more surprised that the opera could elicit so much laughter even though most people could only understand the humor by reading the little monitor. I expected myself to be lost and bored, but it was quite the contrary. I was engaged and thoroughly enjoying it!

Don Giovanni caught me off-guard in that regard, too. It is a classic tragedy — a seducer living a life of immorality, refusing to repent, then being dragged down to hell in flames. But I found myself laughing for a good portion of the show! The most amusing aria has got to be “Madamina, il catalogo e questo,'” in which Leporello describes Don Giovanni’s (Gerald Finley) taste in mistresses.

Translated, one of the best lines is, “In winter he likes fat ones / In summer he likes thin ones / He calls the tall ones majestic / The little ones are always charming.” My favorite part, however, is his count: “In Italy, six hundred and forty / In Germany, two hundred and thirty-one / A hundred in France / in Turkey, ninety-one / But in Spain already one thousand and three.” The last line, in Italian, sticks and my head and makes me laugh every time: “Ma in Ispagna son gia mille e tre.”

The production took a more lighthearted, comical approach to the script and theme. I could picture many of the lines being horribly depressing if presented in that way, but it was far more enjoyable to laugh at ridiculous characters.

That was, after all, what amused me so much the first time I watched it. I laughed through so much of the movie because I couldn’t get over how melodramatic everyone was, but I knew that I’d have to restrain the giggles at the Met. Apparently the director and actors saw the humor in it all too, because they chose to play it up in that way.

After thinking this through, I realized that three hours of opera was more than bearable because of the humor. If it had been three hours of tears and drama, I would have grown exhausted and unsympathetic with the overkill (no pun intended). With it being my first opera, I feel very lucky that it was a positive experience where I was able to determine what genre of opera I could stand in the future. I have determined that overly-dramatic operas would be too much to sit through. I’ll stick with the comedies.

This is not to say that Don Giovanni was a comedy, though. The theme is certainly sober, and much of it evokes deep thinking. Beyond being serious, Don Giovanni is downright creepy. Approaching the incredible finale, Don Giovanni and Leporello journey to a graveyard. There, the statue of a man whom Don Giovanni kills at the beginning, comes to life and sings after he mocks the dead man and invites him to dinner.

When the statue comes to life and responds, “Si!” the two get creeped out, then leave. Of course, since justice must be served, the statue appears at dinner. After giving Don Giovanni the chance to repent of his sinful ways and he stubbornly refuses, flames erupt (with such incredible bursts that the heat reached the audience instantaneously) and the floor cracks open. Don Giovanni is dragged to hell, and Leporello is left, terrified.

To make things even more sinister, a whole host of dark hooded figures (eerily reminiscent of Ringwraiths) stand in archways in the graveyard — three levels high, and about five across. Needless to say, the humor was weighed out with the scary factor.

Since lyrics and staging were only half of the communication, it took great acting to make a foreign script compelling. A great voice can go far (and great voices, they had), but even the most angelic voice can fall flat if the singer just stands expressionless. Luckily, these actors were not just hired for their voices, and had great value in their expressions and movements.

The sole, iconic feature of opera, however, is the singing. If you’ve seen the Metropolitan Opera House, you know that it is a massive room. Now, imagine filling that whole space with your voice. Now, imagine filling it with a pitch-perfect voice. Without a microphone. That is exactly what these actors did, and it was the most incredible thing that I have ever heard.

Before seeing Don Giovanni, every opera voice sounded the same to me. But live, I could have told you who was singing without even looking at the stage because their voices were all so unique. The most enchanting aria was by Matthew Polenzani’s as Don Ottavio. His smooth tenor voice in “Mio Tesoro” was what gained the most applause from the crowd that night. I didn’t even bother looking at the lyrics on my monitor — I couldn’t take my eyes off of him.

Mozart blew my mind. How can you write a part for a trumpet that perfectly matches the part for the violin, which perfectly accompanies the soprano line, which harmonizes with the baritone line, which sounds great with the tenor line? It is an incredible feat, and I understand why opera has such a huge fan base (pun still not intended).

My first time at the opera was an experience to remember and cherish. I recognize that it was a once-in-a-lifetime chance to see such renown opera performers at the Metropolitan Opera House, and I will probably never see any production to equal it. This does not dissuade me from other shows, however. Don Giovanni has spurred an interest in opera, and now that I know what genre suits my taste, I can start exploring.

For the previous installment of Recounting the Classics, read the Jan. 24 article, Recounting the classics: Begin in the past.