A Night at the Opera - Austin Style

My sister wore boots to the Austin Lyric Opera's production of Madame Butterfly Friday night. That's kind of like using exclamation points and laughing at your own jokes, but then again, this is Austin.

They were in fact Doc Martens. Margie is freakier than I am. She wore them with fishnet stockings, a black velvet minidress, and a Muppet-fur coat. "It's 100% pure Grover," she told me, though I thought it looked more like Cookie Monster.

When I was little, Austin didn't have an opera company, but they did (and still do) have an excellent ballet, which used to perform at the Armadillo World Headquarters. Now, there's an Austin cultural experience for you. We sat in metal folding chairs, surrounded by giant murals of armadillos doing the things armadillos do, ate chocolate chip cookies the size of small pizzas, and drank enormous sodas. Some of the other little kids in the audience danced along, down in front of the stage; though the only reason I really remember that is because I was deeply offended when an older kid came up to my family during intermission and told me not to do that because it was distracting. Well, of course I wasn't dancing! Just because I'm four years old doesn't mean I don't know how to behave in polite society, fer crissakes.

And after the performance, you could go backstage to get the dancers' autographs. Audience members meandered freely in and out of the dressing room, where the dancers were changing clothes, and I saw at least one completely naked. She didn't seem to care. This was Austin - and Austin circa 1973, at that.

The ALO is really quite a good company, and Butterfly was beautifully staged and performed. You don't see cast members naked, but you also don't see the kind of mink and glitter on the audience that I remember from audiences in other cities - Detroit, DC, Cincinnati, Houston - when I was growing up. There are tuxedos and evening gowns and cocktail dresses; but there are hippies and slackers and freaks as well. And there was one Japanese woman in full kimono.

And for afters? Chez Zee is a good post-operatic regrouping spot, although I liked it better for the purpose when it was Chez Fred. Magnolia Cafe is another. If you're not hungry for a big late supper, you can go to any of a couple dozen lovely indie coffeehouses. But Margie and I decided to take our more-or-less elegantly-attired selves to the Horseshoe Lounge, where, even though it's Austin, you stick out a bit by wearing such alien garments as dresses and stockings and high-heeled shoes. The novelty did get a couple of Lone Stars bought for us, though, and Margie and I wound up the evening watching the shuffleboard players and evaluating their probable sexual performance based on their playing style.

And do you know what? The player who consistently outshone all the others was a dead ringer for Wilford Brimley. Alas! Grand opera generally does end in tragedy. Even in Austin.