My Adventures as an Opera Extra

I've been interested in the performing arts — including opera — for a long time. Opera is the Olympics of singing — once it gets in your blood, you're hooked. My eighth grade music teacher, Mr. Carter, instructed us to attend performing arts events, and to bring back the programs as proof of attendance. I went, and started out being bored, but eventually felt myself being drawn into it after seeing a few performances. I remember in particular seeing the Triumphal March scene in a performance of Aida, and thinking it was cool.

As an adult, I attend when I can, but it's an expensive pastime. One thing I discovered is that to cut costs, opera companies usually employ supernumeraries; i.e., extras. I started volunteering as a "super" or supernumerary for my local opera company. About two-thirds of the supers volunteer repeatedly, and you make friendships with the "old pros.” And you meet a wide spectrum of people among the supers: among the people I've met are a brain surgeon, a diamond jewelry outlet owner, and a guy one notch above being homeless. Another guy is locally famous as a small plane pilot who ran out of fuel just short of the airport, and landed on a freeway. With experience, you become sophisticated about what to do and what typically takes place backstage. I discovered that the "drama" backstage, and the drama onstage that the audience isn't aware of, can be as fascinating as the opera itself. Also, if you are on stage you have the "best seat in the house,” and don't have to pay hundreds of dollars for it.

One opera I was in (with my boyfriend) was Othello, by Giuseppe Verdi.

World's briefest synopsis:
Cyprus, part of the Venetian Empire, 15th century: Iago, an assistant to the local military commander Othello, miffed that he didn't get a promotion, conspires to make Othello believe his wife is unfaithful. Othello ends up strangling his wife and killing himself.

There's a scene where there are a lot of people on stage, dressed in period garb, and everyone is near hysteria because it is feared that the Turkish enemy is going to invade and ransack the town. A funny thing happened to my boyfriend who was on stage for this scene. A female super had grabbed him during one performance and was overacting, saying things like "Oh, my son, we are doomed! We'll all be killed!" (Of course the audience wouldn't have been able to hear her — fortunately.) Then she faked a semi-faint, and my boyfriend was having a hard time holding her up. He finally said to her quietly "Please 'revive,' lady. I'm about to drop you on the stage!"

There was another scene in which my boyfriend and a few other male supers had to run from upstage right to downstage left (that means from the back of the stage and to the left, as seen by the audience, diagonally across to near the front of the stage and to the audience's right.) No problem, right?

But in this scene, the stage was made to look like a wharf at night. The stage was raked, meaning there was a downward tilt toward the audience, the lights were low, and the stage was covered with three feet of artificial fog! Further, there were three steps they had to run down which were completely hidden by the fog. The group of supers was supposed to run out to the end of wharf, spot Othello’s incoming ship, and then run to tell the other townsfolk. Obviously, this situation is tailor-made for an unintended pratfall. My boyfriend said he psyched himself before each performance saying "I will NOT fall on the stairs…I will NOT fall on the stairs...” (He didn't.)

Another opera we were both in was Aida, also by Verdi.

Micro summary:
The Pharaoh's palace in ancient Egypt: Egypt is being invaded by Ethiopia. Radames is appointed by the king to lead the Egyptian army against the Ethiopians. Radames has the hots for Aida, slave of Princess Amneris. Amneris loves Radames and is jealous of Aida. Aida likes Radames, too, but has conflicted feelings because her father is Amonasro, king of Ethiopia. Radames defeats the Ethiopians and returns in triumph. Amonasro is among the captives. Amonasro gets Aida to learn from Radames where the Egyptian army plans to enter Ethiopia. Aida and Amonasro escape, but Radames is condemned as a traitor. Radames is buried alive in a crypt, but finds Aida has returned to share his fate.

I was a lady-in-waiting in the Queen's court. My boyfriend, with the more interesting role, was a soldier in the Egyptian Second Army. (Each "army" had about eight guys in it.) To look "Egyptian,” my boyfriend and the other light-skinned soldiers had to put tan makeup on the parts of their skin not covered by their costumes. One guy needed none — he was an immigrant from Egypt! The Triumphal March, if you've never seen it, is a fantastic choral number in which the soldiers parade past the Pharaoh, along with bearers carrying captured loot, slave girls, etc. My boyfriend had to complain to the stage manager because an old guy "soldier" ahead of him wasn't keeping up with the march. The soldiers marched off stage, and very quickly but without making any noise, had to drop their loot and pick up new loot and march out again as if they were other soldiers.

A black church choir group came en masse as supers to portray the Ethiopian slaves. It turned out one of the guys was a friend of my boyfriend. Both got a laugh (not on stage!) out of my boyfriend making a special effort to drive his "slave" friend along with his sword.

Another opera I was in, again with my boyfriend, was Carmen, by Georges Bizet. This is my all-time favorite opera.

Brief synopsis:
It's Seville, Spain, in the nineteenth century: Carmen, a worker in a cigarette factory, gets in a fight with another woman and is taken to prison by Don Jose, a soldier. But, Carmen seduces Don Jose and convinces him to let her escape. When it's discovered he did this, he's thrown into jail. Another officer, Zuniga, is trying to make it with Carmen, as is a celebrity bull fighter, Escamillo, but Carmen is waiting for Don Jose. When Don Jose gets out of prison, he gets into a conflict with Zuniga. Don Jose and Carmen leave to join a band of gypsy smugglers. Carmen soon falls out of love with Don Jose. Escamillo shows up at the smugglers' den and tells Don Jose of his love for Carmen. A fight between Escamillo and Don Jose ensues. Carmen persuades Don Jose to return to his home because his mother is ill. Later, Don Jose returns to Seville, where Carmen has paired off with Escamillo. While Escamillo is fighting a bull, Don Jose encounters Carmen outside the arena, and pleads with Carmen to reunite with him. Carmen contemptuously rejects him, and Don Jose stabs her in the heart.

I was cast as a fruit peddler on the streets of Seville, and was in the opening scene when the curtain rises after the famous spirited orchestral overture.

As the opening curtain rises, everyone (about twenty people) is in their place on stage. When we gained confidence after a few performances, some of the more mischievous supers, including me, would play this game of chicken where we would go to the front center of the stage, and dance an impromptu pseudo-flamenco to the overture music, trying to see how close we could get to the curtain raising before running back to our place!

After several rehearsals and a few of the six performances, some of the supers (again, including me) began to pick up on some of the lyrics of the chorus numbers (which were in French), and try to sing along. This provoked a stern lecture from the stage manager: "Supers, you are not trained singers and should not try to sing with the chorus!" Some did anyway. Near the end of the opera, there's a scene where Escamillo triumphantly enters the bull ring. For this they wanted me to stand on a shaky facade of a building that was WAY up above the stage — I refused to do it, so they found me a place on the "street.” There was another super who had recently donated $1 million to the opera company. They cast him in a prominent super role as Mayor of Seville. Oh, well — money talks.

One other funny thing happened to my boyfriend during this opera. Between the times they have to appear on stage, some supers who are really into opera like to hang around backstage in the wings, to get a good view of the singers on stage. It can be a little cramped on the sides between the curtain wings. My boyfriend was there for one performance, looking at the scene where Carmen seduces Don Jose into letting her out of prison. In this scene, Carmen sings a lilting, teasing song called the Seguidilla, while flirting with Don Jose. About five other supers wanted to see, too, and they were all jammed together.

My boyfriend noticed that a woman super, "Ms. X," who is a prominent citizen in our area, had her whole body pressed against him from behind. He thought "this is a little odd,” but just thought “well, everyone is crammed into this small space.”

After watching the scene a little, he commented "Boy, I've just realized, this is a very sexy scene,” whereupon Ms. X said in his ear "Are you kidding? This WHOLE OPERA is VERY sexy!" She had kicked off her shoe, and then began rubbing her foot on his calf! My boyfriend coughed nervously and disengaged himself.

It’s a good thing I was in the super’s lounge when this “incident” occurred. Otherwise, there would have been a fight in the wings that would have been heard throughout the 3,000-seat theater.

Have you ever been a supernumerary (extra) in an opera? If you have, please add a comment and tell us about it.

If you have a favorite anecdote about an opera performance you have seen, please share it with us.