Gentlemen, Step Off!

A recent Tuesday evening found me in the front row of the Nashville Opera chorus rehearsal for their upcoming production of "Il trovatore." I wasn't rehearsing I was observing. I felt like a visible fly on ze wall. Actually, I was sitting with 16 of my MLAS classmates and I felt as if we were a group of lab mice being observed behind some invisible glass. Our chairs jutted out into the open space like a peninsula almost touching the invisible stage.

On this particular evening I expected to hear the chorus rehearse as in sing, but alas, we were in for a wonderful treat. A fight coordinator strolled to the front of the room, sword in hand and was introduced to his new recruits.

The band of gypsies were assembled with gleaming (faux) swords eager to receive instruction. To see these performers in street clothes took me a bit aback. They represented an assortment of fellows you would see at your basic office picnic. Wearing khaki's, jeans, button-downs, loafers, black turtlenecks, hoodies and their feet shod in Eastlanders, loafers and a few sported tennis shoes. They were in essence a bunch of guys who could pass as any guy - because they were "every man" and I didn't quite expect that. As I sized each of them up I imagined what their chosen professions might be: accountant, academic, minister, analyst, salesman - not the wooly rag tag bunch of gypsies (or metrosexuals) I was anticipating.

The fight coordinator put them through their paces and cued up the chorus on his iPod, which again was another surprise. I absolutely loved this modern touch of hearing Verdi's rich composition blair out of a miniscule iPod system.

As they mimic the fight coordinator's moves, I start to notice that some of them are sporting the shaved head (bald) with goatee or soul patch which has become popular of late (I personally HATE this look). Then I notice more of them have heavy facial hair - surely to play the part of this 19th century opera. Snaps to them for having fun and getting into their character as a strictly volunteer chorus - what dedication and love for their art.

I'm starting to feel more comfortable and not on display - the chorus for the most part is ignoring us. I don't feel as self-conscious. I start to look around the room more and find I'm no longer afraid to turn my head and look at the director.

I'm distracted by the sword fight from so many different side shows playing out:

• An opera diva wannabe (real name Amber) wearing a too short sweater dress, tights and knee boots vamps off to the side - I wonder is she the maid Ines or maybe Azucena?
• I suspect Talmadge in the front row of the sword practice was in an MLAS film class with some of us - how did he get here I wonder? Talmadge, who knew?
• The fight coordinator is wearing a t-shirt with a skull and crossed swords below it. He is very slight, smooth in his moves and has a very tiny, little paunch that adds a little panache.
• The men are all wearing large green nametags so the fight coordinator can talk to them.
• Amy, the rehearsal pianist, is also the official shusher.

The manly sword fight ensues - the men are wielding these masculine symbols - some like a golf club, some of their first tries a bit Stooge-like. I personally can't wait to hear the swords clashing.

The gypsies have names like Joey, Steven, Derek, Chad, Bill, Ed, Howard, Steve, Billy, Joel (hey Billy Joel - ha! how my observational mind wanders), Dave, Carl and I think to myself - a gypsy named Carl!!!??!!! I would love to know the back story of each of these modern day gypsies and what journey brought them to the Nashville Opera. Finally, in the back row - I spot a nametag of Geren - finally someone with a gypsy worthy name!

Of course, the one guy who has been acting theatrically and silently pontificating to himself can hardly lift his sword and he is also standing in the make-believe fire and he will not get out. Some of the men lean into their overheard thrust like they are going to take off and soar throught the air behind it like a superhero.

Talmadge takes his thrust very seriously, Billy missed the last lift. As I'm analyzing each one, a train whistle blows outside from Radnor Yards as it passes the industrial park the Nashville Opera calls home. An outside, but proud reminder to me how evolved my hometown has become - that we have our very own regional opera company - is something so special for our arts community.

The fight coordinator tells his band of gypsies "We will not stab you!" Now they are going to sing with their new fancy sword work. The first chorus they sing blew me away! These baritone, tenor and bass(?) voices were so intense and they were very well rehearsed. The chorus surprised me so much that I felt as if a brass line of trombones, tubas, trumpets and french horns just turned to the grand stand away from the back field into a company front formation and blasted away the stands. This took me by such pleasant surprise.

The nuns (ladies of the opera chorus) entered and the men are then divided into "Manrico men" and "di Luna guys." Geren who looks like a gypsy is a "di Luna man".

I get the same giggles that I did from the men by reading the names of the nuns - Barbara, Della, Therese, Jan, Fran, Amber (so not a diva) and Karen. In all fairness to the ladies, I assign them professions also. They could easily be: bank teller, school teacher, grandmother, data entry clerk, soccer mom and I notice that not many of them are young women.

The fight coordinator is busy staging these new scene. He gleefully says "Let's kill a gypsy" and bends over backward with an evil, echoing laugh.

The room stops for a moment as the diva of the opera enters the rehearsal room stage right(?). She is gorgeous with shoulder length silky black hair and big soulful eyes. I cannot wait to hear her sing. I also notice that the principals sit in padded, comfortable chairs and the chorus sits in cold, folding chairs like us lab rats.

More principal buzz in the air of the rehearsal room. Manrico and Gus (di Luna man) steps into the rehearsal. di Luna is not present and is summoned by the director. I am so impressed with the director's patience and professionalism at this point. He summons his assistant to call the missing Lester, which she does in front of the entire company. Everyone quietly pauses and pretends not to listen. As this is going down, the director announces in a very loud voice "Manrico men, step off!"

Finally from the back of the room, the maestro sitting on the raised platform at the front of the stage speaks and commands the entire room. He speaks very (pause) eloquently "Guys and ladies, when you aren't thinking about it, the 8th becomes a 16th." The chorus sings it again and takes direction well.

Lester, aka Elvis, aka Count di Luna enters the building. I cannot wait to see his entrance on the stage at TPAC.

As the fight coordinator arranges for Carl the gypsy to get sliced the propmaster scurries around in a dirty yellow peasant skirt, brown twinset, knitted scarf and backless scuffy mocs and hands out weapons to the principals. Gus, the di Luna man, moves swarthily across the stage to slice Carl and I am starting to inwardly purr until bummer - I see he wears a wedding band.

The fight coordinator assigns the most excellent ending sword poses to be taken as the curtain drops - I take a snapshot in my mind because I can't wait to see them at the performance. I see lots of theatre i.e. acting in this rehearsal and am impressed as much by the character and seriousness of the chorus as I am of the principals.

The Fight Coordinator is setting a new scene and as he is busy staging the skirmish between the guards and the gypsies, everyone is milling about, nuns/gypsy women are playing cups on the floor and the buzz of their murmured conversations fill the air. However, when it is time to hit their marks and be on - the energy I sense from the chorus is overwhelming and the vocals feels as if it could knock you over.

The Fight Coordinator makes reference to the movie "Princess Bride" and receives many enthusiastic answers. I wonder where on earth did they find this guy? The Tennessee Renaissance Festival in Triune? West End Park with the medieval weekend jousters? I would love to see his business card.

The director announces "One more time. Gentlemen, Step Off!" This is my new favorite phrase. They boisterously sing the Anvil Chorus and as I listen to their rousing voices I try to envision what color the color of their voices would be? Brassy? Copper?

And before you know it - my time at the rehearsal is over and I leave this 19th century world with a modern day twist and I head for home in the night wondering what kind of chorus member I would be and if so? What color would my voice be?