Opera ON THE WATER

PAMELA WADE ATTENDS A SYDNEY SPECTACULAR

It’s hard to walk along a red carpet without hamming it up a little. There were no photographers, no flashbulbs going off, no-one calling my name and waving a microphone – still, it was the nearest I will ever get to the Oscars and

I was milking it. Surrounded by women wearing plenty of sparkles as well as some in actual gowns, and men looking dapper in black ties, it was a splendid way to begin an evening – and it just got better.

Across the bay from where we stood at Mrs Macquaries Point, Sydney’s Opera House was still white against a blushing sky; the Harbour Bridge was turning into a silhouette; and just below, on pillars over the water, was a circular pop-up stage. This was the opening night of the annual Handa Opera on the Harbour season and soon there would be drama, dancing and the irresistibly catchy songs of

Bizet’s Carmen.

First, though, there were nibbles and drinks beside the water, which was already reflecting the city lights. Above, in the Platinum Lounge, bigwigs mingled – former Prime Minister John Key and his wife Bronagh were there – but when the audience sat down, all 3000 of us, everyone settled into the same plastic seats. Behind the stage, scaffolding spelled out the name of the opera in big, red-lit letters, adding to the Hollywood vibe.

And then it began: Carmen, sultry and strutting with gypsy boldness; naive soldier Don José intense and jealous; Micaëla sweet and charming; Escamillo proud and posing. The singers, and the 60-plus other members of the cast, danced and paraded, fought and strolled, apparently unbothered by their impractical costumes and shoes on the treacherously sloping stage, despite an unseasonal shower sweeping past. Even so, I was relieved to see that the cast list included two surf lifesavers, just in case.

Illuminated subtitles translated the French lyrics, but the story was clear: passion, jealousy, infidelity, rage and, inevitably, murder. It was never going to end well. But along the way, there were glorious scenes of gaiety, colour and revelry, even a bullfight – and of course those immediately recognisable songs: Carmen’s Habanera, Don José’s Flower Song and especially Escamillo’s Toreador, guaranteed to ear-worm its way home with every audience member.

Passion, drama and powerful singing, soaring music from the invisible orchestra, the backdrop of skyscrapers, illuminated Opera House, Bridge and Luna Park – and then, at the end of the first half, fireworks! It was so exciting, a literally over-the-top flourish for this iconic Sydney event, great bursts of sparkles in the sky momentarily eclipsing the colours beneath. Even the interval discovery, too late, that four churros in chocolate sauce from the snack bar cost the equivalent of $15 wasn’t enough to kill the buzz.

And it wasn’t over yet: there was still the second act, watched in more comfort by John and Bronagh and their Platinum Lounge buddies, who all returned to their hard seats clutching red cushions.

But the story enthralled even those of us with numbing bottoms, and when Carmen finally fell, lifeless, to the floor, the applause swept across the water.

It had been a fabulous evening. Who cared that, afterwards, waiting in the darkness of the Botanic

Gardens for our taxi, a huge possum strolled past?