'Don Pasquale'

Remember how on "Three's Company," Jack would always fool Mr. Roper, but then get his just deserts in the end? That's kinda how I feel about comic operas. They're pretty much all variations on the same themes: Mistaken identity is a big one. An impending marriage -- gotta have that. Doddering old man railing against the forces of age -- check. Peasants who are wiser than their patron. You get the idea.

But I had a great time at tonight's "Don Pasquale" at the Hungarian State Opera. Zita Varadi was a saucy Norina, and Peter Kalman proved quite a good actor as the blustery, increasingly pitiable Don Pasquale.

I had the oddest experience with an usher. I'm in a box with seven other people, three Japanese ladies and four Hungarians. It's super Old World: There's a gilded mirror for checking yourself out, a fainting couch, coat racks, a foot stool, and eight chairs. Real chairs -- the kind you can scoot about. I stand up for half of the first act because I'm in the second row of chairs and because we're in a real box, with a closed door behind me, I can do so.

During the first intermission, I'm stretching my legs in the hallway and the usher says, "I show you something," and leads me back to the box.

"Sit here, please," she said, patting the fainting couch (you know, like a love seat, but "fainting couch" is funnier). And I'm like, am I in a time out?

She leaves and I sit back in my chair. As the lights dim for the beginning of the second act, she enters the box again and pats the couch again. "Sit here, please." She says it in such a gentle way that I dumbly comply. And then I realize because the couch is elevated, it will give me a better vantage to see the stage. I thanked her later and she beamed with gratification. Just do what you're told, Pete.

Me on my fainting couch.


The view from the box.


It's a spectacular venue, and I'd hate to compare it to anyplace else. It is one of Europe's grandest houses. (Paris' Palais Garnier occupying the top spot. Crap, I just compared it.)


This poster for "Simon Boccanegra" got me psyched.


It is the second-most-perfect Italian opera ever conceived, and I'll be back here in four days, with a much better seat, to take it all in.

(Why, "Othello.")