< Previous | Contents | Next >
As Violetta shimmered with consumptive melancholy downstage (at the front, nearest the audience), upstage (at the back, furthest from the audience), but in front of the cyclorama (a hung cloth at the back of the stage often representing the sky), a grotesque shadow play (reminiscent of Balinese shadow puppets) played out.
In contrast to the scene of an idealised, romantic, slow but beautiful death, the shadow play (made possible by an unusually deep stage that facilitated space to place a light source behind the cyclorama and project the shadow of any object placed in front of it onto the screen with remarkable upscaling, crispness, and clarity) revealed a troll or some other mythical, large-headed, bloated-bodied beast, providing services to a queue of waiting males whose members were clearly attentive in anticipation of their turn.
The blueprint for interpreting this event was to assume sabotage of the most elaborate kind, perhaps directed at Violetta by a rival Violetta or thwarted amour.
I knew this not to be true. For this wasn’t a shadow play or an elaborate stunt; rather, it was a presence.
The Troll (or the shape mistaken for the troll) was none other than Margareta (Marge) Knotholt, one of the most distinguished répétiteurs (a singer’s coach and pianist) to have worked the European houses (opera theatres and companies based in Europe).
Her liking for the members of stage crew was legendary, such that when she died (choking on her own vomit), it was said that the contents of the vomit (which, given she was holding a half-eaten distress burger aloft at the time, should have been bready and meaty) were milky and creamy.
Thus, the legend became embedded in the mythology of the opera houses she had graced in her professional role. In London, Paris, Munich, or Milan, she would appear when the climax presented itself (moments of particular musical and dramatic tension; those most likely to be deflated by the sudden appearance of hardcore pornographic content. A murder, suicide, or just a tender illicit kiss being favourites). The audience would be horrified at the sudden upturning of the moral landscape and ask for their money back or insist on a different production (opera audiences tend to like things done as they were before), while those of us who appreciated disruption of the existing models of high art (art that is high in its own estimations, opera being preeminent) celebrate her as a distinguished répétiteur.
August 2025