His Girl, Tosca.

New York hasn’t seen such a cultural brannigan since the Astor Place Opera House Riot of 1849. Imagine Opening Night at The Metropolitan Opera ending not with cheers and applause, but outraged patrons shaking their bedizened fists and filling the massive auditorium with loud boos and catcalls. (What exactly is a catcall? Do you go, “meow?” Do you say, “Here, kitty?”) That’s what happened two weeks ago (9/21) and the shock waves are still being felt. It begins with the Met opening their 2009-2010 season with a new production of the classic Puccini opera, “Tosca.” Not the traditional, lavish production created by Franco Zeffirelli twenty-five years ago, but a starkly modern one directed by Luc Bondy. I wasn’t there (Opening Night? Me? How many characters in “La Boheme” can afford to see “La Boheme?”) but every day brings a fresh description of the event in The New York Times. Pro or con, artist or audience, they all describe a performance dramatically at odds with what I know about the opera. I saw “Tosca” once, a long time ago (I either saw “Tosca,” “Turandot” or “La Traviata.” Definitely, one of the three. No, wait. It could have been “Il Trovatore,” but I’m pretty sure it was “Tosca.”) I don’t remember where or who sang, but I remember the plot perfectly. For everyone who doesn’t, I’ve written the following synopsis.

ACT ONE

ANGOLOTTI, an escaped political prisoner, breaks into the office of L’Osservatore Romano, the Vatican newspaper, and hides in a roll-top desk. CAVARADOSSI, the editor, enters and discovers him. Angolotti pleads his innocence, saying he was framed by the evil Scarpia, chief of police. There’s a knock at the door and the prisoner goes back into hiding. A COPY BOY enters and hands the editor a piece of paper and a photograph. It’s an interview with a beautiful starlet. Cavaradossi says she looks like his ex-wife, Tosca, the best reporter the newspaper ever had. The copy boy asks why they got divorced and Cavaradossi sings the first great aria of the evening, the famous, “Recondita Armonia” (“I Bet The Rent Money On A Horse Named, Concealed Harmony.”) The copy boy exits and Tosca enters.

She tells Cavaradossi that she’s quitting journalism forever to marry Ralpho Bellamio, a quiet, respectable insurance salesman, who lives with his mother in Sienna. He pleads with her to reconsider, but her mind is made up. He says he misses her so much that he keeps her picture near his heart and shows her the photograph. Tosca says he’s lying, that woman has larger breasts. Cavaradossi replies with the aria, “Que Bella Mammone” (“Who’s got better ones than you?”) She isn’t moved, so he tempts her with the story of the century – the capture of an escaped political prisoner, who happens to be innocent. Her professional interest is aroused, so Cavaradossi tells the prisoner to come out of hiding. Angolotti pleads his innocence, once again, and Tosca is so moved that she sings her first aria, the touching, “La Vita Mi Costasse, Vi Salvero” (“Saving Your Life Is My Cup Of Tea.”) Act One ends with the sounds of the police getting closer.

ACT TWO

A lot of crazy things happen – even the Battle of Marengo. None of them make any sense, so do yourself a favor: go out for a couple of drinks and return for Act Three. You’ll thank me.

ACT THREE

Angolotti is recaptured, but his life is saved at the last minute by the Pope. Ralpho Bellamio, however, is about to be hanged (It’s a long story.) CAVARADOSSI, who arranged it, is happy. TOSCA is distraught. SCARPIA is just glad that someone is being hanged, but offers to save Bellamio’s life if Tosca will sleep with him. She has to decide whom she loves more: her ex-husband or her fiancée. Cavaradossi pleads his case with his best aria of the evening, the emotional, “E Lucevan Le Stelle” (“You Are My Shining Star/I Saw You From Afar.”) Tosca looks out the window at Bellamio standing on the scaffold, then turns to Scarpia and, agreeing to his demands, sings the opera’s greatest aria, “Bei Mir Vissi D’arte.” Please let me explain. “Bei Mir Vissi D’arte ” means, “I Think That You Are Grand.” Saddened by Tosca’s decision and angered by Scarpia’s actions, Cavaradossi tells the police chief, “Ha Piu La Conquista Violenta” (“I spit on your violent conquest.”) Scarpia replies, “La Forza Del Destino” (“I fart in your general direction.”) Tosca and Scarpia leave together.

Cavaradossi cries until they return – about a minute later. TOSCA is shocked to discover that SCARPIA still intends to go through with Bellamio’s execution. She steals Scarpia’s knife, presses it to his throat, drags him over to the window and tells his officers that she will kill him unless they release Bellamio. No one cares, so she climbs to the top of the newspaper building and threatens to jump unless Bellamio is spared. Still, no one cares. She’s serious, she says, and is giving them ten seconds. Tosca counts down to ten and when she reaches zero, jumps to her death. The chorus shouts, “Buon Anno” (“Happy New Year”) and sings “Auld Lang Syne” in Italian, “Should Antico Aquainticos Be Forgotto.” Cavaradossi mourns,again for a minute. Then goes off in search of the actress in the photograph, the one with large breasts.

Now, compare this summary with a description, there are many, of the performance directed by Luc Bondy. If there’s any similarity, if they bear even the slight resemblance, I’d be very much surprised. Imagine, again, that you spent over a thousand dollars to see the Opening Night performance of “Tosca” at the Met. Wouldn’t you be angry, too?