Classics Get SEXY

Digital image. Audrey Hepburn & Anthony Perkins, romantic scene, 1958. Flickr. Web. 24 Jan. 2010.

The lights dim and the air thickens with suspense. After all, one never truly knows what to expect when an opera, of all things, is rated R. The conductor takes his place—his bald spot angrily glaring at the light—and finally lifts his arms; the orchestra readies itself. Music cuts the tension as the curtains open to reveal a stage accented with crimson drapes and couches. A few performers drift onto the stage—the audience prepares for the opening ballet number. Instead, the dancers assume positions not native to dance. What ensues next is…a sex scene?!

Believe it or not, this was the opening to an opera at the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion. In its original form, the opening scene is a ballet that depicts the sensual world of Venus’s realm. However in its 21st century version, there are no ballerinas with sexual choreography—instead, there is an orgy filled with all kinds of positions and partner combinations. Of course no live porn scene would be complete without nearly everyone in the audience at the edges of their seats, whipping out their binoculars to get a better look.

The production is of “Tannhäuser,” a German opera about sacred, profane love and redemption. After the overly graphic opening scene, Venus and the main character Tannhäuser appear for their opening duet. Venus, being the goddess of love and desire, is dressed in a provocatively see-through, lingerie gown and sings with her beloved Tannhäuser about his desire to leave her world and reenter ours. She tries to seduce him into staying, but is unsuccessful. The rest of the opera remains PG-13. The advertisements warned about an opening that was rated R for nudity—it failed to specify that the nude people wouldn’t just be dancing.

One self proclaimed opera critic, going by the alias of Astrafiammante, blogged about her experience at the LA opera. Astrafiammante at first complained about Wagner’s ability to write good librettos and when commenting on the opening scene she said, “Still, I think I’d prefer to see that original singing contest than a 15 minute orgy.” In reflection on the opera’s content, Astrafiammante said, “In ‘Tannhäuser’, the gates of hell are clearly shaped like a ‘V.’” Upon hindsight, and taking into account the sexist times of Richard Wagner, she was correct. Everything Tannhäuser was condemned for in the entire opera included desiring and getting sex.

In contrast, the San Francisco Opera audiences had a different experience with “Tannhäuser.” In a review in the New York Times, Anthony Tommasini said, “During the first scene, an extended ballet of frenzied cavorting among the denizens of Venusberg (in the 1861 Paris version of the opera, used here), wiry, bare-chested men dance wildly with lithe young women in lacy white dresses. There are even moments of same-sex coupling, which would have rattled Wagner’s audiences but seemed to resonate in San Francisco.” Why San Francisco managed to keep the same level of eroticism without excessive nudity or actual sex positions that were included in the Los Angeles production will remain a mystery.

The human obsession with procreation has always existed, but lately, it has become less and less subtle. With implied sexual themes now brought out into the open, even some classical music is no longer appropriate for people under the ages of 13 and sometimes even 17 years old. On one hand, it is better that modern society accepts something as natural as making love instead of condemning it as sin. On the other hand, however, being too open with sex one can taint the subject matter and actually lessen its value. Just like the chase is what can attract one human being to another, so too can the pursuit of the underlying meaning of music and lyrics entrap the audience in a tale.


In the transition from a time period of oppression to one of freedom, more and more classics are being modified to sexier versions that aren’t necessarily any better than the originals. An example of all this is “Phantom of the Opera” by Andrew Lloyd Webber.

This musical is the heart lurching story of a disfigured musical genius, hidden away in a Parisian opera house, who falls in love with a woman he can never have—Christine. In attempts to seduce her, the Phantom sings her a provocative song about the dark music he writes. The Phantom persuades her, “Touch me, trust me, savor each sensation…” At one point, the Phantom wraps his arms around her waist from behind as she bravely strokes his mask. Just when it seems that the Phantom has her under his spell, Christine makes the horrible mistake of removing his mask—and revealing his horridly deformed face. As the musical moves on, Christine is courted by another man, Raul. In the last scene of Act I, Christine and Raul share an innocent kiss after professing their love for each other.

On Movie Fix, Mark Beirne commented, “Christine's heart is torn in two directions and her journey of sexual awakening begins.” Christine cannot choose between the Phantom to whom, despite or maybe because of his dark side, she is unmistakably attracted to, and Raul, for whom she seems to hold an innocent crush. When the Phantom holds Christine and Raul captive in the last scene, it is Christines compassion that persuades the Phantom to let them go. The scene ends with the Phantom’s proclamation that only Christine can make his “…song take flight. It’s over now, the music of the night.” With that, he disappears.

In the modernized adaptation, the fact that the entire plot is set in 19th century France is completely ignored. Now the seductive scene between the Phantom and Christine involves the Phantom’s hands bravely roaming Christine’s body as he nuzzles her neck and she molests his mask. In a review of the movie version of the musical, Charity Bishop wrote, “…while …[The Phantom] encourages his visitor [Christine] to give way to her senses and embrace the quiet, tranquil darkness that is his realm, he runs his hands over her in a briefly lingering caress.” This move is quite a step higher than that in the original theater production. The innocent kiss with Raul evolves into a wanton make-out session. All this in a time when holding hands was shameful. To clear things up, yes, the sex and erotica are written in between the lyrics of “Music of the Night.” The title itself is a metaphor for sex. In the end, when the Phantom sings that only Christine can make his “…song take flight. It’s over now, the music of the night,” what he’s really saying is that only Christine can arouse him for he can love no other. Now that Christine has left him, the Phantom’s composing days are over and so are his chances of ever making love. Nevertheless, this theme is meant to stay hidden, not flaunted shamelessly.

It seems that as the years pass, every classical production gets sexier than before. All the eroticism that has previously been cleverly hidden in between the lines is now violently burst out into the open. No more subtle hints, ambiguity, and mystery. Although sex is now accepted in society as something natural and not some sinful “act of darkness,” it can taint an otherwise brilliant plot if used in excess. There is something magical about a story when certain intimate details are left to the imagination—when the audience gets to interpret just what the composer meant and what is hidden behind the words and music.