On opening night, in the backstage areas, small private lounges behind the boxes, a ritual unique to Parma is renewed: the city comes together, elegant and discrete.
The interval at Teatro Regio in Parma is not just a break, but the beginning of a second show. Ever since Maria Luigia wanted a prestigious theatre that was rooted in the city. A true social ritual.
She was the one who had large mirrors installed in the royal box: to observe without being observed, to participate without exposing oneself. A lesson in quiet reserve, which still permeates the atmosphere of the theatre today. Here, everything is seen, but nothing is openly declared.
Professionals take advantage of the interval to align ideas and decisions: few words, only those necessary.
The entrepreneur discreetly observes the hall, curious not only about the stage but also about those who populate it: for him, the audience and the show together tell the story of the city.
The university professor, on the other hand, guides his foreign guest on a journey of notes and history, because in Parma, music is a sentimental map that explains the territory better than any guidebook. Elegance is not ostentatious, but measured.
The ladies wear dresses that tell a story without declaring it, and the Gazzetta di Parma, the next morning, will be able to read those details with the trained eye of the city news: that colour, that cut, that stone in just the right place are worth a thousand words.
Meanwhile, backstage, Parma is served: thinly sliced Prosciutto, shavings of Parmigiano Reggiano, a crostino with Anchovies that you bite into with elegance. And then the desserts: Pagani meringues, which melt in the mouth, or Bombé cannoli, which even those who try to avoid them end up succumbing to temptation. The clinking of glasses, the scent of Lambrusco and low chatter accompany the scene, like background music that unites the audience and the backstage area.
Meanwhile, comments rise from the gallery and echo through the hall: “Her entrance was too fast”, “That baritone just wasn’t there”, “The conductor could have given it more breathing space”. These voices provide a silent counterpoint to the measured elegance of the backstage area. The gallery and the boxes are two sides of the same city that observes and is observed. Over the years, there have been episodes that still live on in the memory: the tenor who was booed from the gallery and never returned to Teatro Regio; the soprano who delayed the start of the second half because “her costume didn’t fit properly” — stories that become part of the theatre and the city. Those who are absent generate more conversation than those who are present: those who did not come always say something. “He probably preferred to avoid certain encounters…” “He’s travelling. Or so they say”. At Teatro Regio, not showing up is also a stage move. Then the bell rings. The lights change. Words are suspended.
Everyone returns to their seats, and the city resumes its role. But one important detail remains: as in the days of Maria Luigia, even today at Teatro Regio, you can see everything that matters… without ever really letting it show.
Maria Luigia’s elegance is still characterised by calm reserve today.
NOTES OF CONVIVIALITY
A moment backstage at the Corale Verdi: music, smiles and the timeless elegance of Renata Tebaldi.
