#(especially the Vienna revival where he stares out into the audience)

[just-a-pollicle]

So obvi it's established that the cats know the audience is there from like song one and I am forever thinking about the concept that Munkustrap is constantly doing him lil Munkustance™ cause he doesn't know if the audience is actually a threat to them or not

Like the whole show he's really just sending the message of 'you're invited here but I Do Not trust you yet' with a hint of 'you wanna fuck with my family, you gotta go through me first' and that's why all the cats are so relaxed and having so much fun. They know munk won't let anything happen to them and trust him so deeply that they can also goof off with the audience

[queerchoicesblog]

The Understudy

Hiya, folks! So, as previously announced, the wlw writing project continues after a break with a miniseries set back in Vienna, one of the iconic capitals of opera at the time of Mozart. An emerging singer gets the chance to be an understudy in the latest Mozart’s discussed opera Le Nozze di Figaro (The Marriage of Figaro), that  premiered at the Burgtheater in Vienna on 1 May 1786, w and play the pants role of the page Cherubino. Preparing for the role doesn’t quite go as planned… .

I took the liberty to add a few Italian words every now and there so here are all the useful translations that might come in handy as you read: cara (dear, female adjective), una meraviglia (a true wonder).

Tagging: @scottishqueer​

Previous wlw miniseries: Ancient Greece, Italian Renaissence, Belle Epoque Paris, Sixties.

Hope you enjoy it: if you do, please consider spreading the word!

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"So...will you do it?" The voice is calm just like the honeyed smile on her lips, but the look in the primadonna's eyes is unmistakable: the great Adriana Ferrarese can't wait to see me out of the door. She's a seasoned professional, she knows how to conceal her displease but I'm not dumb: a jewelled hand rested over Da Ponte's tight and eyes following every single move I make, every single breath I take, she's clearly conveying that my presence is no longer welcome here. It never was, I think: it surely wasn't her idea to invite me here today! Has she tried to dissuade the Maestro from summoning me, I wonder? I'm surprised she failed: you know what they say, feminine wiles can work miracles on men, make them change their minds like a vain girl changes clothes yet...here I am. And she's fuming underneath her well practiced poise. Poor Ferrarese, my blonde curls, my youth must be a threat to her especially in front of him. Ah, I knew that the rumours were true: she's the Italian operatic librettist's mistress! Cunning little devil...of course she gets all the best roles now. Before everyone else.

I join her game and pretend not to notice the subliminal messages she keeps throwing me. I fan myself nonchalantly, pondering the offer I've just received. I am a bit confused: I really don't know what to think of it or how to take it. "Let me get this straight, Maestro" I say, ignoring her and addressing Da Ponte. "You beg me to come here with great haste and ask me to be a last minute understudy for a...page role?" I may not be as famous as his mistress but it's an insult! True, my career hasn't reached its peak yet but I'm not the new girl desperate to get a role: I have adoring admirers throwing flowers and screaming my name whenever I walk into the stage after the grand finale. Who does he think he's talking to? He must understand my disappointment because he's quick to reassure me. "Miss Constanze, Cherubino is not a simple page" he smiles apologetically. "The whole opera revolves around the world of counts and servants, you know Herr Mozart is an innovator, an unconventional spirit...if I remember correctly, you have already worked with him" "Correct" I concede. I'm curious to see where this is going, how he will convince me to accept this. "Well, this new opera has already been a success and trust me: the people of Vienna won't tire of it anytime soon! And the role we kindly asked you to be an understudy for is the most loved by our audience, I assure you. Ask around if you don't believe me: those who attended the opera are head over heels for the Count's page, they recall his scenes, sing his arias underneath their breath...the audience is crazy for him! That's why we couldn't ask just anyone to replace the original singer, but only a refined, talented woman like you, Miss Konstanze" There's a note of pride in his voice. I must give him, it's not surprising that there servant or unconventional roles in Mozart's operas - in The Abduction from the Seraglio I played one of the harem girls - but by the brief description he gave me of the plot I cannot bring myself to understand how the audience can fall in love with a page who doesn't even have an aria for the whole third act and is constantly sidelined. It doesn't make sense: it's a recipe for oblivion to my ears. But he's right: the Wedding is the talk of the town so I should probably say yes anyway, even if no, I don't enjoy the idea of being sidelined. I mean, we all want to glow on stage and bask in the light and audience's adoration. We want their applauses meant for us alone, ringing in our ears when the curtains raise for one last blessed time, we want flowers thrown at us, we want glory. And I am not sure this Cherubino will be my ally on that front if there are two major romances in the main plot already. And even if the audience showed a liking for the page, well I must remember I am not the first singer so my performance will not avoid comparisons. The Maestro speaks again, derailing my line of thoughts. "You see, dear Miss Constanze, Cherubino is not a main character yet he is essential to the plot: without him the whole story wouldn't make sense! One could say that he bears the comedic side of the opera over his young shoulders and even if he doesn't get as many arias as other characters, oh, his are as sweet as cherries, una meraviglia! No wonder the audience loves him...and the restricted number of arias to study might help you prepare properly within such a short notice if you kindly offer your help-" "I would have prepared properly even if I had the double amount of arias within such a short notice, caro Maestro" I interrupt him, just in case he forgot who he is talking to, again. He bows his head, dramatically placing a hand on his heart in display of apology. "But of course, your outstanding professionalism is not questioned here, Miss. To prove it, let me tell you that Herr Mozart was particularly happy when I suggested your name for poor Dorotea's understudy". His mistress' smile is now so tight I have to summon every ounce of professionalism to refrain myself from bursting into a loud insolent laughter. "That's incredibly kind of you, Maestro: I really don't know how to thank you" I purr instead, unable to resist: how could I miss a chance to tease - and piss off! - the primadonna? La Ferrarese throws me a side look I will never forget: I wonder if she has a dagger hidden underneath her skirt and will chase me in the streets in the heat of jealousy when I turn my back at her. Sounds like a scene out of one of those Italian operas, I consider, amused. Do Italians do that offstage too? She only has to dare though: I am younger than her and I have claws too. "Say yes then, Miss" he proposes, radiant. "If you ask me, Herr Mozart thinks you are the best choice and the perfect Cherubino. Say yes, cara Constanze". His face is an expectant plea and I have a feeling that if his mistress wasn't here, he would be begging me on his knees to accept this role. Honestly, I don't know what to make of Herr Mozart's comment about me being just "perfect" to pass for a boy...am I not feminine enough for him in my skirts, tight corset and jewellery a wealthy admirer keeps giving? Whatever. That man is a genius maybe but he's certainly a weirdo. But I think I should accept: it's not the most flattering offer but no one reached the top without taking an understudy role at least once. And so here I am, a week later, in the room of one of Da Ponte's personal friends and composer to help me prepare for the new performance. I don't have much time, not even a month, but his flattery won me. I can do this. I must admit that I'm secretly happy to know that Herr Mozart won't direct the new revivals: he's a brilliant composer and musician but I still remember his wandering hands. I don't think any woman who worked with him - or simply has been around him for more than a bunch of minutes, I wager - got away without a pinch or a breast squeeze. I fail to understand why so many girls fall madly in love with him or at least confess they can't resist his charm. Even his wife still giggle like a child and melt in front of his "Wolfie", despite his endless and well known - and rather squalid, if you ask me - affairs! I mean, not that this Melchiorri is any different: by the so very discreet looks he keeps throwing at my décolleté or by the way his hands linger a bit too much on my hips when he insists to fix my posture, I bet he wouldn't mind me as his mistress. Another lecherous wop, excellent. I've been around so many by now that I know them by heart: honeyed words, usually blabs a lot in a dreamy voice of how they miss Venice or whatever dear hometown they come from and how much you remind them of this or that flower or woman of their childhood. Too many compliments, strong accent hoping you would fall for their exoticism, fine clothing. Just like Mr. Melchiorri. He's from Milan and is a close friend of Salieri. Sometimes I cannot help but wonder if we let too many Italians here in Vienna: sadly, so far they rule the world of the opera and our Emperor is head over heels for them. Ah, better not tell the Empress> she might throw ond hell of a jealousy tantrum! Melchiorri is very gallant, almost regal even if he loses his composure when he speaks of music. He often asks to excuse his passionate temperament with an apologetic smile but I can't shake my mind that this is just a subtle hint to another passionate temperament he would die to show me if the lingering stares he gives me, mesmerised, as I bite the Italian delights he has ready for me - "delivered directly for you, mia cara, from Italy" - every time I visit him for our private sessions are any indication. They're chestnut chocolate truffles with a pinch of brandy, I wager, covered in withe chocolate with a ruby cherry on top. They're called "capezzoli di Venere", that is nipples of Venus, he revealed one day, a mischievous smile on his face: he was probably hoping to shock me or see me blush profusely. Instead, I barked out a laughter and took a generous bite. I regretted it when he bit his lip clearly refraining himself for making another move. But at least he's a good teacher, I make progresses fast. I've been around too many Melchiorris and Herr Mozarts to be bothered. I mean, obviously I'm bothered that most men thinks we opera singers are just harlots in fancier dresses when we broke our backs studying languages, music and singing hard since a very early age. We didn't sacrifice the best years of our lives only to be mistaken for mannequins with a melodious voice when we sing the arias they wrote. But that's what it is and I must focus now. And it's so difficult at times with men like these. Just like when one day the door of his studio slams open out of the blue while I'm rehearsing an aria and a little boy of three, four years maybe runs inside laughing. He's visibly proud of evading whoever was asked to look after him. True to his "passionate temperament", Melchiorri is suddenly furious. He barely looks at the child and shouts out the name of the unfortunate servant before profusely apologise to me. A terrified young maid comes running and soon chaos takes hold of the room: Melchiorri alternates between tight apologetic smiles in my direction and not so gallant curses he thinks I do not understand to the the poor maid who chases the cheeky little boy with great effort but little success. I must admit it's rather amusing even if I'm wasting my time. Suddenly I have an idea. When finally the maestro shuts up to catch breath, I sing an impromptu elaborate thrill at full voice. The little boy freezes and turns towards in awe while the maid wraps her arms around him: caught! Melchiorri needs a moment to process what happened while the girl flashes me a quick, grateful smile. "There, emergency solved" I announce, beaming. "Can we proceed now, Maestro?"