Alana Bloom - Chorus/Ballerina director (keeps the stage running)
Frederick Chilton - Manager of the Opera House (runs the place, or at least tries to)
Jack Crawford - Musical director (tyrant overlord of the orchestra)
Katz, Price & Zeller – Orchestra (aka the dream team)
Margot (Soprano) & Masson (Tenor) Verger – Singers extraordinaire
Matthew Brown – Works the stage – (lurker in chief)
Count Hannibal Lecter – New patron of the Opera House
Will Graham (Tenor) – The Opera Ghost
[To be expanded…]
It was with soft amusement that Hannibal rose to his feet, clapping in honour of the young prima donna. He had been private to Miss Verger debuts and was pleased to see she had since then flourished beyond expectations. He had not been aware of a brother sharing her interest and talent for singing and resolved to keep an eye on the young man when he could spare it.
He was greatly pleased to have bestowed his patronage on the Paris Opera House. Or rather he would, by the end of act IV. His travels across all of Europe and beyond had revealed many beauties, but there was something to Paris that kept bringing him back. The arts, and the society were excellent, and he had gathered a great many acquaintances over the years. It would be good to settle for a while among friends.
He had the idea to write to the Du Maurier in Florence to tempt her into conquering Paris. The Opera House showed real promises indeed, but it was his feeling the cast would benefit from some more experienced members. He was sure that with an appropriately worded request she would consider his offer. She was a truly remarkable woman and a magnificent singer, but the end of her prime was fast coming. Surely, with the promise by his dear friend of a secure position here, she would be sensible enough to see the appeal of leaving Florence while still bestowed in all her glory.
It was an oddity, Hannibal idly thought, that most of the cast were to be so young. He'd have to question Frederick about it. Music resumed and this line of thought was left for later, as Hannibal let himself be caught by the performance once more.
Music was beauty beyond words. Done right, it plucked the very chord of one's soul to transport it beyond the veil of reality. Heaven and hell at war for the heart of men, in a torment of the most perfect nature.
It was a shame that the acting and performance were to be so artificial and stupidly rambunctious, he mused soulfully while closing his eyes to shunt out the offensive display.
'How have you found the performance, Count Lecter?' Frederick Chilton asked anxiously, while skittering about his office to produce a decanter and pair of glass at remarkable speed.
There, in the middle of the desk stood primly a thick bundle of paper, a few signatures the only things standing between the Opera House and the generous patronage of Count Lecter.
'It was quite pleasing. And I must confess, refreshing. It is not so often that I indulge in attending an opera named after my namesake*.' The count accepted with a grateful nod the glass of brandy that the manager handed him before continuing primly. 'You have done good by the place so far, Frederick,' he complimented with a toast to his host.
'Oh, quite!' Chilton pip-squeaked, 'I have to confess the place was in shamble when I first took on the position. I could never have guessed what a nightmare it would be to manage,' he huffed.
'Surely, I can't imagine why!' Hannibal exclaimed with a smile.
Sensing he had perhaps said too much, the man hurriedly tried to cover misconception that could hinder Count Lecter from scratching the oh-so-desired signatures.
'Oh, the Opera is fine, doing splendidly! It's just, artists can be… difficult to handle,' Chilton admitted with a pained grimace. 'Not a week ago, Mr Verger doubled the expanses for his stage dress, because he wouldn't wear the first one on account of it not complimenting his complexion. He vowed he would not sing unless we replaced the thing entirely.'
'I suppose it is the ways of beauty that we must bear with its caprices,' Hannibal conceded charitably.
'I suppose it wouldn't be all too bad if it weren't on account of them all being so superstitious,' the man continued, massaging his forehead tiredly. 'Sometimes I swear they must make up new curses and bad omens just to get me out of their way.'
'The opera is the veil between reality and fantasy. Surely the mind of those that walk the stage must dwell a little in the fantastic to bring it to life.'
'Yes, yes,' the man conceded tiredly, 'I am sure singing and dancing every hour of the day must forgive a fanciful turn of mind. But in the meantime, there must be me, running myself ragged because the colour was off.'
Clearly Chilton was taking a great pain to make polite conversation, while not ostensibly glancing at the patronage papers waiting to be ratified. The man clearly relished the opportunity of entertaining Count Lecter's company, for whom he has great respect and, Hannibal suspected, envy. But on the other hand, indulging meant risking running his tong and saying something that would lose him a great deal of money that Hannibal knew were painfully needed.
The Opera was, after all, about art. Such places were notorious to sink money in shocking fashion.
And as entertaining as Frederick's inner struggle was to Hannibal, he believed he would soon reach the limit of his capability to talk around the reason for Count Lecter's presence in the little office.
'I believe we'll figure a way to rein in your misbehaving artists,' Hannibal stated with a genial smile, before gesturing to the papers. 'Shall we, Frederick?'
'Oh, yes of course!' The man answered, springing to his feet right away to produce the documents. 'I confess I was quite surprised as to the specifics of your requirements. I don't believe patrons usually trouble themselves dealing with the artistic running of the place.'
'I take a keen interest that the Opera thrives, economically and artistically. I am sure me agreeing with the cast will remain a formality under the excellent running of your staff,' Hannibal responded, in a polit yet warning tone, his pen posed to sign yet unmoving.
'Of course, of course,' Frederic answered hurriedly. 'Miss Bloom and Mr Crawford have things well in hand here and I am sure you will scarcely find reason to intervene. But your expertise is renowned and if such occasion - perish the thought – were to arise, we would be honoured to take actions under your advice,' he finished hurriedly, a sheen of sweat starting to show on his forehead.
Hannibal took a lengthy second to weight the manager with an unreadable gaze, before simply concluding:
'Good.'
And ratifying the documents, signing his name with a great, elegant flourish.
Being the owner of the Opera in all things but name, Hannibal took great pleasure in at last walking the place at its most uncanny hour. The premier of 'Hannibal'* had been a huge success, and there was not a soul in the house that had not gone out celebrating.
There was a feeling to the emptiness of the Opera House in the few, rare hours of the night where it stood deserted. Hannibal ran his fingers against the wood of is chosen box. The grain was polished by the touch of many occupants, avid to soak in either the music or the envious gazes of the rest of the room.
Despite being deserted but for his sole presence, the room felt full. Its space was filled to the brim with the echoes of future and past performances, packed tight with the soaring, enthralled hearts of the public, joined as one rolling and hungry soul by the music.
The Opera lived, people and cast being mere passing fuel to its devouring passion.
Hannibal closed his eyes, and tried to catch onto the ethereal perception, letting the otherworldly fantasy of this place wash over him. In the quiet, hidden solitude of his recess, he let himself be free for a passing moment.
It could have been just a few seconds, or then a great deal of time later that he was dragged from the depth of his mind by the softest, most beautiful tune he could have imagined in this instant. The stage was cast into deep shadows by the heavy curtains and cluttered decors that had been dragged about. But in the middle of it all, and during his passing moment of inattention, someone had brought a wavering flame just kissing the end of a little candle.
A man stood there, half hidden behind a painted balcony, and draped in deep shadows. Hannibal would never have spotted him but for the sweet singing that he delicately weaved into the empty, intimate scenery. It started shy, before growing emboldened and catching onto the absent, but yet soaring public.
Hannibal found himself smitten, unable to stand or utter a word. He remained so for the whole performance to its end, enchanted beyond measure.
Finally, the last echoes distilled into a yearning silence. The man remained standing, silently unmoving, like cast into stone. Yet his features were kept jealously hidden by the intimate lightning of the lonely candle.
Breaking at last the spell keeping him rooted, Hannibal sprang to his feet with the idea to acquitting himself with the delightful singer. In doing so, he disturbed the seats that regretfully came knocking the wooden panel of the box.
The disturbance was discreet, but it sent the mysterious man into the most violent startle, and before Hannibal could utter a word of reassurance, the singer had blown the candle and taken desperate flight from the scenery, leaving behind the count in quite the state of befuddlement and confusion.
Hannibal pondered giving chase to the man, but discarder the idea presently. For one and despite his fascination, he wouldn't startle the man further. And second, old places like Opera were renowned for their complex and crooked architecture, layered by many years of modifications and piled up renovation work. Despite his excellent instincts, he would most likely end up embarrassing himself by getting lost about the place if he ran senselessly.
Surely, he could enquire about the man in the morning.
*In the act I of the Phantom of the Opera, the cast is rehearsing an opera named 'Hannibal' after the historical character. I found the coincidence funny enough.
NOTE:
Hello all! So, this is a 'trial chapter' if I may call it so. It is my first go at writing Hannigram, and I am testing the waters to see whether I find an interested reader base for me to continue this piece. I love to write, but I admit taking pleasure in being read. Therefore don't hesitate to make some noise in the comment section so that I can evaluate global interest in me working on this.
Thank you for your keen attention, with hopes that you like this as much as I do,
Yours,
Unseen Academical