Lassparri: Never in my life have I received such treatment. They threw an apple at me.

Otis B. Driftwood: Well, watermelons are out of season.

From The Marx Brothers A Night at the Opera

My first night at the opera – a few months ago, at a production of Daughter of the Regiment – at the Harrison Opera House was a learning experience. I discovered that I enjoyed the gesticulating, sighing, and grimacing (the actors as much as my own). I also learned that I didn’t have the wardrobe to be a true aficionado, no silk tie, tuxedo, or sheer black socks. Even though my wardrobe wasn’t going to fit me for much in the world of finer things, I did have an old Ralph Lauren overcoat, and with that I could hide a multitude of sins and relish the high notes as a fashion interloper.

The current production of Don Giovanni is well worth attending (don’t bring rotten fruit). There are plenty of high notes. Just seeing all the well-dressed folk is fun. Opera at the Harrison produces more tuxes, evening gowns, and mink coats per square foot than any event in the Hampton Roads area besides a Republican fundraiser with Mitt Romney.

The story behind Don Giovanni – the legend of Don Juan – is a familiar one and has a long history. Many writers, everyone from Moliere and Byron to Kierkegaard and Camus, have examined the story. Mozart’s 18th century opera is often called a comedy, but if so, it’s a twisted one. Surely, Don Giovanni’s long-suffering servant Leporello (acted to perfection by the bass-baritone Daniel Mobbs) is a funny guy, and Zerlina (played with a sexy mischievousness by soprano Sarah Jane McMahon) wiggles her way into and out of sexual harm. But no matter how funny they are or how handsome, charismatic, and winningly energetic Matthew Worth is as the lead character, Don Giovanni, Mozart’s opera portrays a dark, convoluted world. Whatever way one looks at the story, Don Giovanni is not a nice guy. He is a seducer of any woman he can get his aristocratically gloved hands on – any age, any shape, any degree of beauty. He’s not picky. He has a black book and he’s keeping score.

Soprano Nicolle Foland as Donna Anna, Worth as Don Giovanni, and soprano Cristina Nassif as Donna Elvira.

The women all say no, no but they open their bodices while they’re crying foul. So, Don Giovanni may come across like Bill Clinton, mincing words and his steps under the numerous balconies of seemingly innocent women, but there’s plenty of guilt to go around, it seems. Seduction, Mozart might be suggesting, is a dance that takes at least two, like the tango. Along the darkly comic way of the tale, there’s lovely music, majestic voices, a talking statue, and a fiery stage setting for the final act. As much as Don Giovanni may resemble a precursor to John Edwards, he actually carries himself with a more sympathetic honesty. He refuses to repent, spitting out his refusal as he’s dragged down to the fires of hell. He wouldn’t have lied on camera as Bill did, but would have proudly said, “I did have sex with that woman,” whether her name was Monica Lewinsky of or not.

Michael Pearson, slowly becoming an opera expert and daily searching for a tuxedo in thrift stores (if you have a used one you want to sell for a 40 R e-mail him), teaches in the MFA Program in Creative Writing at Old Dominion University.