Opéra Bastille — Attraction in Paris

(review of the opera below) I am so glad that I booked tickets to see a show here. It was worth every penny and I wish I could've seen it twice.

The Cendrillon Opera by Jules Massanet

When I think of Cinderella, I think of rags to riches. Apron to ball gown. Barefoot to glass slipper. True loves first kiss. Love finding its way back.

The story of Cinderella is found in many cultures. The tale was passed down from generation to generation. The Chinese story of Yeh Shun. Egypt’s version of Rhodopis, an orphan hiding in the reeds of the Nile. Or the African tale of Mufaro’s Beautiful Daughter waiting before the king.

The French tale of Cendrillon is like the others. An overlooked girl who follows her duty. She is no different than other girls, but equality is not on her side. The age-old story tells of a King in search of a princess for his prince. The prince meets Cendrillon and it is love at first sight. Time separates them, but the glass slipper leaves a trace of hope for them to meet once again. Hearts ache for them as they search for each other. And the story goes on ending with true love.

Director Mariame Clément artfully designed the four act opera for all to enjoy. The setting was in Pandolfe’s factory (father of Cendrillon) following the World Fair of 1889 when Gustave Eiffel stunned the world with his tower. In the factory, the magic of machinery was used to prepare the stepsisters for the ball. Later, the fairy godmother and her elves unveiled Cendrillon through her own magic and the power of the factory to give her a chance in front of the prince.

But what if the prince wasn’t a prince? What if the king had a daughter and she was in search of a bride? Does that love story still resound in our hearts? Will our hearts still ache for them when they can’t find each other and are longing for their true love? Can that story be passed down teaching lessons to generations?

Not only did Clément, set Cendrillon’s family in the industrialization era, but she took other creative liberties without changing the beautiful of the original story. Body shape or size, race, height, hair, etc. didn’t define her parameters for casting. But, most beautiful of all (in my eyes), Prince Charming was played by Anna Stephany. She, yes she, was a charming soprano who pined for Cendrillon’s love.

The first time their voices blended in the air surrounding, I was mesmerized. The passion and desire was ever present. When the ‘prince’ lost her love, and sang out into the darkness, tears poured down my face. For her, but also for me and so many others that have been in that position. Not because of lost love, but secret love that has been torn from their hearts. Again, not because of time, but instead due to the hardness of others hearts.

It was moving. It was beautiful. Magical! It showed a whole new, yet really just the same, ‘Cinderella story.’ The audience still longed for the ‘prince’ and her love to reunite. They sat in eager stillness when she waited to her Cendrillon’s voice in the darkness. And after the curtain closed, the audience roared in applause for what seemed like eternity. Just like love, I guess.

There really is love. For so long we only saw it painted as a prince and princess, but that’s only their story, not mine...

My wife and I spent all day against the entire nation of France united together in a conspiracy to prevent us from attending the premier performance of Swan Lake at the Opera Bastille.

We arrived at the Strasbourg train station 90 minutes later than expected due to extreme traffic caused by the Christmas markets. I watched in disbelief as an employee of TGV INOUI stood up from her desk and ran circles around the ticket office flapping her arms like a child imitating a chicken because I asked her if I could exchange our ticket for one on the next train. We eventually boarded the next train, still, with plenty of time to arrive punctually. Our train departed the station 10 minutes late and arrived in Paris 20 minutes late. We knew that time would be tight, so we called ahead to arrange for a driver to pick us up directly from Gare de l'Est. This would be necessary since we were carrying luggage which could not be taken into the theater. Despite clear French-spoken instructions through our hotel concierge, somehow the driver thought that we wanted to go shopping at Bastille. After driving in the wrong direction for 10 minutes we identified and corrected the error. We ran the last kilometer of the journey on foot to avoid the celebratory World Cup traffic and arrived at the opera house at 7:25pm, 5 minutes before the curtain rises.

We ran up the grand staircase of the opera to find that the doors were locked with no clear entry instructions. A dozen other confused guests banged on the doors for a few minutes while staff members inside pretended not to see or hear us. Eventually a grumpy bartender instructed us to enter through a different door on the ground level. We rushed in and miraculously made it into the theater seconds before last call. We had done it, victory was in sight! A theater attendant looked at our tickets and told us that that our seats were "a le droit"-- on the right. The lights darkened as we shamefully excused ourselves along the entire row and discovered that every seat in this row was taken. We now found ourselves at the very back edge of the auditorium with nowhere to go except out, we were now locked out of the show. The same attendant who told us that our seats were on the right now looked at our tickets and said that, no, the seats are actually on the left and it is our fault for arriving so late. He told us to go upstairs and maybe we would be able to watch the show from a standing balcony. Of course this was a lie and the only option left was to watch the show on a little television. I have YouTube on my phone so we decided to leave.

An all-around lousy day in France was punctuated by an employee of this theater lying to my face 3...

Our experience at the Opera Bastille in Paris was nothing short of a nightmare. Despite arriving on time and enduring the pouring rain, we faced a series of failures and appalling customer service that turned what should have been an enjoyable evening into an infuriating ordeal.

To begin with, the entry process was chaotic and poorly managed. I had diligently pre-downloaded all my mobile tickets before the show, only to discover at the entrance that ONE of the downloads was incorrectly labeled as a “voucher” rather than a “ticket.” The website provided no clarity on this issue, leaving me confused and unprepared. When I presented the voucher, instead of receiving assistance, the ticketing agent responded with shocking rudeness. She huffed, puffed, and treated us with an air of disdain, forcing my family and me to stand aside while she processed thousands of others ahead of us. Her unprofessional and dismissive attitude was not only unhelpful but deeply disrespectful.

After much frustration, I managed to locate the correct ticket and finally entered the venue. However, the incompetence did not end there. We were given conflicting information by representatives about where to sit, leading to further delays. By the time we located our seats—just 10 minutes after the show had started—we were informed that we were “late,” that others had been given our seats, and we would not be allowed to enter. This was utterly outrageous, especially given that the delay was a direct result of the venue’s mismanagement and misinformation.

To add insult to injury, another representative approached us and, instead of offering solutions or an apology, spoke to us in an unprofessional and condescending manner, blaming us for being “late” and insisting that we “should have arrived early.” This remark was laughable considering the doors were not even open when we arrived, and the line to enter was excessively long and we were standing out in the pouring rain for a while before being let in!

Having attended operas in NYC, I can confidently say I have never experienced anything like this. The professionalism, organization, and guest experience at operas in NYC are far superior, making the mishandling at Opera Bastille all the more disappointing. It is disheartening to see such a prestigious venue fall so far below expectations.

The Opera Bastille utterly failed at every level—misleading ticketing systems, a lack of clear communication, grossly unprofessional staff, and a blatant disregard for guest experience. What should have been an unforgettable cultural evening became memorable for all the...