An opera house of red velvet and gold leaf, twelve hundred seats and one chandelier with opinions. Flip through the season, then choose your seat — and see the stage from exactly where you'll sit.
Four productions. Turn the pages.
Every seat shows you the stage before you pay for it. Click anywhere in the house.
Four tiers of boxes, a ceiling by a painter nobody could afford twice, and acoustics tuned by ear — a violinist walked the hall for a year while the plasterers worked.
The chandelier holds 212 crystals. The prompter's box still smells of cedar. We would not change a thing.
The lights dim at half past seven. The rest is Verdi's problem.