Student Blog: You're Wrong Timothée Chalamet: There is so Much to Love About Opera

“You can speak Spanish. It's practically the same thing.”

There it was–part invitation, part demand–put before me by my college voice instructor, Dr. Marilyn Govich. Though I may not be entirely accurate in my recollection of her words, I distinctly remember the message: this might seem hard, but it’s time you ventured beyond your vocal safety zones. 

Dr. Govich is amazing. She challenges, critiques, and pushes my self-imposed limits. She encourages, empowers, and uplifts. Without a doubt, I know she celebrates my successes almost as much as my own family. She is a professor, a mentor, and someone who genuinely cares about her students.

For almost two years, her guidance has helped to expand my range and broaden the roles I feel confident in seeking. 

However, when she suggested I try opera, I must admit I had some doubts.

One day last fall, as Dr. Govich and I proceeded through vocal warm-ups, I noticed her ponderous expression as she focused on the higher limits of my range. All of a sudden, she stopped playing the piano mid-exercise. 

“Hold on,” she said. “I need to find something.”

She walked over to her music library and began skimming through her endless collection of scores. Eventually she pulled one out and returned to the piano. She flipped through a few pages before stopping on an aria written in a language I surely did not recognize.

 I saw the opera title “Gianni Schicchi” and thought I might as well be in a physics class. 

“You need to sing this,” she said. 

I remember staring at the music for “O mio babbino caro” thinking, “No way. There is no way I can do this. Not in a million years.” Not only was the music stylistically different from what I sing, but the language barrier was intimidating. 

Dr. Govich sensed my hesitancy. It was more than hesitancy; it was doubt–a fear that I was not capable of the task she was putting before me.  

But she looked at me with complete confidence and said, “Let’s just try it.”

As we started working through the first line, Dr. Govich began slowly teaching me the pronunciation of Italian. She would say each word carefully and have me repeat it. I was having difficulty. She said, “You can speak Spanish. It’s practically the same thing. Keep trying.” 

She sent me home with a copy of the song. For two weeks, that music sat in my folder like an unwanted guest at a party. I ignored it completely. At lessons, Dr. Govich asked if I wanted to work on the aria, and I suggested anything and everything but those beautiful, but personally frightening, words. 

Week three arrived and Dr. Govich was done giving me freedom. 

“It’s time we work on it,” she said. 

And so we did. 

What do you know, as I grew more comfortable with the pronunciation and more familiar with the story behind the words, the song became more like a friend. I identified with this erratically emotional young woman pleading for the chance to pursue her passion. Even more, I felt challenged by the complexity of the necessary breathing, and I felt inspired by the newness of the vocal complexity. 

What at first seemed like an unconquerable feat became an addition to my repertoire for the semester. Department faculty selected it as one of two songs for my voice final, and I even chose to sing it for an audition. 

Nobody will ever describe me as a Renée Fleming vocal doppelgänger. However, the experience of singing opera was a creative risk I am proud to have taken. It gave me a level of confidence that helped me play the role of Mary Sunshine in my school’s production of Chicago last month. 

I am fortunate to have Dr. Govich’s gentle but persistent direction. Having teachers such as Dr. Govich–mentors who push you to believe in your abilities–means that taking risks can lead to immeasurable rewards. When you trust someone who sees potential that you don’t yet see in yourself, taking a risk is not nearly so scary, at least not for long.