An Oasis in England’s Troubled, Polarized Opera Landscape

The sun shone brightly over the downs of East Sussex on a summer afternoon while people trickled onto the grounds of Glyndebourne to hear an opera by Handel. Most of the men wore black tie, and many women were in floral gowns, as they picnicked among gardens and sculptures, and under the shadow of the property’s grand, Jacobethan manor house.

As they made their way into Glyndebourne’s opera house, old Oxbridge friends recognized one another and swapped life updates; introductions were made, photos were taken, and, when the time came for the show to start, the party was put on a respectful pause for the opening act of “Giulio Cesare.”

It all had the appearance of opera in paradise, which isn’t so much of an exaggeration. Glyndebourne, a country house festival that over 90 years has grown into an enormous, year-round operation, has a reputation for elitism in its unofficial dress code and high prices. But there is also elitism, the good kind, in its level of music making.