I recently attended a showing of the musical opera, La Rondine, in downtown San Jose's beautiful California Theatre. The opera tells the story of a courtesan in Paris, in the early 20th century, named Magda, who falls in love with a man she loves, but ends up facing multiple obstacles that leads to her tragic demise. 

As it was my first experience watching an opera, I was amazed with the robust voices of the performers on stage. The extravagantly dressed actors transported me to an alternate reality--one filled with brightly colored attire, beautiful scenery, and exaggerated 20th-century social norms. I couldn't help but to admire the extraordinary people onstage and their majestic talents throughout the entire show.

However, I found myself distracted from the lively actors. Directly in front of the grand California Theatre stage, hidden in a sunken pit, sat an assembly of musicians dressed in all black, wielding their polished brass, woodwind, and string instruments. Led by a conductor, their every note contributed towards the showing of the opera. As the opera singer dances across the stage, the flutist's graceful melody dances alongside her; as the stars of the show are escorted off backstage, the strings follow with the dying echo of the musical theme.

As the opera came to an end and the grand curtains closed, the audience roared in appreciation with a standing ovation. Meanwhile, the musicians quietly slipped out of the stage door amid the thunderous applause. While I felt that the brilliant stars of the show definitely deserved a standing ovation, I felt as if the supporting musicians didn't receive the acknowledgment they deserved.

About a month after I had witnessed La Rondine, I found myself playing a completely different role in almost the exact same setting. 

The Los Gatos Ballet was preparing for its annual performance of The Nutcracker, and San Jose Youth Symphony was given the opportunity to accompany the ballet. As the principal cellist for the San Jose Youth Symphony, I suddenly found myself dressed in black, wielding my cello as I sat in the dark pit in front of the stage. For an orchestra made up of almost 60 musicians, the pit was barely large enough and quickly became a cramped, claustrophobic-inducing cubicle.

As the lights dimmed and the audience quieted, our conductor dramatically raised his baton, and the orchestra immediately responded. Just like that, I found myself amidst the mellifluous sound of the overture. 

I fully realized how important the orchestra was as a participating musician. The tempo we played determined the speed that the ballet dancers would perform. Too fast, and the dancers would trip over their own feet; too slow, and their pirouettes would finish too quickly. More importantly, any desynchronization between the orchestra and dancers would be very noticeable, as the orchestra provided all sound effects that the performers were incapable of creating. One clear instance of this was during the fighting scene of The Nutcracker. In this act, a young soldier mimed a single gunshot on stage, and consequently, the gunshot was mimicked by a musician with the slap of a percussion instrument, known as the slapstick. In such cases, timing becomes crucial, and the faithful relationship between a dancer, the conductor, and a musician becomes one of upmost importance.

The experience was truly one of a kind, and even as we packed our instruments and slipped away amid the applause, I felt tremendously proud that our orchestra was able to successfully lead Los Gatos Ballet through a full 3 hour show of the Nutcracker. Even though the audience roared in thunderous applause towards the performers, I knew deep down of the paramount role we played towards the production of the ballet.

To be perfectly honest, as a former pit musician myself for Los Gatos Ballet's showing of The Nutcracker, I must admit that my profound appreciation for a pit orchestra might stem from a biased view. However, I would have never truly understood the importance of a role that a pit orchestra plays, until I had witnessed them in action during La Rondine, from the audience, as well as in The Nutcracker, from the dark shadows of the orchestra pit.

Even though pit musicians are located under the stage, it doesn't mean they are in any way lesser than the performers. Instead, it is the coordination between the two that allows plays, operas, or ballets to become the successes that they are. Therefore, while it is tradition for us to applaud the performers, we should also appreciate the musicians for their modesty and skill. After all, the show truly can't go on without them.