Al-Ahram Weekly 4 - 10 November 1999 Issue No. 454
Published in Cairo by AL-AHRAM established in 1875

Not by bread alone By Fayza Hassan

Egypt Region International Economy Opinion Culture Features Profile Travel Living Sports People Time Out Chronicles Cartoons Letters

For the past few years, Cairo has been the object of a drive towards architectural enhancement. Projects vary greatly in quality, but each has its detractors and supporters, who often engage in heated controversy -- at least a sign of healthy interest on the part of the public.

The reinstatement of the old Opera House on its original grounds, put forth by Minister of Culture Farouk Hosni, is one of a plethora of proposals for the beautification of the capital. Commissioned by Khedive Ismail for the celebrations of the opening of the Suez Canal, as proof that Egypt was the cultural equal of the European powers, the Cairo Opera House remained for a hundred years a landmark in the life of the Cairene intelligentsia. Its construction was marked by the haste (five months) and confusion typical of the architectural endeavours of Ismail's reign.

The building was erected by the architects attached to the khedival dayra as an exact copy of La Scala of Milan and barely completed in 1869 to host the representation of Verdi's Rigoletto -- in lieu of the commissioned and at that point unfinished Aida -- in honour of the royal visitors. It was entrusted four years later to a speculator-turned-contractor of Italian origin and dubious reputation, Avoscani, who was asked to renovate the edifice and enlarge it. It took another two years before the Opera was finished and the Cairene public could enjoy the long-awaited Aida in comfort. From then on, however, the graceful structure was an unmitigated success, witnessing the performances of the best and most prestigious international opera singers, ballet troupes and theatre companies. Artists the world over considered it an honour to perform in Egypt for thousands of refined spectators in full evening dress. Cairo's who's who would not have dreamed of missing the "season", during which they periodically descended on the Opera House in droves of elegant limousines to occupy the exquisitely appointed, crimson-upholstered boxes and the velvet-covered seats of the theatre's parterre. In the beginning, mysteriously veiled Egyptian ladies of royal descent attended the performances in seclusion on the mezzanine, behind the intricate mashrabiya screens installed for that purpose, but by the middle of the 20th century they had begun to mingle quite normally with the male audience.

The Cairo Opera House, which was partially built of wood, was damaged during Black Saturday (the 1952 Cairo fire) but saved from total destruction thanks to the quick intervention of the fire brigade. Restored, it was fated to fall prey, in 1971, to engulfing flames accidentally sparked by an electrical fault in the wiring. This time it quickly burned to the ground.

Soon after its disappearance, a multi-story reinforced concrete public garage was erected in its place, its visual offensiveness so blatant that one wonders to this day how the public did not raise its voice in protest at the time. Had people been hypnotised into believing that they were witnessing the dawn of an era where the practical automatically had to supersede the aesthetically pleasing? Or had the daily sight of another eyesore, the ominously hideous Mugamma' building, terminally dulled their sense of architectural discernment?

Whatever the case may be, the monstrous structure was permitted to defile the spot that had been for so long the hub of Cairene cosmopolitan life and the symbol of its uncontested artistic supremacy.

photo: Mohamed Lutfi
Far top, the old Opera House in all its glory; Top and centre, consumed by flames; bottom, sets, props and costumes photos: Emile Karam

In the 1980s, a new and much needed Opera House was built on the Gezira. While this Egyptian-Japanese initiative has certainly contributed to the beauty of the area by creating an island of open spaces and greenery and has given a welcome impetus to artistic life in Cairo, it is not yet clothed in the aura of magnificence engendered for a century by the eminence of the old venue's patrons and the unforgettable quality of its spectacles.

Recounting a recent conversation with Cairo Governor Abdel-Rehim Shehata, Maged Farag, author of The Royal Albums, expresses the belief that the governor would be agreeable too to the idea of reinstating the old opera house on the spot where Ismail built it. The minister of culture had envisaged the new building to be an exact copy of the old one, would include a similar timber structure, but this time around properly treated fire-resistant beams would be used. Endowed with state-of-the-art fire-extinguishing and security systems, this playhouse could be reserved for the showing of a more classical type of performance, reviving in Egypt the tradition of high-quality theatrical, operatic and ballet spectacles. Although this project is still in the realm of speculation, and no official announcement or approval of the project has been forthcoming, the scheme has already sparked a ferocious controversy, not least because it is expected to rise again on its former site, part of which is at present occupied by the ungainly Ataba garage. In preparation, the famous Mattatias building, which harboured the eponymous café, was recently pulled down, to the chagrin of preservation advocates, taking solace only in the thought that the opera would replace it and that the ugly garage was fated to disappear.

Few would seek to deny that the car park is a blemish on our architectural record and that its replacement by an underground facility can only represent a serious improvement in the urban landscape. Fewer still would assert that the once famous Ezbekiya and Opera Squares are worthy today of what was, albeit briefly, one of the most beautiful capitals in the world. Driving through the busy, polluted area, one is often bewildered by the enthusiastic descriptions of past travellers: Are these really the gardens they were talking about? Would it not be possible to restore the original beauty of the quarter, complete with the Cairo Opera House?

Adversaries of the project claim that times have changed, that traffic around the area can no longer be contained or diverted and that parking space is at a premium. Furthermore, they are prompt to point out that there are more pressing priorities -- like adequate housing for the poor, for example. "This is all very true," says Farag. "Cairo is suffering acutely from the ills which befall every growing capital in the developing world, and solutions have indeed to be found; but man does not live by bread alone. We have to preserve our cultural heritage for our children and acquaint the young generations with international art and culture. This is the first step toward a true appreciation of one's own heritage." The government is planning to finance the project fully through contributions from international organisations. The drive to raise the necessary donations in money and expertise could be jump-started with a unique extravaganza, commanding international attention, says Farag, who has offered to launch and participate in an extensive fund-raising campaign. "Why not one featuring the Three Tenors (Luciano Pavarotti, Jose Carreras and Placido Domingo), for instance?" he reflects.

As for the garage, it has to go even if we never rebuild the Opera. It is an insult to our taste. It has overstayed its welcome and outgrown its usefulness. At this point, it is an impediment rather than an assistance to the flow of traffic. People keep mentioning the expenditure incurred in building it some 30 years ago and, now, that of pulling it down. The initial financial output should not be instrumental in obscuring our judgement, however. We should rather consider the benefits of the transformation of the area in the long run. I once bought a very expensive designer outfit. A few years later, it was no longer looking good. Should I have kept wearing it, looking like an outmoded fool, on the grounds that its original cost had been exorbitant and that the price tag on a more adequate replacement would be even higher?

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A nip and a tux

IN THE 1980s, a brand-new opera was built to replace the old one, a much-needed initiative undertaken under Japanese sponsorship. The building was erected on the Gezira exhibition grounds, which had formerly housed part of Khedive Ismail's palatial domain. Although the directors of the new playhouse did their best to emulate the old venue, the ambiance is not the same and amateurs of Wagner and Puccini still yearn for days of yore.

In an attempt to recreate the proper atmosphere, a dress code has been imposed, at least upon those who wish to attend shows in the Main Hall. It is not quite black tie, since the attendants often have to lend a tie and sometimes even a jacket to young men who have come to enjoy the performance clad in their practical jeans and fashionable T-shirts; but it is formal all the same.

Here's the rub. "What exactly is formal?" many theatre-goers ask. A tuxedo, of course, a dark suit and tie, or one's national costume. Would a gubba and quftan do, then? No one is quite sure, but, after much hesitation, one is told that yes, they would -- if they are impeccable, and if the wearer can prove that they are his customary clothes. The problem is even more bewildering for women: jeans are out, but what if they are made of black satin?

The authorities ruling the Opera seem unaware of the fact that, since they have replaced internationally-renowned ballet and opera troupes with popular singers and variety shows to cater for a public who favours Magda Al-Roumi over Placido Domingo and Al-Sira Al-Hilaliya over La Traviata, they must now adapt the stipulations on attire to the audience flocking to their doors. And why not? Should those who cannot afford the expense of a formal suit be deprived of intellectual stimulation as well? Why not keep the new opera young and informal, reserving a more formal venue for those who take their only mental nourishment from the classics?

photo: Yves Paris

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