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The Lisbon Traviata
Terrence McNally describes The Lisbon Traviata as a play about "obsessive people, people with great passions."
Stephen and Mendy are two such men whose lives have been lost in opera. Particularly, they are addicted to the genius and the memory of the late, great Maria Callas. Mendy will do anything to hear the new pirated recording of her Violetta in a production performed in Portugal many years ago. He begs, pleads and screams for Stephen to get the recording from his apartment, but Stephen's live-in lover Mike is, at the moment, having an intimate evening there with another man. Though Stephen professes to feel perfectly secure in this odd arrangement, inside, he is seething with jealousy and fear. In the second act, we see the confrontation between Stephen and his now lost love.
Stephen and Mendy are two such men whose lives have been lost in opera. Particularly, they are addicted to the genius and the memory of the late, great Maria Callas. Mendy will do anything to hear the new pirated recording of her Violetta in a production performed in Portugal many years ago. He begs, pleads and screams for Stephen to get the recording from his apartment, but Stephen's live-in lover Mike is, at the moment, having an intimate evening there with another man. Though Stephen professes to feel perfectly secure in this odd arrangement, inside, he is seething with jealousy and fear. In the second act, we see the confrontation between Stephen and his now lost love.
72 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1989
About the author
Terrence McNally
106 books34 followersTerrence McNally was an American playwright, librettist, and screenwriter. Described as "the bard of American theater" and "one of the greatest contemporary playwrights the theater world has yet produced," McNally was the recipient of five Tony Awards. He won the Tony Award for Best Play for Love! Valour!
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Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews
April 25, 2019
Not my favorite read by McNally but still really captivating.
February 28, 2026
"Opera is a disease,” Metropolitan Opera general manager Rudolf Bing (from 1950-72) once said. “Those who have it don't want to be cured, and those who don't have it can't understand why the others want to be ill." The Lisbon Traviata documents the symptoms endured by the opera afflicted and the caregiver burden shouldered by their loved ones. It is the only play in Terrence McNally’s informally titled “Night at the Opera Trilogy” told from the perspective of opera fans rather than opera professionals. Yet it is a more satisfying panegyric to soprano Maria Callas than the biographical Master Class and a more visceral depiction of the art form’s appeal than the behind-the-scenes history Golden Age. It begins as a riotously funny sendup of 1980s opera vinyl collectors and evolves into a devastating exploration of the fine line between life’s vital passions and its destructive obsessions.
Act One is a verbally rambunctious farce in the tradition of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest or Philip Barry’s The Philadelphia Story. It introduces gay opera enthusiasts Stephen and Mendy, the kind of besties who are simultaneously entertained and exasperated by each other’s company. In their quest for a mutually satisfactory LP to listen to, the duo riff on virtually every opera in the canon, weighing in vehemently even on obscure compositions like Cherubini’s Medea (“boring music” whether sung by Callas or Ethel Merman) and Pelleas et Melisande (“Debussy has balls. He just doesn’t wear them on his sleeve”). They also namedrop most of the divas who graced the Metropolitan Opera stage from Bing’s era to the mid-80s. Joan Sutherland has legato but “always sings behind the beat.” Marilyn Horne “sings like a truck driver.” The nonstop banter ripples with opera in-jokes, but its Aaron Sorkin-esque musicality is entertaining even for non-cognoscenti.
Act Two is nowhere near as much fun, but it broadens the discussion of obsession in devastating fashion. McNally draws connections between unhealthy fanboy passion and unhealthy romantic passion by shifting the narrative to Stephen’s relationship with his former lover and current roommate Mike. Their clingy and deteriorating romance is as unfulfilling as Stephen’s one-sided devotion to Callas. Moreover, the artistic obsession is actually a cause of love’s demise. In the first half, we laugh at Mendy for being so obsessed with Callas that she is named in his divorce papers. In the second half, a similar revelation about Stephen (his preference for Callas cassettes over supportive pillow talk catalyzed his breakup with Mike) is anything but funny. Mendy later leaves petty answering machine messages about his need to listen to the titular “Lisbon Traviata,” an iconic live recording of Callas as Verdi’s Violetta, just as Mike prepares to walk out on Stephen. The juxtaposition between trivial preoccupation and genuine anguish provides a resounding dénouement.
McNally is hardly the only writer to meditate on the dark side of fandom. Other treatments of this theme include Rajiv Joseph’s basketball-themed play King James, Nick Hornby’s record shop Entwicklungsroman High Fidelity, and Junot Diaz’s novel about alienating nerdom, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. The idea that shared artistic interests are crucial to compatibility (Stephen says “it gets pretty hard coming home night after night to a man who doesn’t like Ideomeneo”) is also well-represented in literature. Ian McEwan movingly expresses that thought in a novel I recently finished, What We Can Know. “I had made a sacrifice in marrying a man who had no taste for reading,” reports its narrator. “I had a partner and a playmate, but I also wanted a thought-mate.”
Still, McNally’s work stands out because its cautionary tale about the opera disease also acknowledges the legitimate emotional nourishment art can provide. Callas’s talent for spur-of-the-moment interpretation of aging masterpieces made her an authentic companion for millions. “Maria never sang ‘just another Traviata’ in her life,” effuses Mendy. “The whole point of Maria is that she never sang ‘just another’ anything. It’s what killed her.” Callas’s tragic death had special significance for a generation of gays living in the isolating shadow of AIDS, particularly given opera’s historic appeal to queer men. “What’s so obvious about two men going to Parsifal together?” asks Stephen. “Face it,” replies Mendy. “Ice hockey at the Garden it’s not.” This blend of wit and poignancy secures The Lisbon Traviata a place not only as the best in McNally’s opera trilogy but also my personal favorite within his extensive catalog.
Act One is a verbally rambunctious farce in the tradition of Oscar Wilde’s The Importance of Being Earnest or Philip Barry’s The Philadelphia Story. It introduces gay opera enthusiasts Stephen and Mendy, the kind of besties who are simultaneously entertained and exasperated by each other’s company. In their quest for a mutually satisfactory LP to listen to, the duo riff on virtually every opera in the canon, weighing in vehemently even on obscure compositions like Cherubini’s Medea (“boring music” whether sung by Callas or Ethel Merman) and Pelleas et Melisande (“Debussy has balls. He just doesn’t wear them on his sleeve”). They also namedrop most of the divas who graced the Metropolitan Opera stage from Bing’s era to the mid-80s. Joan Sutherland has legato but “always sings behind the beat.” Marilyn Horne “sings like a truck driver.” The nonstop banter ripples with opera in-jokes, but its Aaron Sorkin-esque musicality is entertaining even for non-cognoscenti.
Act Two is nowhere near as much fun, but it broadens the discussion of obsession in devastating fashion. McNally draws connections between unhealthy fanboy passion and unhealthy romantic passion by shifting the narrative to Stephen’s relationship with his former lover and current roommate Mike. Their clingy and deteriorating romance is as unfulfilling as Stephen’s one-sided devotion to Callas. Moreover, the artistic obsession is actually a cause of love’s demise. In the first half, we laugh at Mendy for being so obsessed with Callas that she is named in his divorce papers. In the second half, a similar revelation about Stephen (his preference for Callas cassettes over supportive pillow talk catalyzed his breakup with Mike) is anything but funny. Mendy later leaves petty answering machine messages about his need to listen to the titular “Lisbon Traviata,” an iconic live recording of Callas as Verdi’s Violetta, just as Mike prepares to walk out on Stephen. The juxtaposition between trivial preoccupation and genuine anguish provides a resounding dénouement.
McNally is hardly the only writer to meditate on the dark side of fandom. Other treatments of this theme include Rajiv Joseph’s basketball-themed play King James, Nick Hornby’s record shop Entwicklungsroman High Fidelity, and Junot Diaz’s novel about alienating nerdom, The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao. The idea that shared artistic interests are crucial to compatibility (Stephen says “it gets pretty hard coming home night after night to a man who doesn’t like Ideomeneo”) is also well-represented in literature. Ian McEwan movingly expresses that thought in a novel I recently finished, What We Can Know. “I had made a sacrifice in marrying a man who had no taste for reading,” reports its narrator. “I had a partner and a playmate, but I also wanted a thought-mate.”
Still, McNally’s work stands out because its cautionary tale about the opera disease also acknowledges the legitimate emotional nourishment art can provide. Callas’s talent for spur-of-the-moment interpretation of aging masterpieces made her an authentic companion for millions. “Maria never sang ‘just another Traviata’ in her life,” effuses Mendy. “The whole point of Maria is that she never sang ‘just another’ anything. It’s what killed her.” Callas’s tragic death had special significance for a generation of gays living in the isolating shadow of AIDS, particularly given opera’s historic appeal to queer men. “What’s so obvious about two men going to Parsifal together?” asks Stephen. “Face it,” replies Mendy. “Ice hockey at the Garden it’s not.” This blend of wit and poignancy secures The Lisbon Traviata a place not only as the best in McNally’s opera trilogy but also my personal favorite within his extensive catalog.
October 12, 2021
"Opera doesn't reject me. The real world does."
Though it was written in a moment of deep crisis and anixety for gay men in New York City, the desperation that comes through in each of these men still feels as potent in 2021 and makes the vicious climax hit in a painful place. I can imagine that this unflinching, frank and ugly downfall of a relationship was not every critic's cup of tea back when they maybe were expecting a lighter resolution to this gay tragedy.
Though it was written in a moment of deep crisis and anixety for gay men in New York City, the desperation that comes through in each of these men still feels as potent in 2021 and makes the vicious climax hit in a painful place. I can imagine that this unflinching, frank and ugly downfall of a relationship was not every critic's cup of tea back when they maybe were expecting a lighter resolution to this gay tragedy.
June 3, 2026
STEPHEN. Don’t hang up.
MENDY. The next time you’re offered a pair of free tickets to the Met, they won’t be from me. That’s not the point. I offered them. Whether or not you wanted them is immaterial.
STEPHEN. Don’t hang up.
MENDY. You’re a selfish, self-centered, stereotypical, aging, immature queen. No wonder you don’t have any friends. Yes, all that just because you won’t bring a goddamn record album over here or let me come over there and get it! Besides, the Maria Callas Lisbon Traviata is not just another goddamn record album of Stephen’s. Right now, at this particular moment in my not-so-terrific life, it’s probably the most goddamn important thing in the world to me, but I wouldn’t expect an insensitive faggot who’s idea of a good time is sitting around listening to Angela Lansbury shrieking on about “The Worst Pies In London,” like yourself, to understand what I’m talking about. I’m not surprised you don’t like opera. People like you don’t like life.
March 29, 2020
I can't figure out how to contact Goodreads about an erroneous description, so I figured I'd write it here.
First off the description goes into too much detail. It's meant to be a snapshot of the plot not a CliffsNotes of the play.
And most importantly, it's incorrect. At the risk of writing a spoiler...to counter another spoiler - no one gets stabbed! It's not accurate and definitely shouldn't have been mentioned in the summary even if it was true. :o(
Apparently there was a different ending during various productions. But this is meant to be reflective of the books rather than the productions. All I can say is that my copy has the "softer ending".
P.S. I do have one tiny bone to pick with Mr. McNally regarding this play. Paul Della Rovere is not a Portuguese name. And Theater San Marco is not a Portuguese place. He seems to have gotten Italian and Portuguese mixed up ;o)
First off the description goes into too much detail. It's meant to be a snapshot of the plot not a CliffsNotes of the play.
And most importantly, it's incorrect. At the risk of writing a spoiler...to counter another spoiler - no one gets stabbed! It's not accurate and definitely shouldn't have been mentioned in the summary even if it was true. :o(
Apparently there was a different ending during various productions. But this is meant to be reflective of the books rather than the productions. All I can say is that my copy has the "softer ending".
P.S. I do have one tiny bone to pick with Mr. McNally regarding this play. Paul Della Rovere is not a Portuguese name. And Theater San Marco is not a Portuguese place. He seems to have gotten Italian and Portuguese mixed up ;o)
April 16, 2023
I am so glad I was able to track down a copy of the play. Let me tell you, it was not easy to find! I was not sure what to expect but can now see it's an exploration about the different levels of friendships/intimate relationships. The theme that holds it together is finding a special sound recording of an opera that Maria Callas performed in. I feel this is a play for connoisseurs who are hard to please and/or have high tastes.
September 5, 2017
I read this play in class and I really enjoyed writing an essay on this play! I liked analyzing the characters and the story. This play shows how people who are homosexual cope with discrimination and AIDS. They were in danger and had to deal with how scorn from others. The play would be very dramatic, as it involves opera and arguments.
December 7, 2023
3.5 stars
January 11, 2024
This one hit uncomfortably close to home.
May 11, 2024
would probably be five stars if i could understand all the opera references lol
December 19, 2012
OH MY GOD. YOU HAVE TO READ THIS. OH. MY. GOD. I've read a lot of plays and I rarely finish with this reaction.
May 9, 2015
Really terrific although the ending was rather disturbing.
Displaying 1 - 12 of 12 reviews