Fedora?  That 1898 opera, composed by Umberto Giordano of Foggia in southern Italy, that few save aficionados can lay claim to having heard of?  What usually springs to mind, of course, is the eponymously natty topper. 

That may largely be due to its rarity on the boards, since it last appeared to opera-lovers 25 years ago.  Traviata, Aïda, Carmen, Rigoletto and the rest of the beloved opera canon are almost daily commuters compared with that. 

And when you do hear the word, in 2023, you wonder why people are talking of paying high ticket prices for a brimmed, felted, usually male chapeau.  When Fedora was composed, the star planned for its presentation was the famed, boundary-bursting Jewish-French actress, Sarah Bernhardt.  Bernhardt played both male and female roles in her stellar career.  She brought worldwide audiences to their feet, a favorite of royals, counts, and dukes alike.  When she went onstage in this opera — at 54 — in fact, she wore a fetching felted brimmed hat that afterwards became known as a fedora because of Bernhardt's lively enactment onstage. 

Now voluptuously staged at Lincoln Centre's Metropolitan opera venue, Fedora hasn't been seen since 1997, almost a lifetime in theatrical terms. 

A classic story with some alteration, the libretto tells of a Russian princess's betrothed being killed, setting her to mourning — at least until she meets the assassin of her now-dead fiancé. Wouldn't you know it — she falls madly in love with this unexpected swain. 

The stage is lushly outfitted with three captivating sets and even more alluring costumes, especially the furbelowed ladies dancing, lilting, and gracing the lit goings-on. 

Although some colleagues did not find her wonderful, my escort and I were entranced with the acting presence and vocalizations of the Met's Sonya Yoncheva, soprano, onstage almost nonstop through the three long acts, and the tenor playing Count Loris, Piotr Beczala, also in fine voice for the dramatic evening's offering.  Conducting seamlessly was Marco Armiliato. 

We were privileged with excellent seats, with surtitles nicely displayed on the seatback ahead of each, should we not glom on to the Italian without assistance.

Despite the rarity of the production — or perhaps because of it — the hall was packed, even the five boxed tiers. 

Hats off to the Lincoln Center and the Met for this one.

Image: Orhun Rüzgar ÖZ, Pexels.