The Night an Extra Became Luciano Pavarotti

Michael A. Horvich was one of the best supernumeraries, or “supers,” at Lyric Opera of Chicago. He knew his job description all too well: never sing, never dance, and for the love of Andrea Bocelli do not look Luciano Pavarotti in the eye. Meant to be seen but not heard, he was exquisite scenery, nothing more.

He had stood twenty feet away from Plácido Domingo, Mirella Freni, and Marilyn Horne, had bowed to kings, executed main characters, lain dead for minutes on end; once, he had even spent three weeks learning the correct way for a nineteenth-century French aristocrat to hold a napkin (for La Traviata). Michael couldn’t count the number of nights he had almost developed hearing loss from being surrounded by 60 people screaming at full volume into his ears.

One time, while Michael was pretending to be dead, Plácido Domingo accidentally stepped on his hand; it was the best day of Michael’s life.

That was all before Lyric Opera hired Luciano Pavarotti to play Cavaradossi in Tosca.

See, Michael already knew the rules of being the super. As I said, he was one of Lyric’s best. He would never lean a throwing spear against the “swords” wall; he would never cross behind the cyclorama after the Duchess entered; and he would never, ever, use the staircase during Act II. That would get him blacklisted from here to Sydney!

But then, during the fifth performance of Tosca, another super moved a chair two seconds early during Act I. This was an unmitigated disaster. Pavarotti had already been late to almost every rehearsal and barely knew his blocking, so the existence of a chair two seconds before its ordained arrival was enough to rewire Pavarotti’s brain. He nearly forgot all his music and even broke off mid–high C to compose himself.

Now, Michael A. Horvich was of course familiar with Tosca, but as one of Scarpia’s guards, he mostly understood the plot like this: (1) Wait (2) Uniform On (3) Kneel Piously (4) Exit (5) Stairs But Not THOSE Stairs, Jesus Christ (6) Wait 47.5 Minutes (7) Drag Luciano Pavarotti Onto Stage (8) Wait Some More (9) Shoot Luciano Pavarotti (10) Go Home.

Tonight, however, Luciano Pavarotti was nowhere to be found after Part 6 (“Wait 47.5 minutes”). Backstage chatter had him outside, poring over the script to determine why there had been a chair in the church two seconds early. Michael gulped. He knew he was not allowed to sing or dance, but it was also time for Part 7 (“Drag Luciano Pavarotti Onto Stage”). The show couldn’t stop simply because Luciano Pavarotti was having a nervous breakdown, and Pavarotti’s prisoner costume was sitting right there.

“Florindo!” Michael shouted. “Put on my clothes and drag me out. It’s time for Part 7!”

This was how Florindo Andreolli, who was playing Spoletta, dragged Michael — pretending to be Luciano Pavarotti — across the stage to Cornell MacNeil, and Michael proceeded to sing the entire interrogation scene perfectly — better than Pavarotti, even — thus breaking every super rule in the book. Two seconds after Michael finished his final phrase, Pavarotti finally ran onto the stage, shouting, “Vittoria! Vittoria!”

Michael is now a legend in the international super community. I even have a shrine dedicated to him in my living room. He was fired that night, of course, but for a few glorious minutes, Michael A. Horvich was no longer exquisite scenery.

Prompted by a conversation with Michael A. Horvich. (But not based on a true story.)