The Opera Box: Italy’s Original VIP Lounge
Long before opera became a temple of hush and hush‑you‑in‑Row‑G, the Italian theater was more piazza than pews. In Venice and Milan, the “box” wasn’t just a seat—it was real estate. At La Scala in the 1700s, boxes belonged to noble and bourgeois families, who decorated them to taste, rented or even bequeathed them, and, in a detail worthy of a period sitcom, sometimes kept a cook in back to cater mid‑aria cravings.
Venice wrote the first chapters. Public opera, open to paying audiences, launched there in 1637 at the Teatro San Cassiano, making opera a mass pastime rather than a courtly perk. Meanwhile, an earlier Venetian innovation—the stacked private box—had already appeared in the 1580s, giving theaters their signature tiers of little drawing rooms pointed at the stage.
By the late 18th century the box had become a social machine. When La Fenice was planned in 1789, the brief required five full tiers of boxes; the house was consciously designed so each box could function like a “miniature home,” a privatized slice of the city where one could sit, eat, play cards, and be seen. Status mattered as much as sightlines.
Milan offered variations on the theme. La Scala originally had five tiers of boxes; in 1909 the fifth was opened up into a gallery, and after World War I the private owners were expropriated in 1921—fifteen historic boxes still keep their old décor as a time capsule of that era.
Then came a counter‑reformation from Germany. Richard Wagner’s Bayreuth Festspielhaus junked plush side boxes for an amphitheater rake, hid the orchestra, and darkened the room so the drama—not the audience—was the star. Many modern houses followed with “continental” seating and far fewer boxes.
If classic Italian houses sometimes “sacrificed sound for social status,” they gave the world a potent idea: the theater as a city within a room, complete with neighborhoods, front porches, and bragging rights. That the music survived all this people‑watching is itself a happy, very operatic ending.