Anastasiia Mantach, NOVA OPERA Artists after performance of opera-requiem IYOV in National Opera House of Ukraine, CC BY-SA 2.0
For centuries, opera was the glittering crown jewel of European high culture—a spectacle of music, theater, and fashion wrapped into one. But somewhere between the invention of the phonograph and the streaming revolution, it became saddled with the reputation of being elitist, inaccessible, and, frankly, a bit dusty. For decades, opera houses across the world wrestled with dwindling attendance and the perennial question: could this 400-year-old art form survive modern tastes? Surprisingly, the answer seems to be yes. In recent years, opera has been making a comeback—not through clinging to tradition, but by reinventing itself for an audience that craves spectacle, storytelling, and emotional resonance in new forms.
One of the most striking signs of opera’s revival lies in its ability to embrace technology. Companies like the Metropolitan Opera have leaned into live HD broadcasts, allowing audiences from Kansas to Kuala Lumpur to experience the grandeur of Puccini or Wagner on the big screen without ever stepping foot in Lincoln Center. Streaming services have also made operas more accessible, offering recordings that once were hidden away in archives. This democratization of access has rebranded opera as something you can discover in your living room, not just in velvet-draped concert halls.
Equally important has been the way opera has embraced contemporary themes. Modern productions are no longer confined to powdered wigs and marble palaces. Directors are setting Carmen in border towns, reimagining Don Giovannias a commentary on #MeToo, and even commissioning brand-new works that tackle climate change, migration, and surveillance capitalism. These creative risks have allowed opera to resonate with today’s audiences, turning once-dusty librettos into biting cultural critiques.
Opera’s comeback also owes much to fashion and spectacle—two elements it has always excelled in. Costume designers are merging haute couture with traditional garb, making productions visually stunning enough to rival pop concerts. Theatricality, once considered over-the-top, has become a selling point in an age where Instagram thrives on the dramatic. Audiences post snapshots of elaborate sets and avant-garde costumes, giving opera a digital afterlife far beyond the opera house.
Another factor is the rise of crossover stars. Singers like Andrea Bocelli, Renée Fleming, and even crossover acts that mix opera with pop or rock have pulled new listeners into the fold. When voices trained for Verdi sing alongside Coldplay or appear at the Super Bowl, opera sneaks back into the mainstream. The prestige of operatic training—lungs of steel, vocal cords of velvet—has become a kind of athleticism admired even by those who don’t consider themselves fans of classical music.
Crucially, opera companies have begun to court younger audiences. Discounted tickets for students, partnerships with TikTok creators, and immersive opera “pop-ups” in parks and warehouses are part of a deliberate effort to shake off the elitist label. Instead of tuxedos and pearls, audiences show up in sneakers and denim—and the music, it turns out, is just as powerful. Opera is once again being understood as storytelling at its most primal: voices cutting across orchestras to stir emotions too large for words.
Globalization has also played a role. Asian cities like Beijing, Seoul, and Tokyo have built state-of-the-art opera houses, while Latin America has nurtured a passionate opera culture that blends European tradition with local artistry. In the process, opera has become less Eurocentric, expanding its repertoire and aesthetics. This global infusion has breathed new life into the art, challenging the notion that opera belongs solely to the West.
Opera’s comeback is also philosophical. In an age where much of our entertainment is bite-sized and algorithmically curated, opera offers the opposite: epic stories that demand our time, patience, and attention. In a strange twist, this slowness—once considered outdated—has become a kind of luxury. To spend three hours inside an opera house is to push back against the tyranny of the scroll. It’s culture in widescreen, where human voices soar above digital noise.
Of course, opera’s revival is not without challenges. Many institutions still face financial precarity, aging donor bases, and the pressure to prove relevance. But the momentum is there, powered by the understanding that opera doesn’t need to compete with Netflix—it needs to offer something Netflix never can: the immediacy of live performance, the visceral power of unamplified voices, and the sheer audacity of human expression at its fullest.
Opera’s comeback, then, is not so much a resurrection as it is a reinvention. It has shed its powdered wigs and rediscovered its true essence: a fusion of music, drama, spectacle, and passion that transcends time. In the process, it has become once again what it always promised to be—a mirror for our collective longings, tragedies, and triumphs, sung at the very edge of human possibility.