Here's a really odd thing: I went to the opera two weeks in a row. Not something I ordinarily do but my lovely friend Joyce asked me to join her because her daughter, who she usually goes with, was out of town. So the first opera we saw was The Damnation of Faust.
Oh my god. Just from the name I could tell there wasn't a prayer I'd enjoy it but I hate to be negative so off I went. It was very bizarre. Very spare sets, current-day dress, and a huge cast, all the women dressed the same, all the men dressed the same (some symbolism going on there that just flew right over my head). Well, Joyce thought it was bizarre too. I mean, take a look at the picture. It's worth a thousand words.
The next one was The Marriage of Figaro and Joyce promised that would be better.
Well, it was but...oh my god, it was almost FOUR HOURS long. Jesus. I was about to cry near the end of that. Not with emotion about what was going on on stage but because I wanted desperately to run screaming from the place. Nothing should last for four hours. Nothing. The only thing I want to do for four hours straight is sleep.
What I learned about opera is that it's actually pretty silly. The stories are goofy. In Figaro Dr. Bartolo is trying to marry Figaro off to Marcellina even tho Figaro's engaged to Susanna (who the Count is trying to sleep with) and it turns out that Marcellina is actually Figaro's mother and Dr. Bartolo is actually his father but somehow they didn't know that. Now I ask you...is this silly stuff or what?
I think my opera days are over. At least I hope so.