To demonstrate just how incredibly well-adapted to high society I am these days, I threw on some non-ratty clothes the other day, and went to see an opera; no, not the web browser.
I was mildly entertained for a couple of hours.
"The Death of Klinghoffer" is heavy shit, to be brief. Heavy because of the subject material; with the Israeli-Palestine conflict in another upswing, bringing the story of the single casualty of the hijacking of the Achille Lauro is even more controversial than it is on its own virtues already.
As if to pre-empt both sides' critics, the very prologue choir fires off an impressive ideological decapitation strike at anyone who would try to find fault with the writer's bias: after their depiction of the Palestinians' lament for the homes they've been driven from, the entire choir runs to the back off the stage, 'off-stage' but quite visible at the same time, to throw off their outfits; under them are the clothes they'll be wearing for the second part of the prologue, about the Jewish people's scars and memories of war. The message is resoundingly clear; underneath, we're all the same human beings.
Blam. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
The choirs are the high point of the opera, anyway. The entire thing is hit-and-miss; while you can always more or less see the intent behind what happens on stage, sometimes things work, and more often they don't; but when a moment works, chances are the choir is doing it.
As the main example of this: the "Night Chorus," dramatic high point just before the break.
For the last hour or so, there've been up to three video screens floating over the stage, suspended on cables, depicting something appropriate to the scene; birds in flight, flying golf balls, that sort of thing. Overdone and unimpressive, up until this particular scene.
The chorus stands grouped at the back of the stage, and slowly marches towards the front. They're dressed in black, lit by low orange light, and sing about the coming Judgement Day. A single monitor floats above and in front of the group, showing a human hand against a black background; as the chorus advances, the Hand 'calls' people to the front of the main group by pointing down, and after a short while, waves them to newly-forming groups of people, off the main one; large one on the right, much smaller one to the left, advancing in the same slow-motion march. When they reach the front of the stage, the entire chorus has been "divideth sheep from goats," the music ends abruptly, curtain falls.
Time for the break, people. Put that in your pipe and smoke it.
After that, the main story seems futile, and insubstantial; some stupid fucks came aboard a cruise ship, scared the living daylights out of the people there, shot one of them under unclear circumstances. Then pitched him overboard, wheelchair and all. Nothing is resolved, nothing achieved; nothing much happens, even. Compared to the visual and emotional precision bombardment by some of the better choirs, the story - of how some fucking cripple was too stupid to keep his mouth shut when around nervous and angry terrorists, who in turn despite lowering themselves to this degree of inhumanity managed to resolve nothing and achieve little more than a temporary victory - it all just sort of.. fades.
And perhaps that's the intent.
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