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Nov. 22nd, 2004 12:12 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
which_chickBrother Joe's younger sprout, who is all of three months old, stares at people in a rather disconcerting and odd way. Most three month old babies don't really appear to have a person inside of them. They're sort of wobbly blobs at three months. Gwendolyn is not like that. She has a person inside at three months, a person who looks at strangers (not mom or dad) in what I would have to characterize as a "Who the hell are you?" fashion, with a focus and intensity that I'm not used to associating with wee little babies. Mother says she's seen a baby who did that before, at three months, to the point where people commented on the child's uncanny, unnerving stare. Three guesses who that baby was... :)
Poor kid -- it's a hell of a thing to be saddled with expectations at such an early age.
The opera (I Puritani by Bellini) was nothing less than spectacular. The voices were top notch, the sets well-designed and interesting, the effects delightful, and the lighting inspired. Despite being an opera I'd never heard of, it was quite enjoyable and even seasonally-appropriate what with the Puritans in their black-and-white pilgrimish outfits. It did not have any turkey, though.
In line with previous opera experiences, this one had some lessons for these our modern times. For example, if you are leaving your bride at the altar to go save your deposed queen from certain execution, it's good form to leave a post-it note or call the bride on her cell phone so that she doesn't think you're running off to elope without her and go mad for all of the second act and the better part of the third. Also, if you happen to be driven mad by being left at the altar while your supposed best beloved Cavalier runs off with another woman without so much as IM'ing you to let you know of his change in plans, dress in a white gown and go barefoot, without putting up your hair, so that you don't have to *explain* to anyone that you're mad -- they'll be able to tell just by looking at you. Finally, no amount of carefully-planned capture, no superiority in numbers, and no legal justification (treason, in this case) can defeat a Deus Ex Machina. The Deus Ex Machina is kind of the ultimate plot trump card.
As we saw in La Fanciulla del West, the tenor gets the girl. Someday I'm going to write an idiot's guide to opera, and one of the key points is that the tenor gets the girl. Apparently, tenoristy is a chick magnet. (I do not understand this. I like baritone voices a lot more than I like tenor voices. If it were up to me...)
Poor kid -- it's a hell of a thing to be saddled with expectations at such an early age.
The opera (I Puritani by Bellini) was nothing less than spectacular. The voices were top notch, the sets well-designed and interesting, the effects delightful, and the lighting inspired. Despite being an opera I'd never heard of, it was quite enjoyable and even seasonally-appropriate what with the Puritans in their black-and-white pilgrimish outfits. It did not have any turkey, though.
In line with previous opera experiences, this one had some lessons for these our modern times. For example, if you are leaving your bride at the altar to go save your deposed queen from certain execution, it's good form to leave a post-it note or call the bride on her cell phone so that she doesn't think you're running off to elope without her and go mad for all of the second act and the better part of the third. Also, if you happen to be driven mad by being left at the altar while your supposed best beloved Cavalier runs off with another woman without so much as IM'ing you to let you know of his change in plans, dress in a white gown and go barefoot, without putting up your hair, so that you don't have to *explain* to anyone that you're mad -- they'll be able to tell just by looking at you. Finally, no amount of carefully-planned capture, no superiority in numbers, and no legal justification (treason, in this case) can defeat a Deus Ex Machina. The Deus Ex Machina is kind of the ultimate plot trump card.
As we saw in La Fanciulla del West, the tenor gets the girl. Someday I'm going to write an idiot's guide to opera, and one of the key points is that the tenor gets the girl. Apparently, tenoristy is a chick magnet. (I do not understand this. I like baritone voices a lot more than I like tenor voices. If it were up to me...)
