Opera is ridiculous. One night, I have a constant close-up of an incredibly-endowed woman’s exposed nipples, and another is packed with the gag-inducing stupidity and lovey-dovey total BS drama whose only competitor is telemundo’s telenovelas. Actually, they are almost all packed with that last bit. Most nights, eye rolls abound, and we occasionally have to restrain intense laughter at the nonsense of people’s declarations of what their love must mean and be able to do, or else what their rage and fury must now cause. Tonight was one of those nights.
And yet, it is such spectacular music, it is what I long to hear most evenings, as I am settling in at home for the evening. I feel as though most of the dramatic operas are best when the words are not understood. Otherwise, they are all just idiots, and you really don’t seem to mind at their dying (slash you kind of want them to hurry up and just die already).
Let us be clear here: I love opera. It is just painfully dramatic and ridiculous at times, that I just want to punch people and hit a fast-forward button, so that the stupidity will end already. I get enough of that in real life. Let’s not dwell on it so dumbly in our entertainment.