Sex, Death and Statues
I don't know much about opera, but I know what I like. And I love anything by Mozart, especially with a libretto by Lorenzo da Ponte. So, tonight, Monsieur Mange-Tout and I headed off to the Hungarian State Opera House to see Don Giovanni. If you're ever in Budapest, I urge you to go. It's possible to have an elegant evening for very little money. The poshest tickets cost about one fifth as much as their Covent Garden equivalents and a third as much as those at the ENO. The opera house itself is utterly splendid. It's a jewellery box of a building, small, tiered, and heavily gilded and frescoed but without being overdone. Seats are hard yet comfortable (lots of leg room), and it's fun in the interval, too, because you can sip at your Tokaj or Hungarian champagne on a balcony which overlooks the busy Andrassy Boulevard.
Many things appear to be forbidden in the opera house, but, since there were no helpful illustrations accompanying the rather stern signs, I have no idea what these might be. From the behaviour of the cast, they do not include throwing wine around the stage or simulating oral sex.
Whenever I think of Mozart and da Ponte's work I feel a pang of jealousy and a bigger one of awe. Imagine having one of your creations playing to packed houses some three hundred years after it was born. The appeal of this opera for me is that it gives the audience a multilayered, multi-sensory experience; sublime music which does far more than just signpost the plot (in case you're interested, I believe that it helps us understand the characters); a witty libretto with a fabulous rhythm; and a story with universal appeal.
Don Giovanni (aka Don Juan) is obsessed, in fact pathologically so, with chasing skirt. His priapic urges lead him to murder the father of one of his would-be conquests, who later, reappearing in the guise of a talking statue, comes back to drag him down to hell. Before entering eternal damnation he is given a last chance to repent, but refuses to take it.
On one level, Don Giovanni tells a fairly straightforward morality tale warning us of the consequences of libidinous behaviour. We are human beings, it cautions, not human animals. Tonight, though, I found a different message. Mozart and Da Ponte have something to say about creativity, I think - at least to somebody like me. So far I have been something of an artistic skirt-chaser, flirting with one new project after another. This has led to a kind of personal purgatory where my creative juices dried up and threatened to stay dry for all eternity. So I'd like, if I may, to take the opportunity to repent and commit myself to one big piece of work. I'll sit down at my desk day after day and service it diligently and with love. In sickness and health I'll add to the word count and edit with compassion, forsaking all (well, most) others. I promise. I will.
Although I might give statues a wide berth as a precaution.
Many things appear to be forbidden in the opera house, but, since there were no helpful illustrations accompanying the rather stern signs, I have no idea what these might be. From the behaviour of the cast, they do not include throwing wine around the stage or simulating oral sex.
Whenever I think of Mozart and da Ponte's work I feel a pang of jealousy and a bigger one of awe. Imagine having one of your creations playing to packed houses some three hundred years after it was born. The appeal of this opera for me is that it gives the audience a multilayered, multi-sensory experience; sublime music which does far more than just signpost the plot (in case you're interested, I believe that it helps us understand the characters); a witty libretto with a fabulous rhythm; and a story with universal appeal.
Don Giovanni (aka Don Juan) is obsessed, in fact pathologically so, with chasing skirt. His priapic urges lead him to murder the father of one of his would-be conquests, who later, reappearing in the guise of a talking statue, comes back to drag him down to hell. Before entering eternal damnation he is given a last chance to repent, but refuses to take it.
On one level, Don Giovanni tells a fairly straightforward morality tale warning us of the consequences of libidinous behaviour. We are human beings, it cautions, not human animals. Tonight, though, I found a different message. Mozart and Da Ponte have something to say about creativity, I think - at least to somebody like me. So far I have been something of an artistic skirt-chaser, flirting with one new project after another. This has led to a kind of personal purgatory where my creative juices dried up and threatened to stay dry for all eternity. So I'd like, if I may, to take the opportunity to repent and commit myself to one big piece of work. I'll sit down at my desk day after day and service it diligently and with love. In sickness and health I'll add to the word count and edit with compassion, forsaking all (well, most) others. I promise. I will.
Although I might give statues a wide berth as a precaution.
posted by Botyris at 11:05 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home