Enough blogging from the self-proclaimed Blogger retiree. But I'm bored out of my mind here in the Bar, and also can't resist saying something glittering about Turandot. The whole experience just elicited so much pure, unadulerated joy from a place that I seldom remember exists. No one will possess me! cries Princess Turandot. Empowerment for women everywhere, until a single passionate kiss from Calaf knocks her into the throes of marriage and eternal commitment.
It was just ethereal and I promised myself not to be far from the opera again. There were points when the swell of the music in its full orchestral bloom literally brought me to tears. Puccini came way before P.Diddy with sampling because the score borrowed from a traditional Chinese song about a jasmine flower, and the effect of the notes against Italian libretto was moving and meaningful.
Princess Turandot had three enigmas for all who dared to marry her:
- What is born each night and dies each dawn? ... Hope!
- What flickers red and warm like a flame, yet is not fire? ... Blood!
- What is like ice but burns? ... Turandot!
The lead was sung by a Chinese man, which really impressed my mom. His "Nessun Dorma" was easily the showstopper. Now, if only there weren't so many rude Chinese patrons in the audience with their horrible side conversations and inability to suppress bodily noises, it would have made a perfect evening.
I hated to miss Jose's monthly white trash karaoke night at the Rio, but sometimes, you can't win it all. I'm disappointed missing Jose singing Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up."
posted by Lucy Sloan @ 11:37 PM
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