At a performance of "Rigoletto" last night the opera was reaching its climax. Gilda was wrapped, dying, in her death sack and Rigoletto was about to rip the sack open to discover her, mortally wounded. At this crucial moment, when the rest of the audience was holding its breath, gripped by the tragedy, my next door neighbour took out her Blackberry, turned it on and checked her emails.
And they say the world turns as usual and that my premonition of decline and decay are the usual mutterings of a grumpy old man, complaining as is usual about the younger generation!
On two successive nights my wife and I have been privileged to see two of the finest musical performances ever staged – – South Pacific (in New York) and Rigoletto (in Washington). For all my complaints about insensitive, brain-dead young people, what a privilege!
It is worth getting on a plane and going to New York from just about anywhere just to see South Pacific. There was not a dry eye in the house.
“South Pacific,” tops the list of my favorite musicals, EVER. So far, I have not managed to convey the poignancy of its story and the glories of its music to my children. Still, I’ve not given up because my theory is that their American history courses were sorely lacking, and the young have little context for appreciating the magnificence of Michener’s tale. Maybe if the musical comes to Washington. . .
Congratulations on resisting what would have been my impulse: reach over and grab her damn Blackberry.
My father took my sister and I to see the original British production, and I subsequently took my first ever serious girlfriend, Sue Rothwell (hi, Sue, wherever you are) to see the film as a first date. Wow! This performance was so emotional for me personally. I had my handkerchief in my hand the whole time. Wonderful to have the experience in this rather grim moment.