We really were delightfully surprised yesterday by the opera we saw: "Sweeney Todd" by Stephen Sondheim. The music was wonderful, the opera well cast and the voices perfect. The acting was even terrific. I had tears in my eyes at the end and my husband said he had chills up his spine. Opera is wonderful speech for emotion, and the suffering of Sweeney was elevated to universality by the singer. Yes, he was a murderer, but because he'd gone mad from the loss of his wife and daughter. Mrs. Lovett had no excuse, but she was Lady Macbeth to his Macbeth.
I adore opera. It transcends it's lyrics, whether they are sublime or ridiculous, because of the music. Simple words become profound with the right musical setting. As teenagers, when we're at our most hormonal and filled with a spin cycle of emotions, only our favorite songs speak for us. We play a CD over and over and let the emotions be sopped up in the song. I remember sighing to Elvis' "Love me Tender' and the Everly Brothers "All I have to do is Dream". Later, Bruce Springsteen's "Down to the River" and "I'm on Fire" sent shivers up and down my body.
Now my emotions mainly get engaged in opera and classical music, but the other day I listened to a Sam Cooke disc and it brought me back to sock hops and sweaty hands and dancing with a boy with dimples. Ah. Shortcut to being a turbulent teen again without undergoing the suffering involved.
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