Post by Jack of Blades on Aug 26, 2006 9:18:16 GMT -5
(There are many places where an intellectual can be found. Museums, places of literary heritage, the motocross derby and of course, our setting for today, the opera house. The vignette at first begins on a purely black screen while the notes of 'Le muette de Portici' blare into action. As the music reaches its apex, the black screen dissipates revealing a pan over a luscious proscenium theatre where the opera is being performed to a silently enthusiastic crowd. The angled effect of the audience compliments the erratic range of the notes being hit by the portly coloraturas. The camera gives a cursory glance towards the intent audience before beginning its motion covering and showing the ornate arcs and crevices of the theatre, the detailed expression and delicate finery on the numerous arrases on stage, the prominent gold of the decorative displays both on stage and as a part of the audience's attire. The camera finally settles towards the stage where a titan (in both skill and physical size) of a soubrette-spinto bellows forth with sonorous dramatics. The camera allows a few moments to soak this in before returning to the crowd or more specifically, the central row of the audience promenade. As any connoisseur will know, the central row provides the greatest position to enjoy such an operatic treat. No percentage of vision being obscured from either being too far or too close and at such a distance that the notes still retain the crispness without deafening. The camera focuses on one patron at the very most end of the row. An executive type male sits there somewhat perplexed by the mysteries of the opera before occasionally taking time to pick his styled hair. After taking enough time to capture this, it begins to pan along the row showing the expected type of audient in every form. Wealthy marriages sitting attentively occasionally switching between monocles and impossibly-tiny binoculars. Aged couples, holding hands, trying to latch onto any ideal of traditionalism and not move away from the tried and tested mediums. Corporate business partners celebrating the royal ass-fucking of a smaller company with a night at the proms. And as the camera passes all of these figures, we pull ourselves back when the camera reaches the centre point of the row and in turn, the theatre. Seated in the most-sought after position is the familiar shape of Jack of Blades. Dressed to the nines, Jack of Blades shows an expression of excitement that is not often seen. He would be the perfect example of an opera-buff and someone who was captivated by the performance, if he wasn't enjoying and causing a great deal of noise in eating a large bag of potato chips. His hand re-enters the bag and rustles around eventually finding a handful. Blades shovels it into his mouth much to the annoyance and disgust of those surrounding him. Realising their expressions, he tuts at himself before offering them the bag. They politely decline and Jack returns to his eating. Failing to find any more chips in his search, he places the bag over the lower part of his mouth and taps the bag around causing the remaining crumbs to fall. This just causes further indignation from his fellow observers. The sobrette finishes his lines passing it on to another in recitative dramatic speech. The new spinto takes an audible breath as he prepares his involvement. As he does this, Jack turns to his right where a middle-aged aristocratic female is attempting to ignore his antics.)
(Slyly and to the woman) Jack of Blades: Oh, this is a good bit, watch this.
(The woman tuts at Jack's absolute lack of respect for such beautiful storytelling.)
Jack of Blades: You see...it turns out that FBI were in on it all the time.
(The woman, further aggrivated, turns as far away from Jack of Blades as possible. Jack lets out a small laugh.)
(The spinto finishes his notes presumably leaving the opera on some sort of climax. The crowd hushes as the two spinatos pull backwards allowing a tank of a woman to move upstage. She ambles her way forward as the attendees lean closely with the understanding that they are about to witness a genius example of operatic talent. The woman takes a breathing motion similar to a frog inflating their larynx before beginning the masterclass. As she reaches the end of her first note, Jack of Blades stands from his seat with a megaphone interrupting the performance and causing the camera to zoom in to the only fan of wrestling and opera known.)
(Shouting through the megaphone.) Jack of Blades: The proverbial and literal 'Fat Lady' has sung and therefore you must bid adieu to this house of fables and nobility because, I'm afraid, the next performance does not feature audience involvement.
(Aiming the megaphone at the stage.) Jack of Blades: Performers of the musical epics, your time is over. The theatre of the absurd is moving in.
(At this point, Jack begins to climb over the rows of chairs to reach the stage. Jack of Blades has little trouble stepping onto the heads of the aristocrats and wealthy and in reaching the stage calls the camera closer to him.)
(Directly in the camera) Jack of Blades: Well, here, we are. This magical palace of high notes and the only public realm where I know obesity to be congratulated...
(Although Jack is central to the camera, both Jesper and the large female singer can be seen staring at each other behind him.)
Jack of Blades:...what you just watched was a piece by Francois Esprit Auber. It is known as 'Le meutte de Portici' in its mother tongue which translates directly to 'The mute girl of Portici.' Now, I know, a narrative that features mute people prinicipally is kind of a radical departure for a medium that involves the vocal muscles more than any other part of the anatomy but stay with me in my choice...
...You see it was made because it drew numerous allusions to my own existence. I mean currently my life is playing out because of a 'mute girl.' A girl whose voice was cruelly taken away before I could get that ever-needed laugh. But that is where the comparisons end...
...You see, for Creeping Death, there will be no interval, no moment of respite. The bells may toll for me but the theatre of the ludicriously tragic calls for you. Drama Vs Death will happen on Sunday and I'm sure you'll all be willing to see who comes out right. Not victorious, right...
Jack of Blades:...The ring is not my stage nor is it my circus. The world is my circus, the ring, in comparison, is simply the tightrope or some other predicate. So you concern yourself with making an expression, I'll concern myself with killing time.
(Slyly and to the woman) Jack of Blades: Oh, this is a good bit, watch this.
(The woman tuts at Jack's absolute lack of respect for such beautiful storytelling.)
Jack of Blades: You see...it turns out that FBI were in on it all the time.
(The woman, further aggrivated, turns as far away from Jack of Blades as possible. Jack lets out a small laugh.)
(The spinto finishes his notes presumably leaving the opera on some sort of climax. The crowd hushes as the two spinatos pull backwards allowing a tank of a woman to move upstage. She ambles her way forward as the attendees lean closely with the understanding that they are about to witness a genius example of operatic talent. The woman takes a breathing motion similar to a frog inflating their larynx before beginning the masterclass. As she reaches the end of her first note, Jack of Blades stands from his seat with a megaphone interrupting the performance and causing the camera to zoom in to the only fan of wrestling and opera known.)
(Shouting through the megaphone.) Jack of Blades: The proverbial and literal 'Fat Lady' has sung and therefore you must bid adieu to this house of fables and nobility because, I'm afraid, the next performance does not feature audience involvement.
(Aiming the megaphone at the stage.) Jack of Blades: Performers of the musical epics, your time is over. The theatre of the absurd is moving in.
(At this point, Jack begins to climb over the rows of chairs to reach the stage. Jack of Blades has little trouble stepping onto the heads of the aristocrats and wealthy and in reaching the stage calls the camera closer to him.)
(Directly in the camera) Jack of Blades: Well, here, we are. This magical palace of high notes and the only public realm where I know obesity to be congratulated...
(Although Jack is central to the camera, both Jesper and the large female singer can be seen staring at each other behind him.)
Jack of Blades:...what you just watched was a piece by Francois Esprit Auber. It is known as 'Le meutte de Portici' in its mother tongue which translates directly to 'The mute girl of Portici.' Now, I know, a narrative that features mute people prinicipally is kind of a radical departure for a medium that involves the vocal muscles more than any other part of the anatomy but stay with me in my choice...
...You see it was made because it drew numerous allusions to my own existence. I mean currently my life is playing out because of a 'mute girl.' A girl whose voice was cruelly taken away before I could get that ever-needed laugh. But that is where the comparisons end...
...You see, for Creeping Death, there will be no interval, no moment of respite. The bells may toll for me but the theatre of the ludicriously tragic calls for you. Drama Vs Death will happen on Sunday and I'm sure you'll all be willing to see who comes out right. Not victorious, right...
Jack of Blades:...The ring is not my stage nor is it my circus. The world is my circus, the ring, in comparison, is simply the tightrope or some other predicate. So you concern yourself with making an expression, I'll concern myself with killing time.
