ass-lazy tropicana of the mind
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2002-05-30
Love & movies
I have a weakness not many people know about.
It's a bit odd for me, because I'll gladly rave about anything that I love, but this...for some reason I keep it kind of quiet. I don't mention it that often, I don't make people share it, I keep it hidden so that it's my own, my precious.
Lakm�.
A French opera about an Indian priestess and the British soldier she falls in love with.
And while the Flower Duet gets played everywhere, from British Airlines adverts to promos for bad Buffy episodes, the rest of the opera's pretty much ignored. Doesn't get put on any "Best Opera Of The World" compilations, doesn't get performed regularly, is kinda ignored in the big opera scale.
But it's the only one I will listen to. Madame Butterfly and La Boheme just end up frustrating me with their overwrought sopranos and overwrought death scenes. And the other ones...I just quite can't bring myself to listen to them yet.
Because I still have Lakm�. About a woman who kills herself in order to save the man she loves from sacrifical murder.
See, she's a priestess. And the dashing young soldier, foolishly, tramples into the temple. When Lakm�'s father discovers this terrible sacrilege, he declares that the soldier must die. The soldier abandons his post and runs away with Lakm�, until, finally, Lakm� realizes that the goddess must be served, that things should go back to what they are, and kills herself, replacing the man she loves in the bloody service to the goddess.
Yeah, I'm a sucker for martyrs. I thought you knew that already.
But it's also just beautiful. The first piece, where the worshippers walk into the temple, Lakm� leading them -- that's just shiveringly gorgeous. The slow quiet build of music, the people singing as they walk towards the goddess, a slow and gentle uplift into this other world...
God, there are no words, y'know? There's no way I can properly describe how much I love this opera.
And I don't know why. It just is. The music, the voices...
Just...here. Listen to this. And see.
So aside from rediscovering my love for one opera, I've been really busy recently -- hence the lack of entries.
I'm on new medication that makes me really drowsy, so I'm usually going "Whine whine whine I'm tired whine whine whine I wanna take a nap whine whine whine," so writing in this seems like an effort when there's, y'know, a bed.
And Tuesday, we went out with the husband's friends to Smiling Sam's, a video arcade/pub. Which had a New Orleans theme, that I roundly snickered over.
However, the games were pretty shit. I mean, they had Star Wars Pod Racer, and a couple of shooting games, but a lot of really bad driving games, and not much else.
I did play one round of pool by myself, having had to spend �1 extra to play it -- so I made it last as long as it could by sucking horribly at it. Which was fun. And there was a crane machine, which must have been fixed, because, in the US, I'm Game Machine Joe when it comes to those things -- the toys just come into my hand. And then there were slot machines that gave out tickets. And I was stunningly good at those, for a reason that, as of yet, completely and utterly evades any logic.
But, hey, 100 tickets, and I ended up with nice fake tattoos and a Thunderbird 1 dangling from a wire and suction cup.
So we had fun. And then we left, and, because we were right by a movie theater, thought "Hmm...let's see what's playing..." And, lo and behold, the last showing of Dog Soldiers had just started showing ads. We grabbed our tickets, and ran in.
And ignore the name of the movie. Seriously. Because it doesn't do it justice at all. A homage to Evil Dead and all good werewolf movies, this movie kicked so much ass. An enjoyable little horror movie, filled with jokes and shocks. And I still can't get over that they named one of the characters Bruce Campbell -- isn't that a reason enough to see it?
And then, yesterday, we found out that the Royal Concert Hall in the middle of town was showing Lord Of The Rings this week. And the Royal Concert Hall is big, with good lighting, and it was only �4 to see it.
So we figured "What the hell" and settled down to watch it again -- his third, my fifth.
And we enjoyed it. Took the "in bed" game to a whole new low, made comments about who people looked like, drank some soda, and generally enjoyed ourselves. It was nice that they didn't have Dolby sound, because the Ringwraiths actually give me headaches if they're too loud, so they were at the just right level.
And it was just really nice to see it in a theater that didn't have a huge fucking light on above the screen "for safety's sake." God, that aggravates me so much about Warner Village -- you end up just not being able to see half of the movie for all the light showing off.
And I don't want to see my fellow movie patrons! With the movies I go to, they scare me! I want to maintain my sense of innocence that people who are interested in the movies I like are well-rounded socialable people without any strange neuroses!
Stupid lights.
Tonight, I will spend it doing nothing. Oh, how I will love my nothingness. Tomorrow, the husband is going to a show that proclaims to be an exact re-creation of the 1973 Genesis tour (I think it's 1973. Whatever. It's Peter Gabriel dressed like a flower.), so I'm going to be sitting on the bed dying my hair and watching the season finale of Smallville and the season premiere of third season OZ.
And probably drinking. Because I can.
And then it's a four-day weekend to celebrate the 50-year-reign of Queen Elizabeth. 'Cuse me while I don't get up and dance in faux sentimental patriotism. Because I ain't. Great, fabulous, you've been leeching off the taxpayers for the past 50 years, brilliant.
Well, no, I will be celebrating on Monday. By watching the original Star Wars trilogy. It's celebrating! Somehow. Because it keeps us in the house and away from ghastly street parties.
That's entertainment, baby!
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