Opera on Dundas Street: Notes on Northern Banality

Some people just need help.

There was a showing of the 1983 film adaptation of La Travalita at the
Italian Consulate on Beverly and Dundas tonight.

I walked by accidentally and decided to watch the show. I don't know
much about opera; I never had the privilege growing up. I try, as often
as the opportunity comes, to learn.

It is very very good. It's a love story. Hooker with a heart of gold.
(In fact, it was the opera Julia Roberts and Richard Gere watched in
Pretty Woman.)

I enjoyed myself, despite the show being one hour late because the tech
guys had problems with the giant outdoor projector.

I sat actually on the other side of Beverly, across the street from
where the screen was. I didn't wanted to go in because everybody was
crowding on the grass with lawnchairs. My vantage point allowed me to
not just the movie, but all the people's reaction during the movie.

First off, the average age of the people on the grounds of the consulate
was 50. There were a few Italian women in their mid-30s having a girl's
night out. Mostly it was older couples. A few Chinese people passing
from Chinatown stared, smiled, then left.

The young people that went by were just plain rude. (Does this make me
sound like a grumpy, old man?) They pass by, and as soon as they saw it
was opera, they would make snide comments. A few shriek out cracked
notes in a mocking falsetto. Most just scoffed.

I don't know. Was it really necessary? That most of the young people
have to give an exaggerated, hostile display to their friends on how
much they are not into opera.

Most vividly for me were these three CBC Chinese guys. They just started
walking very rapidly with a smirk: amused and disgusted. I wanted to
shake them and tell them: you won't be any less of a man if you listen
to opera.

I can understand if many people are uncomfortable with opera. It is very
much white, upper class type thing. There is a lot of highly
un-politically correct stuff. For example, in La Travalita, Violetta
gets hit quite a few times by her lover, Alfredo.

Still, I respect the imagination and craft of the piece. You have to
respect a thing that is beautiful.

I still remember when I was first introduced to hiphop. I grew up in
Newfoundland. Rap music had sounded like random noise and people
talking. A friend of mine actually had to teach me. He told me: listen
to the beats, listen to the track. Even if I don't understand what the
song is about, appreciate the production value, the hundreds of hours
finetuning each part of the recording. He put on some Neptunes .... I
sudden realized what he was talking about.

Appreciate the production value, if nothing else, in Vivaldi.

I hope those three Chinese guys will.

When the movie ended I walked towards the subway station. Across the
AGO, somebody had ripped two forget-me-not bushes right out from a
cafe's flower pot. Their yellow roots were drying up and dirt was
scattered everywhere.