My OperaThe Magical Mystery Tour
Tuesday, March 3, 2009 10:57:45 PM
Many spectators at the theatre were indeed spellbound by the fast- paced and well- conducted first act, which concluded in Barack Obama's victory in the Presidential campaign. Forgotten for a time was the cynicism as well as the paper thin stage props; such was the actors' brilliance in performance that when the curtain fell, an image larger than mere theatre lingered in the minds of all, playing with emotions thought be forgotten forever. Hope! Sweet smiles and infinite understanding radiated between all who could witness, nay, be part of the performance itself.
And so it is that we hustle out in the lobby, content not to shake the euphoria by talking about what we have seen, instead opting for exchanging sweet nothings to each other, enjoying the sense of unity and purpose. One sings: "She's coming - Get on board - There's room for many more", to the accompanyment of quiet, joyful, laughter. Another quotes reverend Martin Luther King's famous speech: "We have come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now" (but falters on the succeeding lines about the sweet drug of gradualism and complacency). One states matter- of- factly that this is how history is written - "to think that I would live to see this", passing by the history- making and going straight for posterity. Cheers! Will the naysayers speak their piece, or forever remain silent.
Yet - the world outside creeps closer, and people remember their places. We're in a theatre, surrounded by pomp and glittery chandeliers. Pieces of cheese on crackers that would not feed even a small and very hungry black kid. Questions arise - unspeakable questions: have our wishes indeed been heard, and we have gotten exactly what we want? And are for that reason finding it easy to nurse our euphoric joy? Because what we truly want is for that alone, and not to accomplish change by ourselves? Doubt! What terrible irony, to discover such truths in this hour of triumphant joy!
Uneasy expectations abound as we wander back to our seats, feeling the weight in our stomachs - fed as they are on crackers and not wholesome meat. Buzzed from the hurriedly drained martinis, but not drunken any longer. Because now we see that the purpose of it all is indeed larger than the stage, the actors, and the final applause given to conjure up one more, just one more, image of Victory.
It is with terrible purpose the light dims for the always darker second act. For such is the magic of the world of theatre - able only to conjure thoughts in the mind of the spectator, not finished deeds and acts.
But for that thought, we are free at last. Free at last!
And so it is that we hustle out in the lobby, content not to shake the euphoria by talking about what we have seen, instead opting for exchanging sweet nothings to each other, enjoying the sense of unity and purpose. One sings: "She's coming - Get on board - There's room for many more", to the accompanyment of quiet, joyful, laughter. Another quotes reverend Martin Luther King's famous speech: "We have come to this hallowed spot to remind America of the fierce urgency of Now" (but falters on the succeeding lines about the sweet drug of gradualism and complacency). One states matter- of- factly that this is how history is written - "to think that I would live to see this", passing by the history- making and going straight for posterity. Cheers! Will the naysayers speak their piece, or forever remain silent.
Yet - the world outside creeps closer, and people remember their places. We're in a theatre, surrounded by pomp and glittery chandeliers. Pieces of cheese on crackers that would not feed even a small and very hungry black kid. Questions arise - unspeakable questions: have our wishes indeed been heard, and we have gotten exactly what we want? And are for that reason finding it easy to nurse our euphoric joy? Because what we truly want is for that alone, and not to accomplish change by ourselves? Doubt! What terrible irony, to discover such truths in this hour of triumphant joy!
Uneasy expectations abound as we wander back to our seats, feeling the weight in our stomachs - fed as they are on crackers and not wholesome meat. Buzzed from the hurriedly drained martinis, but not drunken any longer. Because now we see that the purpose of it all is indeed larger than the stage, the actors, and the final applause given to conjure up one more, just one more, image of Victory.
It is with terrible purpose the light dims for the always darker second act. For such is the magic of the world of theatre - able only to conjure thoughts in the mind of the spectator, not finished deeds and acts.
But for that thought, we are free at last. Free at last!
Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!
