I went to see the Met’s new staging of Salome tonight, and it was better than I expected. In fact, it was incredible.
The music and libretto were fantastic as is to be expected with a staging of this magnitude.
What really appealed to me, though, was the director transforming Salome into an even more sympathetic character than she is in the play on which this opera is based.
One no longer has to imagine the trauma that comes from dealing with her lecherous step-father and vacuous mother.
Because, you see, there are SEVEN versions of Salome here: the current Salome and six younger ones. The younger ones seem to exist solely to help her process the trauma she has endured throughout her life. And not just that, the six younger Salomes also play an integral role in the (in)famous Dance of the Seven Veils. It must be seen to be appreciated; my words here cannot do it justice.
It has been a long time since I ready any Oscar Wilde, but seeing this has made me want to seek him out again. I guess I haven’t read any since The Smiths told me to.
I had a good time; there weren’t too many people there, and they were all polite and considerate.
The only thing that could have made the night more enjoyable would have been to share it with you.
The experience was beautiful.
And, as is customary ever since I first saw you, experiencing something beautiful always brings you to mind too.
So yeah, Dyet, I was then and I am now still thinking of you.