Went to another performance of Rigoletto last night, this time at the Met. But it was chilly just like the last time I heard Rigoletto. Sometimes hearing those beautiful songs of love and betrayal are almost too much to bear, but any feelings of melancholy were allayed by all the champagne before and during the performance.
The best part of the evening, or at least the part that generated a fist-pumping celebration, was during the beginning of Act III. I'd wagered that the audience might break out into smatterings of applause when the Duke began his famous La donna è mobile (A woman is fickle) aria, V thought otherwise. A tasty morsel from Dom's was at stake!
I lost the bet, but my friend's wide, easy smile and look of joy were my consolation prize.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment