Cav/Pag: ritual killings. The set up requires regular sacrifices, except nobody is innocent, and the anguish is palpable every step of the way. I love it all: the costumes and sets, the poses, strutting or mincing, the inflated chests and straining necks, the contorted faces, the music, the stream of song propelled by it, the large expressions--this is opera, and I give myself to it wholly.
I half fall in love with Nedda, the clown Canio's consort, so his wild jealous rage at learning of her unfaithfulness is directed at me too. When in the midst of the vaudeville, the murderous darkness of his face is too real for entertainment, I feel it in the growing panic of the doomed woman as she tries to play to two audiences at the same time. After the crazed comic stabs her and leaps into the audience to cut down her lover, the misshapen foil clown Tonio intones: The comedy is over.
The moment I feel your pain, Canio, Pagliacci of the title, is when you sing the ever-so-well known Vesti la giubba: 'On With The Costume', that is, the show must go on. 'Bah, Are you a man? You're a clown!' It's a standard theme, but who hasn't had to lock powerful feelings behind strong internal doors while carrying on doing what one is paid to do. (Never mind the pounding.)
This I get, but not your jealousy--melodramatically amplified, of course--but still a feature of Italian village life of the time, and not just there, not just then. The force of the betrayal I understand, and the outrage, but not the knife. The provocation of the performance that finally tips you over the edge into mayhem is very plausible. Still, the sense of dishonor that compels you to think immediately of blood is something I don't feel viscerally in myself. And many are like me. I enjoy seeing it work in you, Pag, but I'm not moved as your audience was. They, the villagers, knew what was at stake, men and women.
Is this an example of what philosopher of the passions Robert Solomon claimed: emotions are in part, learned, picked up from one's cultural milieu, a way a particular group 'articulates' or names its particular value experiences. In this case, the identity of a man is linked tightly to the sense of status expressed in the term honor.
Today we see the same term used to justify the killing of daughters or female relatives considered to have impugned the good name of the family. It's be all reports a colder killing than in the opera, but surely heart-felt, not just calculated.
What emotions are we creating today? FOMO, or fear-of-missing-out, is one that in the remote past or places did not trouble as many people as it does today. Is it an emotion if there are no physiological symptoms? But it is a motivator; it is linked to our systems of value; it is recognized generally. Indeed, perhaps the definition of an emotion is what someone can use in an ad.
Still your grief, clown, and your frustrated longing, road-wife, trapped in a repetitive ever-on-the-go life under the control of a jealous and brutal husband, and dreaming of being a bird, are tonic to me.
The lady sitting two chairs down from me clapped as enthusiastically as I did at the HD screen. Then she introduced herself and told me that I wouldn't be seeing her around because she'd be in Paris seeing live opera. Why you felt she had to tell me, I can probably guess. The desire to arouse a bit of envy is an emotion I know well. Well, sorry, but have a good time anyway.
I half fall in love with Nedda, the clown Canio's consort, so his wild jealous rage at learning of her unfaithfulness is directed at me too. When in the midst of the vaudeville, the murderous darkness of his face is too real for entertainment, I feel it in the growing panic of the doomed woman as she tries to play to two audiences at the same time. After the crazed comic stabs her and leaps into the audience to cut down her lover, the misshapen foil clown Tonio intones: The comedy is over.
The moment I feel your pain, Canio, Pagliacci of the title, is when you sing the ever-so-well known Vesti la giubba: 'On With The Costume', that is, the show must go on. 'Bah, Are you a man? You're a clown!' It's a standard theme, but who hasn't had to lock powerful feelings behind strong internal doors while carrying on doing what one is paid to do. (Never mind the pounding.)
This I get, but not your jealousy--melodramatically amplified, of course--but still a feature of Italian village life of the time, and not just there, not just then. The force of the betrayal I understand, and the outrage, but not the knife. The provocation of the performance that finally tips you over the edge into mayhem is very plausible. Still, the sense of dishonor that compels you to think immediately of blood is something I don't feel viscerally in myself. And many are like me. I enjoy seeing it work in you, Pag, but I'm not moved as your audience was. They, the villagers, knew what was at stake, men and women.
Is this an example of what philosopher of the passions Robert Solomon claimed: emotions are in part, learned, picked up from one's cultural milieu, a way a particular group 'articulates' or names its particular value experiences. In this case, the identity of a man is linked tightly to the sense of status expressed in the term honor.
Today we see the same term used to justify the killing of daughters or female relatives considered to have impugned the good name of the family. It's be all reports a colder killing than in the opera, but surely heart-felt, not just calculated.
What emotions are we creating today? FOMO, or fear-of-missing-out, is one that in the remote past or places did not trouble as many people as it does today. Is it an emotion if there are no physiological symptoms? But it is a motivator; it is linked to our systems of value; it is recognized generally. Indeed, perhaps the definition of an emotion is what someone can use in an ad.
Still your grief, clown, and your frustrated longing, road-wife, trapped in a repetitive ever-on-the-go life under the control of a jealous and brutal husband, and dreaming of being a bird, are tonic to me.
The lady sitting two chairs down from me clapped as enthusiastically as I did at the HD screen. Then she introduced herself and told me that I wouldn't be seeing her around because she'd be in Paris seeing live opera. Why you felt she had to tell me, I can probably guess. The desire to arouse a bit of envy is an emotion I know well. Well, sorry, but have a good time anyway.
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