So, do you find me a changed man? Did I have an epiphany in the Upper Circle? Am I a convert, or will I continue to struggle blindly over the opera based questions on a University Challenge? The answer to the first three questions is a resounding NO; but… The fact that I have left that sentence to hang could suggest that Opera North failed in their challenge; for a collection of bloggers not to feel indifferent about their latest production, Carmen. Though I don’t necessarily think they are to blame. It was a big, bold and brash looking production; full of positives running through the first two acts. I thought the stage design and lighting conveyed a sense of place – the hot, muggy
Venues Archive
The image to the right of these words is of a book. The actual book is not important. The fact that it has a cover is. I don’t know if the book is any good. I can’t tell that simply from looking at the cover. To find out if I like the book I have to open it, read it; follow the dialogue and then – not always at the end – put it down and make a judgement upon it. I’m off to see “Carmen” tonight. My judgement already is that I will not enjoy it. What I know of Opera North’s “Carmen” is through the snippets I have read online – including a set of fairly prosaic reviews and claims it is “sexy”
I’m stood, hugging a bare-chested man. I’ve been in this embrace for the last five minutes. I don’t know his name, or why he is hugging me. All I know is that his shirt is round his waist, I’m covered in his sweat and his mouth is moving but no sound is coming out. He reaches his hands round to the back of my head, and with delicate fingers, starts to massage my neck. I don’t remember this being advertised as a service when I paid to get in here? Still his lips move – his eyes darting around as they do. He points to someone in the distance, someone I can barely make out through the mass of bodies. Bodies interlocked with each other;
Found myself in a strange town, though I’ve only been here for six years now. I’ve got questions in my mind. Trying to find a clue on Cookridge Street. I moved to Leeds for love. It’s true. The love was already in me; it just happened that the person I loved was living in Leeds. I was living in London. The long distance relationship was a pain. At the time I had agreed to walk away from a role – and was well rewarded for doing so. With the severance package in pocket I took a punt and moved up to Leeds. We had a house; I found a temporary job and started to find the amenities – the pubs, clubs, bars, restaurants and shops