Death in Venice

My dearest Bernat gave me a call while I was in the library revising my Weapons of Mass Destruction class. Eduardo, “how about rememorizing your German times, my dear friend? Ouch, Germany... Nevertheless, it turned out to be the best evening of the week. I truly hope Anna Netrebko does not yet check my blog since her Monday performance as Elvira in Il Puritani was sublime. Details to come in one of my next posts…

It was my first ballet, my first time at BAM (The Brooklyn Academy of Art) and the first time we break the golden rule and a third person, Ashley, becomes a part of our “discovery nights”. Death in Venice, a novel from Thomas Mann, was about to be brilliantly choreographed and staged by John Neumann and interpreted for us by the Hamburg Ballet.

You can view the full review online, it has been such a success there are hundreds of reviews made by more suited persons than myself (such as my friend Bernat’s). I just wanted to leave you with a question that has been haunting me ever since I have seen this Ballet:

What is it about human nature that constantly makes us rebel against our preset comfortable lives? What is it that makes Dionysus so attractive and makes us run away from Apollo’s safety? For Aschenbach it is a young boy, a young Dorian Gray, portrayed as a feminine Polish boy wearing a tailored navy blue suit.

The whole ballet had been danced under heartrending bits of music by Bach and Wagner, when suddenly, while we were preparing ourselves for the next scene, strident harsh rock music made us take a deep breath of air as we impotently watched Aschenbach’s fascination for the boy turn into love and provoking an accelerated spiral of folly which lead to death in Venice.

If you are in NYC, you are in for a treat, but make sure you have this question answered before you go. As a last piece of advice, watch out for the possible frustration that will arise after the show: While you walk to the subway and think about these men who dance like angels, you will have the oppressing feeling that you barely manage to walk like a duck.

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