I finally, finally went to the National Theater (you know, the Bayerische Staatsoper, across from the Spaten between Odeonsplatz and Marienplatz).
There is so much high-falutin’ culture that I never take advantage of and it was high time. I badgered a good friend of mine and enjoyer of the arts to get me a ticket to anything and take me along.
It turns out that I am a big roob. Huge schock. We saw a ballet that consisted of two pieces The
Goldberg-Variationen followed by Gods and Dogs
. I did. not. get. the Goldberg-Variationen, it seemed like a bunch of silly hopping around. There were no outrageous costumes, moving sets or black swans careening to their deaths via glass-shard stab wound. Just simple piano music, no set, and what looked like dancers warming up. If I were less self-controlled I could have easily hollered out, Homer-Simpson style ‘Boooring!’ Fortunately my breeding is better than that.
The second ‘number’ was Gods and Dogs, choreographed by a Dutchman and very modern, or post-modern, but in any case very, very good. Clearly, I’m no connoisseur of the bal-lay or even an amateur with a basic knowledge of it. I GOT Gods and Dogs, though. It was powerful and gripping.
My fancy-pants culturally sophisticated friend explained to me that the Goldberg Variation was choreographed in 1971 and was very radical for the time, which helped a bit. But even she conceded that it was kind of tedious.
What was not tedious or boring was the inside of the theater. I hope you enjoy my harried Instamatic snaps of it. It’s worth going just to see the inside. It made me want to wear an 18th century gown, arm-length white gloves and peek through opera-style binoculars (you can actually rent those for a few Euros, sans long holding stick). Alternatively I could imagine being one of the two grouchy magpie old-man muppets
in one of the theater booths.
Perhaps I’ll go again if the Nutcracker Suite is on or something similarly pedestrian that a pleb like me can enjoy. Or maybe I’ll go when this lady’s