I went to watch The Phantom of the Opera last night with my friend, Silvia. When I heard last year about it coming to town I was enthusiastically determined that I would go and see it, but as time went, I decided against it especially with the ticket so expensive. I justified my decision by the thought that the show was overrated, until guilt got the better of me (of cancelling... again...).
As I entered into the dark theater, the stage was dull, dull and dark, but not for long. It began with an auction that I could barely recall from the movie and then the chandelier took flight and the stage was unmasked. I was terrified by the blasting organ music and horrified of the golden colored ornaments that framed the stage (strange inexplicable childhood phobia), but awe took over. Oh the music was wonderful and Anthony Warlow had played the phantom so so well that I couldn't help but feel disturbed by his eerie peculiarity, sympathize with his struggle, weep at the recognition of myself in his fallen quest. Amidst this collection of feelings, I realized that no one is made of just one substance. The phantom is not purely evil, just misunderstood... which led me to buy Wicked - The Life and Times of the Wicked Witch of the West by Gregory Maguire, a book on which the musical Wicked (currently playing in Melbourne) is based.
I'm obsessed with making bento these past couple of days and pictured is the ones I made today: grilled salmon marinated in my kecap manis mix, steamed bokchoy on a bed of steamed rice.
9 years ago