Imagine this...
You have just purchased tickets to hear the hottest concert pianist on the world scene today. You just can't miss it. All the newspaper reviews are going crazy about him. And so, wearing your best tuxedo, you arrive looking forward to hearing the acclaimed Genius play a live concert.
The lights dim. We break out in applause as the Genius, with the muscular confidence of prodigal youth, strolls to the black gleaming concert grand Steinway, seating himself, poised to play. We are riveted in anticipation and vague sexual arousal. He looks like Josh Hartnett! No one would be listening with their eyes closed tonight.
The program is Beethoven's Emperor's Concerto, a real crowd-pleasing chestnut from the Romantic repetoire. It promises to be an exciting evening.
The symphony begins to play. The Genius prepares to attack the first note. His moment arrives. He starts to play. Wait a minute. What the fuck are you hearing? Is he really playing... no, you think, this has to be a joke! The Genius, swaddled in the luxurious patina of privileged manhood, is playing... CHOPSTICKS????
No. Not only "Chopsticks", but he also pounds notes with the reckless zeal of a two-year-old on his Charlie Brown piano. It is god-awful. You look around. Surely everyone else gets the joke? But no! The audience sits in rapt attention, following each crashing chord with swooning gestures of the hands and head.
Finally, the cacophony ceases. The Genius stands to take his bow and the audience leaps to its feet in a loud, cheering ovation. Two, three, four, five bows; three acknowledgments of the symphony, and the audience roars on with approval.
You sit there in a state of shock and uncertainty. You refuse to succumb to the tyranny of the standing ovation that compels many to their feet. Are you crazy? Are they crazy? Who is crazy? You know what you heard. You know what you saw. The Genius did not know how to play the piano at all. The Genius did not even know where middle C was located. And he's a sensation? Because he looks like Josh Hartnett? That's the sum total of his musical talent? Has the world gone mad?
As silly as the above scenario sounds, it is what I go through every time I go to see theater. I sit there, simply stunned at the level of incompetence at the highest professional level of production.
You have just purchased tickets to hear the hottest concert pianist on the world scene today. You just can't miss it. All the newspaper reviews are going crazy about him. And so, wearing your best tuxedo, you arrive looking forward to hearing the acclaimed Genius play a live concert.
The lights dim. We break out in applause as the Genius, with the muscular confidence of prodigal youth, strolls to the black gleaming concert grand Steinway, seating himself, poised to play. We are riveted in anticipation and vague sexual arousal. He looks like Josh Hartnett! No one would be listening with their eyes closed tonight.
The program is Beethoven's Emperor's Concerto, a real crowd-pleasing chestnut from the Romantic repetoire. It promises to be an exciting evening.
The symphony begins to play. The Genius prepares to attack the first note. His moment arrives. He starts to play. Wait a minute. What the fuck are you hearing? Is he really playing... no, you think, this has to be a joke! The Genius, swaddled in the luxurious patina of privileged manhood, is playing... CHOPSTICKS????
No. Not only "Chopsticks", but he also pounds notes with the reckless zeal of a two-year-old on his Charlie Brown piano. It is god-awful. You look around. Surely everyone else gets the joke? But no! The audience sits in rapt attention, following each crashing chord with swooning gestures of the hands and head.
Finally, the cacophony ceases. The Genius stands to take his bow and the audience leaps to its feet in a loud, cheering ovation. Two, three, four, five bows; three acknowledgments of the symphony, and the audience roars on with approval.
You sit there in a state of shock and uncertainty. You refuse to succumb to the tyranny of the standing ovation that compels many to their feet. Are you crazy? Are they crazy? Who is crazy? You know what you heard. You know what you saw. The Genius did not know how to play the piano at all. The Genius did not even know where middle C was located. And he's a sensation? Because he looks like Josh Hartnett? That's the sum total of his musical talent? Has the world gone mad?
As silly as the above scenario sounds, it is what I go through every time I go to see theater. I sit there, simply stunned at the level of incompetence at the highest professional level of production.
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