Humor me. It's late and I am under the narcoleptic haze (a la Bayadere style) of french fries dipped in hummus.
I am seriously thinking that Houston Ballet's La Bayadere, aka the Temple Dancer is a huge conspiracy similar to the terrorist methods of a suicide bomber as they try to annihilate a group of people. PETA, I believe, talked a Bengal tiger, let's call him Tony, into sacrificing himself in order to create a chaotic love polygon ending in the destruction of the the main temple in mythic India, killing everyone. Somehow, the snake got jealous and had to participate in the demise of mythic Indians (which by the way were wearing delicious costumes). How original sin-esque.
PETA was counting on people's stupid naivete regarding such a ridiculous false feeling of falling in "love" like it is ever perfect. They weren't counting on the high rate of divorce, the hours of counseling needed to work out why don't you take out the garbage and you spent how much type of issues. If they knew what their therapist and botox treatments would cost (thanks to stress wrinkles), they would have happily accepted the Tony as a pet and moved on.
Somehow, ballet makes falling in love magical. Being swept off your feet takes on a more literal meaning.
I love going to the ballet. But I have to admit, last night's experience was a deliciously strange combination of fast narrative, feature numbers within the story line, and some that really added nothing to story development except artistic and aesthetic eye/soul candy. And lots of piccolo. Lots and lots of stereotypical cutely annoying piccolo playing in what should have been the afterlife or Kingdom of Shades.
Moral of the story, don't kill a Bengal tiger or all everyone will end up dead. And PETA didn't count on afterlife reunions. So at the end, the guy gets the girl, and the girl gets the guy.
Photo: Ballet La Bayadère. Dancer: Melody Herrera and Connor Walsh. Choreographer: Stanton Welch. Photo: Pam Francis.
