Why we so perverted? Why?
Watching a documentary about Maria Callas, one of the most renowned opra singers like evah, I immediately thought about some gossip I had heard of her before.
The film was playing for about only 2 minutes and I immediately thought of how I remembered a clip of when she made her come back (after leaving the stage for years, (in)directly because of a man (peeps, read this thoroughly, she left her art for SOMEBODY ELSE, let's live and LEARN here)) and sounded like sh**.
Going through the docu like: 'really need to Youtube that poor performance later', I also got a bit swept away by her personality or the cinamtic portrayal thereof. She started to grow on me.
01h42' in, we get to 'that' performance. They leave it out. I'm ashamed.
Why is this?
Why we drained from any form of sympathy/empathy when it comes to strangers?
What gives us the right?
What makes us THINK we have the right?
Why we out for sensation, whát kind of sensation does it give us really, to see an Amy Winehouse booed off stage almost literally dying from the disease Alcoholism (thank you for letting me use my poetic license here to freely translate to Broken Heart Syndrome) or to see a genious Maria breaking her voice in London, may it/may it not be by the same syndrome? Whilst at the same time running over to a loved one, armed with a blankie, 5 tonnes of chocolates, 3 boxes of Kleenex and 1 bottle of Vodka when suffering from the same malaise?
Why we so easily forget about all the breathtaking aspects of ones' artistry and personality because of a hiccup in their roads? And is it a hiccup really? Isn't it merely nothing more than the absurd arrogance to judge or to be entertained by the mondaine experiences of extroardinary people?
The neglect of acknowledgement and tenderness for human beings, human nature.
Thank you Tom Volf and colleagues. Thank you for making me see.
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