Parapsychology Journalism: The People, The Theory, The Science, The Skeptics
This has nothing to do with psychic stuff. OK? I saw my first ballet last night and I wanted to share my impressions of it. Giselle is one of those famous ballets, kind like a symphony playing Beethoven’s 9th. Everybody has done it, so when it’s performed, it’s generally done very well, and this one was no exception. It was a professional company and they were quite good.
This technically wasn’t my first ever ballet, it was however, my first real one because, let’s face it: The Nutcracker doesn’t count. The problem with THAT balllet is the audience. Everyone goes to see the Nutcracker. Everyone. Buckets of chicken, popcorn and beer cans would not have been out of place; people clap at everything constantly and, of course, the place is full of squirming uncomfortable children getting cultured “for their own good” so that the flow of the thing is completely disrupted. So the Nutcracker is not a real ballet experience.
But this one was. I should mention that the ballet started at the top of the eighth inning with the Giants (our home team) leading the Phillies in game 6 of the the National League Championship Series 3 to 2. (the Giants won.) This did not distract from the ballet at all. Nope. Not one bit. I was absolutely not thinking about baseball while watching a bunch of guys jump around in tights.
And what an eye opener. The first detail that stuck out, literally, was the lead male’s codpiece. The thing was the size of a grapefruit and about as round. It had an odd crease in the middle that made it look like the worlds largest nutsack in a sportsbra. I could not help staring at the thing. I came to the conclusion that if the guy had a wanger to match, his woodie would be so big that you could paint it and use it as a necktie. This visual was in my head throughout the entire first half and I had to work at not laughing out loud. I thought of him forever after as The Amazing Nutsack. The name “Giselle” was replaced in my mind by “The Nutsacker.”
This whole codpiece thing seems to be important because you could tell the status of the other male dancers by the size of their codpiece. I am not making this up. They ranged in size from ridiculously enormous to almost non existent based on the status of the male dancer. Amazingly, this also seemed to be true of male buttock enhancement. The tights were designed to have really big crease in the middle of the cheeks to display . . . everything. -If you were important enough.-
My next observation was that the plot was worthy of Vivid Entertainment. (NSFW) Indeed, ballet is a kind of dance porn. Like a porn film, in ballet the plot is secondary to the real action. Since no one actually sings, talks or uses sign language, everything is communicated with pantomime. Think of ballet as street mimes dancing to classical music. It’s not that far off.
The second act of Giselle is done is a Scary Graveyard-ish sort of place and thankfully had far more women and less of the Amazing Nutsack. This involved a medium sized herd of fluffy white clad ballerinas. My wife called them the brides of Christ. I think that there were 24 of them and when they all went en pointe, tiptoeing around the stage with the wood in the tips of their shoes clip-clopping against the wood stage floor, It looked and sounded like a small stampede of cotton balls.
I have seen so many parodies of ballet over the years that when the women danced with their arms waving in front of them, I thought it was some sort of joke.
The dancers were graceful and some of the stuff they can do is kind of amazing. Just lose the grapefruit codpieces.