On class and taste

A while back a friend invited me to the opera to see Death in Venice which is based on the novella by Thomas Mann and turned into an operatic performance by Benjamin Britten. Now I do not claim to be well-versed in the classical arts, although my friend, G, fares much better and is a regular at such events. However, neither one of us were familiar with this particular piece beyond vaguely recalling have heard of it and that in itself was justification enough of its greatness and thus, worthiness of seeing. Also, we had cheap student tickets, and you don’t say no to an occasion to dress up and rub shoulders with the high-browers of Toronto who nonchalantly sip their champagnes during intermission whilst looking out the glass windows of the beautiful Four Seasons at the commoners below.

Our expectations were disappointed with painful slowness as we kept waiting for the real action to begin. The show was mind-numbingly boring, with what seemed to be too much repetition, of both thought and action, to me. Briefly (and badly put), the story involves an aging German writer suffering from writer’s block of sorts who decides to take a trip to Italy to find inspiration. While there, he encounters a beautiful teenage Polish boy and becomes obsessed with him, and eventually dies in the end, just as the boy begins to respond to his attentions. But I don’t know this from having watched the opera. G and I were so frustrated (and bored!) by the unexpected nature of the plot and the incredibly slow pace of the show that we walked out during the intermission. Despite our limited knowledge of art (rather social, and political) history, we decided that the story was decidedly too “modern” for us, with its austere set, the presentation of random-running-on-the-beach as dancing, and of course, its theme of homosexual love (let me make clear that I am not a homophobe, I am simply referring to the emergence of the subject in artistic expression as a modern phenomenon, but I could be wrong there too).

The reason I have just narrated this rather irrelevant sounding anecdote is to analyze the whole experience in terms of some social concepts we have been discussing in class, primarily questions of class and culture. And I will be putting myself on the line in the process, so bear with me.

I find it curious why, or rather, how a taste for “art” is considered “refined” and has become synonymous with eliteness. I cannot speak for my friend, G, who is a regular at the Toronto Symphony Orchestra and the Four Seasons, but I know that an opportunity to go to such events sends me into a flurry of excitement and stressing over how to dress. This last time, I mentioned to an Aunt that I would be going to see an opera and she very seriously urged me to really dress properly, we didn’t want people there thinking that “brown people don’t know how to dress”! Of course, I put on my nice dress and make-up, but was grossly disappointed to see G rushing inside in jeans. Other people were in their finery too, but more casual clothing did not seem out of place either.

As to the content of the show, I could feign an appreciation for that. I genuinely enjoy music and performances and “art” and do not indulge just to satisfy some fancy fantasy of mine, but my appreciation and understanding is limited and admittedly, largely aesthetic (so call me simple). However, this show was beyond redemption in my opinion, and it gave my slightly-dented artistic opinion some satisfaction to hear the washroom-talk concur with my views.

Anyway, to put it briefly, even though we look at “class and culture” in class (no pun intended) from an academic point of view which inadvertently always removes ourselves from the picture (yes I know this course is about studying ourselves, but I think we always think of the material as referring to “others”), such concerns are relevant to us all at some level, be it going to the opera, or wondering how to dress for dinner at a fancy restaurant, or deciding between your friend who wants to go to the art gallery and the one who wants to have beer at the pub.