Phil S. Steen

Just this week, Hagar the Horrible deliberately came late so he could miss some of the opera. Dustin‘s father complained about having to go to Swan Lake. It happens all too often in the comic strips, the stereotype of the philistine husband, the culture hating spouse – as though it were part of being a real man.

Dustin’s father reviews Swan Lake.

I used to think, why don’t they just let the music wash over them and enjoy it. But no. that would be gay, something still taboo in the funny papers – better to resist all culture and fall asleep. Well, this week, you could call me Phil, for even though unintentionally, I did just that, and I was joined by the husband of a friend. We were real men – the philistines.

The music did indeed wash over us – and put us to sleep. Perhaps in my case, it was the hearty meal of tender lamb shank I’d enjoyed at Rivers. More likely, it was what they played, not an opera but Mozart’s Requiem. Without a fat lady to rouse me, I surrendered to the somnolent solemnity of sound, and closed my eyes.

I understand why Lyric does this. They used to put on a season of eight operas, but since the pandemic, they’ve cut back to seven, and one of the evenings is no longer an opera but something more economical, requiring no sets or costumes. I understand, but I wish they wouldn’t. In the time left to me, I want to see as many operas as I can.

At intermission, my friend, Mike, confided that he too found the requiem the perfect music for napping and had dozed off. In any case, it filled Lyric’s coffers. The place was sold out. I didn’t see an empty seat, and extra chairs were crammed into every box.

Ah well, I’m assuming my slumbers were a one time aberration. You can tell Helga that whenever Hagar plays truant, I’ll be happy to warm his seat.