D'Arcy Greenlights New Don Juan Opera 29/12/2008 12h05
PARIS, France (AFP) - No need for Viagra here -- it seems nothing can stop that old warhorse of a property called Don Juan from rising again.
The entire operatic world knows of the ill-fated "Don Juan Triumphant," an ambitious opera by an unknown composer that somehow found itself entwined in the mysterious legend of the Phantom of the Opera.
Now, the infamous British composer Lord Ambrose D'Arcy and his collaborator American director Jay Cobbler have announced that "the button is pushed" on their follow up to that work.
Currently titled "DJ2: F*ck You, Just Give Me Your Money and Shut Up," it is set to open at the end of next year at the Paris Opera.
The sequel will be set a year after the first installment, during which Don Juan has languished in Hell only to be rescued by Doctor Who. Adopting a new masked identity, Don Juan soon amasses a great fortune from his conquests and opens a pleasure paradise called the Electric Boogaloo. "It's something I've always imagined building myself one day," said D'Arcy.
The opera will reunite Don Juan with Aminta, originally played by opera darling Christine Daaé who will be reprising her role. The rest of the production has yet to be cast, but D'Arcy is clear on who his Don Juan is going to be, "but I can't say who."
Cobbler only comment regarding the project was, "Sexsexsexsexsexsexsexsexsex!!!"
Look for Don Juan to expose himself to the opera-going public next winter.
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If anyone needs me, I'll be in my torture chamber getting acquainted with the iron tree and a sturdy length of rope.
Although the Masquerade Ball is still to come, things have settled down a bit here at the Opera now that Christmas is behind us.
I had a pleasant Christmas dinner with Nadir, Ayesha and the Girys. It was rather brief, however, since people always find it disconcerting to have a meal while I am sitting stock-still at the table, neither eating nor drinking, and staring at them the entire time. I can't help it; it's what I do.
I was genuinely touched by the gifts the Girys had given me, particularly the new quill and inkwell set from Little Meg since my old one is a bit worse for wear. Even Ayesha, my little darling, was in the Christmas spirit and had gifts for everyone. Her gift for me was quite the surprise -- her own original composition. Although to be honest, when I played it on the organ, it sounded strangely like this:
I found this in an e-mail someone sent me from America:
Merry Christmas to me, indeed!
Christmas, like most holidays, is for people with family and friends. And until recently, I have always felt I had neither -- with the exception of Ayesha and Nadir of course. But now, I feel something akin to companionship with several denizens of the Opera. It's as if my heart grew three sizes today.
The Girys left their gifts for me in Box Five last night. In return, I left them their gifts: for Meg, a free coupon to step in for a suddenly-available prima ballerina role at a performance of her choosing (with at least a day's notice to make the arrangements), and red petticoat for her mother (don't ask). I also have a gift for Ayesha that will hopefully keep her from further ravaging my mannequin. And while I was in a festive mood, I also left a lump of coal in Monsieur André's tophat and gave Carlotta a new atomizer since she threw away the one I gave her that last time. I also acquired this item on eBay as a gift for the Vicomte de Chagny and propped it up outside his bedroom window:
I'm also a bit disappointed that Christine could not share these warm holiday feelings with me since apparently, Monsieur le Vicomte has whisked her away to spend the last fleeting days with her before he joins that celebrity charity trip to New Guinea. I cannot blame him, however. I most likely would have done the same if our roles were reversed. See Dr. Schneider? I am capable of growth!
Madame Giry is attending a ballet conference in London this week and informed me that this would be a good opportunity for me to share some (as she put it) "quality time" with her daughter. She has never explained exactly why she has recently given great interest in having us "bond," and to be honest, I've been too preoccupied with this Gerik person to give it much thought.
"Find something to do together that you'll both enjoy -- but no reading her detective stories!" she insisted before she left last night. "She's inquisitive enough as it is."
I'm at a bit of a loss for what to do. While I appreciate the art, I am not as educated about ballet as I should be, so unless this "Nutcracker" features Gerik and a ballerina with notoriously bad aim when she kicks, that may not work out for the best.
Perhaps I'll teach her the art of the Punjab lasso.
Viscount de Chagny to Get Down and Dirty for the Poor 7/12/2008 14h07
PARIS, France (AFP) - Viscount Raoul de Chagny, after having announced that he would be co-funding U2 frontman Bono’s humanitarian aid expedition to New Guniea, startled reporters when he added that he would be personally assisting in the endeavour.
The young and handsome French aristocrat has managed to avoid the public eye despite his engagement to opera star Christine Daaé, preferring to allow his fiancée to shine in the spotlight. But after appearing in MTV’s “The Real World: Paris Opera,” the Viscount has been in attendance at many philanthropic events.
Bono’s project, called “Domiciles for Dwarves,” will construct homes and provide medical care for the country’s indigenous pygmies. The 2-month long operation boasts many international media celebrities and will commence at the end of the month.
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Bon voyage, Monsieur le Vicomte! Don't get eaten by cannibals or anything!
Christine and I got into a bit of a tiff last month. I was upset that even with her excellent taste and standards, she has yet to divorce herself from D'Arcy's "DJ2" project, instead deciding to honor her obligations as a member of the company. In a moment of thoughtlessness, I said she should grow a spine and she responded with something regarding a nose and then stormed off. And to be honest, I believe the Naomi Watts thing didn't help matters.
But both our heads have cooled and she even took it upon herself to decorate my lair for the Christmas season. Hundred of metres of garland are strewn across the portcullis, the candelabra now look like giant candy canes, and life-sized jolly elf figurines are currently prancing around my throne.
I love the girl with all my heart but someone has got to stop her before she decorates again.
We do not celebrate this holiday here in France, and I've never been partial to food or group gatherings in the first place. However, in tribute to my American readers, if I have the opportunity, I will be serving "Gerik and Vicomte flambé" tonight.
This young and sexy (or so he's been touted) upstart is using my own Ultimate Pickup Artist techniques against me in an attempt to usurp my throne! Well, not literally, I'm sitting on it right now -- no, not the *porcelain* throne, the -- okay, wait, let me start again.
Gerik!
This would-be dark seducer has adopted my look and my techniques (albeit to a much less refined degree) in an attempt to replace me! Using my own graciously-offered and completely-free advice, he's taken my recent absence as an opportunity to worm his way into my opera house.
He is the Khan to my Kirk! The Moriarty to my Holmes! The Joker to my Batman! The Pepsi to my Coke!
You will curse the day you dared to challenge me, Gerik! I will grind your sunburned face beneath my boot and you talent-less voice will be silenced for all time!
D'Arcy seems to be ambivalent on what this "opera" of his will ultimately be titled. He recently announced that it is now officially called: "DJ2: F*ck You, Just Give Me Your Money and Shut Up."
My warmest thanks for all of you who submitted your videos and photos based on my advice in my first lesson. I literally soiled my trousers with amusement. You'll each be receiving my laundry bill in the post shortly.
Lesson #2: Openers
The hardest thing for a man to do is to engage a woman in a conversation. If you cannot speak to her, you cannot get anywhere. This barrier can be caused by low self-esteem, fear of rejection, or you have a pizza for a face. Regardless, if you want to get the girl, you have to overcome this. There are several ways to do this, but since I don't want to hand-hold you, I'll just give you the most basic one: the hook.
The hook is a question or statement that will catch her attention and cause her to engage you in conversation. Stay away from openers like, "Do you come here often?" or "That's a nice dress you're wearing" or "Does this look infected?" It has to be something that can actually lead somewhere, like, "Your dead father sent me down from heaven to teach you to become a great singer." There's no way that will fetch a simple response.
Thus endeth the lesson.
Your obedient friend, O.G. (aka The Angel of Music)
Apparently, D'Arcy premiered the first act of his disaster-in-waiting to guests at his private estate on Halloween. This is what an entertainment reporter for Le Matin had to say about the plot:
[…] As for "DJ2: Electric Boogaloo": It's set in the fourteenth century on the Mediterranean coast. Don Juan has been rescued from Hell by Doctor Who's TARDIS and promptly abandoned after he attempts to seduce the Doctor's latest companion. Now on the run from a legion of cuckold husbands, dishonored fathers, and irate brothers, Don Juan dons a mask to hide his identity and terrorizes the countryside as "The F@#king Bandit." Soon, after amassing a great fortune from his conquests, he builds himself a hedonistic resort called The Electric Boogaloo. But at night, he crawls into his lair and makes love to an automaton that looks like his lost soul mate, Aminta.
Meanwhile, the real Aminta has fallen on hard times, having been disowned by her peasant family after abandoning her fiancé for Don Juan a year ago. So she's accepted a high-paying gig as an exotic dancer from a mysterious impresario to open a new pleasure palace. On her first night, she draws back the curtain in her suite and comes face to face with her new employer - flash of lightning, crash of chords - Don Juan!
I nearly choked on my corn flakes when I read that.
My remarkable constitution seems to be failing me as I get older, so I've been stuck down here in my lair with a case of the sniffles. Madame Giry has been down once a week to keep me apprised of current events, but for the most part, I've been lying in my coffin watching dvds.
This "King Kong" film by Peter Jackson is quite good. Mlle. Watts plays a theatre actress who shows great affection and compassion for a misunderstood creature.
All right. Despite my lack of hair and a nose and matching eyes and partially exposed skull and generally skeletal appearance overall, apparently I have a certain je ne sais quoi when it comes to the ladies. This has been statistically proven by several polls taken around the world (which either means I've got a certain somethin' somethin' or there is an alarmingly large number of necrophiliacs out there).
Due to that reputation, I've been receiving several letters from men asking me for advice on how to get the young lady of their dreams. To placate my psychiatrist, I'm compelled to be helpful to these no-game losers at love by occasionally providing lessons on what I've learned here (that's OCCASIONALLY. Don't expect me to be too generous with my advice). Now without further ado, let's begin.
Lesson #1: Establish an avatar.
Don't be yourself. There's a reason why you're forty years old and still living with your parents. No, you must be the person you aspire to be: someone with confidence, poise, and élan. Someone who exudes authority and commands respect. Someone not you, basically.
So how do you be someone you're not? You create a new persona, or avatar. Act like you have the qualities you want and soon you'll convince yourself and others that you do. But an avatar is not only the attitude and personality you project, but physically, it involves wearing one or more accessories that draw attention to you. Anything will do: a particularly unique pendant, uncomfortably tight trousers, an intriguingly stylish mask, etc. The objective is to enhance yourself. Bald? Wear a wig. Short? Wear lifts (hey, it works for Prince. That midget gets all kinds of tail). Once you have your attitude and physical look ready, come up with a new name for yourself. Something like "Magnum," "Eros" or "Vigorous." That way the fragile ego of the *real* you is protected and you can claim anonymity when women shoot you down and then run home to blog about you on the internets.
The avatar goes hand-in-hand with "peacocking": parading around in whatever get-up you've chosen for the purpose of drawing the attention of women (but hopefully not the "pointing and laughing" sort of attention), but more on that later. Oh, and bonus points if you already know what sort of persona the object of your desire… desires. If it isn't a stretch for your personality, go ahead and mold yourself towards that avatar and you'll be a step ahead of the game.
So messieurs, go through your closets or head down to the department store and make yourselves over. Once you feel you have your avatar down, send me a picture or video of yourself and I'll use it to blackmail you later grade you on your approach.
Thus endeth the lesson.
Your obedient friend, O.G. (aka The Angel of Music)
There have been many stories written about me over the years. Novels, plays, moving pictures, et cetera, et cetera. And as time has gone on, it seems that my legend has been twisted and manipulated into something that is not. So I felt that I should set some ground rules for everyone as to who I am. But I do enjoy an air of mystery about me, so I will only define myself by what I am NOT.
1. I am NOT young. 2. I am NOT sexy (there is a difference between "sexy" and "sensual"). 3. I did NOT receive my disfigurement from acid or fire. 4. I did NOT spend my formative years living in the bowels of the opera house. 5. I do NOT stick rats down my trousers. 6. I do NOT have a sex doll made in Christine's likeness. 7. I do NOT run an amusement park in America. Your obedient servant, O.G.
Apparently, casting has begun for D'Arcy’s bastard child of an opera, “DJ2: Electric Boogaloo.” I spied a long line of young, handsome men in front of the rehearsal hall, so I assume they’re trying out for some young aristocrat role.
I also understand that Christine will reprise her role as Aminta, but I am ambivalent about this. On the one hand, I am pleased that they know true talent when they hear it, but on the other hand, I do not feel she should sully her reputation by allowing her sublime instrument to be associated with such rubbish.
Paris, France (AFP) - In an intense reaction not seen since Dick Sargent replaced Dick York on “Bewitched,” there has been an uproar of protest directed against British composer Lord Ambrose D’Arcy’s plans to stage a sequel to the controversial opera, “Don Juan Triumphant.”
Contained primarily to the internet, a grassroots campaign has formed by “Juanna-Bes,” devoted fans of the original “Don Juan Triumphant,” to protest the new operatic sequel. “Don Juan’s fate is definitive,” one fan said on a Don Juan message board, “He’s dragged down to Hell. The end. How do you write a sequel to that?” Another fan added, “D’Arcy has no integrity anymore. He’s merely trying to capitalize on the notoriety of the original. And it isn’t even his own!”
Accusations of plagiarism have hounded Lord D’Arcy for years, most notably that of the scandal surrounding “Saint Joan: The Tragedy of Joan of Arc,” which premiered at the London Opera House. But Lord D’Arcy has always refuted such rumors as jealous gossip by his critics.
“DJ2: Electric Boogaloo” is currently in development at the Paris Opera House. Jay Cobbler is slated to direct the production.
“Good day my dear fans. I’m just back from holiday and return with splendid news: I’ve decided that I shall go forward with my sequel to “Don Juan Triumphant.”
As I’m sure you know, I and my collaborator, American director Jay Cobbler, have been developing the project at the Paris Opera. While… interesting… the original “Don Juan Triumphant” was a deeply flawed work, and it was obvious to me that it had been written by someone untrained in the nuances of what makes an opera exceptional. Quite trying on the ears, it was just too much, you understand. So I took it upon myself to correct these errors while composing the sequel. I’m satisfied that I’ve corrected the various issues I had with the plotting - although I still have to talk with Jay - but regardless, this is a very exciting day for me.
So, that is all for now. It’s going to be very exciting and I can reveal to you that it will be called, “DJ2: Electric Boogaloo.”
***
This is outrageous! To take my life’s work and twist it in order to make a sequel?! What sort of diseased mind comes up with an idea such as that?
And the music is positively atrocious! Butchering my beautiful work, destroying my legacy…
Had Nadir not been here to restrain me, I surely would have committed some unseemly act upon Lord D'Arcy's person. Possibly involving a barrel of gunpowder and a funnel.
Tempermental thing, this electronic typewriter/moving picture screen device, but I shall master it. It is quite useful, despite its idiosyncrasies. I can deliver notes to anyone I wish instantaneously (although there's nothing better than a hand-written note mysteriously appearing in a pocket to strike fear in your victim's heart), I can compose my music and hear it performed by a (albeit electronically-supplied) symphony seconds later, and I can keep a database on every employee in the Opera House and every last little secret they have (which will come in handy now that I'm getting on in age). And it also has this crest of sorts emblazoned on various parts of its hardware in the shape of an apple.
Pro: A voice that makes my spirit soar, an innocent soul, a generous and compassionate heart, a beautiful smile, and the impossibly cute squeaky sound she makes when she yawns.
… and welcome to this, my personal electric journal. Forget all that you have seen and read before, because in this new age, I seek to start anew.
I am not usually one to share my thoughts with others, but my dear Angel, Christine, bade me meet with a friend of hers who apparently helped her through some childhood issues. I didn't quite understand how lying on a sofa and talking about yourself for an hour is conducive to helping ANYTHING, but this "doctor" suggested keeping a journal as a form of therapy. Apparently, I have a lot of issues that need to be dealt with.
To that end, what you read here shall be various thoughts that come to the mind of a cantankerous old ghost, ranging from commentary on the happenings taking place in my opera house above and ruminations on my legend to handy tips on how to get candle wax out of absolutely anything and the trials and tribulations of being a cat owner.
