I went to the ballet last week at the Royal Opera House. The tickets cost £29 each, which is cheap, apparently, and we were warned in advance not to expect armrests. It was so cramped up there that you could hear people next to you swallowing. But looking down, the vista towards the stage with its red and gold curtain was sublime.
During the first half hour of Coppelia, I thought about my plans for new year; how to spend it with my friends while avoiding some of their friends; I thought about the Venn diagram of friendship, how weird it is that people you like befriend people you don't. I wondered if I could isolate the best bread roll I'd ever eaten and narrowed it down to one that came in a brown paper bag in a restaurant in New York; I think it contained orange peel. I tried to see if the £37 seats, which started two rows in front, had armrests.
There was an interval. "So," I asked. "The woman in the window ...?" "She's a doll." "Right. Do they know she's a doll?" "They don't seem to. The big thing is she comes to life." "Like in the Nutcracker?" "No, that's sweets." "When sweets come to life." "Yes." A woman standing next to us said, "so full of expression." "Still," said my friend, "it's better than the opera."
The second half started. The dolls came to life and were chased around the room by the old doll-maker. Their doll-like movements were amazing and I concentrated for the whole 40 minutes. There was another interval.
The final third seemed to be an opportunity for the principal dancers to show off with long solos; they paused to bow after every one. It was almost 10pm by then. I wondered whether it was racist to be distrusting of other countries' national airlines, without even knowing their safety records. I had a short, imagined fight with someone. (I won.)
The show ended and the dancers milked the applause like anything, coming back through the curtains for a final bow when people were already gathering up their stuff to leave. On balance I would say it was worth the money for the thinking space - a whole two-and-a-half hours of it - to beautiful music and entirely guilt free.
