Anna Nicole Smith: The Opera

Of the many things in the world I could expect an opera to be made about, Anna Nicole Smith is not among them. In fact if I had made a bet with Las Vegas yesterday about the chances of such an event happening, the odds would have been astronomical I would guess. The difference one day makes.

Because in the face of crazy odds, good taste and profiting off the back of the dead there will be an opera based on Anna Nicole Smith.

Who would bring such an atrocity to the stage? Who would think that anyone of sound mind would part with their hard-earned cash in this economic blast furnace to watch such a travesty of the arts? Richard Thomas.

If you are wondering who in the world this is think back to another great occurrence in the world of opera. He is the man responsible from presenting Jerry Springer: The Opera to the masses. And that collective look of dumbfoundment and trepidation you likely have is answer enough about the quality I expect from this venture.

Of course to propose an opera is one thing, but you need to stage it somewhere. Considering the reputations of opera houses across the world you might think that this could be found in the Timbuktu Opera House (no offense to them if one exists). But in fact it will be at the Royal Opera in Britain. I had no idea they were that starved for cash.

Opera loves tragedy, and the life of Smith is one fraught with just that. But it is also a life that was self-inflicted. Without merit. And without cause of celebration, re-enactment, or glorification.

I suppose that those fans of the Jerry Springer Show, who likely saw the film and play, are likely to see this play as well. But as I consider most people that would view such tripe as just as likely to appear on the program, the rest of the human race will undoubtedly avoid this near inarguable refuse.

Still I could be wrong. It is probable that Anna Nicole Smith: The Opera could be an endearing testament of the pressure and pitfalls of success and fame. On the same order of probability that I can produce diamonds out of my rectum. It’s probable, but that does not mean it is a practical reality in this universe.

But by all means, if you are in the mood to smack your face with a ball-peen hammer, go see this performance for yourself. If after viewing this you have more brains left than drinking a Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, and you are still imbued with the ability to flail your limbs enough to respond, please do let me know if I was wrong.

And for those wondering about the Pan-Galactic Gargle Blaster, it is/was created by Zaphod Beeblebrox and the effect of one is like having your brain smashed out by a slice of lemon wrapped round a large gold brick.