Most Popular
Most popular tools brought to you by
Recent Blog Posts
Thu Jan 8, 4:38 PM
Thu Jan 8, 4:21 PM
Thu Jan 8, 2:53 PM
Thu Jan 8, 2:31 PM
Thu Jan 8, 7:00 AM
Wed Jan 7, 12:28 PM
Thu Jan 8, 3:30 PM
Thu Jan 8, 1:45 PM
Recent Articles
"Ever seen pig after pig being bled at a slaughterhouse? I can tell you knife hunting often pales in comparison."
"Just assume these local politicians are lying when they say anything."
"He has managed to buy the majority of his support with false promises of better lives for the population."
Power to the people.
"If the missiles had remained, we would have used them against the very heart of America, including New York."
No related articles found
National Features >
Broward-Palm Beach New Times
How a mother of two ended up in a plot to smuggle high-tech gear to the enemy.
By Deirdra Funcheon
Westword
In life and death, tattoo artist Kauri Tiyme made her mark.
By Alan Prendergast
Village Voice
Amy Neustein never could resist going public with her family dramas.
By Elizabeth Dwoskin
Houston Press
A visit with the hurricane victims that a country forgot.
By John Nova Lomax
Only One Can Survive
See what happens when the divas get to Duelling.
Published on July 10, 2008 at 3:01am
Opera, like Richard Simmons, lends itself to parody. Spotlight-hungry divas upstage one another with impunity. Sopranos, bleeding profusely through white nightgowns, find singing more urgent than medical attention. Unlike Richard Simmons, opera singers also possess talent strong enough to break wine glasses. Birgit Fioravante, one of the creators of the upcoming show Duelling Divas, has embraced the full comedic potential of opera while still displaying her considerable pipes.
After performing in many traditional productions described by her children as Mom sings loud and dies onstage Fioravante was flush with material. Together with soprano Wendy Reynolds and pianist Heather Coltman, Fioravante developed a show in which, somewhere amid the 18 costume changes, two ego-crazed opera singers turn against one another. We start out playing nice; then it sort of disintegrates, says Fioravante. The show climaxes with pointy weapons, considerable carnage, and (of course) a bloodied nightgown. See how high art and high camp combine at 8 p.m. at the Colony Theatre. Admission is $15.
Sat., July 12, 2008