There’s a new player on the search engine scene: Cuil, the brand spankin’ new startup that claims to index faster and cheaper than Google. It has a three column layout is a bold step towards a more mature web, and for that I give Cuil kudos. However, as this bold initiatives is a success, there is another that is a massive failure – the addition of thumbnail photos.

Cuil appears to pull images that share the same keyword search terms and inject them as thumbnails floated in the content description for the primary search results. In other words, pictures are being associated with sites that they have no connection to… as seen here:

It’s a bold idea, and with some much more fine-tuned filtering, it could work, but the results at launch are too generic and error prone. In this case, this is not the Selena that this site is about, but the singer Selena. People searching for this blog will also be confused why the legendary singer is pictured, and question whether they found the right site. In Cuil’s over-zealous attempt to provide a richer search result, the listing has become much more confusing.

In the program for Summer Opera company’s performance of Carmen (playing now at Harman Center for the Arts), David Grindle, the director, notes that in this performance he wants to focus on the people, so you will know more the characters in Carmen better than you may have ever from a previous performance. This was achieved, but not through the intended means (such as the surprising injection of English dialogue). It was achieved by introducing us to people who were never named, and are typically not the focal points of the show, the chorus.

In the first act, at the Cigar factory, we meet a family (downstage right) having a lot of trust issues. The husband has clearly cheated on the wife in the past, because as soon as Carmen enters what should be her scene, she is upstaged by the marital disputes of this couple. The wife crosses downstage over to her husband, all the while wagging her finger in disapproval. He plays innocent, probably to spare the feelings of their little Asian child, standing with them, but his wife is no fool. She knows he is infatuated with Carmen (because he is singing as much), and she continues to wave her arms wildly in fury scolding her husband, as he reacts waving his arms feverishly  as to say “No, you must be mistaken”. What happens to this couple? Sadly, the story moves on without them, their sub-plot is never resolved. Similar to the mystery sub-plot of what killed the woman in the bar in Act Two.

When Toreador arrives, a woman (again downstage left) faints, which is understandable - he is a dreamy sports legend. But then something goes terribly wrong. She’s not out for just a moment, as would be clinically expected when one faints. No, she doesn’t wake up. The song ends, the people depart, she is still out, limply carried off. I want to believe her faint was so drastic it put her into a coma, but my heart tells me she is gone from this world. Who knows what brought on the sudden loss of life. Was her drink poisoned? Did the man she was sitting with slyly stab her in a fit of jealously. The truth can not be known, for while that was surely the focal point of the scene, once the chorus left, so did this sub-plot not to be concluded.

The third act provided no development of new characters. We, in the audience, were forced to just watch the leads sing their solos and carry out the main plot. Fortunately, the final act rewarded our patience with the richest new character development of the production.

The sheriff of Seville enters the final scene to watch the bull fight and the crowd on stage erupts in hisses and boos. He is clearly unpopular, but there is one man whose loathing of the sheriff is unmatched by his peers. As the sheriff pauses in the threshold, a tall spectator in the crowd (upstage center) finds himself in an opportune location standing right next to to the authority figure that he truly hates. The reason for his hatred is never verbalized, but it can not be disputed, for it is clearly demonstrated when this red-blooded Sevillan spits on the sheriff… twice. It is amazing that this sub-plot got no further musical explanation, (as an incident of this very nature started a full-on massacre in colonial Boston), but Carmen is from a more civilized time, where such things are not extrapolated. At least, that civilized pacifism seems to be the way with the sheriff, who does not call for backup or even arrest the man, but simply ignores his spatting and walks inside to enjoy the bullfight, leaving the audience to forgo Toreador’s entrance to continue to ponder what provoked a citizen of Seville to build up such aggression as to behave so boldly again a clearly weak-spirited sheriff?

Sadly, we will never know. While David Grindle gave the chorus license to develop their characters to add richness to this production of Carmen, providing alternative stories for the audience who were not interested in listening to the songs related to the main plotline, he did not give them liberty enough to add their sub-plots into the injected English dialogue, where they could have been satisfactorily resolved.