#i can only imagine that the person harmonizing is eyzen because i swear in the clip his mouth is moving

[churrostyx]

i just found out that mercutio sings “la vie n’est pas un théâtre” alongside tybalt in the french revival and im going to make it everyone’s problem (not heard on the studio recording, but rather live)

he takes the lower harmony on that line, a stark contrast to what he usually sings. mercutio sings high and bold (see: the high F in la folie, riffing in les beaux, les laids and les rois du monde). not only that, but he harmonizes it softly, almost weakly, drowned out by tybalt's belt.

both tybalt and mercutio sing "life is not a theatre".

it's spoken like conformation. that in spite of his theatrical disposition, he understood that life wasn't the carnival of love that other people parade it to be. when he's stabbed, his charade of carelessness falters to reveal the pessimism that was once treated as foolish ramblings in je reve. no matter how much he tries to play up his whimsicality, he's a cynic that has always understood that death and tragedy was inevitable for the men that live on their knees. should he dies, he dreams, right?

but it's also a realization. it's an audible show that tybalt has overpowered his exuberance with the harsh revelation that tybalt is going to kill him. that he is going to die. that this is no longer a game. that this thing between him and tybalt isn't just teasing and empty threats anymore.

he spends a majority of the musical dancing on the edge of a sword. the goings-ons of his enemies his personal little drama. he has these wild dreams and this untouchable fearlessness that he uses to feel above it all. he may know that life is miserable no matter who you are, he may know that he's the king of nothing, but just knowing that and embracing his self proclaimed insanity is what allows him a semblance of control.

but then he's hit with the terrifying realization that life is not a theatre. things don't work out like they do in plays. life isn't as fanciful as it is in fiction. the blood isn't fake, the sun isn't a spotlight, there are no bows or encores, he doesn't get to pick himself up when the lights go dark, he is going to die. the stab sobers him, forcing him to understand that he isn't invincible. and of course, he tries, he stands with a flourish and claims he can't be harmed but madness can't save him from the cold truth of mortality.

and of course, the irony that it is a theatre. the audience gets to watch behind the safety of the pit band, free to laugh, cry, disengage, watch as the characters are forced to acknowledge that death is their reality and there is no leaving after the curtains close. the actors do, but mercutio's blood still stains the streets of verona. he does not get that luxury.

so just by singing "life is not a theatre" the way he did, mercutio becomes a cynic whose pessimism is confirmed no matter how hard he plays jester. or he's a man who thought he'd never die suddenly realizing he's just as vulnerable as the people he mocks. if anything, he's probably both.

either way is tragic. but what's even more tragic is that it probably isn't that deep and they just wanted to add a harmony to sound nice. but it has beautiful and tragic intent to ME