The play tells the real life story of a society woman in New York in the 30s and 40s. She was a singer who loved to perform and eventually did so at Carnegie Hall. The problem was, she was tone deaf. She couldn't carry a tune - not to its rhythm or melody; yet she wasn't aware of this deficiency.
As funny as the play was, what got me thinking was the idea that our reality - each and everyone of us - is based on what we see, hear, and know. So if this woman believed that she sang well, that melodious music came forth from her vocal cords like poignant phrases from Shapespeare's mind, is that a reality just as worthy as our own, whatever they may be?
It is often said that geniuses like Da Vinci, Einstein, and Van Gogh saw the world different than the rest us do, and that is why they have been able to teach us new ideas and create for us unfathomable constructs (at least to the majority of the mundane world). So then who are we to judge what others believe?
That said, I heard William Hung is making a come back.
Just kidding. I hope not.
