I've always had the same vision of a typical opera. A rather large lady with a bun so enormous that it barely stays on top of her head stands centerstage. With her hands held together at the center of her chest, she begans to sing at atypical ranges in a language unknown to the audience. She ends with a long high note, and the crowd gathers in applause, yet having no idea as to what they've just witnessed. The House of the Dead proved my perception completely false. The first aspect of this opera that caught me off guard was the huge cast of men. I would have never thought an opera would consist of men singing together. Also, no one was dressed in eighteenth-century clothing with old time wigs or large buns. These men were dressed in grunge-like clothing, as prisoners normally would. However, one perception of mine was not so far stretched: I could not understand a single word being sung. Even with the subtitles, I found myself confused at what was happening. This could be due to the "nonexistent" plot, but it was for some reason harder to keep up with the subtitles and the cast equally as it was for Quartett. The scene that I was most engaged in was the play within a play scene. I actually could not believe what was happening before my eyes. I understood the concept very well: In prison, men are so sexually frustrated, they would even enjoy men pretending to be women just for a little moment of excitement. However, I could not believe how sexually crude the scene was. I am definitely not an immature person, but I was uncomfortable watching that scene. I watched men pretending to be women, pretending to have sex with another man, with men in the background, pleasuring themselves while watching. It was to say the least unexpected. On the bright side, I actually liked the setting. It was simple, yet very necessary at the same time. They gray evoked the feeling of prison. Seeing this opera was just another new experience on my list that IDC has created for me. Plus, I have got to say even if it has been said any times before, I got to witness the Devil that wore Prada herself glide across a room: Meryl Streep.