Ever since coming to the States back in 2008, I have encountered many moments of cultural misrepresentation.

It all began when the students in my French class were assigned to give a cultural presentation for our midterm. Back then I was standing in the cross road of trilingualism that consists of Vietnamese, French, and English, the latest of which I was still a novice. Unable to make out what would attract my teacher and classmates, I embarked on the universal human interest in culinary. Thus I made a powerpoint presentation on Vietnamese gastronomy and prepared a small vietnamese dish for the class. Out of pure innocence I included in it a slide about the Vietnamese habit of eating dogs and cats, and I made my spring roll with pork meat.

The outcome was terrible, though I myself has never been a devotee of dog and cat meat, I was instantly repulsed by the class once the slides come up, in which featured a steaming furless grilled dog lying squarely on a plate. A few people choke on the foods of the previous presenter but most directed their disgusted look toward me. Much to my satisfaction, half of the class did not bother to touch my spring roll because I was unaware of the muslim pork eating taboo.

On that day I has both tainted my self-image and misrepresented my culture from a beautiful and peace-loving one to one that treats dogs and cats cruelly and has its citizen feed muslims pork meats. I’ve never participated in any culture-representing event ever since.

Although the play version and the opera version of “The Barber of Seville” relatively hold the same plots, I can still spot some differences in each version.

To start it off, it is apparent that the biggest difference between the versions is the importance of Figaro. In the play Figaro is introduced in the beginning as “the barber of Seville,” the title of the play, which leads us to be mistaken that he would play a central role, which is not the case since as the play goes on, the Count and Rosina take the center stage as Figaro circumvents as a consultant and comic helper. Yet in the opera version, Figaro catalyzes virtually all the actions that take place in the plot. He is, to term it artistically, Fate in “The Barber of Seville,” who is constantly making impressive and profound musical performance just like on the video that Prof. Tenneriello had posted.

Another huge difference is how the Count presents himself in the opera. In the play version I view him as a discreet and somewhat passive personality that constantly seeks help from other (Figaro) to get his Rosina. He is more refined, charming and suave, yet more timid to take actions. On the other hand, opera’s Count is more explosive. In the beginning scene he has a band to back up his courage romancing Rosina. In another scene, instead of discreetly putting money into Bazile’s pocket, opera’s Count makes death threat with his pistol cocking on Bazile’s side.

These differences can be explained by the nature of the form in which “The Barber of Seville” is presented. In contrast to theater, opera holds more musical and dramatic performances in its nature, and singing tends to escalate every actions that are featured, thus explains Figaro’s central role and makes the Count a firebrand in the opera.

Oriental culture worships a higher Being who dictates the course of our life. Each person follows a path that is called Fate and encountered different events that is predetermined. Often people practice fortune-telling and foresee a rough patch ahead and try to perform rituals or conjure up spirits to smooth out the future. No one knows or is able to confirm the effectiveness of those rituals, which in turn put us in a state of confusion, uncertainty, and sometimes impotence to prevent what is to come. Ancient greek plays were written under the same impression that the fate of the characters are predetermined by the Gods, who played them as if on a chess board. Sophocles’ “Antigone” is an exemple of such belief.

“Antigone” is the sequel of the play “Oedipus Rex,” that was written with a twist away from the Oedipus Rex’s storyline. The idea of Fate was prevalent in “Oedipus Rex” as the King Oedipus was predicted to kill his father and marry his mother. Indeed he did, but he only finds out the truth because he had tried to espace his Fate. This shows that the more you run away from Fate, the sooner you fulfilled your Destiny. In “Antigone,” The Chorus seems like a representative of Fate, narrating the characters’ thoughts: their roles, already predestined, should be self-evident, even if the reason they come to doom is ultimately not. Thus the Chorus traces each character’s fate. Antigone cannot help but to bury her perished brother and die because of her own actions; Creon is the unwilling king after the death of the brothers; Eurydice’s role is but to die in her room. Yet Creon tries to resist Polynices’ fate to be buried properly not only to fail miserably but also to lose his own son Haemon.

In short, “Antigone” is a representation of the ultimacy of Fate. The Gods are not to be defied and when they are, the consequences are predetermined and unfathomable. The fall of the characters are partly brought by their own attempts to resist Fate but in fact their fall had been determined even before the beginning of the play.