Richard Strauss’s *Salome* is a masterpiece of operatic shock and allure, and at its heart lies the infamous *Dance of the Seven Veils*—a moment of hypnotic seduction that still sparks debate over a century later. The New York Times recently revisited its lurid brilliance, and I can’t help but weigh in.
This dance isn’t just a striptease; it’s a weapon. Salome doesn’t perform for pleasure—she wields her body as a bargaining chip, peeling away layers of fabric (and propriety) to manipulate Herod into granting her grotesque wish. The genius of Strauss’s score is how it mirrors her cunning—sensual yet sinister, lush but laced with menace.
Modern stagings grapple with its implications. Should it be erotic? Disturbing? A feminist power play or a male-gazey relic? I lean toward the former. Salome’s agency is the point—she’s not a victim but a strategist, using the only currency her world allows.
That said, the dance’s endurance lies in its ambiguity. It thrills and repels, a perfect metaphor for opera itself: excessive, transgressive, and impossible to look away from. Whether you see it as high art or high camp, one thing’s clear—*Salome* still knows how to make an audience squirm.
What’s your take—timeless provocation or outdated spectacle? Sound off below.
