Aging & Wisdom Quote by Bruce Beresford

Beresford is doing a small act of rebranding on behalf of an art form that, fairly or not, has been filed away as expensive, elitist, and terminally old. The intent is pragmatic: opera does not survive on reverence alone. It survives on attendance, on first encounters that convert the curious into repeat visitors, and on an argument strong enough to compete with the infinite scroll.

The subtext is a defensive pivot away from the most common stereotype. By calling opera “not some antiquated art form,” he acknowledges the cultural shorthand: powdered wigs, foreign languages, long evenings performed for donors. He doesn’t deny the age; he denies the deadness. Then he counters with a maximal claim - “repository of the most glorious music and drama that man has created” - which is less about objective ranking than about permission. He’s telling young audiences they’re not “trying” opera as homework; they’re missing out on something engineered for sensation: desire, betrayal, spectacle, voices that push the human body into near-mythic territory.

As a film director, Beresford’s framing matters. He’s fluent in mass storytelling, and he knows opera’s problem isn’t content so much as access and mythology. Opera already has what contemporary culture loves: cinematic emotions, extreme stakes, big-set-piece drama. The line implicitly challenges institutions, too: if the work is that “glorious,” then marketing, pricing, and presentation should stop treating newcomers like intruders. The pitch is simple: stop apologizing for opera’s age and start selling its intensity.