This production reminds one that opera can be the supremely expressive performing art.
It is inconceivable that anyone unfamiliar with the work could have the slightest idea what is going on.
It was 1965; I was a 16-year-old schoolboy besotted by classical music but only, so far, on record.
The V&A's exhibition is not only a celebration, but a cause for celebration.
My week in Prague sent me back to the past, from shooting Amadeus to my own Catholic upbringing.