The man is counting because he is measuring the room for a new bed. He’s singing because this is an opera.

You can’t understand what they’re saying because the words are in Italian.

The man with the stick is the conductor.

The shiny necklace is definitely not real diamonds. Where do you think you are, the Met Gala? Look, kid, if you don’t see TV cameras and paparazzi, then you’re probably not going to see jewels on loan from Bulgari.

OK—technically you didn’t ask this, but no, you’re not supposed to sing along.

The man in the bow tie and the porkpie hat is arguing with the usher because his assigned seat is all the way at the end of the row, and even though he came in halfway through the second act, he claims that he doesn’t want to disturb everyone in his row by making them stand up so he can shimmy over to his seat. Instead, he wants to discuss in detail which other seat might be available, and when that ultimately doesn’t work out, decide to stand at the back.

The boy jumped through the window because he wasn’t supposed to be hiding in that room. It was a secret that he was there.

No, it’s not over. This is just the intermission.

The lady is crying because she’s sad.

She’s sad because her husband is relentlessly and unrepentantly cheating on her.

That woman is sitting on top of the man like that because sometimes, when a man loves a woman, or when a woman loves a man, or when a woman loves a woman… You know what, never mind.

Why did your parents bring you here? That is an excellent question, one I’ve been asking myself for the past three hours.

That woman with the black hair is hugging the man because, even though she has been trying to get him to marry her this whole time, she turned out to be his mom.

You’re not wrong, that is super weird.

Yes, it’s all done now.