Apparently the word fun came from and was associated with the word fool, until it changed into something more to do with lighthearted amusement in the 18th century. Whenever I do my opera-isn’t-boring pitch the 18th century usually gets a mention, largely due to the fact that the concert hall is a 19th century invention, and opera sounded a lot more fun in the 18th century, before concert halls became the main way of seeing live classical performances. It’s a relatively modern (by classical music terms) phenomenon that we are well-behaved in the presence of baroque and early classical opera, and sit regimented ready to receive it. Prior to that it was designed to be performed at dinners, parties and weddings, something to dip in and out of, listening up for the start of your favourite aria like watching the music channel as a kid in the early 2000’s. I will only see Handel operas if I am paid to, you weren't supposed to spend three hours of endless arias silently sitting in heels and a dress, unable to talk to the person you’re attending it with, your knees squashed against the back of someone’s seat. The original setting acknowledged life has a life of its own, music has a life of its own, and when they meet - that’s where the fun begins.
Experiencing an opera whilst interacting with the world around me rather than simply my internal world sounds like the fun I want to be having, like you would at any other live music event or club. But the argument for the concert hall setting is that it is designed as a place to worship music, the rules are reverence - anything other than sitting still, quietly receiving the message, would be disrespectful.
Respectfully, I see the place for that, and in many cases (not Handel) I enjoy it. Some of my most euphoric moments have been during Mahler symphonies, completely stunned to silence, feeling like I’m edging against something explosively pleasurable and painful in equal measures in the space between movements where the musicians take a slight pause but the audience is scared to breathe for fear of breaking the spell. But the expression of my worship, reverence and respect aren’t limited to stillness, quietness or adhering unfalteringly to any set of rules. There’s space for all of it, much like how there is nothing lighthearted about my fun, and the only foolish thing about me is when I am taking myself too seriously.