Great moments in opera: The Mikado

If there is a spectacle of song and stage more delightful than The Mikado, I do not know what it is. Oh sure, the premise is ridiculous, the plot is inscrutable, and the characters — bearing names like Pish-Tush, Yum-Yum, and Nanki-Poo — are, at best, caricatures. But the music is so good, and the text is so witty, and it is all served up with such warm-hearted humour that audiences have found it irresistible ever since its 1885 premiere.

The story is set in Japan, in the town of Titipu. The ruler of Titipu, The Mikado, has decreed that in his jurisdiction flirting is to be punished by death. I forget why. The people of Titipu, naturally distressed by this decree, have contrived a clever remedy. They arranged for . . . well, they thought about it, you see, and . . . just a moment. Oh yes, they . . . hmm. How about I let Pish-Tush explain? Here is Our great Mikado, virtuous man [text]:

They are right, I think you’ll say, to reason in that kind of way. So that’s clear enough.

We are soon introduced to three young ladies, Yum-Yum, Peep-Bo, and Pitti-Sing, who, judging from their song, are on their way home from school. This, I must say, is one of the most memorable of all of Gilbert & Sullivan’s songs. In fact (if I may make a private disclosure), on those not infrequent occasions when I spontaneously burst into song, it often happens that this is the song I sing. In any case, it seems that few can hear it without making remarks. (i.e. “Stop singing, Daddy.”) Here is Three little maids from school [text], excerpted from the film Topsy Turvy:

Yum-Yum, it turns out, is betrothed to Ko-Ko, the Lord High Executioner, but she loves the minstrel Nanki-Poo, who loves her in return. Clear? This puts Nanki-Poo in a bit of a tough spot, for not only is he tempted to flirt, he is tempted to flirt with the Executioner’s fiancée. The situation calls for tact, and Nanki-Poo hits on a brilliant tactic: flirtation under cover of the subjunctive. Here is their love duet, Were you not to Ko-Ko plighted [text]:

These happy affairs are interrupted by a directive from the Mikado: at least one person must be executed within the next month. I forget why. Talk around town turns to the question of who it ought to be. In this trio, I am so proud [text], each of Pooh-Bah, Ko-Ko, and Pish-Tush argues that it ought not to be him. I am especially fond of the closing section of this excerpt:

To sit in solemn silence in a dull, dark dock,
In a pestilential prison with a life-long lock,
Awaiting the sensation of a short, sharp shock,
From a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block!

Complications ensue. Deals are made. New, but still distressing, bylaws are discovered. Things fall out, as they will. Along the way we are treated to a few quiet moments with Yum-Yum, in which she sings The sun, whose rays are all ablaze [text]. I consider this to be among Arthur Sullivan’s greatest achievements as a melodist. It is a lovely song that would not, I think, be out of place in a grand opera.

In the end, Yum-Yum and Nanki-Poo somehow obtain the blessing of the Mikado for their marriage. I will not attempt to explain how this happens; it is one of life’s little mysteries. It is enough to simply enjoy the closing chorus, For he’s gone and married Yum-Yum [text], which is as rousing and joyful a chorus as you are ever likely to hear. Here again is an excerpt from Topsy Turvy:

Feast of St. Sapphira

Today is the feast of St. Sapphira. She is a saint whom not many people know about. Are you one of them? Do you realize that you could be missing out on many blessings and good karma? Devotion to her could even help you earn big money working from home! Yes, really!

Another birthday

In light of our recent birthday celebrations, it seems fitting to note that The Hebdomadal Chesterton, that tremendous repository of Chestertonian wit and wisdom, is also celebrating its fifth birthday, today! This is something for which, I am sure, we are all truly and justly thankful.

Credit for the success of that blog is, undoubtedly, due principally and unreservedly to Chesterton himself — and let us raise a glass to toast the great man! — but let us spare a thought, too, for the unassuming hebdomadarian, who, by his ceaseless toil of selection and transcription these past years, has proven himself a modest but true benefactor of mankind. May he be encouraged in his efforts, and may he somehow find the time to keep on keeping on.

Happy birthday!

Candlemas, 2012

Today is Candlemas, the last hurrah of the Christmas season, placed way out here in February for those of us whose good cheer cannot be spent in a mere twelve days. It is time to finally take down the wreaths and the mistletoe, get some candles blessed, and sing Nunc Dimittis. A very happy festival day to one and all!

Corporate taxes

When the topic is economics I tend to keep my mouth shut; I know that I don’t know. But there is one question that has, from time to time, been a bother to me: why do corporations pay taxes?

I can understand citizens paying taxes: there are certain goods — defence, transportation infrastructure, garbage collection — that we all benefit from, and we contribute money with which those goods can be acquired. It seems to me that the fairest sort of tax is a flat tax — the same number of dollars from each citizen goes into the pot — although few people advocate that, and maybe for good reasons that I haven’t thought of.

But it is odd to me that individuals, who are already paying taxes, should pay more taxes — that is, corporate taxes — just because they have decided to work together on something. What is the rationale for that (apart from a simple cash grab by the government)?

Anyway, I air these half-baked thoughts today because I came upon an article, at Public Discourse, which advocates abolishing corporate income taxes. The author, Thomas Haine, gives a few reasons why doing so might cause problems — reasons I, naturally, had not thought about — but concludes that they are not insurmountable. Indeed, he thinks abolishing such taxes would be a bi-partisan winner, at least at a grassroots level. (Politicians, I understand, are rarely in favour of tax reductions.)

It is all very interesting, in a perplexing and foggy kind of way, and I wish I had a clue as to whether it made any sense.

Conrad: The Secret Agent

The Secret Agent
A Simple Tale
Joseph Conrad
(Everyman, 1992) [1907]
317 p.

Aspiring writers would probably do well to be wary of Joseph Conrad. On the one hand, one can learn a lot from him — therein lies the allure. On the other hand, he is so good at what he does that reading him must sometimes be a near occasion of despair. He is one of those writers who wields his pen like a scalpal, capable of a precision of tone and style beyond the abilities of most writers. (And in his second language too, which is even more depressing.)

The story is about an indolent secret agent employed by a foreign government to stir up fear and anxiety among the British public. Threatened with the termination of his position if his lackadaisical ways continue, he is forced into reluctant action. He plans a bombing, but it goes horribly wrong, and he and those around him must deal with the consequences.

The book situates itself in my mind somewhere between Graham Greene and Franz Kafka. Like Greene, Conrad focuses on the motivations and relationships of the characters more than the mechanics of the plot. Like Kafka, he gives the story a faint but unmistakable whiff of absurdity. He does so, in part, by over-writing his descriptions. There is a tendency to emphasize small details, or to write grandiose descriptions of prosaic situations, or to lose the train of thought in runaway introspection. And of course there is the absurdity underlying the whole action of the story: the secret agent is a nihilist, and his whole purpose is to attack the most meaningless target possible, so as to provoke the greatest anxiety. That he fails in this effort is the book’s central tragedy.

Toward the end of the book, when the tragic fallout is all around, there comes a moment when the mist clears, the prose becomes clean and sharp, and the action is propelled forward relentlessly. In the process, Conrad writes one of the best narrations of a murder that I have encountered anywhere. It is quite an amazing performance.

Less amiably, I am not sure that I have ever read a book in which the author displays as little affection for his characters as Conrad does here. He does not seem to like any of them, and that is rare. Every single one is ruthlessly exposed as deluded, grasping, self-important, or stupid. It makes the book tough going at times.

Given that the story is about a man who tries to sow terror in London by planting a bomb, one has the nagging feeling that the book ought to have some contemporary political relevance, but to me the drawing of such connections feels forced.

Feast of St. Thomas Aquinas, 2012

To celebrate the feast of St. Thomas, here are a few aphorisms from his writings:

• Everything evil is rooted in some good, and everything false in some truth. (ST I, 17, 4 ad 2.)
• Although charity is necessary for salvation, it is not necessary to know that one has charity; rather it is generally more useful not to know. (Ver. 10, 10 ad 8.)
• Just as the primary purpose of human law is to cause friendship between men, so the purpose of the divine law is to establish friendship between men and God. (ST I-II, 99, 2.)
• The gifts of grace are joined to nature in such a way that they do not destroy but perfect it. Hence the light of faith, which flows into us through grace, does not extinguish the light of natural knowledge which is our natural inheritance. (In Trin. 2, 3.)
• God is honoured in silence, not because we may say or know nothing about him, but because we know that we are unable to comprehend him. (In Trin. 2, 1 ad 6.)

More from 2011, 2010, and 2009.

The Tree of Life at the Oscars

I notice that the Oscar nominations were announced earlier this week. Usually I don’t pay a great deal of attention to them — I haven’t actually watched the Oscars in years — but I would like to register my delight at seeing The Tree of Life nominated in three categories: Best Picture, Best Director, and Best Cinematography. It ought to be a shoo-in for that last award, though I gather it is considered something of a dark horse in the prestige categories. Well, as they say, it is an honour just to be nominated.

It is interesting that both Brad Pitt and Jessica Chastain, Tree‘s lead actors, were nominated in the acting categories, but for their roles in other films! Pitt was nominated for Moneyball (which was entertaining but not really Oscar material, in my judgement) and Chastain for The Help (which I have not seen, and will in all probability never see). In Chastain’s case, especially, it seems a pity that her luminous performance in The Tree of Life was not nominated — although, to be fair, it is rather hard to know how much of her role’s impact was due to her acting and how much to the brilliant direction and cinematography.

Here’s to long shots!

Great moments in opera: Pirates of Penzance

The Pirates of Penzance followed the success of H.M.S. Pinafore, receiving its premiere (in New York, interestingly) in 1879. Like its predecessor, it is one of Gilbert & Sullivan’s most beloved works. It has the wit and charm characteristic of their most successful collaborations (even if, in my opinion, it is not quite as good as Pinafore and The Mikado).

The story is quite silly, as you would expect: a young man must serve a term of indentured servitude to a raft of pirates before he can marry his true love. Complications ensue.

Each of the clips below is taken from a 1983 film adaptation, starring Kevin Kline and — if you can believe it — Angela Lansbury. I am reluctant to use these clips because they are sort of odd: the voices are not recorded in a natural acoustic space, and there is something vaguely robotic about their sound. But there are not many clips of decent quality available, so I am stuck with these.

No doubt the most famous section of Penzance is the patter-song “I am the very model of a modern Major-General”. It is one of Gilbert & Sullivan’s great hits, known (I imagine) to anyone who knows anything about any of Gilbert & Sullivan’s music, and much beloved.

The popularity of this song has led to many, many imitations. A few that I could find: about Obama, transhumanists, psychopharmacologists, and the periodic table.

**

It is sometimes not appreciated that Gilbert & Sullivan are occasionally poking fun at the operatic hits of their time. Penzance provides some good examples, and the particular target is Verdi’s Il trovatore.

Consider “With cat-like tread”, in which the pirates sing a rousing chorus about how quiet they are. This is a parody of the so-called “Anvil Chorus” in Il trovatore, which was much ridiculed for doing the same thing. It is really quite funny:

Another good example is the Policeman’s Chorus, “When the foeman bares his steel”. This is funny all the way through: it is a double-chorus, first for a group of men (the policemen) and then women (the Major-General’s numerous daughters); the men are confessing their fear at confronting the pirates, and the women are giving them, well, some sort of encouragement, I suppose. Towards the end the two choruses join forces in a contrapuntal tour de force, but the music ensnares them: they are singing about going on their way, but the music itself prevents their going. This is likely a parody of “Di quella pira” from Il trovatore, in which the same absurdity occurs. But it is certainly humorous enough on its own terms:

Where to stay in Rome?

I know a couple who are planning to go to Rome this year to celebrate their anniversary. It will be their first time in the Eternal City, and they are looking for a place to stay. The parameters are about what you would expect: a good location, clean and comfortable, and not too, too expensive. Can anyone recommend something?