Rhyme of Rhymes

Savoynet has been discussing poetic rhymes lately, especially how the word "wind" is to be pronounced in a given phrase and one of our members posted this poem.  




Andrew Lang (Scots poet 1844–1912), in Longman's Magazine:

RHYME OF RHYMES.

Wild on the mountain peak the wind
Repeats its old refrain,
Like ghosts of mortals who have sinned,
And fain would sin again.

For "wind" I do not rhyme to "mind,"
Like many mortal men.
Again" (when one reflects) 'twere kind
To rhyme as if "agen."

I never met a single soul
Who spoke of "wind" as "wined," And yet we use it, on the whole.
To rhyme to " find" and "blind."

We say, "Now don't do that agen,"
When people give us pain;
In poetry, nine times in ten,
In rhymes to "Spain" or "Dane."

Oh, which is wrong or which is right?
Oh, which is right or wrong!
The sounds in prose familiar, quite,
Or those we meet in song?

To hold that "love" can rhyme to "prove"
Requires some force of will,
Yet in the ancient lyric groove
We meet them rhyming still.

This was our learned fathers' wont
In prehistoric times.
We follow it, or if we don't,
We oft run short of rhymes.

Why I do dark, difficult plays sometimes

I'm currently in rehearsal for The Shadow Box which is a lovely play about three families coping with terminal illness.  Needless to say, it has fewer laughs and "feel good" moments than your average Neil Simon play.  The show isn't about uplift, it's about closure.

I find myself feeling the tiniest bit defensive about the show because a cheery evening out, it ain't.   Frankly, it's always easier to ask your friends to come see happy comedies.  But theater, as I like to say, is the stories we tell ourselves about ourselves.  How human beings got where are are and how we'll get where we're going.  And that isn't always sunny or uplifting.  Sometimes it's sad or difficult.

My friend, Craig, who loves dark, difficult plays recently directed David Harrower's Blackbird in comparison to which The Shadow Box is pretty sunny.  I think that he would be very interested to read these quotes which were found and posted to Savoynet* by Andrew Crowther** about W.S. Gilbert's drama The Hooligan which is celebrating its centennial this month. The Hooligan is story of a condemned man's last hours.


Andrew wrote:

A comment from the Stageland column in the Penny Illustrated Paper of 11 March 1911 (a more racy and perhaps more working class paper than others):

It disturbed everyone. Most to applause; a few to resentment. There was the ruddy, ample gentleman whom I met in the bar during what the Col. calls the 'Intermission.' 'You come here to be amused, not to be----" He groped for the word and lost it. 'A man of a morbid turn of mind might think it all right, mightn't he?'


A play that can wing a ruddy, ample gentleman; leave him puzzled, gasping, unsettled; stir up vague doubtings about killing folk and giving them 'no chanst'--a play like that is a play which you ought to pop in and see at once.

In Holbrook Jackson's essay "Why Do We Laugh?" in his volume of essays Occasions (Grant Richards, 1922, pp 94-95):

I always felt that the laughter provoked by [James Welch's] characterization in The Man in the Street was an expression of relief from the underlying tragedy of the thing. But if there is any doubt about that, there could be no doubt whatever about the small gasps of hysterical laughter during his realistic interpretation of the condemned man in Gilbert's little tragedy The Hooligan. The theme is so painful as to be almost unbearable. I have seen people walk out in the midst of this play unable to stand any more of it. Yet those who remained in the grip of the horror, watching Welch revealing the fear of a condemned man during his supposed last few moments on earth--the fear of a man who is half idiot, and who has very little worth preserving in his life--those who remained laughed every now and then at the humour of it. Some things may be too deep for tears, but nothing is too deep for laughter.

* An e-mail list for Gilbert & Sullivan fans


**Andrew is a G&S scholar who has added greatly to what we know about those two men, their works, and their times.

This might not be as easy as I thought

Listing to Power Breakfast on NPR in the morning means that at least once a day I mutter "self-serving jerks" about our elected officials. Probably not what Elizabeth Wynne Johnson has in mind as she broadcasts this daily snippet of what the powerful and corrupted are doing, but that's what I'm always left with.

I have voted in every election in which I was eligible and I don't really want to stop now, but the major parties and their corporate owners don't offer anything better politically than Burger King offer nutritionally, so I don't really want to play with them any more.

It has occurred to me that there is at least one party out there that a) seems to agree with some of things that I find important, and b) has neither the money nor the power to annoy me nearly as much as the behemoths do. Heck, I don't think I've ever heard them even mentioned on "Power Breakfast," which may be a good sign.

So I've decided to start voting for the Green Party. I have voted for their candidates before, but I've decided to make them my default. It's similar to Brett's "vote against the incumbent" policy, possibly, in that it includes a certain "please go away" message to people who have learned that their real job is to get re-elected.  Besides, I've long thought that a viable third (and even fourth) party would be our best chance of maintaining a genuine representative democracy.

However, there is a small difficulty. I went to the website for Maryland's Green Party yesterday in order check out the candidates for 2010 and beyond and I got this message:

WANT TO RUN FOR OFFICE?

If you would like to run for office as a member of the Green Party, please call 443-449-4159.

That's right: the the independent restaurant of politics seem currently to have no candidates.  Or no menu to continue the metaphor.  I hope they have some candidates very soon because I really don't need or want another Double Down.


King: What means this most unmannerly irruption?
Is this your gratitude for boons conferred?

Scaphio: Boons? Bah! A fico for such boons, say we!
These boons have brought Utopia to a standstill!
Our pride and boast--the Army and the Navy--
Have both been reconstructed and remodeled
Upon so irresistible a basis
That all the neighboring nations have disarmed--
And War's impossible! Your County Councillor
Has passed such drastic Sanitary laws
That all doctors dwindle, starve, and die!
The laws, remodeled by Sir Bailey Barre,
Have quite extinguished crime and litigation:
The lawyers starve, and all the jails are let
As model lodgings for the working-classes!
In short--Utopia, swamped by dull Prosperity,
Demands that these detested Flowers of Progress
Be sent about their business, and affairs
Restored to their original complexion!

King: (to Zara) My daughter, this is a very unpleasant state of things. What is to be done?

Zara: I don't know--I don't understand it. We must have omitted something.

King: Omitted something? Yes, that's all very well, but--- (Sir Bailey Barre whispers to Zara.)

Zara: (suddenly) Of course! Now I remember! Why, I had forgotten the most essential element of all!

King: And that is?---

Zara: Government by Party! Introduce that great and glorious element--at once the bulwark and foundation of England's greatness--and all will be well! No political measures will endure, because one Party will assuredly undo all that the other Party has done; and while grouse is to be shot, and foxes worried to death, the legislative action of the country will be at a standstill. Then there will be sickness in plenty, endless lawsuits, crowded jails, interminable confusion in the Army and Navy, and, in short, general and unexampled prosperity!

W. S. Gilbert, "Utopia, Limited"

Time to buy some rap

Bill Forman wrote such an interesting piece about Busdriver that I'm going to have to pick up a couple of his songs. Because even if they don't sound entirely like G&S, it's hard to resist someone this engaging. And it will add another entry to the list of stuff that people wouldn't suspect that I have on MyPod.*

As on previous albums, he employs a rapid-fire delivery and convoluted rhyme schemes, like some unholy offspring of Jamaican dancehall deejay Bounty Killer and light opera savants Gilbert and Sullivan. Asked which he found more influential, Busdriver says he appreciates rap's debt to "old-school Jamaican toasters, but I never really sought that out. So I would have to say the latter. Unfortunately, I don't spend enough time with [Gilbert and Sullivan's work], but I know what you're talking about and I do shoot for things like that."

*Or in my bookcase. Unflattering f'rinstance: "You? Like Mamet? You? Really?"

Family-friendly theater

In the middle of the front row of the dress circle on the rare occasion of the first performance of an original English play sits a young lady of fifteen. She is a very charming girl—gentle, modest, sensitive—carefully educated and delicately nurtured—very easily flurried and perhaps a little too apt to take alarm when no occasion for alarm exists—but, nevertheless, an excellent specimen of a well-bred young English gentlewoman; and it is with reference to its suitability to the eyes and ears of this young lady that the moral fitness of every original English play is gauged on the occasion of its production. It must contain no allusions that cannot be fully and satisfactorily explained to this young lady; it must contain no incident, no dialogue, that can, by any chance, summon a blush to this young lady’s innocent face.

Well, gentlemen, I have no objection to this young lady. I think, on the contrary, that the presence of this young lady has exercised a most wholesome restrictive influence on the character of our few original plays, and I shall be sorry indeed if the day ever comes when her parents and guardians will find it advisable to prohibit her attendance on the occasions I have described. I look upon her presence at my own “first nights” as a direct and most gratifying personal compliment—the more so, as I happen to know that, on no account whatever, would she be permitted to be present at a première of M. Victorien Sardou or M. Alexandre Dumas.

But when a comparison is instituted between our original English drama, such as it is, and the drama of France, such as that is, I think that the restrictive influence exercised—and most properly and wholesomely exercised—by this admirable girl should be fully, freely, and frankly admitted. And it is a never-ending source of wonder to me that, with the whole gamut of human emotion to play upon; with no restraining influence of any kind whatever; and with the dead certainty that no innocent girl of fifteen will ever run a chance of being affected by their improprieties, the dramatists of France can only ring out threadbare variations of that dirty old theme—the cheated husband, the faithless wife, and the triumphant lover.

(reprinted in The Era, Feb. 21, 1885, p. 14 from a speech by W.S. Gilbert)

For Maura & Gwydion

CHORUS OF GIRLS.
With heart and with voice
Let us welcome this mating:
To the youth of her choice,
With a heart palpitating,
Comes the lovely Aline!

May their love never cloy!
May their bliss be unbounded!
With a halo of joy
May their lives be surrounded!
Heaven bless our Aline!

RECITATIVE ~ ALINE.
My kindly friends, I thank you for this greeting
And as you wish me every earthly joy,
I trust your wishes may have quick fulfillment!

ARIA ~ ALINE.
Oh, happy young heart!
Comes thy young lord a-wooing
With joy in his eyes,
And pride in his breast -
Make much of thy prize,
For he is the best
That ever came a-suing.
Yet - yet we must part,
Young heart!
Yet - yet we must part!

Oh, merry young heart,
Bright are the days of thy wooing!
But happier far
The days untried -
No sorrow can mar,
When Love has tied
The knot there's no undoing.
Then, never to part,
Young heart!
Then, never to part!

Miss Lydia Thompson's Farewell

From page 6 of The Pall Mall Gazette, for May 3, 1899, of a “farewell address” in verse that Gilbert wrote for the actress Lydia Thompson. Sent to Savoynet by Arthur, the Reference Librarian. Good folks to know, librarians...


MISS LYDIA THOMPSON’S FAREWELL.

The following address, written by Mr. W.S. Gilbert, was spoken by Miss Lydia Thompson at the conclusion of the proceedings yesterday: --

The other day, when sitting all alone,
Thinking of pleasant times long past and gone,
“Why, bless my precious heart and soul,” said I,
“I’ve left the stage, and haven’t said “Good bye!””
That sounds ungrateful—-but, to be quite plain,
I hoped I might be coming back again,
And would not speak the word one can’t recall,
Till “Good-bye” meant “Good-bye” for good and all.

“Good-bye”—-an easy word for you to say—-
“Sorry you’re going, but you’ve had your day.
Next please!”—-And the obedient profession
Supplies new-comers in prolonged succession—
A thousand fair ones for your smiles contesting
(A hundred acting and nine hundred “resting”);
But when I say “Good-bye” in faltering tone
To you--the truest friends I’ve ever known--
The friends whose warmth expressed in gladdening chime
Supplied the sunshine of my summer-time--
The case is somewhat different. You see,
I’m losing you—-you’re only losing me!

But this won’t do at all—-I’m off the scent,
My line’s light comedy, not sentiment.
My future tense seems cheeriness to lack,
And so, I won’t look forward—-I’ll look back.

What changes have I seem since that dim age,
When little Goldenhair tripped on the stage!
The Drama, struggling then in lodgings shady,
Has made her fortune and is quite the lady,
With endless hosts of highly cultured friends.
Think how she dresses now, and what she spends
On vast dramatic shrines—-in sumptuous salaries—-
In real Venetian-leathered pits and galleries—-
In plays that run a year to houses packed,
And cost, to stage, a thousand pounds an act!

Stage-management—-that has advanced a bit
Since poor Tom Robertson invented it—-
Tom Robertson, whose histrionic chickens
We sneer at now—-but then we sneer at Dickens!

Knighthoods for actors of pronounced ability
Earls, countesses, engaged to play “utility”;
Ibsen—-a zest for jaded appetite;
No fees-—half-guinea stalls—-electric light
Matinées twice a week, and, sad to say,
Matinée hats—-I see one here to-day;
Stock-companies completely out of date,
Burlesque quite dead—-(it never risked that fate
When Talfourd, Planché, Brough, and Byron made it,
And Rogers, Clarke, and Marie Wilton played it—-
Then, strangest chance, of playhouses vast crops!
Playhouses plentiful as grocers’ shops!

Ten in twelve months! Well, I don’t want to prate,
But if new theatres crop up at that rate,
Where will you find your pieces, if you please,
And where your actors and your actresses!
Ten months will build a playhouse, per contractor—-
It takes at least ten years to build an actor,
And, as our best authorities insist,
Ten times ten years to build a dramatist!

Well, if too long I’ve babbled of my youth,
I’m rather loath to go, and that’s the truth.
Still we must part-—it’s idle to delay it:
I’ve come to say “Good-bye!”—-so let me say it.
The link that binds me to you must be broken—-
Come now, come then, the last word must be spoken!
In no light mood the farewell phrases fall—-
God bless you! God bless me! God bless us all!

Home again, home again

I am back from a flying visit to Torquay which is in Devon. Which is next to Cornwall. Which are in England.

Which is in Great Britain.

Which is part of the United Kingdom.

Anyway, I was there to sing a lot of G&S and make some new friends. As far as I can tell, I did both. (Possibly other attendees will tell you when I am out of earshot that I actually did neither, but that seems unlikely.)

It was a lovely trip and it's great to be back, although it may take me a few days to get back to saying tuh-may-doe instead of tuh-mah-toe and to return the r's to their accustomed places in my speech.

Operetta Geeks for Obama!

So there I am reading my (as usual) somewhat outdated copy of Time magazine and what should I find in the October 6, 2008 issue? Why, this picture taken in Nobleville, Indiana.

Now, if we ignore the subject of the photo and concentrate on the young lady smiling at her, the alert reader will notice that the young lady's t-shirt has a picture of a (wait for it...) pirate on it and that the particularly alert reader can make out the last syllable of the name of a certain Cornish port made famous in a certain piece of 19th century musical theater.

Frankly, I am a little surprised that Obama's crack campaign staff didn't notice this as well and make a more serious effort to lock in the operetta vote. Sprinking G&S quotes into his speeches, for instance, would have gone a long way in that direction.

This, for instance, springs to mind:

When all night long a chap remains
On sentry-go, to chase monotony
He exercises of his brains,
That is, assuming that he's got any.
Though never nurtured in the lap
Of luxury, yet I admonish you,
I am an intellectual chap,
And think of things that would astonish you.
I often think it's comical--Fal, lal, la!
How Nature always does contrive--Fal, lal, la!
That every boy and every gal
That's born into the world alive
Is either a little Liberal
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal, lal, la!

When in that House M.P.'s divide,
If they've a brain and cerebellum, too,
They've got to leave that brain outside,
And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.
But then the prospect of a lot
Of dull M. P.'s in close proximity,
All thinking for themselves, is what
No man can face with equanimity.
Then let's rejoice with loud Fal la--Fal la la!
That Nature always does contrive--Fal lal la!
That every boy and every gal
That's born into the world alive
Is either a little Liberal
Or else a little Conservative!
Fal lal la!

How to convince me to go somewhere

5 e-mails:

From Carol in NYC:

Leta,

Would you have any interest in going to Torquay in November? The reason I ask is that Claire and I have been trying to think of someone who would be a really congenial third person in our rental car...and I KNOW you would enjoy it! Meriel is also a possibility, and you'd like her, too.

Just a thought...happy to provide details.

XX,

C

From Claire somewhere in England:

It would be great if you could join us, Leta. UK Qwerts are extremely silly, with a good deal of fooling about. If you can make a friend giggle in the *middle* of their aria with a smart remark, so much the better.

Driving down, it is obligatory to sing along with whatever I chose to put on the CD player - preferably loudly and out of tune, and also to share as much shameless gossip as possible, and if you don't have any, make it up !

Claire
xx

From me to Jackie, our hostess in Torquay

Carol and Claire are doing a very fine job of convincing me to attend Torqwert V, so I'm information-gathering before I give them a solid "yes" or "no" today.

So, uhm, is there room for me? I am willing to share if someone was hoping for a roommate.

And (here's the fun one) I have Celiac Disease, which is an allergy to gluten which is found in wheat, barley, rye, spelt, and a few other grains which makes feeding me a special challenge. I can send over a small box with a loaf of bread and a couple of other things that I can have if that would help. And I spend a lot of time reading labels on food. Fortunately, I am asymptomatic, so it's not that I'd need to be rushed to the hospital if I accidentally eat the wrong thing. And think how much beer you'll save, although I'll make it up in Whisky.

I hope all is well with y'all. It's definitely been too long since we've seen each other.

Love,

Leta

From Jackie in Torquay:

Yes, yes, yes. Of course we have room for you. Please come, especially if you don't mind sharing.

I know all about Celiac Disease as my brother-in-law is a really bad sufferer. Also, running a hotel you do get lots of people with special dietary needs. You don't need to send over a box - we can get gluten free stuff here which I will gladly get in for you.

Book that flight at once.

Love

Jackie and Bob

From me to Carol and Claire:

It looks like I'm in!

I'm am smiling so broadly right now....


Where I'm going: The Torcroft Hotel on the English Riviera
Why I'm going: TorQWERT V

I'm going to surrounded by friends old and new, I'm going to sing a bunch of G&S, I'm going to be able to eat without bringing my own food, and I'm leaving the country again before my passport expires.

It's been kind of a stressful summer but I am really starting to look forward to the Autumn.

Band Camp for Operetta Geeks

"...the all-time nerdiest thing I've ever been involved in, and I say that as a person who has been involved with public radio and marching band." Sarah Vowell, The Partly Cloudy Patriot

I don't know which of my geeky hobbies would win for all-time nerdiest thing I've ever been involved in, but I suspect that the hot money is on either the historical re-enactment, the D&D, or the G&S Sing-Outs.

Or, as I put it in an e-mail to David:

Doug is also talking about coming. Largely, I bet, because in our ongoing "you are such a geek" conversations, he thinks that witnessing me singing G&S will count as a critical hit. As if. Anyway, he'll probably come to his senses and bail but if he doesn't, I can introduce you and you can protect each other from the G&S freaks and their show-themed t-shirts.*

Before I go any further, of course, I must mention that my D&D, G&S, and Re-enactment friends are among the finest, kindest, loveliest people I know. Smart and creative, too. And I do not make fun of them while standing superiorly apart. I am deep in their midst where I am happy and at home. But let's face it, any hobby you have to explain to people...

So the 4th Great Gilbert & Sullivan Sing-Out was held over the last weekend in August and I got to immerse myself in a full weekend with friends who get most of my references and are not only willing but happy to hang around talking about G&S and bursting into song. We infested the Rockville Civic Center's F. Scott Fitzgerald Theater and sang our hearts out.

Some highlights:

- Seeing Long-Distance Kate. I haven't seen Kate since she moved to Louisville nearly a decade ago. Since last we met she has acquired the love of her life and two daughters. Her sons - who I knew as little boys - are men. Good-looking men. One of them is engaged. Where did the years go?

- Seeing Local Kate. She lives less than five miles from me and yet we never see each other. Kate brought her daughter Ali who was 8 the last time I saw her a few minutes ago. She is now 15. Fast few minutes. I caught up with Kate and Ali and asked about Kate's other daughter, Sammy. "So how is the Fairy Princess?" "Exactly." As a toddler and little girl Sammy was dewily emerged from under a drift of flower petals. It seems that at twelve she hasn't changed. Look close in the pictures her mother carries and you can still see the wings, I swear.

- Seeing Debbie. Again, lives here. So we had to pay a bunch of bucks and commit to spending a beautiful weekend indoors to run into each other, but now we have a lunch date for next week. Completely worth it.

- Memorabilia. I finally bought a copy of the third edition of Harry Benford's G&S Lexicon which lists me in the acknowledgements. Why did Harry include me? I dunno. But he did and I feel all famous and learned about it. I've been meaning to pick up a copy for a while (I have an earlier edition), and now I have one. That fact that I am thanked and Larry isn't is probably the most surreal thing about G&S that I can think of.

- Buttons. We - of course! - sold buttons*** that VLOC folks made. When we were planning the last Sing-Out Denise mentioned that we'd need ideas for buttons. "Hand me a pen." quoth I. And a couple of minutes later I had listed a dozen which had sold handily. This time I e-mailed my suggestions in and ditto. Buttons are how geeks self-identify.

- All that singing. We sang all of them. All thirteen operettas. Sometimes I sang from the back of the house, sometimes from the stage, sometimes from the front of the house. But the absolute best was sitting on the risers during Pirates and just listening to the men. The men's chorus music in Pirates is so lovely, so lyrical, and from where I was I could hear those gorgeous, gorgeous harmonies. And this Baritone-preferring soprano just fell in love with the tenors because they earned it. They were glorious. And I could turn around and tune into each voice as I chose, so I got to hear old and dear friends like Les and Lyle because no matter how glorious the tenors are, a baritone's a baritone.

- And more singing. Sullivan might just as well have written in an alto and soprano line for certain pieces. "Cat like tread" and "The March of the Peers" are two of them. Tantantara! Tzing! Boom!

- The re-writes. Gary had a verse as the Major-General's song, which he has given me permission to post here. He and Local Kate wrote the lyrics together and smartly decided that as Pirates would commence somewhere after 10:00 at night, he would sing this instead of the traditional 3rd verse, not after it. Fabulous!!

When I can be a part of VLOC's Sing-Out here in Maryland,
And yodel thirteen op-er-as, from piracy to Fairyland,
When I can wrap my tongue around the issues in this patter song,
And listen as Kate Huntress-Reeve contributes to the Matter song...

When I have learnt what progress has been made in modern scholarship,
When Blair Eig sings the Roulette song and pockets a ten-dollar chip,
And when the Sing-Out's finished, all the fun and games will melt away...
When I am in my Lexus doing 80 on the Belt-a-way!

(When he is in his Lexus...)

It's often hard to think of rhymes that make the lyrics up to date,
But Kate and I collaborated! Now I fear it's getting late,
And so in making up a verse to (hopefully) amuse you all,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General.

I'm already looking forward to the next one in, I think, 2012. Must start warming up.


*As it turned out, Doug did have to bail, largely because his schedule was OBE. Rather a pity as he missed some damn fine singing** by some damn fine people.

**None of it, alas, by me. I clearly need to sing more as I was sorrily out of voice.

***Or, as I think of them now, "real live Flair."

The voices in my head

We had rehearsal this evening - an off-book run of Act I which was less painful than it might have been - so I've been listening to Andrea, Andy, Craig, Doug, and Jason this evening and for the past few weeks. And their voices have imprinted on me.

I find that this is a pretty common thing to have happen. When I did more G&S than just Sing-Outs and Sing-Ins I would end up with the G&S tape loop in my head. I would be trying to fall asleep or in the shower or whatever and, say, the men's chorus would fill my head with 15 1/2 bars of "We sail the ocean blue." That's right 15 *and a half bars*. So no resolution before we're back at the top of whatever section the men felt that I needed to hear right then.

This morning in the shower it was "Welcome, Gentry," in, I am very grateful to say, its entirety. The whole song. But at least it was the whole song. Of course, we got through the whole song several times before the shower was over and many more times on the walk to work.

Normally, one can get rid of brain-gum songs by replacing them with other songs. Worse songs always work the best, of course. But the only music I could come up with right now is other G&S and as "Welcome, Gentry" was playing to completion it seemed the better idea not to rock the boat. I could have had something from The Grand Duke stuck in my head after all.

Anyway.

We were dismissed reasonably early and I was at home, sitting on my sofa, petting my cat, and reading Kitchen Confidential** when I noticed that instead of reading neutrally, the words were in Andrea's voice. Andrea looks nothing like Anthony Bourdain. And she's tons nicer. So I banished her voice from the book.

This was only moderately successful, as Andy replaced her briefly and then Doug. And, in fact, as I was reading an interview at the back of the book, Doug was covering Bourdain and Andy was covering Daniel Halpern. This got to be kind of amusing, especially as I have no idea what Bourdain actually sounds like, so we kept Doug in that role and I started swapping out folks for the interviewer, first Andy, then Craig, then Jason.

I was least successful with Jason because I haven't been listening to him as intently or as long. As either actor or director, I spend a lot of time listening to people talking, saying lines, kidding around. I listen to pace and timbre and rhythm. Eventually the voice imprints on me for the next few weeks. It always starts as I'm reading the script and hear it in the voices of the cast. Eventually they just take over all printed matter and my e-mails are "read" to me by Lorraine or Angie or Cassie or Lori or whomever. Incorruptible had a cast of eight and all eight of them battled for the chance to read Time magazine to me.

It should only take me until about Sunday morning to get the current crowd out of my head. And, naturally, we have rehearsal on Sunday afternoon.....


*"Welcome, Gentry" has my favorite suggestive lyric in all of G&S: "Welcome, gentry / for your entry / sets our tender hearts a-beating." Yeah, don't it just.

**A book that I am finding strangely addictive. I've gulped it down like corn chips, even though Bourdain is pretty much like wasabi peas in terms of his rhetoric.

Still a bad influence

I got to see my friends David and Gwyn this past weekend at the Sing-Out (more on that later) and I got to hang out a bit with their adorable children.

When last I saw D&G, their daughter Dorrie was about 2-ish and their son hadn't even signed in. Dorrie is now 6 and John is about 3. At two Dorrie was a bit shy around strangers - she had a nicely polished, very effective "I don't know you, why are you talking to me" look, but at six she wants to tell you about her missing tooth and the gold dollar the tooth fairy gave her and how she is not going to spend it. John wants to be physically attached in some way because if you are going to like someone, you should really, really like them.*

And as the Baroness remarked about a man finding nothing more irresistible than a woman who's in love with him**, very few adults can fail to be charmed by small children who seem - out of an entire room of grown-ups - to find one's self the most fun to hang with. I know that I can't.

So we hung out and chatted and stuff.

And then I offered the Box Office Ladies coffee. (They were stuck in the box office most of the weekend, so whenever we had food or drinks or anything, we'd always offer some to them. They are very nice to us.) Dorrie and John wanted to help, so it went thus:

Dorrie added the creamer to the cup at my direction;
I swept up the creamer that chose to land on the table instead of in the cup (not Dorrie's fault - it's powdered creamer and you know how that stuff can be);
John supervised.
Dorrie shook down a packet of sugar and added it to the cup;
I told the children to step back from the table and added the coffee;
John supervised.
I stirred the coffee and Dorrie volunteered to carry it over.
John and I ran interference while Dorrie threaded her way with a hot beverage through a room full of oblivious adults;
I remembered to tell her that if the coffee started to slosh too much, she should just walk slower or stop for a second or two;
Dorrie arrived at the box office with no spillage whatsoever and received a very nice thank you from Kathy the Box Office Lady.

A little while later it occured to me that I might have asked their parents before I turned the children into waitstaff but if they are interested in theater, it's probably a good skill set to have.

And it's probably just as well that they are back home and out of my reach lest I teach them how to make Martinis in that same "think of it, do it, consider the implications later" way.


*Which means that John and I have a real bond because as many people can tell you, that's pretty much my M.O. Or, as I put it to Doug, the castmate playing my husband, when he asked about my boundaries regarding staging a scene "well, I'm rather tactile and I pretty much don't have any, so go for it."

**Not my experience at all, by the way, BLTP.***

***"But let that pass." A little rusty on our G&S acronyms? After this past weekend, I'm not. Not at all.

Gilbert & Sullivan's Flibbertigibbet

Which Character from 'The Yeomen of the Guard' are you? created with QuizFarm.com

You scored as Phoebe Meryll A flirt who has been raised among the soldiers at the Tower. Phoebe toys with the heart of her oafish admirer Wilfred in order to get what she wants. She desires the handsome Fairfax, and so takes every opportunity to be near him. In the end she is rejected by him, and due to her lack of discretion thereafter, she is forced into an engagement to Wilfred. “Were I thy bride, then all the world beside were not too wide to hold my wealth of love… But then, of course, you see, I’m not thy bride.” -Phoebe Meryll Phoebe Meryll 65% Sergeant Meryll 60% Colonel Fairfax 55% Jack Point 50% Wilfred Shadbolt 45% Leonard Meryll 45% Sir Richard Cholmondeley 45% Elsie Maynard 40% Dame Carruthers 30%

Like we didn't suspect as much

From "A Real Fairy Tale," a preview article about a production of the Fraser Valley G&S Society's Iolanthe in the BC Local News:

After so many happy experiences working together they’ve honed their communication to a virtually psychic level, they said, which may explain why [director Rick] Harmon is now willing, with [choreographer Carol] Seitz’s permission, to divulge one of their long-standing verbal secret codes (former cast members beware).

“Whenever we used to say ‘It’s wonderful, I love it!’ that meant ‘It needs to be fixed right now’ “ he chuckled.

Postcard

It's not often that one's lovely autumn weekend in Maine can be summed up with a postcard, but this one could.

(Gorgeous picture of trees in a hundred shades of red, yellow, orange, and green. Mainly red.)

It doesn't really look like this because it's been such a dry summer that everything is more or less going from green to brown but I couldn't find any with a picture of a bunch of geeky G&S fans indoors on a lovely day singing at each other.

Limerence

Underneath his 19th century gruff avuncularism, W.S. Gilbert understood the hearts of young women better than you'd think. I remember the first time I heard these words* and thought, "yes, that's it, exactly."

When he is here, I sigh with pleasure
When he is gone, I sigh with grief.
My hopeless fear no soul can measure
His love alone can give my aching heart relief!
When he is cold, I weep for sorrow
When he is kind, I weep for joy.
My grief untold knows no tomorrow
My woe can find no hope, no solace, no alloy!

When I rejoice, he shows no pleasure.
When I am sad, it grieves him not.
His solemn voice has tones I treasure
My heart they glad, they solace my unhappy lot!
When I despond, my woe they chasten
When I take heart, my hope they cheer;
With folly fond to him I hasten
From him apart, my life is very sad and drear!


*Constance's Act I aria from The Sorcerer which I've sung now and again in our "living room" G&S get-togethers.

For Paul and Kathryn

This is from Gilbert & Sullivan's Ruddigore and it's one of my favorite of their madrigals.

(Rose Maybud)
When the buds are blossoming,
Smiling welcome to the spring,
Lovers choose a wedding day –
Life is love in merry May!
Life is love, life is love in merry May!

(Ensemble)
Spring is green –
Fa la la la la la la la!
Summer's rose –
Fa la la la la la la la!
It is sad when summer goes,
Fa la la la la la!
Fa la!

Autumn's gold,
Fa la la la la la la la!
Winter's grey,
Fa la la la la la la la!
Winter still is far away,
Far away —
Fa la la la la!
Fa la la la la la la!

Leaves in autumn fade and fall,
Winter is the end of all.
Spring and summer teem with glee:
Spring and summer, then, for me!

(Dame Hannah)
In the spring-time seed is sown:
In the summer grass is mown:
In the autumn you may reap:
Winter is the time for sleep,
Winter is the time for sleep.

(Ensemble)
Spring is hope –
Fa la la la la la la la!
Summer's joy –
Fa la la la la la la la!
Spring and summer never cloy.
Fa la la la la la!
Fa la!

Autumn, toil –
Fa la la la la la la la!
Winter, rest –
Fa la la la la la la la!
Winter, after all, is best,
After all –
Fa la la la la!
Fa la la la la la la!

Spring and summer pleasure you,
Autumn, aye, and winter too –
Every season has its cheer,
Life is lovely all the year!

The words were so much alike

As a Christian, a history buff, and a G&S geek, I have three words in my vocabulary over which I always stumble, so I find that I get about halfway through one, back up, and then pronounce it syllable-by-syllable as though I had only learned it ten minutes previously. Another one of them crops up in Never the Sinner two or three times and I am so used to my own issues with them that I cannot be sure that Jacob didn't pronounce it all four ways.

They are:

From the church - Calvary - the hill where Christ was crucified;
From history - Cavalry - horse-mounted soldiers; and
From G&S - Calverly - the Colonel in Patience.

The judge in Never the Sinner - to whom much legal bickering is ostensibly addressed but who is not seen on stage - is a Caverly.

Oy.

He is an Eng --- Peruvian?

There's this Gilbert and Sullivan lyric from Pinafore that has always amused the bejeebers out of me:

He is an Englishman!
For he himself has said it,
And it's greatly to his credit,
That he is an Englishman!

For he might have been a Roosian,
A French, or Turk, or Proosian,
Or perhaps Itali-an!

But in spite of all temptations
To belong to other nations,
He remains an Englishman!
He remains an Englishman!

I am rendered bejeeber-less by this song because it connects with something else that I have long been bemused by, which is people being proud of being American, which for most Americans is a total accident of birth.

I mean, I'm grateful to be an American, and glad to be an American, and I think I'm very, very lucky, but it seems a little silly to be proud of something over which I had no control. It's sort of like being proud of being bi-laterally symetrical. Or having O negative blood. I really had no input at all here.

So whenever I pass one of those "Proud to be an American!" (dammit) bumperstickers, I usually hum a few bars of the above nifty piece of 19th century sarcasm.

But the joke's on me because it turns out that the whole Englishman thing is, in fact, optional. If you get some other country to claim your pub in Penzance, like, say Peru, you can give up the whole Shakespeare-1066-Churchhill-blah-blah and be Peruvians instead of Cornishfolk. Why give up the whole Shakespeare, etc and become a wholly-owned portion of a medium-sized South American country? To avoid the smoking ban, of course.

Yep, the Peruvian Arms is offering itself up as a Peruvian consolate in order to be able to smoke on the premises. You've really got to admire that kind of ingenuity. And the fact that it's all going down in a locale made famous by Gilbert and Sullivan, well it's just too much happiness.

Had the Peruvians actually accepted the offer, I'd be ending this post with something like "those wacky Peruvians!" as a shout out to the nicotine-enabled Cornish but no such luck.

And, besides, as The Smokers' Club newsletter (I love Google) points out, Peru has had it own smoking ban since 1991.