Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Strong musicianship lifts Savoyards' Mikado
The Mikado
3 1/2 stars
Durham Savoyards
Carolina Theatre
(closed March 21)
Call the Durham Savoyards a theatrical anachronism—if you dare. For the truth is this: At this writing, over 50 such companies in the United States (and another 100 or so, back in Britain) exist to do one thing only—cart the lot of us back to the last two decades of the 1800s, and plant us in the boxes of the Savoy Theater of London, as William S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan employ classically-trained musicians and singers to ever-so-gently ridicule the absurdities of Victorian culture. Gilbert’s penchant for unhinging the conventions of proper society and send them careening to their logical (and hyper-verbal) conclusions qualifies him as a great-grandfather to those fantastical creatures, the Goons, the Fringe and the Pythons: in short, the British comic vanguard from the middle of the last century on.
For the record, there is something truly sublime in such high-handed mockery when it’s delivered in poker-face and achingly correct decorum. But when a group lacks the musical technique for light opera—certainly not the easiest of enterprises—what’s left of the joke winds up on the company. And, of course, the ticket-buying audience.
So it’s gratifying to report that this run of The Mikado is the most musically sure-footed of any Savoyard production I’ve seen to date. The first temptation is to praise the leads: Steven Lumpkin’s clear crystal tenor as protagonist Nanki-Poo, the Japanese empire’s semi-ditzy heir apparent, and soprano aerialist Keely Phillips’ matching achievements as his rather vain love, Yum-Yum.
But having focused on effects, now let’s examine the cause: the musical direction of Alan Riley Jones. Credit him, for starters, with crafting Stuart Albert’s notable work in the supporting role of Ko-Ko, Yum-Yum’s guardian (and prospective husband), a lord high executioner who cannot kill a fly. No, not bad at all, gentlemen—particularly for a comic actor who, if pre-production interviews are to be believed, cannot read sheet music. Say this much: Experts in the packed house which greeted Sunday’s matinee couldn’t tell.
In another plot point, a stuffed-shirt functionary named Poo-Bah serves a number of positions in the city’s government—simultaneously, since so few qualified applicants can be found. Under Derrick Ivey’s witty, efficient direction, actor Jim Burnette graces Poo-Bah with a vocal touch of multiple personality disorder. In one scene he switches from a jowly—Nixonian?—chief justice to a Scottish chancellor of the exchequer, before indulging as a doting personal attorney: one who sounds more than a bit like Fran Drescher.
Musically, there’s much to praise: the lovely close harmonies on “Three Little Maids from School,” the near-fugue of the first-act trio “I Am So Proud,” and the comic interpretation which nimbly turns the madrigal “Brightly Dawns Our Wedding Day” into a four-part dirge. Even more notable: the lovely balance maintained between orchestra and singers throughout the show.
Yes, strings, winds and brass each sounded thin at one point or another during the production, with momentary disturbances in intonation. A male chorus with noticeably fewer members had difficulty on a couple of occasions matching a more robust women’s chorus. And actors including Lumpkin and Palmer momentarily experienced audibility problems when they were directed to turn their back on the audience.
But most of these musical bumps in the road smoothed out immediately. The undeniable quality of ensemble and the richness of its sound filled the Carolina Theater, and convinced me, from early on, that this show was in good hands. As strong leads filled the room with clear, capable voices, buoyed by an orchestra that only needed more members, it was clear that this group knew what they were doing. Since it was, a near-capacity crowd was freed to enjoy Gilbert and Sullivan’s delightful—if technically daunting—confection.
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Comments (10)
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How sad and impoverished is the soul which must focus on tearing down that which it does not understand. Tanya, learn to look for the blessings, the fun, the GOOD stuff in life! For the rest of us, let's just continue to appreciate excellent works AND let's also keep the ability to enjoy them to the utmost.
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Sorry to see that the first comment had to be a disparaging one as well as patently incorrect. I feel sorry for Tanya since she is the author of that thought, i.e., "...perpetuation of racism." This says more about what's going on in her head and has nothing to do with what appeared on stage. About the performance: Excellent, excellent, excellent, all the way around and exactly what theater should be about, a momentary suspension of cares and woes and the delight of color, action and sound. Give it a rest Tanya.
While it's always refreshing to see people responding to a performance with a spirited discussion, I dare hope that next year's planned production of Princess Ida will not lead to denunciations of the artists for advocating that women shouldn't be educated.
Thanks, Byron, for a great discussion. Another site that goes into the jistory of kabuki: http://www.comm.unt.edu/histofperf/nonwest/zsohar/copy_of_japanesetheatr/Kabuki%20Costumes.htm
I attended (and greatly enjoyed!) the Saturday performance. Very early on the character of Poobah mentions that he is among other things the "Chancellor of the Exchequer," an explicitly and uniquely British office. From that point forward I assumed the play was a satire of British government, not Japanese people, government or culture. Two tremendous ironies here: * The words to "As Some Day It May Happen" (the "little list" song) are often changed to exclude a term now considered highly offensive but that was originally used as an explicit condemnation by Gilbert of the very minstrels to which Tanya is comparing this production. Gilbert was known for calling out contemporary British figures for satire and my assumption when listening on Saturday was that the lyrics are a laundry list of his grievances against British society. * As early as 1886 Japanese royalty were viewing the play in England and enjoying it or, in the case of Prince Fushimi Sadanaru, complaining to the British government that he was disappointed to find it banned out of fear of offending him because he had planned to see it while he was there. There's also currently a touring Japanese production called Chichibu Mikado that is extremely popular in Japan itself.
I hear Tanya’s frustration and outrage very clearly, and I’ve considered her words for a while this morning. Blackface/minstrelsy – the most popular form of entertainment one short century ago on the New York stage – was clearly constructed with one purpose in mind: to entertain white audiences by reinforcing that culture’s cherished and erroneous beliefs about the inferiority of another race. But can we seriously begin to say the same about The Mikado? Was anyone in the Savoyards’ weekend audiences truly dense enough to believe that what we saw and heard accurately depicted the voices, the accents, the musical system, the names, the civic government or the culture of Japan? Next question: Did anyone believe this to be the case when the work was first produced in the late 1800s? There’s enough evidence to indicate that the clear answer to both questions is no – beginning, literally, with the original production’s first reviews in the London Times in 1885. To the contrary: It’s widely known now – and was widely known at its first production – that The Mikado was actually a not-that-thinly-veiled critique of British society and its Byzantine government. Not, in short, a sincere (or even insincere) depiction of Japanese people or history. Gilbert was clearly recognized as putting his own culture up for ridicule on the Savoy stage; not someone else’s. I read Tanya as alleging wholesale cultural fraud in The Mikado. But for this charge to ring true, there has to be the intent to counterfeit, to pass off something that isn’t a true representation as one that is. Additionally, the audience under such circumstances largely wouldn’t realize it’s been defrauded. Again, can this be the case here? I can imagine a similar amount of hypothetical outrage being mustered at the Pythons for daring — daring! — to inaccurately depict women when they dress in drag. If we look at it, those charges don’t convince either. Why? In both cases, the “impersonation” in question is clearly designed to fail – and not succeed. No one is fooled by Graham Chapman, Michael Palin or Terry Gilliam in a dress. Or, for that matter, by Jim Burnette’s ludicrous getup for Mikado. No one’s supposed to be. In both cases, the companies fully intend to stage a wildly unsuccessful, totally inaccurate “representation” of Other. Is it, as Tanya asks, because they’re sexist or racist? I think the answer is no, for this reason: Staging an intentionally poorly-made representation reveals — instead of conceals — just who the fool is in the inappropriate costume and hair. Since we haven't been fooled, clearly, it isn’t the "them" in the equation — the group being poorly represented. Instead, it’s "us" -- our own culture’s assumptions, expectations, foibles and representations, laid bare for examination and commentary. Thanks to all for the thought-provoking remarks thus far.
And, if you go out of your way to find something to be offended by, you'll find it. Also, if you cannot enjoy something as good as this because of some false need to be "racially sensitive" step back and do not try and ruin it for others and the cast that busted their backs to put on this performance.
Amazing to me how easy it is to mistake artistry for maliciousness. Anyone knowing anything about Japanese theatre, include Noh, kabuki, and yes, Gilbert and Sullivan, would have understood the makeup choices. And how on earth could one mistake white for "yellow" is beyond me.
From Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kabuki "Keshō, kabuki makeup, provides an element of style easily recognizable even by those unfamiliar with the art form. Rice powder is used to create the white oshiroi base, and kumadori enhances or exaggerates facial lines to produce dramatic animal or supernatural masks for the actors. The color of the kumadori is an expression of the character's nature: red lines are used to indicate passion, heroism, righteousness, and other positive traits; blue or black, villainy, jealousy, and other negative traits; green, the supernatural; and purple, nobility."
I am very surprised - appalled, actually - that the Durham Savoyards and Carolina Theatre found it acceptable to put on a production in yellow-face, no matter how solid the musicianship. Would they also consider staging a charmingly anachronistic minstrel show in blackface? There is essentially no difference. I am also astonished that Byron Woods did not even comment on this perpetuation of racism and ignorance. There are more significant issues at play here than orchestral balance.
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