How America Improved My English
Listening to Gilbert & Sullivan recently I was reminded that I owe America a debt of gratitude for teaching me about something so deeply English.
At school we had been taught to avoid G&S as outdated and ‘impure’ music. It was operetta, or ‘opera bouffe’ in that like Offenbach it contained recitative, and therefore was not divided into arias but songs. What we were not told was that Gilbert was denied a knighthood for his satirical attacks on the state and the law. During the Poll Tax protests in London, ‘The Ratepayers’ Iolanthe’ retooled G&S for a new generation with appropriate lyrics aimed at the government. Satire will never make you popular with those in power.
But the main reason G&S had missed my generation was that the only licensed performers, the D’Oyly Carte company, had become a cobwebbed, clapped out group that plodded through terrible productions that remained preserved in aspic for decades. Amateur versions were even worse.
While I was living in Los Angeles, G&S came out of copyright. New York’s Joseph Papp production of ‘The Pirates of Penzance’ gleefully updated everything again, and although they depoliticised the play they put in fresh new energy. Giving it a try, I fell in love with the complexity of Gilbert’s language, which could be heard clearly for the first time in my experience.
Commissariat. Emeutes. Caravanseri. What did they mean? And now on earth could the Major General find a rhyme for ‘Strategy’? Offenbach was sexier, but G&S was crafty and clever.
A Hollywood film version of ‘Pirates’ was shot in England with Linda Ronstadt and Kevin Kline, but flopped partly because it was sold in the US as the first Pay Per View movie before the technology was really in place.
For me, though, it had done its job and created a fresh appreciation of theatre language. When G&S receives innovative direction it can still be wonderful. When it’s slow and hard to follow, it’s truly appalling to sit through. There are two good films on the subject. ‘The Story of Gilbert & Sullivan’ is wonderfully witty and sprightly, with a terrific cast. Mike Leigh’s film ‘Topsy Turvy’ catches something else – the creation of a play from the fights, absurdities and tragedies to the opening night. There’s a moment in the film where the decision to cut a piece from the show creates more tension than Tom Cruise dangling from a building – and Andy Serkis is hilarious.
G&S has once more fallen out of fashion, and awaits reinvention again. But it may not be too far out of reach for many.
And the Major General’s rhyme for ‘Strategy’ was, of course, ‘Sat A G’, as in ‘rode a horse’.