#anyway these take inspiration from various stage shows and the movie and are subject to change

[maniclemons]

Yolanda, Camp Sensibility and the "Oscar Wilde Of The Camera"

Okay, so I was minding my business reading stuff for my work on dream narratives in popular culture and suddenly I was attacked at the footnotes section of one of the academic papers (which happens all the time tbh). The author mentioned in passing that, well, there is a musical called YOLANDA AND THE THIEF (1945) which just happens to be one of three Vincente Minnelli musicals that have been characterized as a self-conscious camp style of visual excess. The author argued that the camp style in musicals, especially those made by the Arthur Freed unit at MGM, was particularly appropriate to the even greater visual excess of the dream sequences. 

So yeah, of course I did a double-take and immediately thought of Donde estás Yolanda (Sherlock and John reunion theme) - thanks for the opportunity to refresh the hell out of it @thepineapplering !

FEATURES OF INTEREST of “Yolanda and the Thief” in no particular order:

• The "dream ballet" dream sequence (inspired by Dali); • Repressed homosexuality manifesting itself through nightmares and fear of entrapment in a heterosexual marriage; • Integration of straight romance (plot) and gay-inflected visual codes; • Critique of a capitalist culture industry from the point of view of a queer professional embedded in it (writer/director/set designer/crew member etc.) • Something else?

Also of interest: Holmesosexuality: On Mark Gatiss’s Camp 

As I am not, academically speaking, a specialist in queer theory, all the references can be found below.

I haven’t seen anyone writing about this particular musical in connection with Sherlock yet, but I might be wrong, because my tumblr search skills still suck a bit. Anyways, it was fun and added more contextual layers to my own understanding of the show!

“YOLANDA AND THE THIEF” is a 1945 American Technicolor Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer “Arthur Freed Unit” musical-comedy film set in a fictional Latin American country called Patria. It stars Fred Astaire, Lucille Bremer, Frank Morgan, and Mildred Natwick, with music by Harry Warren and lyrics by Arthur Freed. The film was directed by Vincente Minnelli and produced by Arthur Freed. The “Freed Unit” refers to the “unit” (studio team within the larger studio production house that was MGM) headed by lyricist and producer Arthur Freed. 

"Yolanda and the Thief" is one of three Vincente Minnelli musicals that have been characterized as a self-conscious camp style of visual excess, the other two being " Ziegfeld Follies " (1946) and…….. "The Pirate" (1947). As Jane Feuer suggests, "a gay subcultural reading would elevate these Minnelli masterpieces of the 1940s above the currently more esteemed Freed Unit musicals of the 1950s – "Singin' in the Rain" and "The Band Wagon", whose sophistication stems more from their smart Comden and Green scripts than from elements of excess in their mise-en-scene."

CAST:

Fred Astaire as Johnny Parkson Riggs Lucille Bremer as Yolanda Aquaviva (aqua-viva? as in Latin vivere/vita? as in "aqua vita(e)" which is "an archaic name for a concentrated aqueous solution of ethanol" and at the same time a type of magical water which brings people (mostly heroes) back to life in Slavic mythology?) Frank Morgan as Victor Budlow Trout (a friend of Johnny's and literally his partner in crime)

FEATURES OF INTEREST (in no particular order):

• The "dream ballet" dream sequence (inspired by Dali); • Repressed homosexuality manifesting itself through nightmares and fear of entrapment in a heterosexual marriage; • Integration of straight romance (plot) and gay-inflected visual codes; • Critique of a capitalist culture industry from the point of view of a queer professional embedded in it (writer/director/set designer/crew member etc.) • Something else?

The narrative of Yolanda offers a romance between a naive and wealthy young woman, Yolanda Aquaviva (Lucille Bremer), who is tricked by a con man, Johnny Riggs (Fred Astaire), into believing that he is her guardian angel. Johnny plays upon Yolanda's gullibility in order to convince her to confer her power of attorney on him, but just as he is ready to depart with the goods, he finds himself romantically and erotically drawn to her. His attraction to her surprises Johnny, because he ostensibly does not expect to find Yolanda a figure of erotic contemplation, and his jaded sensibilities lose out to his romantic impulses. But moments of camp playfulness in the film offer another reading of Johnny's surprise at discovering himself in a seduction beyond his overarching greed and cynicism, for there are strong possibilities for seeing him as gay.

DREAM SEQUENCE BALLET

The "dream ballet" sequence is an extended (approximately 15 minute) routine for Astaire, Bremer, and various others, which Minnelli has described as, "the first surrealistic ballet in film". Its Dali-esque scenery sort of mirrors "real-life" Patria which Yolanda’s Aunt Amarilla called “an out of the world place” elsewhere. That’s really what Minnelli was going for here. He seeks to evoke a feeling that Johnny have left behind what he knows and entered a world of mysticism and dreams.

This dream sequence ballet opens with Astaire dressed in a remarkable dandy outfit with a pair of off-white satin pajamas. Becoming restless in his bed, Johnny dresses and walks through the streets of Patria's unnamed capital, where he moves into increasingly surreal landscapes in which various women trap him in symmetrical dance steps: washerwomen unfold furls of different-colored fabric in stark geometric patterns that form a prison out of which he cannot escape. Yolanda’s entrance into the dream is grandly spooky. Against the backdrop of a Dali-esque desert landscape, Yolanda rises from a pool of water wrapped head-to-toe in pale scarves that float all around her. Her face is obscured, a look reminiscent of René Magritte’s 1928 painting The Lovers, and more suggestive of alienation than romance. Once Johnny unwraps Yolanda from her scarves, the spookiness of the sequence dissipates a little, but the mood has been set, and when the unwrapped Yolanda puts her arms around Johnny and sings, “Will You Marry Me?,” the effect is mildly sinister. The sequence concludes as Yolanda dons a set of outrageously long bridal veils and Johnny gets one of them wrapped around his neck like a noose when he attempts to flee.

In the "Will You Marry Me?" number Johnny wrestles with the trauma of potentially being trapped in a marriage to Yolanda for her money. Yolanda appears throwing off a series of veils trimmed in coins, and sirens in short dresses and high heels entice him with a cask into which Yolanda has dispensed her gold. The number effectively links Johnny's fear of marriage with his greed, or, more properly according to the dream-logic of the "Will You Marry Me?" sequence, his greed is the film's alibi for not stating more directly his desire not to bond with a woman, no matter what her beauty or wealth. The film temporarily addresses the question of whether Johnny will accede to the demands of marriage through the camp art direction's treatment of him as gay.

So this is more specifically a nightmare ballet, one that takes marriage—the typical happy ending of many an MGM musical (including—spoiler alert—this one)—and transforms it into a thing of anxiety and horror.

While the dramatic function of the dream ballet is questionable, its adventurous spirit and execution should not be ignored. Bear in mind that Agnes de Mille’s dream ballet for the original stage production of Oklahoma! first appeared on Broadway in 1943, just two years before Yolanda and the Thief hit movie screens. Yolanda and the Thief also predates The Red Shoes by three years and An American in Paris by six. Minnelli was staking out new territory here, trying out a storytelling technique that he and other filmmakers would employ with greater success in the future.

STYLE

What is labeled as the integration of straight romance and gay-inflected visual codes is more generally within the camp sensibility what we might call "style," or more particularly, a style of excess. James Naremore describes this differentiated style as Minnelli bringing “a rarefied sense of camp to musical numbers, making…[him] ‘an Oscar Wilde of the camera.’” To be an “Oscar Wilde of the camera” would of course conjure images not only of queer sexuality, but a simultaneous devotion to the aesthetics: one who would converse, write, lecture on subjects ranging from poetry to interior design. This parallels Sunsan Sontag’s assertion that “Clothes, furniture, all the elements of visual décor, for instance, make up a large part of camp. For camp art is often decorative art, emphasizing texture, sensuous surface, and style [sometimes] at the expense of content.” Indeed, Sontag begins her “notes on camp” by quoting Oscar Wilde’s famous aphorism, “one should either be a work of art, or wear a work of art.” However, camp is not simply an adoration of colour and texture, but a certain critical – comical, even – perspective on heterosexist and gender normative culture, both male and female. 

And beyond discussion of pure aesthetics of delight, camp within the Freed Unit is also indicative of a process of labour as method of negotiation between queer identity and heteropatriarchal capitalist hegemony (critique of a culture industry from the point of view of a queer professional embedded in it).

AUDIENCE REACTION

Campy style within Freed films circulated to noncamp audiences under the more general idea of their being “stylized” or “witty". The comments of film-goers who attended previews of, for example, Minnelli's "The Pirate" confirm that the studio knew that the film tended to emphasize its own spectacular art direction while sometimes disregarding streamlined storyline and clear characterization. In the cards, where anonymous viewers offered praise and disparagement, a repeated emphasis on the art direction arises: "the sets detracted from the people and the music was too loud," "not realistic enough," "entirely too surrealistic," "the beautiful background settings were exceptional," "plot rather thin," "truly one of the most exciting pictures from every standpoint, direction, artwork, color, dancing, scoring," "beautiful coloring," "slightly fantastic plot not developed in as natural and realistic a way as it could have been," and perhaps the most telling, "Minnelli back to the small minority who really appreciate him." The above comments would suggest that these viewers had screened a film by Dali or Bunuel, not the product of MGM after twenty years of corporate film-production experience.

Which takes us to the next (and very familiar) aspect…

MISE-EN-SCENE VS. STORYLINE

Musicals have largely been understood as primarily narrative films at the expense of other features. The plotline that structures many musicals is that of straight romance and marriage. The world in which a man and a woman meet and find initial attraction, in which their union is frustrated, and where ultimately the prohibitions to heterosexual bonding are overcome through the mediation of the song and dance number is typically the world of the musical. But there is more to the making of musicals beyond the plotline and its ancillary subplots, all of which are said to be brought to happy closure at the film's completion.

What seem to have been the memorable features of Freed unit musicals for contemporaneous viewers were their dazzling sets, costumes, use of color (in terms of film stock, set painting, and lighting) and choreography. These specific elements of film production are perhaps most likely what the various viewers are locating as the Freed unit's distinguishing style, or, to remember the viewer who commented on the "small minority" who might be interested in Minnelli films, that this style was idiosyncratic enough to have both fans and detractors. This style distinguished the unit's films from those of its rivals.

Minnelli's work habit of plotting a film's numbers by creating a series of paper dolls and scaled-down sound stages in which to place these figures suggests that his first impulses were to conceive of a film through its mise-en-scene rather than its storyline. Within the limits of the system, Minnelli was able to say a good deal about sets and costumes, and he usually influenced the overall visual conception of his films.

Dance (and singing) performance disrupts the narrative by momentarily disregarding the force of the story for the power of the spectacular dance routine. Likewise, the backdrops and costumes perform a similar function but that we tend not to notice their potential to antagonize narrative because, of course, most often the disjunctive features of the mise-en-scene are maintained in the film's movement back to the storyline.

Just as Johnny emerges from his dream shaken but unsure of what it means, the historian of camp production can perhaps trace the presence of a masked homosexual narrative only by remembering the strange details which seem to have been so easily forgotten.

REFERENCE:

Tinkcom, Matthew. Working like a Homosexual: Camp Visual Codes and the Labor of Gay Subjects in the MGM Freed Unit. Cinema Journal, Vol. 35, No. 2 (Winter, 1996), pp. 24-42.

Turner,  Lexi C M K. A Queer Translation: “Camp” Sensibilities of the Classical Hollywood Musical Era, vs. the 1970s Desertion of Narrative Utopia.

Cohan, Steven. Incongruous Entertainment: Camp, Cultural Value, and the MGM Musical (Durham N.C.: Duke University Press, 2005).

Dunne, Michael. American Film Musical Themes and Forms (Jefferson, N.C.: McFarland & Company, 2004).

Cohan, Steven. “Introduction: Musicals of the Studio Era.” In Hollywood Musicals, the Film Reader. Edited by Steven Cohan. 1-15 (London and New York: Routledge, 2002).

Feuer, Jane. The Hollywood Musical, 2d ed. (London: BFI Books, 1993).

Sontag, Susan. “Notes On ‘Camp.’” In Against Interpretation and Other Essays. 275-292 (London: Penguin, 2009).

https://www.brightwalldarkroom.com/2018/10/24/yolanda-and-the-thief-1945/ https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Yolanda_and_the_Thief

[sepublic]

Kratakal

           In the gloomy, cursed land of Xia, there is little to provide relief from the crushing work and poverty of life. What DOES exist, however, comes in the form of entertainment; Be it theater productions, television programs, radio dramas, music, and the like. While many singers, actors, and stars have risen to fame in the recent years, all are eclipsed by the ‘founder’ of Xia’s entertainment industry, the island’s one-and-only, true celebrity; The unusual, charismatic Kratakal!

          Another one of the Rahkshi, Makuta’s sons, Kratakal is notable for his blatant defection and betrayal of his own creator early into his own existence. Whereas his other siblings maintained allegiance to their father either from loyalty, necessity, or some mixture of the two, Kratakal himself realized he could not be content merely being a servant for Makuta. Thus, he made the decision to leave the Brotherhood, taking with him all of his fellow Kraata and the artifact required to create more of his kind by converting Masks of Power. Kratakal, simply wanting to be rid of Makuta’s influence, went to the one island where his father’s name had never even been heard of; The cursed land of Xia.

          Arriving on Xia, Kratakal made use of his reality-warping Kraata to make a profit. He offered knowledge on Life energy, as well as some of his own brethren, in exchange for massive stocks, property, riches, and economic influence. While he no doubt believed in the value of education as the son of the Mask Hoarder, Kratakal nevertheless had his eyes on one primary goal; Fame, glory, and success!

          Utilizing his amassed economic power and wealth, Kratakal immediately began to travel across Xia, showing off his beautiful singing voice as he put together plays, theater productions, and other forms of entertainment. While many members of his crew consisted of Kraata, Kratakal also hired performers directly from the streets, and gave opportunity to those who auditioned. Kratakal’s group gained fame as a travelling circus of sorts, stopping by every neighborhood and town to perform. Juggling, singing, acrobatics, skilled performances, and theater- Kratakal offered just about everything when it came to entertaining the masses.

          Many found themselves inevitably dazzled by the elaborate shows staged by Kratakal, who made sure to rehearse constantly with his troupe and entourage to ensure the most quality of performances. He utilized clever lighting techniques and his own flair for the dramatic to dazzle audiences, and performed for free; Later, he charged money for tickets that could bring one closer to the stage, but even those were relatively cheap and easily affordable for most Xians.

          Xia was entranced; They had never seen anyone like this unusual Kratakal! Not only because of his armored, inhuman appearance and strange abilities, but also because of the unconditional entertainment he provided! Those down-on-the-luck, depressed from the crushing monotony of work, would hear of Kratakal’s passing troupe and immediately flock to watch with wide-eyed wonder at his brilliant shows. Independent artists and those of good skill would hear of Kratakal’s auditions and come to them, performing for the troupe master and hoping to earn a spot in his group; Even though Kratakal made practically no revenue from his productions, he nevertheless paid employees handsomely with the amassed wages he got from selling Kraata to valuable knowledge to Xian scientists.

          What emerged as a result of Kratakal’s support and funding for others like him was a greater appreciation for the arts. Those whose skills were seen only as quaint were lifted directly from poverty, and it was not uncommon for Kratakal to personally look for talent, hear stories of a gifted singer or a skilled dancer, and then personally seek out that individual to test their worth and potentially even hire them for his troupe- Those who chose not to join were nevertheless given good money for their performance. Of course, not everyonewho auditioned impressed Kratakal and gained his respect, and would be turned away without a penny; But otherwise, his impact on Xia was only positive (barring the Kraata he sold to arms manufacturers).

          As more members joined, Kratakal became Xia’s first ‘celebrity’ of sorts, and businesses and local officials, seeing an opportunity for profit, would begin to employ Kratakal. People approached the celebrity, offering him deals, paying him to perform at certain locations, do a few advertisements for products, sing certain songs, and all the like. At parties where Xian nobles gathered, Kratakal was a riot; But even so, the poor and downtrodden maintained their viewership of him regardless. Kratakal wanted to spread his name, face, and fun to everyone, not just a select-few individuals.  

          Inevitably, other Xians would be inspired by Kratakal and start their own productions. Kratakal himself began to dabble in theater, initially hiring writers to pen performances for him and his troupe, but also doing some of his own plays as well; These were all of course a hit, and many were amazed at Kratakal’s brilliant, vicarious acting talent. One business bought permission to film Kratakal’s performances live, on-camera, and then distribute recordings of them for huge profits. This eventually evolved into live broadcasts of Kratakal’s troupe, which in turn led to the creation of television programs.

          Kratakal was an overnight hit. As the years passed and turned into decades, Kratakal and some of his more famous employees became enshrined household names. Kratakal would dedicated lavish tributes and funerals to talented individuals within his troupe that had died, and would continue to honor them well after their deaths with the occasional anniversary celebration. Through the business deals he made, Kratakal got even richer, and used his money to establish theaters and studios in Zakaz with which he could film and perform movies and shows. He funded the creation of a few schools in the arts, hoping to cultivate talent and other celebrities to elevate to fame alongside himself.

          Everybody loved Kratakal, and for many, he was considered a neutral entity, allowed to pass through districts and areas as he pleased. Of course, not everyone was pleased; Officials that attempted to keep him in line with their local law enforcement failed when Kratakal’s own powerful abilities, alongside his Kraata, easily thwarted them. In certain dictatorships he was banned from entering, but that didn’t stop him from occasionally breaking in to perform anyway. Kratakal himself was rather vocal, and in both interviews and on his own volition would speak badly of various powerful figures in Xia as he pleased. Occasionally, he’d even do parodies mocking certain officials, much to the shock and amusement of his audiences.

          Attempts to silence and even assassinate Kratakal were all abysmal failures. His impenetrable armor rendered the celebrity totally invincible, and he had access to a wide array of Kraata and their powers. Afer one dictator tried too many times to kill Kratakal as retribution for an exaggerated caricature, the Rahkshi himself eventually retaliated; He led a few of his Kraata and stormed the home of the dictator, easily slaughtering all guards and soldiers before filming, live, the brutal execution of his enemy.

          As of the present-day, Kratakal’s celebrity status has only grown. He is often invited to lavish parties, and many Xians are both dazzled and infatuated with him. Kratakal has his own line of stores and merchandise, and the occasional plushy of him. Dedicated fans can potentially earn a spot on his trivia shows, where contestants are quizzed ruthlessly on their understanding of Kratakal’s career and its extensive, decades-long history. Independent artists can earn costly auditions from Kratakal, in which they pitch whatever project they have planned in hopes of earning investment and financial support. Kratakal himself is constantly busy, active 24/7 and able to get away with his eternal schedule thanks to his inorganic form, allowing him to function entirely without food, water, or sleep.

          It is not uncommon for Kratakal himself to occasionally ambush a hapless bystander as part of an impromptu reality television skit, often subjecting them to games with occasionally lethal consequences for losers. In his desire for bigger, wilder fun, Kratakal himself has hosted his fair share of dangerous Reality TV shows, where contestants are subject to genuine bodily harm if they fail. As far as Kratakal himself is concerned, the show must go on, and Xia’s hungry audience must be sated; Even if that means a handful of deaths every now and then.

          After the arrival of the Toa, Protectors, and a few other Okotan heroes on Xia, Kratakal himself would take particular interest in one member of the group; Specifically Lewa, Toa of Jungle. Kratakal ambushed Lewa during his search for the Mask of Life’s fragments, subjecting the Toa to brutal reality shows, games, and contests that could result in his death. He seems somewhat aware of their mission, but also of what has happened back on Okoto, including the recent news of his father��s demise. Whether Kratakal has any plans of his own, or if he intends to just continue functioning and using the Okotans for entertainment, is unknown.

          Initially created as a Kraata of Fire, Kratakal’s prototype status meant that his form was unstable and would eventually dissipate. To remedy this, Makuta encased Kratakal’s form within a heavily-armored bohrok exoskeleton, one equipped with wings and a bladed tail. Kratakal’s own energy dissipated and ran out, but his own consciousness and part of Makuta’s soul became embedded into the armor itself, now one with it.

          In his ‘default’ state, Kratakal lacks a soul of his own, and is just the armor and consciousness within. In order to function, a Kraata must go into his armor and function as a new energy source and soul for Kratakal, enabling him to speak and move as usual. While this Kraata is within Kratakal, it becomes his eternal power source, and Kratakal is able to access all of its powers and further enhance them, well beyond the capabilities of any Exo-Toa. Kratakal is flanked by any number of Kraata, constantly, and can switch them out at will; Thus, he has access to every possible Kraata power in existence, but can only use one at a time, thankfully.

          Adding to his wide inventory of abilities, Kratakal possesses an impervious bohrok shell that renders him invulnerable to almost all physical damage. Repeated assassination attempts have resulted in failure as Kratakal can easily withstand brutal forces and temperatures, something he takes advantage of for the occasional performance of his. Even without a Kraata equipped, his body naturally grants him the power of flight thanks to his wings, and Kratakal wields both a sword and disk-launcher in combat. He is somewhat humanoid and bipedal in nature, with claws on his hands and feet, and a long tail with a blade on the end. Kratakal has a pair of bladed wings, and a hunched-over, heavily-armored torso, as well as mandibles flanking his face.

          Kratakal himself can be described as an egotistical, pompous celebrity. During his time underneath Makuta, he desired to have his own face and name be known by everyone, to be adored and enshrined, having inherited not just his father’s soul but also his thirst for glory as well. Combined with his own natural confidence and oozing charisma, Kratakal made the decision to forsake his creator, rebelling by taking all of his brethren and their means of creation with him.

          Unlike another rebellious creation of Makuta’s, Morbuzakh, Kratakal himself did not necessarily want conflict with his father; He simply just wanted to be rid of him entirely, to be recognized as his own person independent of his creator. Thus, he travelled to Xia after hearing stories of it from his ‘adopted brother’ Kulta, realizing it was a place completely devoid of Makuta’s name. As far as Kratakal was concerned, his father’s time had come and passed; Now it was time for Kratakal to have the spotlight!

          Kratakal himself is bold, believing in self-expression, particularly his own. He desires adulation and fame, but also genuinely wants to provide entertainment and fun to others, having remembered the sensations of being beloved that Makuta once had. Kratakal wants to be a star, and as a result can be somewhat narcissistic, often plastering his name, face, and symbol anywhere he can and making sure everybody knows who he is. He is very particular about a spotless, clean appearance, and will regularly polish his armor for his frequent public appearances. If his armor is slightly dirtied or marred, he will stop everything just to clean it.

          As a boss, Kratakal is both a brilliant artist but also incredibly demanding, and can be somewhat obnoxious due to wanting a particular ‘vision’ accomplished, no matter the cost. In recent decades he has become quite a bit more arrogant, selfish, and insufferable when it comes to his dreams, and will happily subject contestants to dangerous conditions for more views, believing this is what his audience wants; After all, Gladiator matches are a hit for a reason, right?

          Because of his egotistical nature, Kratakal can sometimes delude himself into thinking this is genuinely what a person wants/needs when he ambushes them on the street and forces them to play a trivia game that will result in death if failed. He demands everything from performers and employees, and has a heavy penchant for theatrics.

          Unsurprisingly, all of this means that Kratakal does not take criticism well; Rather, he simply does not take it to begin with, ignoring anything people have to offer that goes counter to his artistic vision. His ideas can at times be unusual and eccentric, as Kratakal is constantly experimenting and looking for new ways to dazzle and entertain; For him, many things can quickly become old-news and must be moved on from.

          Kratakal is well-aware of the latest trends and fads and makes sure both to keep up with them, but also pioneer a few of his own as well. Like his father, Kratakal can be somewhat selfish when it comes to fame and will gladly hog the spotlight, but his audience already prefers him anyway thanks to his genuine talent and over-flowing charisma.

          Because of his elevated status as Xia’s top, number-one celebrity, Kratakal can also be somewhat dismissive of others. To him, time is of the utmost importance, and he has little patience for those who waste his time. If someone has something to offer, they better get it over with quickly; Unless they are truly talented, a Xian is not likely to garner Kratakal’s genuine interest. This can make him rather off-putting to those who audition to him, and he has a habit of dropping failed auditioners through a trap-door, one that is filled with snakes only on Tuesdays. Even before his rise to total fame, Kratakal was always dismissive of those he saw as ‘untalented’, seeing them as useless, and this elitist attitude has thrived well into his career. Thus, he can come across as distant and aloof to some.

          For Kratakal, he desires to entertain Xia as a whole, believing himself to be the light in the darkness it needs; And in some ways he is not entirely wrong, as many Xians thrive on the entertainment and joy he provides, using it as a way to convince themselves to keep living and trying. Many Xians have been genuinely inspired by Kratakal to pursue higher dreams, and while many have failed, a select-few have risen to stardom and have the Rahkshi to thank for it all. Things with his signature on them can garner high prices, and some fans are even rabid for objects merely touchedby Kratakal. Statues and commissions of his visage are not uncommon, and he has his own ‘star’ on the walk of fame at his studios.

          Fun fact; Kratakal is actually a member of the Dark Hunters, believe it or not! This is not known to the Xian public, and as a Dark Hunter Kratakal does very little for The Shadowed One; aside from the occasional assassination broadcast live for ‘entertainment’, Kratakal mostly does as he pleases, even if it runs directly contrary to The Shadowed One’s profits. Kratakal pretty much only joined the Dark Hunters for the sheer novelty of having an official codename given to him by The Shadowed One, and has no loyalty to the warlord. The Shadowed One has occasionally tried to have Kratakal executed for his defiance, but has always failed. The two maintain a somewhat tenuous relationship, with Kratakal well-aware that he is immune not just literally but in a societal sense as well, something that greatly frustrates The Shadowed One.

          Kratakal has not been fired, not only because nobody is allowed to leave the organization in the first place (unless by death), but also since he has carried out every mission he has been given without fail. Likwise, many of his own Kraata were provided for Spiriah’s experiments, making Kratakal an invaluable resource for the Dark Hunters. The knowledge and gifts that Kratkal brought to Xia were instrumental in the rise and creation of multiple successful, loyal Dark Hunters, and for this The Shadowed One can’t just easily get rid of him. That being said, sometimes his temper will get the best of him, and a live show will be interrupted by a Dark Hunter barging in to assassinate Kratakal…

          As far as Kratakal is concerned, the realness of these murder attempts, as well as the tantalizing suddenness of it all, only contributes to the ‘experience’ he hopes to provide to audiences.

[theteaisaddictive]

It just hit me in a flash that i never asked for your thoughts/rankings of the Cats 2019 soundtrack. Please forgive my ignorance and bestow the gift of your wisdom upon us

i have been caught in a whirlwind of events, which is why i have not responded sooner, but i’m currently home sick so what better excuse is there to wax evangelical (evan . . . jellicle??) about the cats movie soundtrack than this precise moment

i. jellicle songs for jellicle cats

i mean. well. first things first, it was recorded in advance (i assume that the 90s version was a live recording, but i could be wrong here) so of course it is going to sound awkward and stilted. this is nothing compared to how awkward and unnatural it is to see a bunch of actors naked save for cgi fur and ken-doll-like crotches singing and . . . uh, i think they’re dancing? -- around the white cat victoria, who did not have nearly so big a part from what i can digest of the 90s youtube clips. my favourite part has to be the fucking techno beat though. god damn. party on, you funky little abominations.

ii. the naming of cats/the invitation to the jellicle ball

yes, i will be smushing the exposition-related songs together unless i feel like separating them. this is my life, these are my choices. idk, it was fine?? i guess? munkustrap (aka The Main Cat Who Isn’t Victoria or Judi Dench and Quite Frankly Deserved Better Because He Was Giving This Performance His All) kind of just says the naming instead of it being a company-wide thing. they did not include bombalurina or demeter’s names in the naming, and this was the point at which i realised that the big name stars were not, in fact, going to lounge around in the background for the entirety of the play like they do in the musical. :(

the invitation also sees my Sweet Boy mr mistoffelees get his first solo line, which is good bc i fell in love with his sweet little face over the course of the film, and bad bc it marks the start of the absurd victoria/mr mistoffelees subplot which i am convinced was put in because of course a plotless weirdmageddon like cats needs a romantic subplot

iii. the old gumbie cat

something that needs mentioning is that idris elba shows up as macavity at various points in-between songs. i’m pretty sure he shows up for the first time here and like, tries to lure victoria away?? i think?? anyway it obviously does not work bc unfortunately we are stuck with victoria for the entire film, so onto the gumbie cat song we go.

what can i say about the rebel wilson song that hasn’t already been said. she unzips her skin. the cockroaches are uncanny in the extreme. there are slater-sized mice played by children. there is no funky tap routine, or if there is it was erased from my mind by the frequent awkward gaps in which rebel wilson attempted to be funny. dear god. 

iv. the rum tum tugger

miiiiilllllkk

ok, ok, fine. jason derulo gave a fun, lively performance and didn’t even have the decency to do a bad english accent, which means there is at least one song which i have to genuinely like and can’t just like ironically. but also miiiiillllkkk why is there a milk bar in london which is perfectly cat-sized whyyyy. 

v. grizabella

i am going to be honest. i think that this song appeared later in the movie, but the soundtrack only lists ‘highlights’ so it doesn’t appear in the track list. idk what to say. there are some girl cats (unnamed, although i think they have names in the stage version) who are mean to grizabella and then they say that she started working for macavity?? i’m not sure if this does or does not imply that he became her pimp, although he certainly has the coat and hat for it, which only raises more questions which i dare not put voice to.

vi. bustopher jones

fuck james corden. what the fuck did he do to the refined, fat old cat who frequents gentleman’s clubs and only dines on the finest stuff?? he made him dig around in the rubbish bins and interrupt the song twice to make ‘jokes’ about how fat he is. god i cannot fuckign stand james corden and i do not think he’s funny so i’m aware i may be biased but still. god. 

oh yes and then at the end macavity lures him over to a giant bin (in full view of the other cats, might i add) and thanos snaps him out of existence, but sadly not out of the movie. rebel wilson also got thanos-snapped earlier i just forgot to mention it.

vii. mungojerrie and rumpleteazer

i understand that this melody is the original melody and that the melody used in the 90s recording was a change made for broadway; however, this was the most boring fucking song in the movie and they should have used the broadway version, good night. also victoria is there while they burgle the house, for some reason, bc having an audience surrogate means she needs to be in Every Fucking Scene, so that was a Choice.

viii. old deuteronomy

a nice, sweet song introducing judi dench, sung by munkustrap in such a manner that i began to wonder if he was like, her boytoy or something. also the nuzzling is, like, out of control. i know there’s nuzzling in the stage version, but onstage they're also all crawling around on all fours and stuff whereas here they’re bipedal most of the time. it makes it look like everyone is constantly going in for a kiss when they’re actually just being sociable, and it is fucking disorienting.

ix. the jellicle ball

by the way, the jellicle ball itself takes place in some sort of cat-friendly dilapidated theatre, and it is both the weirdest and least weird thing about this whole movie. 

idk, it was fine?? oh wait, i actually forgot -- so waaaaay back at the start, victoria has a famous solo which wasn’t actually a solo in this version but danced with munkustrap, which . . . .was a Choice. so now she dances with like five different male cats, and it gets frantic, and Every Single Cat is just tearing it up on the dance floor, seriously the dancers in this are incredible, and then i think they all collapse on the floor in a heap, and it was at this point that i learned to be thankful i was not subjected to watching a cgi cat orgy while sitting next to my horrified sister

x. grizabella the glamour cat/memory (prelude)

like i said, i can’t remember what order this happens on the movie, so i’m taking the tracklist from the olc on genius. anyway victoria sneaks out for . . . reasons, and she sees grizabella. and grizabella is sad, and sings her song in the first person, because demeter got cut, because fuck demeter, i guess. oh yeah, and tom hooper, he of the masterful subtlety, had jennifer hudson sitting at a lamppost with withered leaves collected at her feet which she pointed to at the relevant lines. i’m surprised he didn’t add a sound effect of a moaning wind.

xi. beautiful ghosts

this was the song that taylor swift wrote for the movie and by god can you tell. it is incredibly jarring and serves no purpose (beyond, i guess, the purpose of deepening the nothing character of victoria), and -- ugh. look, it’s a pretty little song, and both victoria and taylor swift sing it well, but it’s thoroughly unnecessary. it’s like ‘suddenly’ in 2012 les mis -- why is this here??

xii. gus the theatre cat

i am not ashamed to admit that ian mckellen ‘singing’ gus the theatre cat was enough to bring a tear to my eye. because, well. the man may not have sung, but by god he acted. i challenge anyone with a heart to sit through all of cats and not even feel the slightest tug at their heartstrings when gus’s song plays. not even judi dench lifting one leg in appreciation could completely break the mood. oh wait. it did. (also gus got thanos-snapped by macavity immediately after exiting the stage)

xiii. skimbleshanks the railway cat

oooooh fuck YESSSSSS this is the single best song in the whole damn film. skimbleshanks himself?? wonderful. iconic. beautiful. his tap routine?? inspired. he’s skimbleshanks the railway cat -- the cat on the railway train! he inexplicably is wearing red dungarees, making him the fourth cat to be wearing clothes for no reason, and at the very end he spins like a top all the way into the air, before being thanes-snapped out of existence (but happily, not out of the movie) by.....

xiv. macavity the mystery cat

taylor swift is there. she’s undressed except for her cgi fur and a pair of stage heels. she starts tapping her little container of catnip over the collective of cats, causing munkustrap to make the sort of face you see reeve!superman make when he’s being poisoned by kryptonite, except that he is a cat being drugged with catnip and it is hard to take him seriously as a result. the song itself is a perfect guilty pleasure. taylor swift’s accent is shitty enough that you can enjoy the ridiculousness of the entire situation. idris elba cuts in to join the final chorus on ‘the Napoleon of criiiiiimmme’ and then he takes off his pimp coat and is . . . distressingly nude for the rest of the film. he dances briefly with taylor swift. it’s a thing.

anyway they thanos-snap judi dench to a boat on the thames bc she won’t let him go to cat heaven and the rest of the cats are left discombobulated. this is when Local Sadboy mr mistoffelees is uh, peer-pressured into attempting to magic judi dench back to the cats. bc mr mistoffelees has an arc now, you guys. and his arc?? is about getting his mojo back.

xv. mister mistoffelees

this song is also sung in first person by mistoffelees, which makes less sense when you get to the second verse, but whatever the movie only has about twenty minutes left let's just do it. it’s a solid song, but they keep pausing after every chorus to see if he can get judi dench back yet, which really dampens the groove that they have going on. anyway, they get her back, mr mistoffelees believes in himself now, yadda yadda yadda. meawhile back on the boat, this dickhead apparently didn’t bother to teleport the other cats back, so they fight their way out and rebel willson unzips her skin again. at this point in the cinema i was praying for mercy.

xvi. memory

memory was a song. it was clearly sung with a lot of emotion. for me, personally?? that emotion did not connect. sorry jennifer hudson. oh yeah also victoria has a verse in this song and i mentally wanted to s c r e am because this is not your fucking moment victoria, let the sad jennifer hudson cat belt her lungs out in peace

xvii. the ad-dressing of cats

god. let it end. let it end. this last ‘song’ was dragged out minute after minute after minute. judi dench looked into my very soul when she told me a cat was not a dog, and i still don’t know what she found there. when she started talking about cream and pie i could see munkustrap, he of the Giving This Performance His All, continue his impeccable acting by making faces of delight at her words. oh, munkustrap. even now, at the very end, you brought me joy. thank you, dear cat. thank you. 

[bigyack-com]

When Department Stores Were Theater

After the hundreds of jobs going poof and the thus-far inadequate discounts, the saddest thing about the closure of Barneys New York is that its signature naughty window displays will recede even further in collective memory.A Hail Mary campaign earlier this year imploring shoppers to go inside even as the store declared bankruptcy (“STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT STRUT”) was but a faint echo of the era when subversive tableaus of papier-mâché public figures, found objects, condoms on Christmas trees and the occasional scampering vermin mesmerized crowds, offended cardinals and even sold some clothes.But “we’re in a post-window-display world,” said Simon Doonan, the Barneys O.G. window dresser, in a telephone interview, noting the “impenetrable facade” of Dover Street Market, heir apparent to the luxury avant-garde. Its New York entrance has only small, high apertures above pedestrian eye level.“In the old days, window displays were the primary form of marketing — fashion was the same as butcher shops and fishmongers,” he said. “Now, if you’re waiting till someone walks past your store, you’ve lost the fight.”Indeed, the bustling new Nordstrom on 57th Street dispenses with traditional boxed-in display windows entirely, replacing them with a shallow, wavy facade that John Bailey, a spokesman, assured would be festooned with red and white lights come Black Friday. The facade is “an interactive viewing experience for customers walking by,” he wrote in an email, “connecting the shopping experience in store to the energy of the city.” (And the energy of customers’ phones.) A young employee at the central help desk said elliptically that “our windows are our customer service.”Gather ’round, children, and let Auntie Alexandra tell of when department stores, now mostly glassy, anodyne places you go to exchange online purchases, used to put on a show. Sometimes more entertaining than the theater.First, though, a quick gallop through what remains of New York’s holiday windows in 2019, and the hopeful cornucopias within.At the doomed Barneys flagship on 61st Street, there was of course bubkes, just signs reading: “Everything Must Be Sold! Goodbuys, then Goodbye.” Inside on the fifth floor, female customers were listlessly flipping shoes to glance at the soles and calculate the markdown, as if with muscle memory from the much-lamented warehouse sale. Four creaky flights up, the power lunch spot Fred’s, named for Fred Pressman, Barneys’ charismatic chairman who died in 1996, was full — even as a worker held a headless naked mannequin steady by her neck on a hand truck, waiting for the elevator to go down, down, down.A few blocks away preens Bergdorf Goodman, the beautiful princess whose holding company, Neiman Marcus, muscled recently into the Hudson Yards, like a watchful mother-in-law moving into the guest cottage. There are no old-school windows at the gleaming new Neiman, being that it’s high up off the dirty street in a mall (and incidentally charging kids $72 per head for breakfast with Santa). But at Bergdorf, David Hoey, the store’s senior director of visual presentation, and his team have gamely produced a concept called Bergdorf GoodTimes. Literally gamely. Like, filled with actual games.One window was captioned “Queen’s Gambit” (chess); another, “Jackpot!” (pinball); another, “Winner Take All” (casino — perhaps a dry subconscious commentary on the high-stakes state of retail). Around the corner, a life-size board game, “Up the Down Escalator,” was dotted with fictional gift cards, coin of the online-shopping realm.Mr. Hoey’s sophisticated, colorful creations did not seem intended for little ones — and anyway those were scampering around across the street, splashing in small pools and peering into mirror-glass “sky lenses” outside the Fifth Avenue Apple store. Paging Dr. Lacan!Further east on 59th and Lexington Avenue, dear old Bloomingdale’s was flagrantly violating several of the decorative precepts set out by Mr. Doonan in his seminal 1998 book, “Confessions of a Window Dresser: Tales From a Life in Fashion.” Specifically: “do remember that technology is boring” and “don’t incorporate sex.”If Bergdorf is rolling the dice on the future of the department store — eroded perhaps irrevocably by Amazon’s mighty, corrosive flow — Bloomie’s is searching the stars. Not the celebrities whose daffy effigies used to populate Mr. Doonan’s windows, mostly with enthusiastic cooperation (Madonna, Magic Johnson, Norman Mailer, Prince, Queen Elizabeth), but a lavish commingling of astronomy and astrology titled Out of This World.Robots were placing ornaments on a tree and sitting at a synthesizer ready to play the carol of your choice at the push of a button. Google Nest, a sponsor, was poised to turn on the tree, the lights; the fire. And astronauts were floating in a “3, 2, 1, Gift Off,” or was it a “GIF Off?” Female mannequins embodying various figures of the zodiac were outfitted like go-go dancers, all pearls and feathers and curvature: propped up against each other on a pedestal as a recording played of John Legend singing, incongruously, “Christmas in New Orleans.” Inside, on the main floor, one embodying Cancer the Crab hung upside down from the ceiling: eyes closed, suspended over a hoop, hand-claws splayed, rotating slowly. Her bared, inverted legs conjured less the #MeToo era than the infamous “meat grinder” photo of the June 1978 Hustler magazine that feminists used to protest on Manhattan sidewalks.

Razzle-Dazzle in the Mezzanine

Mr. Doonan had called from Los Angeles, where he was, among other activities, promoting a monograph to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Maxfield, the boutique there. This even though when he was in the window-dressing business, “I was very anti-anniversary and I vetoed all of them. They just made the company seem old and boring. It looks dusty.”Though I agree 100 percent and moreover think the ascription of significance to particular numbers is as ridiculous as astrology, it also happens to be the 40th anniversary of a seismic and undersung event in department-store history: when the performer Elaine Stritch was the M.C. of an elaborate fashion show at Liberty of London, the emporium known for its fine fabrics. (Many women in those years still sewed household clothes from patterns.)Arranged by Peter Tear, then Liberty’s head of marketing and publicity, and choreographed by Larry Fuller of “Evita,” the show somehow managed to cross-promote the low-tar Silk Cut cigarette with a silk congress happening in London. Concordes were deployed with top models on board. Cocktails were concocted by the Café Royal down the road. Fifty-odd designers contributed special outfits for the occasion, including Giorgio Armani, Calvin Klein, Ralph Lauren and Yves Saint Laurent.Another was David Emanuel, who, with his wife and partner, Elizabeth, would design the show’s bridal gown (and later Princess Diana’s).“People gasped,” he said, remembering the Liberty event on a crackly trans-Atlantic phone line. “They were aching for ‘larger than life.’” Mr. Emanuel described Stritch — subject of my recently published biography, “Still Here” (hey, it’s the selling season) — in a sequined tuxedo jacket, singing among other numbers “Falling in Love Again” à la Marlene Dietrich to the enraptured ladies who lunch who had paid five quid admission apiece for the show, which ran thrice daily over the course of a week. “It has more punch and pulchritude packed into its 51 minutes than most West End musicals twice as long,” one newspaper commented.Mr. Doonan theorized that Liberty, fighting a dainty, twin-set image, had taken inspiration from what the storied retailer Marvin Traub was doing then at Bloomingdale’s. “The whole thing was that the store was the stage — the razzle-dazzle of flash and pizazz and lo and behold, there’s a swimwear fashion show with Pat Cleveland coming down the escalator,” he said. “Every day was ‘curtain up!’ at Bloomingdale’s.”Truly, what could be more of an ultimate fantasy set than the department store of yore, with its infinite “costumes,” props and built-in risers, its endless potential for comedy, dance, drama and even horror? Florenz Ziegfeld’s pre-code movie “Glorifying the American Girl,” showcasing his Follies, starts in one. The heroic airman in “The Best Years of Our Lives” returned to work as a soda jerk in another; ennobled by the theater of war, he chafed at his diminishment in the feminine one of trade.Barbra Streisand gamboled through Bergdorf in 1965 for her TV special, trying on fur coats and hats, spritzing perfume and singing a Fanny Brice-ish medley of “Second Hand Rose” and “Brother Can You Spare a Dime” to funny and glamorous effect. James Goldman and Stephen Sondheim’s “Twilight Zone”-inflected broadcast musical, “Evening Primrose,” was set in a department store called Stern’s, and featured a poet played by Anthony Perkins remaining after-hours, giddy at the idea of the creativity that his solitude, enhanced by all the products he needs, will stimulate. At one point he stands on an escalator belting, “I’m here! I’m here!” foreshadowing the famous anthem in Goldman and Sondheim’s own “Follies” taken up late in life by Stritch. (Later a young woman he discovers there sings of remembering snow: “Soft as feathers/ Sharp as thumbtacks.” She had been left there, in Hats, as a child by her preoccupied mother, but now with climate change the lyric sounds like prescient ecological lament.)Even after the fiasco of Andrew McCarthy at Philadelphia’s Wanamaker’s (R.I.P.) in “Mannequin” 20 years later, and the slow creep of the suburban mall, there was yet another remake of “Miracle on 34th Street.”“Where did Auntie Mame go when she lost all her money?” Mr. Doonan reminded. “Selling roller skates at Macy’s.”It’s hard to imagine, though not impossible, that department stores will remain important sites of commerce and culture much longer. But the largest one in the city is not about to go quietly. At Macy’s, which takes up an entire block, there is a jumble of every sort of window.There are old-fashioned windows devoted to the story of Virginia O’Hanlon, the little girl who wrote to The New York Sun in 1897 asking if there was still a Santa Claus. Around the corner, there are high-tech windows giving voice to a little girl who wants to be Santa Claus. And around another corner: still other windows filled simply with giant Barbies. Being female in the early 21st century is nothing if not a series of mixed messages, but this attempt to empower seemed already antiquated; if Mr. Doonan were still working on windows, surely he would have gone straight for Mx. Claus?The ghost of Barneys yet to come is at Saks Fifth Avenue, which has licensed its former rival’s name, and where windows have been themed with glittering corporate efficiency to the international blockbuster “Frozen 2.” This may delight the tourists, but city dwellers remembering the craft and chance and silliness of the old holiday extravaganzas — when the designers and the famous people and the window dressers were all sticking pins in each other, and the audiences crowded four-deep on the pavement for the free sideshow — will probably be left cold. Source link Read the full article

[theotherwesley]

Wesley Watches And Rates All The Faust Operas

You thought I was kidding, but here we are: 

*I am not an expert, and my advice should never be followed.  I am but a humble nerd with a passion, dragging you along on my youtube-tour. You probably shouldn’t quote me, but using this as a starting point and guide to this particular musical and literary phenomenon is encouraged! The information below was gleaned largely from wikipedia, vague memories of my BA degree, and my own assessment of the source materials.

My ratings are based on my subjective enjoyment, and a few preferential criterion such as:  1) Was Mephistopheles fuckable, 2) Did I get to see an orgy of witches, 3)Does Marguerite pass the Sexy Lampshade Test, and 4) Was Faust Dragged to Hell.

Preliminary Notes: originally, the legend of Doctor Faust came from the sixteenth century and was inspired by one man (or possibly two who were later conflated), Johann SpidersGeorg Faust, who was your average practitioner of Renaissance Magic. He was not an especially savory individual; he had racked up quite a criminal record and been boastful enough of his “christlike” abilities to heal the sick and perform miracles that he’d seriously annoyed the church. He was denied entry into a city due to accusations of Necromancy and Sodomy. Being an alchemist, Faust got up to some particularly adventurous chemistry experiments, the last of which failed so spectacularly that his lab exploded and the doctor was reduced to his component parts. His remains after death were so gruesome that his colleagues came to the obvious conclusion: He’d been personally dragged to Hell by Satan himself. AND THUS WAS A LEGEND BORN.

The story of Faust was told and disseminated in sixteenth century chapbooks (early printing-press zines, if you will) as a dramatic morality tale. It is from the chapbooks we originally get the character of Mephistopheles, the pact exchanging 24 years of service for the soul, the famulus named Wagner, the wild adventures through various courts, and the conjuration of Helen of Troy. Aside from in the chapbooks, there is one version of Chrisopher Marlowe’s play Doctor Faustus, where the titular character is torn asunder by demons as he is dragged to hell-- but unfortunately for me, a known B-movie horror enthusiast-- this ending appears in no subsequent retellings of the Faust legend. Cowards.

Goethe’s play Faust is obviously the most famous adaptation of the legend, and through it the legend turns from a cautionary tale to a story of hubris, love, faith, and philosophy. If you’re not already familiar with Faust, you might take a moment to read it or at least check out the act summaries. You’ll understand everything that references it a lot better if you do, even if you just read Part I (the second part gets a bit tedious unless you have a fetish for Herodotus and metaphysics-- but there’s a cute homunculus in a bottle! and talking sphinxes and griffons! and kinky rose petals! Angel butts!!!). 

 Armed with this knowledge, let the opera tour begin:

Faust (1816, Louis Spohr)

--The Libretto with English translation 

--Playlist of the whole opera

It’s very pretty! The style and over-all sound reminds me of a Mozart opera, which, I guess, is not too surprising considering they were more or less contemporaries who trained and worked in similar circles. (Louis Spohr! He did collaborations with Beethoven! He invented the violin chinrest! Who knew! Not me! Anyway--) This Faust is not based on either Marlowe or Goethe’s Faust, but rather some miscellaneous adventures from the early Faust legends and chapbook pamphlets. In this version Faust ensnares a devil named Mephistopheles to his service, vowing to use his powers for the good of mankind. Great plan! That always goes well! 

There’s a love potion, a flying cape, a duel with an outraged rival-- all the usual necessities for a Faust story, only now there’s not one but TWO young women screwed over by Faust’s philandering! (His first love, Röschen, and erstwhile damsel-in-distress, Kunilingus. ....*checks notes*, sorry, no, “Kunigunde”). Mephistopheles is cattily insightful, the wronged women team up to avenge themselves against their seducer, and yes, yes indeed, Faust Is Dragged To Hell!  

The poetry of the libretto is quite pleasing, it’s got some great dialogue and epic fantasy sequences. Mephistopheles puts on show of infernal pyrotechnics with 17th century stage effects, all of them tremendous fire hazards. Someone gets dragged to Hell by a chorus of dancing goblins before Act 1 even finishes-- O my cup runneth over! We get the witches’ sabbath atop Mt Blocksberg, there’s a guest appearance by Sycorax, everyone gets real horny up there with a love potion, it’s great. 

Mephistopheles seems to be on the ladies’ side in the story (as much as he’s on any human’s side), in that he cautions them not to trust Faust, and urges them on when they FREAKING TEAM UP AND GO TO SEEK VENGEANCE. Oh my god it’s so great. Kunigunde attacks Faust and Faust freaks out and tells Mephistopheles to save him and Meph is all “what’s that? I don’t know, suddenly I can’t read”. Meph is also the one doing all the actual rescuing of distressed maidens, at Faust’s behest. He views Faust’s attempts to break the laws of Love and Nature with contempt, knowing that Faust’s soul is on the fast track to Hell. There’s no actual pact here; Meph is the one being held hostage. He makes sure that Faust doesn’t enjoy any of the spoils of his sorcery, so Faust’s ennui and dissatisfaction remain the same as before he began his quest to “Use Hell’s Powers For Good”. 

And just quick review of the scoreboard: Faust used his powers to do 1 (one) useful thing with his power before he ruined a bunch of people’s lives in quick succession, murdering Kunigunde’s betrothed and driving Rose to suicide. He still cries about it and the “rich seeds of Good he sowed” but Meph is having none of it and HE. DRAGS. THAT. BOY. TO. HELL!!!!!!! EXEUNT.

Rating: 4/5 Stars. Better than expected! I want a revival of this version! With stabbing! And special effects! Mephistopheles is truly doing the Lord’s work here, no offense to his demonship. Lost some points with me for being so very, very heavy on the pining and lovesick maidens, but won me back when the lovesick maidens picked up daggers. 

Faust and Marguerite (1855, Lutz) and Faust up to Date (1888, Lutz)

Straight up can’t find this one! But this early silent film short is apparently based on it?  IDK folks, if you have a recording of this you’d like to share with me, I’d be delighted to hear it. 

As for the burlesque, I suspect it hasn’t actually been performed since 1888. But the music is pretty cute! The Pas de Quatre, aka “Skirt Dance” seems to be the only track that’s stuck around. Here it is played on an old disc music box. 

Rating: ??? 

La damnation de Faust (1846, Berlioz) 

--Libretto in French and English

--La Damnation de Faust with Jonas Kaufmann --I like this one because Faust is super duper cute and this Mephistopheles reminds me of an OC makes yellow work. 

--This is the first of what I’m called The Big Three Faust Plays; all modeled after Goethe’s Faust specifically, written within roughly ten years of each other, and which feature the most well-known arias that I’m aware of. 

This opera positively reeks of Romanticism; it’s got Byron out the ears, it’s wading through Wordsworth, it’s doing the Grand Tour, it’s gazing mournfully from the top of Mont Blanc, contemplating Nature and the Human Spirit. It’s Berlioz, buckle up. 

The beginning is obviously Faust wallowing in ennui. He considers suicide, but is interrupted by a timely reminder of Christianity. Suddenly the devil appears in order to take advantage of a soul precariously teetering on the edge between redemption and damnation.  In this version, the devil does not announce himself as the devil, but rather as the ~Spirit of Life~, here to show Faust the joys of the world. (There’s no pact at first, Meph is just “get in bitch we’re going debauching” and Faust’s like “aight” and they’re off.) The devil takes Faust on a fun tour of life’s noteworthy attractions such as “Drunk Student Karaoke”, “Dancing Gnomes”, and “A Nice Forest Nap”.

During his magical nap Faust sees a vision of Marguerite (later we learn she has simultaneously dreamed of Faust) and falls in love. He awakes with the usual boner for this Maiden of Radiant and Humble Virtue who Nature Hath Sheltered In Perfect Simplicity, because that’s always a big turn-on. Meph steers the course of their interactions very carefully, using magic and fairies and wisps to enchant the couple’s surroundings to ensure they are surrounded by romantic atmosphere the whole time. Once they’ve gotten into some heavy necking, he bursts in and tells them that the whole town is coming with pitchforks and also someone’s told the girl’s mother and they’re in big trouble. Faust flees. 

Everyone does some quality Pining, Faust sings a sad song about Nature, and then Meph shows up again saying “hey I hope this doesn’t put a damper on our vacation, but Marguerite is in prison for murder and she’s going to be executed BUT QUICK, ACT NOW AND WE CAN SAVE HER for just one quick easy payment of your immortal soul” and Faust is just like “WHAT WHERE WHO WHAT UH FINE YES SURE OKAY SHIT, WOW, LET’S GO” and Meph is >:))) and they jump on their horses and ride off to go save her except OOPS, NO THEY DON’T because actually they are RIDING INTO THE WAITING JAWS OF HELL!!!! NYAK NYAK NYAK NYEEEEEHHHHH!!! Faust burns for eternity, Marguerite goes to heaven, curtain. 

Rating: 3.5/5 Look, I’m not saying I’m biased, but Mephistopheles doesn’t even show up until half an hour into the opera, okay? I find this one hard to sit through even though the music is really delightful; and I do mean it is gorgeous music. Between the two famous mocking serenades, “Devant la maison” shoots “Vous quid faites l’endormie” right out of the water; all the chorus pieces are fantastic; the Hungarian March is a great instrumental piece; Faust actually has some decent arias for once (rarer in each subsequent opera), and there is Brander’s wonderfully irreverent Rat Song... I think the reason this doesn’t hold my attention as much as other versions is that the plot is very meandering and the characters don’t have concrete motivations; they’re sad teenagers in love, I guess? And the devil tricks them? This whimsical aspect is 1000% part and parcel of the Romantic Aesthetic I realize, but personally I came for a recognizable story and got mostly pastoral vignettes. We spend half the opera listening to Frolicking Peasants and Men At Arms. Mephistopheles just hops out of the woodwork to play a dirty trick on a random guy getting his Byronic Mope on. There’s no pact, no soul-signing until the very end, and it’s just a plain ol’ tricky trap, not a device to punish hubris or moral crimes. I’m even reluctant to give this its rightful Dragged To Hell points because out of all the Faust scenarios, this is the one where he seems to deserve it the least! He doesn’t actually do anything bad! It’s not satisfying if he’s dragged to Hell for no reason! Pfui. However, points gained back for the made-up Satanic babble sung by infernal chorus at the end.  

Faust (1859, Gounod) 

--Libretto in French and English

--1995 Adaptation with Samuel Ramey as Mephistopheles  You already know I’m a slut for Samuel Ramey playing the devil in any capacity so I’ll spare you my gushing play-by-play of his performance. The quality of this video is.... not great. I apologize. I still love it, but you’re going to want to find a clearer recording of the music if you want to get the most out of this opera. 

--2011 Adaptation with Paul Gay as Mephistopheles (Warning: this version is quite lurid and includes some staging choices that I find pretty uncomfortable-- I can’t decide if the director is consciously trying to highlight predatory sexism as a bad thing or if it’s just kind of included to make things seem ~spicy~. Anyway, it’s otherwise a high quality production with an interesting set design, just be warned that there’s some on-stage grossness. Also, a hilariously bad decapitated head prop! --to accompany a truly baffling ending. To its credit, the death of Valentin was genuinely pretty moving and made me feel... er, well, anything about the character. Tassis Christoyannis’s made that aria memorable, which is more than I can say of other productions. 

Second of the Big Three! 

Gounod introduces a more complete cast of characters borrowed from Goethe’s Faust to flesh out the the story and setting; we meet Wagner the student, a regiment of soldiers including Marguerite’s brother, Valentin, and their young friend Siebel (a pants role-- which immediately endears me to this character because I’m a ~big ol’ queer~). Later we meet Marguerite’s nosy old neighbor, Martha, who is REAL thirsty for Mephistopheles and who I relate to very much.

 This opera follows Goethe’s Faust- Part I much more closely than its predecessor, and where it does not follow the original, it diverges in favor of making the story more engaging and streamlined. There is WAY LESS pining into the aether, and more sword fights. The larger cast of named characters makes for more interactions, which in turn makes for more memorable moments on stage, better dialogue, a comprehensible timeline of events, and more concrete motivations for everyone. 

A SUMMARY: Faust’s pact in this version has nothing to do with the philosophical wager seen in Goethe, but is simply an exchange of his soul for returned youth. He is old, he’s spent his life studying, he wants to be young and full of passion again. He seals the deal after the devil offers him a vision of Marguerite, whose sight is so inspiring and lovely that Faust is overcome with desire for her alone. They go to find her, encountering on the way a regiment of students and soldiers, one of whom is Marguerite’s brother, Valentin, who is going off to war leaving his sister in the care of young Siebel. Getting Marguerite to stop and talk to Faust proves difficult since she is so pure and virtuous that A) Mephistopheles has no power over her, and B) she’s wary of the compliments of strangers. Faust gets Mephistopheles to bring her a case of jewels to warm her up to him, then Mephistopheles concocts a ruse to distract her nosy neighbor Martha and give them an excuse to meet Marguerite (shenanigans ensue). The ploy works, Marguerite is seduced, and in love with Faust. Cut to some time in the future, when Oh No Everything Has Gone Horribly Wrong; Faust has gone away and left Marguerite pregnant and unmarried, she is shunned by society with the exception of Siebel, meanwhile her brother has come home from the war to find her in a disgrace. Faust and Mephistopheles eventually return, but encounter an enraged Valentin who duels Faust to avenge his sister’s honor. Faust, of course, uses Mephistopheles’s magic to cheat, and Valentin is fatally stabbed. With his dying breaths, he curses his sister and blames her for his death, since he died defending her honor-- the people who witness this are rightfully aghast that he’d use his last moments to denounce his own sister-- and rightly so, because that’s a real dick move. Faust flees, and Marguerite is left on her own with no support and a newborn child to care for. She seeks refuge and forgiveness in the church, but finds she cannot pray, haunted by voices and cursed by Mephistopheles himself, as he whispers in her ear, promising damnation. She faints, and is presumably driven mad. Cut to Faust, who is being treated to a front-row seat of Walpurgisnacht. During the revels he sees another vision of Marguerite, this time of her in chains and awaiting execution for the murder of her child. Mephistopheles grudgingly takes Faust to see her in prison, where he tries to rescue her. In her fevered state she will not leave, wanting Faust to instead stay with her in the cell. During the delay, she sees Mephistopheles and finally puts two and two together, knowing a devil when she sees one, and understanding that Faust is not only responsible for her suffering but also in league with infernal powers. She pushes him aside, rejects him, and throws herself instead on the mercy of God, choosing death and redemption over being rescued by the man whose affections ruined her. Mephistopheles ruefully pronounces her condemned, but a voice from Heaven pronounces her Saved. Faust watches in awe as Marguerite’s soul ascends to Heaven, and he is left alone and presumably damned. 

Why is this framing of the story significant? Because it’s about her. Faust is only an instrument; his soul is not especially remarkable, he might have been damned without any devil to encourage him.

 But Marguerite’s soul was untouchable to Mephistopheles; he puts a vision of her before Faust for a reason. We don’t waste any time bemoaning Faust’s moral downfall; Faust is not the one seeking redemption at the end of the opera. Faust is a means to an end, and that end is leading an otherwise spotless soul into perdition.

 This opera has Mephistopheles at his most sinister, his most manipulative; he is the one driving Marguerite deeper into misfortune, who isolates her, mocks her, whispers condemnation into her ear her until she doubts everything. Desperate, without support and seeing no way forward, no future for herself or her child, Marguerite kills her baby, or is led to do so by Mephistopheles. Without a doubt, this has been the devil’s plan all along, and with Marguerite now branded a murderess, he thinks he’s won. But Faust, despite taking no responsibility for his actions, nevertheless feels pity and remorse at her misfortune, and goes to rescue her--and  this gives Marguerite the chance to finally see what he is.

 She rejects him; she does not choose love, she does not choose to live or be rescued by the forces that ruined her in the first place. She stays, renews her faith, and thwarts Mephistopheles’s best efforts to damn her. This is not about a man's hubris; it is about Marguerite escaping the devil and saving herself on her own terms. That’s why I find this version to be poignant. 

Some musical highlights: “Le veau d’or” (the golden calf)-- if not my favorite of Mephistopheles’s ballads then in the top three, particularly because it lends itself to some flamboyant acting; Marguerite’s “Ballade un roi de Thulé” (the king of Thule) is absolutely haunting; and "Seigneur, daignez permettre", aka The Church Scene is fucking incredible-- the juxtaposition of Marguerite’s pleas and the choir’s Dies Irae, the echoing church organs in the background, Damnation seeming to gain a voice of its own to summon her... it’s some real Eyes-of-Notre-Dame Hellfire shit. 

Rating: 5/5! A perfect score! Gounod wins the first place ribbon. Though he beats Boito’s “Mefistofele” (up next) on several key points, I want you to know that my personal bias will probably always be in favor of “Mefistofele” on account of being a ho for the titular character. --But Gounod’s is the better opera, fair and square. “Faust” has the most comprehensive storyline, the most memorable arias, and the best (I think) balance of both humor and poignance.  I will give this version the benefit of a Dragged to Hell point even though we don’t actually get to see the final deed. The Walpurgisnacht scene does exist as a ballet, so I’ll still give it the points even though it gets cut out of most productions for length (sometimes the ballet is performed as a stand-alone event). Additionally, he scores most favorably on the Marguerite > Sexy Lampshade scale-- this is a story about her more than it’s about Faust or Mephistopheles, and I’m here for that.

Thank you Mr. Gounod, you may retrieve your Incredibly Prestigious Award from my blog after the ceremony. 

Mefistofele (1868, Boito) 

--Libretto in Italian and English

--HERE IT IS, MY FAVORITE ONE, MY FAVORITE MEPHISTOPHELES, SAMUEL RAMEY, MOSTLY SHIRTLESS, FLIPPING OFF GOD AND LIGHTING A CIGARETTE ON STAGE IN HIS MATCHING CHERRY-RED TAILCOAT AND VIOLIN CASE 1989 (WHICH IS THE YEAR OF MY BIRTH, NO COINCIDENCE, I THINK)

--Oh, fun fact! The opera scene in Batman Begins is the chorus from the witches sabbath. If you thought it sounded familiar, this might be why.

Anyway. This is the third of the Big Three most-referenced Faust operas!  

Unlike its predecessors, Mefistofele covers both part I and part II of Goethe’s Faust, starting with the seduction of Marguerite and moving on to serenading Helen of Troy and finally with Faust’s redemption. The first part of the opera is very similar to Gonoud’s Faust, but first there is a Prologue, which is taken pretty much directly from Goethe.  And oh my god, is the Prologue hilarious. We encounter Mephistopheles, the titular character, on his way to work-- or more just loitering around in the aether as one does when one is bored and immortal and humanity is going on sinning with or without you, when he stops to greet the Lord God in passing, all satirical charm and sarcasm. God, very graciously, does not ask him whether he has anything better to do, but instead inquires if he knows Faust.

 “Oh yeah, that guy. Neck beard, likes science, big fan of yours. Sure I’ve heard of him,” says Meph. “Hey, you seem like a betting man--”

“Um,” says God.

Meph continues; “I bet I can tempt him into sinning and thus damn his immortal soul to Hell!” 

God agrees-- because God already knows the future and thinks this will be a fun way to build character. 

A choir of angels descends and Mephistopheles gets grossed out, sprays them with insect repellent, and leaves. (I am paraphrasing). 

The next few scenes are pretty familiar; Faust laments his ennui, a chorus of peasants and students celebrate a festival, Faust is on the cusp of a revelation that Jesus is neat, but is interrupted by the devil. The devil introduces himself, offers Faust his services on earth if Faust agrees to serve him in Hell after death. 

Faust, who seconds ago was ready to devote himself to a life of holiness, sayeth “yolo” and they shake on it, with the condition that Mephistopheles can reveal to him one moment of such surpassing joy and beauty that Faust will wish for it to last forever-- thereupon Faust consents to being dragged immediately to Hell. Because pssh, that’s later and who cares about later?? They hop on Mephistopheles’s magic cape, and fly off to have adventures.  CUT TO: Faust seducing Marguerite and Mephistopheles distracting her nosy neighbor Martha. THEY KISS, FAUST LEAVES, HE GOES TO A PARTY ON MT. BROCKEN. HE SEES A VISION: MARGUERITE IN PRISON! QUICK, TO THE RESCUE! BUT NO, SHE REJECTS HIM, HER SOUL IS SAVED, SHE DIES-- Wait, what? I hear you ask-- She just got here, she wasn’t even introduced, now we’re skipping to the end? The answer is: yes. Yes, you’re just supposed to know what’s going on already. 

To be fair, Faust operas are the Spiderman remakes of the nineteenth century; there’s a new one coming out every ten years or so, Goethe is required reading, everyone is writing Faust fanfiction-- no one is wondering who the girl is or how they met or is wondering if they’ll kiss or not. Everyone knows the plot already, it’s fine.

BUT THIS ISN’T THE END! No indeed! Now we are on a tour of PART II of Goethe’s Faust! You know, the part you skipped! Don’t worry, Boito isn’t making the entire metaphysical play into an opera, just the juicy bits with Helen of Troy. Marguerite is instantly and completely forgotten-- this is now a Helen/Faust one-shot, which Mephistopheles is forced to watch with annoyance. 

CUT TO: Faust’s old laboratory from Act 1, where he is on the brink of death, lost in a reverie of all the good times he’s had. Mephistopheles is hovering over him, tapping his wristwatch and reminding Faust of his past loves and glories, incredulous that Faust hasn’t yet found his One True Moment™.

 Faust just sighs and says “gee, I guess the REAL happiness was the good I could have done along the way but absolutely didn’t!” and God busts in through the ceiling with a HALLELUJAH and Mephistopheles is like “oh don’t you dare, don’t you fucking-- THINK OF ALL THE GOOD TIMES WE HAD, ALL THE SEXY LADIES I GOT YOU TO MEET! AFTER ALL I’VE DONE FOR YOU AS YOUR WINGMAN--” and Faust faceplants into the bible and goes straight to Heaven. Meph is left spitting in defiance as he sinks into the earth. THE END.

Why this framing is significant: The way Boito has arranged and cropped the scenes makes this story very much center around Mephistopheles. While Berlioz’s Faust was about the suffering of a young man for love, and Gounod’s was about the victory of Marguerite over Hell, Boito’s opera is about the humorous tragedy of Mephistopheles, whose endeavor was rigged to fail from the onset. 

Faust doesn't end up in Hell in Goethe's version, and I accept this because Mephistopheles lost his bet on a technicality: the Moment™ Faust wished to prolong was not provided by Mephistopheles, it was caused by his sincere desire to do a last bit of good in the world, coming to the conclusion (after being made blind by the goddess of Care) that benefiting mankind is what brings one happiness, not knowledge or fleeting pleasures. It wasn’t that he suddenly found Christ or gave himself over to God, as the opera implies, but because he finally realized the worth of striving to do good, and fond a source of platonic love within himself, which makes his soul redeemable despite his pact with the devil. So Goethe gives us a humanist, philosophical explanation for Faust's redemption..... BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY-- he has Mephistopheles lose Faust's immortal soul because he's Too Fucking Horny For An Angel Boy’s Ass. (I know when I’m being pandered to.) 

Unfortunately, Boito misses the whole philosophical trajectory of Goethe’s Faust and reduces it to a simple morality-play where a sinner is saved on his deathbed merely by acknowledging the hereafter. He doesn’t suffer blindness, he doesn’t actually DO anything good in his last hour, he just repents and decides Heaven is real after all at the last possible second before kicking the bucket. It would be disappointing, IF that were the point of the story. But that’s not where the drama is!

Like Gounod’s Faust, the focus was never really on the doctor at all; his redemption is not what we paid to see. It’s Mephistopheles’s reaction to losing Faust’s soul that makes the ending interesting, not the fact that Faust gets a free pass to Heaven. 

Highlights of this version: It’s fucking hilarious, and Mephistopheles is the star of the entire show. His arias are in turns sinister and sardonic, playful and powerful. The dialogue is taken directly from Goethe’s Faust in most cases (translated into Italian obviously), and hey, the dialogue in Goethe is really funny and good and witty! Hard to go wrong! 

“Ave Signor” (Hail, Lord!) is such a terrific opener; there will always be something delightful about the idea of the devil conversationally sassing God and daring to make a bet with the Almighty in the spirit of work-place rivalry. “Son Lo Spirito Che Nega Sempre Tutto” (I Am the Spirit That Denieth All Things) is full of dark bravado and rebellion, whistling defiance at the Lord. It’s a great Villain Song and as someone with sympathy for the devil it is completely my jam. “Ecco Il Mondo” (Behold the World) is both teasing and menacing and the staging lends itself to some glorious melodrama. “Ah! Su! Riddiamo, riddiamo” (Turning, turning) gets a prize for being the best infernal chorus and witches’ sabbath scene out of all of them-- it’s frenzied and spooky and satanic and whirling, everything you could want from an orgy of infernal creatures. Ten out of five stars, would exalt Satan to again.

Rating: 4.5 / 5 stars. Second place prize, and Honorable Mention for being the judge’s favorite. It’s not perfect. The story leaves much to be desired-- let’s face it, Part II of “Faust” isn’t especially... dynamic on its own, and especially when condensed to fit into opera format, the events don’t add up into a satisfying narrative.  Boito glosses over some frankly essential elements in the original and just has Faust skip right from his life-ruining adultery to being carried to Heaven on the backs of angels-- just for thinking of all the good he *could* have done if he hadn’t been, you know, a real stinker this whole time.  So I’m not giving Boito a pass for omitting Faust’s Hell Dragging. Furthermore, this play is woefully short on Marguerita; she basically just shows up to be seduced and then a second later is Ruined and Saved. Booo.

But hey-- is this play called “Faust”? Is this play called “Faust and Marguerita”? No. This play is called motherfuckin’ “Mefistofele”, because it’s about Mephistopheles. It’s about our suave, under-appreciated servant of Hell working hard for his cut, trying and squeeze just ONE life-altering moment out of this absolute dehydrated turd of a man, and the play is rife with his frustration. He is the one who whistles in defiance of God, and he loses because it is *inevitable* that he loses. God was never going to let him win that bet; Meph was a tool in his ultimate design to shepherd Faust closer to redemption. Mephistopheles is dragged off stage whistling in defiance as a lifetime’s worth of effort is flushed down the drain in a single moment of seemingly undeserved redemption. Not for a *solitary second* did we want this opera to be about Faust. No. This is the devil’s opera, and that’s why it’s so fucking great. 

Doktor Faust (1916–25, Busoni)

--Adaptation with Thomas Hampson 2006 

--Libretto in German and English

...And now, a German libretto written by an Italian, in contrast with Boito’s Italian libretto translated from German. 

God, this is such a modern ass Modern Opera. It does that thing I hate that modern operas do where the composer is like “What? You wanted a ~melody~? What is this, musical theater??” Like obviously they’ve transcended the need for anything so plebeian as a tune I can fucking hum. It’s very Intellectual, very High Art. The plot is full of tortured genius manpain, naval gazing, and I can’t remember a single aria from it. ...Okay, that’s a bit harsh; in the final two scenes Faust gets some lovely melancholy solos that actually stuck out to me. But this is a three hour long opera. So. Maybe skip ahead.

Plot-wise, this is the most existential of the bunch. No Marguerite in this one, just a Duchess with no name. Faust still ruins his lover’s life but in his final act he rejects both God and the Devil and uses his Supreme Human Will to transfer his life-force into his dead child’s body, resurrecting him as a young man with a blossoming frond of some kind. (Symbolism!!!) 

--This marks the full 180 turnaround from “Faust is forcibly dragged to hell by Satan himself and his body explodes all over the stage” to “NOT ONLY IS FAUST REDEEMED OF HIS SINS BUT HE TRANSCENDS BOTH HEAVEN AND HELL WITH THE INDOMITABLE FORCE OF HIS HUMAN WILL, GOD IS DEAD, FAUST IS THE ÜBERMENSCH”, and to that I say *ptttttttbbbbbbbb*.   

Rating: 1/5 stars.  Plot is ponderously philosophical, overweighted with symbolism, and the music, while interesting, is largely forgettable with a few exceptions. Also it is Three Goddamn Hours Long. Points lost for nameless female character who fails the Lampshade Test. Loses further points for a dry and flavorless Mephisopheles, boooo.     

The Rake's Progress (1951, Stravinsky)

--1992 production with Jerry Hadley and OH LOOK WHO IT IS IT’S SAMUEL RAMEY AGAIN HUH WELL DON’T MIND IF I DO this production is really, really well acted and funny and the dance portions are especially cool. 

--Libretto in English and Italian

Another modern opera, this time by a composer I actually like! 

Now, this isn’t technically a Faust opera; its based on a series of delightfully comedic prints by William Hogarth, detailing the decline and fall of a young man who inherits a huge sum of money, spurns his true love, and wastes his inheritance on foolish ventures and hookers, eventually ending up insane in Bedlam (I’m not saying tertiary syphilis, but definitely tertiary syphilis-- Let us take a moment to appreciate both condoms and penicillin.) 

In the original paintings there is no deal-making devil, but but luckily he’s been added in by librettist W.H. Auden (who was intermittently friends and lovers with Christopher Isherwood!!!!-- I just wanted to add that because it makes my gay little heart very happy). The names are all vaudevillian puns, such as “Tom Rakewell”, “Anne Trulov”, and “Sellem, the Auctioneer”. Mephistopheles has been exchanged for the slick, modern Nick Shadow.

Highlights of this version: Baba the Turk, the bearded lady that Nick convinces Tom to marry as a demonstration of his free will (???). Listen: I know she’s meant to be comic relief and is an unflattering stereotype, but dang if she didn’t win my heart completely. I like that her marriage with Tom apparently falls apart, not necessarily because she’s a bearded lady, but because she’s just very chatty and overbearing and is much better traveled than Tom, and has had numerous wealthy and important suitors who she won’t shut up about. She’s knows her own worth and conducts herself accordingly, and is very vocal when she knows she’s being treated badly. She’s got Anne’s back when they meet at the auction of all Tom’s property (which she was included in as an object because she was under a spell of silence and immobility-- rude), telling her to watch out for Nick Shadow and generally being very forgiving and understanding about the whole affair; she was hurt that Tom lied about his affections, but she doesn’t blame Anne for it, which is wholesome. Then she announces that she’s going back to her career on the stage because she is BABA and she has had enough of these scrubs. Anyway. I love her. She’s described very beautifully if you happen to like beards, which I do (and so did the author).  

“No Word From Tom” reminds me why I love Stravinsky so much (and Dawn Upshaw sings it like a nightingale). “Lanterloo My Lady” is spritely and fun and texturally interesting; besides, “sweet dreams my master, dreams may lie, but dream-- for when you wake you die” is chill-inducing. “How Dark and Dreadful is This Place” plus the whole card game in the cemetery is sad and grim and comical all at the same time; Tom is such a pathetic and naive mess you can’t help but feel sorry for him, even while Nick’s smugness is delicious. Tom’s mad songs are all quite touching and beautiful. 

Rating: 4/5 stars. The libretto is really excellent, jazzy, full of great wordplay and aphorisms. Nick is a delightful Mephistopheles; thoroughly modern, witty, sly, arch, fourth-wall breaking. Faust is not dragged to hell, but he is condemned to insanity. Loses points for a female lead whose entire purpose in life is to babysit this asshole through his poor life decisions. Also, while certainly more memorable and melodic than Busoni’s Faust, it still has that sort of shouty modern opera sound that I find a little challenging to listen to; but that said, the music fits the plot, and the plot is fun and absorbing, so while there may be fewer individual arias I’m likely to put on my jogging playlist, it’s engaging to watch as a production from start to finish.  

--Okay! That’s it! I know, I know, this isn’t actually a review of every Faust opera to date, but I have to get back to my life, and you already know my feelings on modern and contemporary opera. Thank you for bearing with me for this entire novel-length post that literally no one asked for!! You’re a the real hero here! I love you almost as much as I love Samuel Ramey in tights.  *stage kiss*  Yours in Service Here but in Mine Below, ~Wesley