'Cause I ain't gonna write a real entry

Least not for a spell. But here are some tidbits:

1. Sweeney Todd Colour me a toffee-nosed snob, but I think this was the wrong venue for such a lightweight piece. Seeing it on the Lyric Opera stage invites comparisons to the operas I've seen there, and they aren't flattering. But BRYN! sigh. Full report to follow.


2. "Beeea-dle!" The frequent use of "beadle" in ST (Sondheim's very fond of repeating names and titles, isn't he, Sondheim?) prompted me to look it up. As I suspected, it's related to Dutch beul and, presumably, the Scandinavian terms. Also, German Büttel, which is usually a bailiff but dialectally (at least nach Kluge) an executioner.


3. Owlet The friend from whom I borried the name will be visiting in early January. YEEE-HAAWW! I plan to exhaust myself painting the town red and come home with a terrible illness.


4. Meinl I got Nuphy's report on taking his class to Meinl last Friday and now I'm psyched to return. Anyone up for a visit this weekend?

Musing on gift-giving

For whatever reason, I have Ian McCulloch's "Close Your Eyes" going through my head. This reminds me of the time I saw the album Mysterio for sale in a cut-out bin shortly before my sister's birthday and talked my younger brother into buying it for her. When she unwrapped it, she saw the small nick in the jewel box and asked me about it. Without thinking, I replied, "Oh, they put that there so it can't be sold for full price," oblivious to my brother's attempts to signal my silence.

Of course, a moment later I realised what I had done. I recalled they days when I was a starving student who couldn't afford much more than a discounted CD for a gift and I blushed on his behalf. Those days are far behind both of us now, of course, but I'm reminded of them whenever I talk to our older brother. He lives on a fixed income. Whereas I can put off Christmas shopping, confident that I can walk into a store whenever and buy whatever I think fitting, he has to scrimp and plan for months. It's a responsibility he takes very seriously, which makes me feel more of a dork for treating it so lightly.

The Demon Barber on Wacker Drive

Last night was the first time I'd seen Sweeney Todd ever, so I can't compare this production to any others. At the time, I enjoyed it for what it was and, in retrospect, I tried to apply the same criteria in judging it that I apply to all performances in that venue.

The most important of these, of course, is the Index Corporum (vulgo body count), upon which it excels: All major characters save two die, for a total of at least nine onstage murders. Nothing else this season even comes close! (Valküre, by contrast, sports a mere two, both off stage.)

One reason why the IC works is that it provides some measure of dramatic action. People talk all the time about pretty melodies and lovely singing. This is largely wasted on me if the story isn't engaging. (Though a truly extraordinary singer can overcome this; I still remember the rather static Alcina as a superior experience primarily on the basis of Renée Fleming's incredible singing.) There's no shortage of incident in Sweeney Todd. At intermission, I reviewed the plot in my mind and realised "Hey! This is Barber of Seville! With cannibalism. Barber if Figaro were really twisted and evil."

And the direction made the most of all. Very clever and interesting staging. Simple, in some ways, but gritty, evocative, and dynamic. Excellent use is made of shadow play, particularly to suggest action too risqué to stage openly. Everything has a wonderfully sordid Victorian feel . Characters move around a lot, but always with motivation, not just to keep the set from getting too quiet.

Everyone agrees Sondheim's texts are wonderful. It was a treat for me to see the ripple that went through the blue hairs at the old slattern's first indecent proposal. And the comic numbers got a great response from the audience.

( It's too bad the music sucks. )