These days my children have become fascinated by Gilbert and Sullivan's The Pirates of Penzance. This follows a previous fascination with The Mikado, only suspended temporarily because their parents had a severe case of earworm. But I can only recommend: nothing is more hilarious than hearing one's small children trot around humming "Defer to the Lord High Executioner" or rollicking like a band of, well, pirates.
Which brings me to my point. The version of The Mikado that we use is the excellent Stratford production referred to on these pages before. I have yet to find a version of Pirates (including Stratford's) that quite does the same trick. The Papp version, while hilarious in its way, is far too screechy (particularly the women's choruses) to be the sort of soundtrack that I want on a daily basis; as much to the point, perhaps, is the fact that the kids found the mugging and singing a bit much. (Good for them, I say! The time for gross parody will come soon enough.)
So we've tried out a number of Pirates, and settled on one by a minor company that's good "in the usual way, if you know what I mean, Pooh," but not great. And so it struck me the other day, hearing those "Rough men" declare that they lead a "Rough, rough" life--I've been exposed to a number of productions of the operetta now, and seen a whole range of talents, from the exceedingly amateurish to the highly polished. I've seen good and bad Mabels, Fredericks, Major Generals, Policemen, and choristers. What I have never seen, however, is a bad pirate. The pirates are always excellent. There's just something about playing a pirate that makes even a college freshman, not really interested in choir, but urged on by heaven knows what incipient girlfriend, mother, or sainted aunt, to--put on his best effort?
Or is it be himself?
Men: the by-nature-piratical sex.
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