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| I went shopping this morning, and my travels took me into my workplace, where I went to buy Being Human. (Unfortunately, Toby had sent it back on a recall last weekend, so I had to go to HMV and buy it for the higher price. I had watched the first episode on Youtube, but I was pretty sure it shouldn't be there, so I wanted to buy the DVD to watch with a clear conscience.) When I was in WHSmith's, in the stationary department, a lady came up to me, saying, "You're young, I wonder if you could help?" I was about to tell her it was my day off, but I realised she wasn't asking me as a shop assistant, but as a fellow-customer. I obliged, telling her she'd come to the right place as I worked there during the week. She was awfully apologetic, but it was my own fault for going in on my day off. I got out of there as soon as I could, though. I went through every charity shop in the town, but was disappointed not to be able to find any werewolf stories - not even bad ones. Not even with vampires too. I don't mind one or the other in "real world" settings, but I think that too many kinds of mythical beasts roaming around doesn't quite work. For one thing, werewolves versus vampires is such a cliche in gothic fiction. For another, I find it difficult to suspend disbelief - that if there is that much, the humans wouldn't know about it. Harry Potter is different - that is a whole different world, even if it lives alongside the muggle world. Similarly, in high fantasy, you can people the world with whatever you like (Discworld being a prime example.) But in stories that rely on a real-world setting, and "powers" but not "magic" (there's a subtle difference) I think underground civilisations should be kept quite small. On my way home, I popped into the supermarket for two bottles of mineral water and a box of choc-ices. It was a small supermarket, with five checkouts, two open. As I queued, one of the staff members closed down her checkout to go on her lunch break, leaving one. There were, perhaps four or five in the queue. The woman in front of me asked a member of staff if they could open another checkout, so they buzzed to get another person. Woman, to her husband: "Well, I think it's disgusting! Only having one till open!" Now, I had been feeling a little frustrated about the same thing, but something in her manner made me defensive, as I have heard it all myself, when I've been alone on the shop floor, doing my best, and getting nothing but complaints for it. It was the word "disgusting" that did it, I think. I said to the woman, politely, "If it's like everywhere else, they probably are understaffed." Woman: "There's enough people out of work!" As if I was unaware of this. Me, with exaggerated patience: "No, I meant that they probably haven't the money to pay for more staff. It's the way things are at the moment." (Unsaid: "There is a recession on, you know.") Woman: "They should drop the prices, then, and get more people shopping." At that point an assistant opened another checkout and the pair moved away. Me: "I can't believe she said that in LIDL." | | |
| I have been busy the last couple of days, tidying my bedroom. It needed it! I wanted to put all my writing together on a shelf, and I could not for the life of me find my "Dorrie" book. I cleared the floor, most of the clothes off the spare bed, and under where the coffee table used to be. That had been removed to make room for a bookcase that I am going to get from my Grandma when she moves into her new flat. While I was at it, I pulled out the scruffy old video cabinet that served as a bedside cabinet - but one that I couldn't actually get at the contents, because of the door being pressed up against my bed - and realised that I didn't need it any more. So that went down to the tip, and I came to the astonishing conclusion that maybe... just maybe... I had room for a desk! Now, ever since moving home, I have lamented the lack of a desk in my room. If I do my writing, I do it either up at the dining room table, or sitting up on my bed, laptop on my knees. But neither of these are the best environments for writing. Also, I have had to have my breakfast in the dining room - a sensible place to eat cereal, perhaps, but at university I ate breakfast in my room, and had a "quiet time" at the same time. In the dining room, with people coming and going, I don't have the opportunity to have said quiet time, and the habit has fallen rather irregular. Today, I went into Staples, and bought the narrowest desk I could find, at 60cm across, with a shelf for my folders of writing, my writing magazines, and a few other books. It is a desktop PC table, so it has a sliding keyboard shelf, on which I have placed my Bible and a tin of sweets. I put it together "all by my own" (except for two occasions where I asked a parent to hold something in place for me) and feel very pleased with myself. It feels a little like being a student again. I have a place specially devoted to my writing. Virginia Woolf wrote of the importance for a woman writer of having a "room of one's own." If you ask me, she wrote a lot of rubbish, but I do agree with her on this matter - just as long as there is a desk. Without it, a room is merely a bedroom, or perhaps a living room. Now that I have the desk, I feel as though I am myself again. 
(As you can see, the dressing table is on the "to do" side of my tidying.) | | |
| Yes, The Mikado has been over for a week and it's time to let it go and start concentrating on our next show: Calamity Jane. Yet I don't quite feel able to say goodbye to what has been the highlight of my singing career (if you like to call it that.) So I thought I would introduce you to the characters, as I know them. First off is Ko-Ko, the Lord High Executioner of Titipu. Formerly, he was the town's tailor, until he found himself imprisoned and sentenced to death for flirting, and then raised to the position of Lord High Executioner. Our Ko-Ko was a somewhat ridiculous figure. His entrance is built up by the men's chorus singing "Defer to the Lord High Executioner," and then on struts this little, bumbling chap who has to jump up and down to be seen behind the noblemen of Titipu. He is inclined to get over-excited or carried away, finding himself falling from one mishap to another. Next is Nanki-Poo, wandering minstrel, heir to the throne of Japan and Ko-Ko's rival in Yum-Yum's affections. To be honest, Nanki-Poo is a character I don't feel I know too well due to lack of an actor for many rehearsals. He is a young man, though it seems that the life of a musician has taken its toll on him for he looks more like the Mikado's younger brother than his son. He has a knack of getting his own way, though whether that is by design or accident is not clear. I would be inclined to say Nanki-Poo is a manipulative, somewhat spoilt young prince, who knows that Ko-Ko would give up his betrothed rather than see Nanki-Poo end his life. If Ko-Ko is Lord High Executioner, Pooh-Bah is Lord High Everything Else: a pompous, hypocritical contradiction of a man. He, too, is well versed in getting what he wants, in this case by treating those things as a penance for his "family pride" - ie, taking every important role in the town - and their salaries - giving information in return for "insulting" bribes. Pooh-Bah takes his duties, position and ancestry very seriously indeed - perhaps just as well, for no one else, excepting perhaps Ko-Ko, does. Pish-Tush is another nobleman of Titipu, one more understated in his manner than Pooh-Bah. Where Pooh-Bah asserts his position and authority at every opportunity, Pish-Tush assumes it, without the need to shout from the rooftops. Yum-Yum is the eldest and most beautiful of Ko-Ko's wards, and is pledged to marry him, probably because she is just too sweet-tempered to refuse. She has been pampered and perhaps a little spoilt - she is very aware of her good looks and their power, but not in a bratty sort of way. She is devoted to Nanki-Poo, and yet Yum-Yum is no doormat. She loves Nanki-Poo, but at the end of the day, she loves Yum-Yum even more. When she has to choose between her fiance and her life, she chooses life, because, after all, "Burial alive - it's such a stuffy death." Luckily, however, it doesn't come to that. Pitti-Sing, otherwise known as me, seems to be the eldest sister, certainly the most dominant. She knows the conventions of what a young unmarried Japanese girl should be and do, and acts the part very well. But underneath, if circumstances call for it, Pitti-Sing is a bold, mouthy and flirtatious girl, very much a modern woman. It is Pitti-Sing who stands up for her sister and future brother-in-law against the terrifying Katisha, disregarding Katisha's threats and sneering at her: "The state of your connubial views towards the person you accuse does not concern us!" It is Pitti-Sing who joins in with Ko-Ko and Pooh-Bah in their tales of Nanki-Pooh's execution. I can imagine her overhearing Ko-Ko begging Pooh-Bah to go along with his story, and deciding it sounds a bit of a lark and that if she were to back them up the Mikado might be more likely to believe a woman - especially a beautiful one. Poor Peep-Bo seems to have been largely neglected by Gilbert, apparently put into the show to be a third voice in the harmonies where necessary. She is quieter than her sisters, but, like them, is not all sweetness and light. She has a catty tongue on her. I wonder if she is jealous of Yum-Yum getting all the attention? She ruins Yum-Yum's wedding day by reminding her that her married bliss will be imperfect and won't last long. She even seems to enjoy the discomfort she causes her sister, making comments about happiness being "cut short" and that its ending might "take the top off things" for Nanki-Poo, which she says so sweetly and innocently. I think it a shame that there wasn't space in the show to develop Peep-Bo's character any more, but her few words say a lot. The Mikado himself has apparently been portrayed as a villain or a comic character, but our Mikado was neither of these. He was terrifying, admittedly - the chorus are rather alarmed by his laughter in "the punishment fits the crime," but our Mikado was played straight-faced. The great thing about Gilbert and Sullivan is that no one bats an eyelid about the extreme punishment - decapitation - for "the youth who winked a roving eye or breathed a non-connubial sigh." The Mikado is very much like this. He doesn't let his personal feelings get in the way of the law, harbouring no ill-feelings to those who have (allegedly) executed his son, and is sorry to have to sentence them to death, but the law is the law and there's no altering that. I believe the Mikado has a shrewd mind and is well aware that Ko-Ko's snickersnee has been nowhere near Nanki-Poo's cervical vertibrae - he just wants to make Ko-Ko et al sweat a bit. And finally, Katisha. Dear old Katisha. She is a ghastly old cat who has sunk her claws into Nanki-Poo, and by combination of her impressive manner, terrifying make-up and gloriously swishy outfit (think Phantom of the Opera cloak built into a kimono,) terrifies everything. She is very full of her own importance - the Mikado may be Emperor of Japan, but she's Katisha, his Daughter-In-Law Elect. She's got the Mikado wrapped around her little finger - or believes she has, at any rate; I think the Mikado allows her to think so for the sake of a little peace and quiet - and has been desperately trying to weave Nanki-Poo into the mix as well. She has an unexpected soft spot, however, when it comes to suicidal dickie-birds, the tale of which causes her to set her sights on the Lord High Executioner of Titipu, in the absence of Heirs Apparent to the throne of Japan. Needless to say, she's most displeased to discover that that cheeky young upstart of a Yum-Yum has snatched the title of Future Empress of Japan from under her nose. I can't imagine life in the Ko-Ko-Katisha household will be boring, if nothing else!
The Isle of Wight County Press has published its review of The Mikado, which can be found at http://www.iwcp.co.uk/news/a-little-list-of-show-successes-24846.aspx I really can't complain about what the journalist had to say about it, though the way it was written leaves much to be desired. Like the review for Oliver! the bulk of the piece is a little list of who played which character, and a different synonym for "they were good" each time. Nevertheless, there was a definite sense that Ms Young, the writer, was impressed and enjoyed the performance, even if she could do with a few lessons in critiquing theatrical performances. There are also some photos available on the site at http://www.iwcpgallery.co.uk/ under the highly original heading of Mikado - Solent G&S. None of me, much to my disgust. I will put up some more pictures shortly - when Pitti-1 gives me a copy of the photos she took. She's a better photographer than I am, with a better camera, so I didn't take many of my own.
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| And now... it's all over. Wednesday was our opening night, and I fussed around the dressing room slightly worried that I wouldn't get my costume and make-up done before we had to go on stage. I needn't have worried. The ladies' chorus don't appear until about half an hour into the show, and I was just putting the finishing touches to my eyebrows when the overture started up. And my, how good it sounded! The first scenes went, as far as I could tell from the club room, without hitch, and before you could say "snickersnee" I heard Ko-Ko singing his "Little list" song. I flapped around some more, trying to round up the rest of the ladies' chorus to be ready for our cue. I held my breath as Simon indicated for us to start. Well, I didn't. One can't sing while holding one's breath. But I wanted to. We'd been coming in quite well in the last couple of rehearsals, but the ladies' chorus was still a little patchy. And I was concentrating so hard on my singing that I missed a knee-swivel movement. Still, all considered it went well. The show seemed to go so much quicker than in the rehearsals - possibly because there was no stopping and starting. There were over 100 in the audience, I believe, an unprecidented number for a Solent G and S opening night. And they found it funny. I hadn't been sure whether the audience would notice our second verse of "Miya Sama." (Mitsubishi, Kawasaki, Fuji, Nissan, Toshiba...) but they did and started laughing about two words in. We'd got used to the new words, but when the audience started laughing, it was difficult to keep a straight face. There was one moment when some of the actors forgot their lines - in Katisha and Ko-Ko's duet, they seemed to completely blank, would attempt a few lines, make it up as they went along, then continued with "rurururururuh" and hoped the audience would interpret it as just bad diction. Thursday, the audience were fantastic! Probably the best night, audience-wise, though Friday's was bigger. At the end, hearing their cheers and calls for encores. I'd never heard such enthusiasm from an audience, and I was almost moved to tears. Watching the other Pitti-Sing, however, I started to feel a little trepidation. She was nervous, but acting and singing so well! How could I ever hope to follow that up? I think it was this performance that, while singing "The criminal cried," she sidled up to the Mikado and "bumped" him. (The rest of the cast had great fun quoting my description of that event." I was hard pushed not to laugh. That wasn't the first time, either. In the final few seconds of the Act 1 finale, I caught Katisha's eye, and came close to giggles. If the show wasn't sold out on the Friday, then you would have been able to count the number ofd tickets remaining on one hand. The Isle of Wight County Press had their reporter there, the news of which was leaked beforehand and making some members of the cast quite nervous. That was also the nught when an important prop was forgotten, and for a moment we couldn't see a way to carry on without it. Ko-Ko: I am honoured in being permitted to welcome your Majesty. I guess the object of your Majesty's visit — your wishes have been attended to. The execution has taken place.
Mikado: Oh, you've had an execution, have you?
Pooh-Bah: The death certificate is off the stage.
Mikado: So you've had an execution, but you can't produce the certificate of his death.
Ko-Ko: Ye-yes.
Mikado: Are you sure you've had an execution?
Ko-Ko: I'll just go and get it. He scampered offstage, came back with the certificate and handed it back to the Mikado, who, when Ko-Ko bowed down once more, hit him across the back with it. Well rescued, all! On Saturday came my turn. I went from nervous, to excited, back to nervous again. I went to Judith's at eleven, and met Hannah and Paul from the boat just after twelve. We had baguettes and ice cream, before I made my way to the theatre and got into costume. Pitti-Sing-1 was waiting backstage, watching on the TV screen in the clubroom. I got into costume and watched with increasing nerves on the screen. The first half-hour seemed to go incredibly quickly and in no time at all I was in the wings waiting for the introduction of "Three Little Maids." I became terrified, and fixed a smile onto my face. In a matter of seconds the smile permeated through to the rest of me, and I was pleased to be onstage, playing a Little Maid. I have a patchy memory of that matinee performance. I vividly remember getting my movement wrong on my second line, and then nothing until sidling up to Pooh-Bah saying, "Excuse me, but what is this? Customer come to try on?" My "Oh! It's alive!" got a laugh, much to my relief. Then, "So please you, sir," then off I went again. I remember coming onto the stage for the end of Act 1, singing my little part, and then ending up the wrong side after circling Nanki-Poo and Yum-Yum, though I don’t think it mattered too much. I came in on time for that line that both me and Pitti-1 had a bit of trouble with, “A day, a week, a month, a year…” before going back around to Nanki-Poo to sing, “You’ll live at least a honeymoon.” I don’t remember if I tapped him with the fan or not that time. Then, a kind of blankness in my memory until I came to myself shielding Yum-Yum from Katisha and realised, “oh, it’s my big bit very soon!” And then, just like that, Act 1 was over! So quickly! Act 2 started with my least favourite song, “Braid the Raven Hair.” I think it went OK but I was not sure if I was working with the orchestra. When watching the other Pitti in previous shows it was clear that they were going at her speed, but it was scary to be standing up there taking the lead. I think I avoided going too slow in that song, but did I go too fast? Simon, conductor, said I was watching him perfectly, so I must have been OK, but I was glad when it was over. This was followed with Yum-Yum’s beautiful, gorgeous solo, and then Peep-Bo and I were on again, debating whether Nanki-Poo’s imminent beheading would be a drawback to the perfection of the couple’s married happiness. Then - the Madrigal. That was a very difficult song to learn, with all its harmonies and exactly how the “fa-la-las” go. It’s hard to count “las,” fit them to music and not get distracted by what everyone else was doing, but I think that was the best we had done the Madrigal. I remember that clearly. Offstage for a while, for “Here’s a how-de-do,” which is absolutely hilarious, the way we did it. The nice thing was, being Pitti, I had a later entrance after that, than the chorus (three more songs before Ko-Ko, Pitti and Pooh-Bah come grovelling before the Mikado. Anyway, “Here’s a how-de-do” was sung through three times, with Ko-Ko doing various actions. First time, he played it straight… ish… for him… until he opened his fan and it fell to pieces. Second run through, he came across the stage in a top hat and jacket… on a mini-scooter! He proceeded to woo Yum-Yum with a bouquet of flowers before opening a very little fan. The third time across was the best part of the whole show. This time Ko-Ko crossed the stage wearing an undertaker’s hat and coat (I think I recognised the hat from Oliver!) carrying a shovel across his shoulder. Then, he reappeared - with a gravestone reading “Yum-Yum, R.I.P.” He set that up, started digging, to which Yum-Yum fell in a swoon in the background and Nanki-Poo had to rush over to tend to her. When it came to opening the fans, this time it was as big as Ko-Ko himself. I loved to watch that part. The first time they did that scene with all the props, I was waiting in the wings, and heard the laughter from the auditiorium, but could not see what was so funny. I didn’t understand why they were singing the song three times when it didn’t seem to be going wrong. I’d have loved to have seen it as the audience did. And then… we were on again. What I thought of as “the big scene,” the one I most enjoyed, trying to convince the Mikado that we had slain Nanki-Poo, and then, upon hearing that Nanki was his son, trying to wriggle out of all responsibility. I didn’t notice, but when I stood up to sing my verse in “The criminal cried,” my hair-pin fell out. That aside, it went well. I used the other Pitti’s trick of “bumping” the Mikado, before scampering back to the others. I remember frantically whispering with Ko-Ko about how Pooh-Bah was dooming us all to death by his “corroborative detail” about a “nodding head and the deference due to a man of pedigree.” The acting after that, I don’t much remember. When Katisha was talking about the beauty of her left shoulder-blade, Ko-Ko sent me over to examine it. I remember nearly forgetting to say “much obliged, your majesty,” and then, before I'd realised I was off the hook, I was on it once more, sentenced to death by "boiling oil... or melted lead, something humorous, but lingering..." for, though the Mikado was "not a bit angry," the law was the law and it made no allowances: Mikado: There’s nothing about a mistake…
Ko-Ko, Pitti and Pooh: No!
Mikado: …or not knowing…
Ko-Ko: No.
Mikado: …or having no notion…
Pitti: No.
Mikado: …or not being there…
Pooh: No.
Mikado: I mean, there should be…
Ko-Ko, Pitti and Pooh: (eagerly) Yes!
Mikado: … but there isn’t.
Ko-Ko, Pitti and Pooh: (despairing) Oh! Then we were in another song, I got to say my “and your snickersnee!” line, and we were onto “The flowers that bloom in the spring (tra-la)” which Pooh-Bah messed up the dance of. I think we concealed it OK though. At the end, I was quite pleased to hear loud cheers as I came on to do my bow, but wasn’t sure if they were for me or Pooh-Bah, or whether they were from the people who knew me, or others as well. Still, I was pleased, though sorry I wouldn’t be doing that part. At the end of the final show, on the Saturday night, the principal men went off after the bows, and presented the principal ladies with a bouquet of flowers. I then saw Pooh-Bah, scanning the ladies’ chorus before dragging me out to the front and unceremoniously dumping the flowers on me. I must have looked somewhat bewildered, and I wasn’t sure that the audience weren’t looking at me thinking, “why have they singled out that girl of the chorus for flowers?” Some of them may have read the programme though and put two and two together. Then, the curtain went across for the final time, and everyone was hugging. Back in the changing rooms, various cast members were exchanging cards and even presents. I had bought a couple of keyrings for the other three little maids, but wasn’t expecting it to be done on such a large scale, and felt quite overwhelmed. After getting changed into civvies, and taking down the dressing room walls (they were corners of the clubroom screened off for privacy, so it wasn’t as drastic as it sounded,) we got down to the most serious business of it all… the after-show party. | | |
| I realised that some of my readers might not know the story of the Mikado and that it could be confusing to try to stop and explain the context every other sentence, so here is the synopsis as described by Wikipedia. I've put numbers in brackets referring to the songs at each point, in the absence of footnotes, that I can see, in the blog post. Act I Gentlemen of the Japanese town of Titipu are gathered.(1) A wandering musician, Nanki-Poo, enters and introduces himself.(2) He inquires about his beloved, the maiden Yum-Yum, a ward of Ko-Ko (formerly a cheap tailor). One of the gentlemen, Pish-Tush, explains that when the Mikado decreed that flirting was a capital crime, the Titipu authorities frustrated the decree by appointing Ko-Ko, a prisoner condemned to death for flirting, to the post of Lord High Executioner.(3) Ko-Ko was "next" to be decapitated, and the Titipu authorities reasoned that he could "not cut off another's head until he cut his own off", and since Ko-Ko was not likely to try to execute himself, no executions could take place. However, all officials but the haughty Pooh-Bah proved too proud to serve under an ex-tailor, and Pooh-Bah now holds all their posts — and collects all their salaries. Pooh-Bah informs Nanki-Poo that Yum-Yum is scheduled to marry Ko-Ko on that very day.(4) Ko-Ko enters, and asserts himself by reading off a list of people "who would not be missed" if they were executed.(5) Soon, Yum-Yum appears with her two sisters, Peep-Bo and Pitti-Sing.(6.7) Ko-Ko encourages a respectful greeting between Pooh-Bah and the young girls, but Pooh-Bah will have none of it.(8) Nanki-Poo arrives on the scene and informs Ko-Ko of his love for Yum-Yum. Ko-Ko sends him away, but Nanki-Poo manages to meet with his beloved and reveals his secret to Yum-Yum – he is the son and heir of the Mikado, but he's travelling in disguise to avoid the amorous advances of Katisha, an elderly lady of his father's court. They lament over what the law forbids them to do.(9) Ko-Ko receives news that the Mikado has decreed that unless an execution is carried out within a month, the town will be reduced to the rank of a village — which would bring "irretrievable ruin". Pooh-Bah and Pish-Tush point to Ko-Ko himself as the obvious choice for beheading,(10) since he was already under sentence of death, but Ko-Ko protests that, firstly, it would be "extremely difficult, not to say dangerous", for him to attempt to execute himself, and secondly, it would be suicide, which is a "capital offence". Fortuitously, Ko-Ko discovers that Nanki-Poo, in despair over losing Yum-Yum, is preparing to commit suicide. After ascertaining that nothing would change Nanki-Poo's mind, Ko-Ko makes a bargain with him: Nanki-Poo may marry Yum-Yum for one month if, at the end of that time, he allows himself to be executed. Ko-Ko would then marry the young widow. Everyone arrives to celebrate Nanki-Poo and Yum-Yum's union, (11) but the festivities are interrupted by the arrival of Katisha, who has come to claim Nanki-Poo as her husband. However, the townspeople are much more sympathetic to the young couple, and her attempts to reveal Nanki-Poo's secret are drowned out by the shouting of the crowd. Outwitted but not defeated, Katisha makes it clear that she intends to return. - If you want to know who we are
- A wandering minstrel, I
- Our great Mikado, virtuous man
- Young man, despair
- I've got a little list
- Comes a train of little ladies
- Three little maids from school
- So please you, sir
- Were you not to Ko-Ko plighted,
- I am so proud (The "cheap and chippy chopper one")
- With Aspects Stern (Act 1 finale)
Act II Yum-Yum is being prepared by her friends for her wedding,(1) after which she is left to muse on her own beauty. (2) She is joined by Pitti-Sing and Peep-Bo, who remind her of the limited nature of her impending union. Joined by Nanki-Poo and Pish-Tush, they try to keep their spirits up,(3) but soon Ko-Ko and Pooh-Bah enter to inform them of a twist in the law that states that when a married man is beheaded for flirting (the only crime so punished), his wife must be buried alive.(4) Yum-Yum is unwilling to marry under these circumstances, and so Nanki-Poo challenges Ko-Ko to behead him on the spot. It turns out, however, that Ko-Ko has never executed anyone and cannot execute Nanki-Poo, because the ex-tailor is too soft-hearted. Ko-Ko instead sends Nanki-Poo and Yum-Yum away to be wed (by Pooh-Bah, as Archbishop of Titipu), promising to present to the Mikado a false affidavit in evidence of the fictitious execution. The Mikado and Katisha arrive in Titipu with little notice, but accompanied by a large procession.(5,6,7) Ko-Ko assumes that he has come to see whether an execution has been carried out. Aided by Pitti-Sing and Pooh-Bah, he gives a graphic description of the supposed execution (8) and hands the Mikado the certificate of death – signed and sworn to by Pooh-Bah as coroner and noting, slyly, that most of the town's important officers (that is, Pooh-Bah) were present at the "ceremony". However, the Mikado has come about an entirely different matter – he is searching for his son. When they hear that the Mikado's son "goes by the name of Nanki-Poo", the three panic, and Ko-Ko says that Nanki-Poo "has gone abroad". Meanwhile, Katisha is reading the death certificate and notes with horror that the person "executed" was Nanki-Poo. The Mikado (though expressing understanding and sympathy) discusses with Katisha the statutory punishment "for compassing the death of the heir apparent" to the Imperial throne – something lingering, "with boiling oil... or melted lead".(9) With the three conspirators facing painful execution, Ko-Ko pleads with Nanki-Poo to return. Nanki-Poo fears that Katisha will order his execution if she finds he is alive, but notes that if Ko-Ko could persuade Katisha to marry him, then Nanki-Poo could safely "come to life again". Though Katisha is "something appalling", Ko-Ko has no choice: it is marriage to Katisha, or a painful death for all three.(10) Ko-Ko discovers Katisha mourning her loss(11) and throws himself on her mercy. He begs for her hand in marriage, saying that he has long harboured a passion for her. Katisha initially rebuffs him, but is soon moved by his pleadings.(12) She agrees (13) and, once the ceremony is performed (by Pooh-Bah, the Registrar), begs mercy for him and his "accomplices" from the Mikado. Nanki-Poo and Yum-Yum then re-appear, sparking Katisha's fury. The Mikado feigns astonishment* that Nanki-Poo is alive, when the account of his execution had been given with such "affecting particulars". Ko-Ko explains that when a royal command for an execution is given, the victim is, legally speaking, as good as dead, "and if he is dead, why not say so?". The Mikado deems that "Nothing could possibly be more satisfactory", and so Titipu celebrates.(14) - Braid the raven hair
- The sun whose rays are all ablaze
- Brightly dawns our wedding day, (the madrigal)
- Here's a how-de-do
- Miya Sama
- From every kind of man (daughter-in-law elect)
- A more humane Mikado (punishment fit the crime)
- The criminal cried (snickersnee)
- See how the fates
- The flowers that bloom in the spring
- Alone, but yet alive (O, living I)
- Titwillow
- There is beauty in the bellow of the blast
- For he's gone and married Yum-Yum (finale)
*Wikipedia says "the Mikado is astonished," but I suspect the Mikado wasn't fooled in the slightest. | | |
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