English (and 2 Welsh) Women - A Personal Obsession

As my time in England draws to a close, I must admit that I have failed in my great master plan to obtain an English girlfriend and conduct a knee-buckling transatlantic romance.  Ah well, whatever.  She's waiting somewhere out there for me.  In the meantime, enjoy this small (actually, as I continue to add new women, it's become quite the opposite of small - woops) collection of the most beautiful of all England's fair roses.

Diana, Princess of Wales
How can you have a discussion of beautiful English women without mentioning the English Rose herself?  Diana had timeless beauty, grace, and elegance; and all those qualities live on with her memory.

Vivian Leigh
One of the most talented actresses to ever grace the big screen, this two time Oscar winner was married to Laurence Olivier, himself one of the most acclaimed actors of his generation.  Her timeless beauty has been preserved in the surprisingly few films she completed during her too brief lifetime.

Elizabeth Taylor
Much like her predecessor Vivian Leigh, this two time Oscar winning British-American actress combined a striking dark beauty with loads and loads of acting talent, which just doesn't seem fair if you ask me.  She may have gone to pot in recent years, but her violet eyes captivated men (and women) for years.

Jane Seymour
Dr. Quinn, medicine woman herself, Jane Seymour is the embodiment of English elegance.  Still smoking hot in her sixties, too!

Kate Bush
My favorite musician, this enigmatic singer has challenged listeners with her unusually erudite songwriting and musical experimentation.  Oh yeah, did I mention she's gorgeous?

Helen Mirren
This Oscar winning actress is descended from Russian nobility!  Along with Jane Seymour, she redefines what it means to be aging gracefully.  A tremendous actress and a beautiful woman.

Helena Bonham Carter
One of England's most recognizable faces, this alluring and unusual actress is a direct descendant of one of Britain's former Prime Ministers.  She specializes in Merchant Ivory adaptations of EM Forster novels and strange, dark roles created by her longtime boyfriend, Tim Burton.

Patsy Kensit
This lesser known English actress can be seen in sundry BBC adaptations of classic novels and in Lethal Weapon 2.  She's a natural blonde, but I've seen her with dark hair in different roles, and I think it suits her even better.  Additionally, she's married to the lead singer of Oasis.  I think she sings too.

Romola Garai
This blonde bombshell deserves to be better known than she is.  Romola is a talented actress and can be seen in such films as Nicholas Nickleby, Dirty Dancing - Havana Nights, and Atonement.

Julie Christie
The original British blonde bombshell, Ms. Christie and her Oscar are aging just as gracefully as Helen Mirren.  My dad had a crush on her when he was younger.

Lauren Cohan
This British-American woman is actually a good actress, so I have no idea why the only movie in which I've seen her is Van Wilder 2: The Rise of Taj.  She also had a recurring role on Supernatural.  She has the most GORGEOUS voice ever.

Keira Knightley
THE next British sex symbol.  I guarantee it.  Girl seriously needs to eat a sandwich though.  Nonetheless, Ms. Knightley is a talented actress with exquisite bone structure.

Emma Watson
Cutie-pie star of the Harry Potter film franchise, Ms. Watson's career is set to take off like a rocket as soon as the last film is released.  She's going to be big, I tell you.

Kate Moss
As with Keira Knightley, girlfriend seriously needs to eat a sandwich.  Anorexia Nervosa and cocaine/heroin addictions notwithstanding, Ms. Moss has a unique, hard to pin down sex appeal about her that made her the perfect alternative to your standard crop of models back in the day.

Rachel Weisz
A more talented actress than most, this Oscar winning beauty stole the heart of Darren Aronofsky, one of my favorite directors, to whom she is now married.

Kate Beckinsale
The hottest vampire I've ever seen.  That's all I have to say about that.

Jacqueline Bisset
This under-exposed actress is perhaps best known for her starring roles in Murder on the Orient Express and The Deep.  Ms. Bisset's striking good looks (and wet T-shirt in The Deep) helped catapult her from obscurity to, if not super-stardom, at least somewhat-stardom.

Olivia Hussey
This Argentine-British actress gained overnight fame by playing Juliet in Franco Zefferelli's famous film version of Romeo and Juliet.

Kate Winslet
This Oscar winning beauty is widely regarded as the leading actress of her generation.  Once again, beauty + talent = unfair.

Jane Birkin
Beautiful English actress popular in the 60s and 70s.  Muse of French singer Serge Gainsbourg and mother of his famous daughter, Charlotte Gainsbourg.

Catharine Zeta-Jones
Although you might think she's a Latina, she's not; she's from Wales.  Michael Douglas is one lucky man to be coming home to this Oscar winning actress every night.

Elizabeth Hurley
Famous for being hot, dating Hugh Grant, and playing the devil.  Make of that what you will.

Joan Collins
Known for being on Dynasty, looking like Elizabeth Taylor, and having a sister who writes trashy novels and has an enormous forehead.

Sarah Brightman
Sarah Brightman has one of the most unique, enchanting voices in the world.  She was married to Andrew Lloyd Webber for a time and originated the starring role in his Phantom of the Opera.  She later turned her focus from the stage to the studio, collaborating with producer Frank Peterson on a set of albums that essentially created the now popular genre of Classical Crossover.  Ms. Brightman is one of those rare people who actually looks BETTER the older she gets.  Everything that made her look awkward 30 years ago works just right now.  Yay for Sarah!

Vanessa Redgrave
Vanessa Redgrave, Oscar winner and member of the legendary Redgrave acting family, has jockeyed with Meryl Streep ever since the beginning of that actress' career for the title of "Best Living Actress" (Arthur Miller and Tennessee Williams were on her side).  Her father was the great Sir Michael Redgrave, and her sister was Lynn Redgrave, a talented actress in her own right.  Vanessa Redgrave has always had an androgenous, unconventional beauty; yet her grace and elegance light up the screen or the stage whenever she appears.  An incomporable performer (except when she's compared to Meryl Streep) and a timeless legend.

Natasha Richardson
The better known of Vanessa Redgraves two daughters (the other being her sister Joley Richardson), Natasha Richardson was a luminous, talented actress who brought class and dedication to every role she played.  Her life was tragically cut short by a highly publicized skiing accident two years ago.  Before her death, she was married to actor Liam Neeson.

Sarah Ferguson, Duchess of York
I always thought that Fergie was the second prettiest royal (after Diana).  In fact, I'm willing to overlook the topless photos and attempt to sell access to her ex-husband, Prince Andrew.  She's just so darn cute, it's hard to stay mad at her!

Emily Blunt
The jury was still out for me on whether this one was a good actress or not until I saw The Young Victoria.  She's a good actress.  For some reason, I've never thought she was just ravishingly beautiful; but other people do, so I'll include her in this list.

Gemma Arterton
When I saw Gemma Arterton's face on the side of a bus advertising Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time, I nearly keeled over, because she is one seriously pretty girl.  I actually haven't ever seen her look better than in that poster (thank you airbrushing), but she's gorgeous anyway.  You may have also spotted her as Strawberry Fields in that last horrendous James Bond movie.

Naomi Campbell
The assistant abusing, tantrum throwing queen bitch diva of the modeling world rose to prominence at the same time as fellow Brit Kate Moss and has been involved in even more controversy than her white counterpart, if that's possible.  Blood diamonds, anyone?

Julie Andrews
Practically perfect in every way!  Thus is Ms. Andrews described as her character Mary Poppins in the film of the same name for which she won an Oscar, and I couldn't think of a better way of putting it.  Gorgeous, regal, elegant, eternally graceful, talented both dramatically and musically, Julie Andrews is...well...practically perfect in every way!

Maggie Smith
Wait, what?  THE Maggie Smith?  Professor McGonagall?  Believe it or not, this two time Oscar winning actress was young once upon a time; and when she was, she was pretty darn attractive.  Of course, people today just know her for playing a witch; but that's a shame.  Go back and check out The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie!

Katherine Jenkins
This Welsh classical-crossover mezzo-soprano is so distractingly beautiful that no one might just listen to her voice at all.  But believe me, she can sing; she is best appreciated, however, through the music video.

Nigella Lawson
What is it with celebrity chefs these days?  Gone are the days of Julia Child and Emeril Lagasse; to be a famous chef now, you have to be HOT (see Giada de Laurentiis, Rachael Ray, et al); Paula Deen is the exception.  And as far as the culinary world is concerned, it doesn't get any hotter than Nigella Lawson.  One of my father's two ideal women (the other being the Latina version, Salma Hayek), Nigella will have you watching her show even if you don't give a rat's ass about cooking.

Parminder Nagra
Hey, does anyone remember that Indian girl from Bend It Like Beckham?  You know, the one that wasn't Keira Knightley?  Well, apparently she was also on ER for SIX YEARS; too bad I don't watch ER.  Ms. Nagra is certainly one of the hottest doctors I've ever seen, hands down.

Amelia Brightman
Were you aware that Sarah Brightman had a little sister?  She's 19 years younger and even more attractive than her big sis, if that's even possible.

Kim Cattrall
Anyone who's a fan of Sex and the City knows that British-Canadian actress Kim Cattrall has stayed beautiful and will continue to be beautiful through middle age and beyond, but she was totally smoking when she was younger.  Does anyone remember Porky's?  Has anyone in my age group even ever seen Porky's?

Julia Ormond
This talented actress has received less acclaim than she deserves.  Most people will recognize this British beauty from the Brad Pitt film Legends of the Fall; she also starred in the remake of Sabrina.

Rachel Ward
My friend Ben tipped me off to this one, as I had no idea who she was!  According to Wikipedia, "is a British actress, columnist, film director, and screenwriter who has primarily pursued her career in Australia."  She's 53 now, but she was a beautiful younger woman, no doubt about it.

Whew!  Do you think I left anyone out?  There's enough English beauty on display here to melt even the hardest of hearts.  So, who's your favorite?  Anyone I should have included but didn't?  Or, do you disagree with some of my picks?  Let me know in a comment!

On Language and Eloquence

I've been thinking a lot lately about the nature of language and the value of eloquence.  Anyone who knows me knows that I have a deep, abiding love of language and verbal expression; but I've been wondering if it is possible that language is inherently inadequate to express our truest, deepest thoughts.  For what else is language if not a man made construct, a system of symbols that allows us to communicate the nature of our thoughts to one another?  It is by language that we come to know another person's thoughts, and it is by knowing the thoughts of another person that we most closely approach the possibility of understanding any human intellect other than our own.  Stephen King spoke of this effect in On Writing when he posited that writing was a form of both telepathy and time travel that links the present day reader with a ghostly copy of another person's intellect from the past.  Writing, wrote King, is the surest and most powerful way we have to convey the essence of ourselves - at least our essence at the time of composition - to another person.  But I am now tempted to ask, is this enough?  When our identities are constantly in flux, is it presumptuous to believe that attempting to understand how someone was at any given moment, or even is in the present, is a sufficient effort to yield to the seeker a complete and perfect understanding of the subject's identity?  If knowing someone totally is impossible, is it perhaps then imprudent and unnatural even to try?

What can we ever really know of another person?  Is it not possible that the calm surface and the modest exterior hides an inner world of torment and anguish?  Perhaps they whose hearts are crying out the loudest in great paroxysms of woe, individual tragedies on a microcosmic scale, are they whom we would least expect to harbor such an inner storm.  Perhaps the greatest sorrows and the greatest triumphs of this world are never given voice through language but reside instead, mute and undivulgent, within the silent hearts of their possessors.  Even if John Donne is correct in his assertion that "no man is an island entire of itself," I am more skeptical of his claim that "every man is a piece of the continent, a part of the main."  How connected are we, really?  How well do we know those friends and lovers who surround us and fill our lives with the sweet music of their affections?  Or is our every effort to express ourselves ultimately tantamount to the lonely ejaculations of Thomas Hardy's "darkling thrush"?  Do we thus "fling our souls upon the growing gloom" in some desperate struggle to attain that "blessed Hope"?  Do we dare to hope?

All my life, I have been told that I was eloquent.  I have been placed above my peers in the comparisons of educators who praised my way with words and lauded me for my ability to capture, through my writing, the unique and esoteric essences of thoughts and ideas.  I have always outshone everyone around me with my verbal wit and skill at writing.  In my academic career, I have used this talent to testify to the importance of the actions of men and women who lived many long centuries ago; to analyze the themes of novels grouped together with their musty, aging neighbors within the rigid confines of the literary canon; to tease out meaning from even the most opaque of poems; and to demonstrate my ability to link ideas from source to source in brilliant explorations of ubiquitous theorems.  And what has all this performance attained for me?  Yes, I say peformance; what else can one call these exercises that I never would have undertaken if I had not been forced to?  What has jumping through the hoops of the academic system done for me?  "You attend a good school," you might say.  Quite right; fair enough.  "You'll be sure to get a good job," you might say.  That's right too; a little education never hurt anyone's chances of employment.  But what has eloquence ever given me as a man, as a human being?

What folly it seems that eloquence is any more than an end unto itself!  What use was eloquence to Shakespeare's Brutus, that "honorable man," when Marc Antony subverted all the influence of his speech by the simple virtue of speaking second?  What use was eloquence to Oscar Wilde in his fruitless explication and defence of "the love that dare not speak its name"?  What use was eloquence to Iris Murdoch when the net of language of which she wrote in her first novel closed around her and dragged her screaming to the depths as her mind began to drown in the black and bitter waters of dementia?  What use is eloquence to any of us?

If eloquence is the use of language in such a way as to express a thought or feeling in the most perfect and affecting manner in which it has ever or may ever again be expressed, then what use is eloquence if indeed that language that inspires it - that drives, defines it - is itself devoid of meaning?  What place does language have in our postmodern world?  If language is allowed to be stripped and laid bare on the rack, flayed and beaten down and broken into infinitesimally small, continuously dividing and subdividing shards and fragments, do notions of meaning - or even meaning itself - still exist?  In a world that could produce "The Waste Land" or Naked Lunch or Waiting for Godot (I could go on), can anything we do or say ever matter or make any sort of difference?

Ingmar Bergman addressed this very issue in his film Persona.  Susan Sontag discussed the film in Sight and Sound:

"What Persona demonstrates is the lack of an appropriate language, a language that's genuinely full. All that is left is a language of lacunae, befitting a narrative strung along a set of lacunae or gaps in the 'explanation'. It is these absences of sense or lacunae of speech which become, in Persona, more potent than words while the person who places faith in words is brought down from relative composure and confidence to hysterical anguish."

 Is this "language of lacunae" all that's left for the denizens of the postmodern world to inherit from the wealth and ignorance of their ancestors?  And is it even worth existing at all if these meager scraps are the only food to be provided at the great table of man?

Recently, I have been filled with such thoughts as lead me to question the sufficiency of language.  No matter with how many words we stock our arsenal, will we ever be fully equipped to synthesize the full scope of our emotions into a linguistic putty to be spread across the page in blotches of ink?  Can I ever say what I mean - fully?  Can the most sweetly turned phrase or poetic device ever express the power and passion of that flame that burns with raging abandon within the heart of a man in love with a woman?  Can even the most eloquent apology fully atone for the sin that's committed or fully express the anguish that wracks the heart of the penitent wretch?  Can words ever express the scope and magnitude of that pain, rightly called undescribable, that rakes its malicious fingers through the fabric of the lives of those who cry alone at night, stricken with that grief for someone whom they love whom they will never see again?  Death looks upon our silly, petty lives and contrivances; and with one swing of his mighty scythe, he brings everything we've ever made for ourselves crashing down as if the universe were a flimsy house of cards and the language with which we drape it a weak and crumbling mortar utterly insufficient for the foundation of that fleeting sentiment we call beauty.

But if through language we attempt to construct meaning - an all too precious commodity in our postmodern times - then what is language but a weapon that we wield in our eternal battle against Death, our great enemy, the ultimate destroyer of meaning?  Perhaps language is a weak and insufficient weapon in this struggle, a conflict the end result of which has ever been and will ever be the same bleak destiny for all of us.  But just because we are all fated to lose the battle with death and to pass into nonbeing, is that then an adequate reason to turn our back on language?  As we exist, here and now, on Earth, should we discard that great tool that we have fashioned for ourselves and surrender to the darkness?

If language is at best imperfect in its attempt to communicate our feelings, does that imperfection then render the whole mechanism completely useless?  I would say no.  For even though it may be impossible to ever truly connect with someone, it is in our nature to make the attempt over and over again; for what is the attempt but a declaration of our own humanity, a spit in the face of Death and a wild, raucous celebration of all that we ever have been and of all that we have the potential to be.  Kate Bush captures the feeling well in the lyrics of her song "Reaching Out": "See how the heart reaches out instinctively for no reason but to touch."  For no reason but to touch - the act is an end in and of itself.

Even in my own life, I can see the beneficial effects that my use of language has wrought.  I have used words to comfort the pain and the grief of the bereaved; to express the strength and unshakibility of my friendship and fraternal affection; to lift the abject out of their black despair; to eulogize and pay homage to the dead; and on one occasion, to ease the passing of a dying young man from this our world of the living to the great mystery that lies beyond the veil of all our understanding.  If I have used language to accomplish these things and if I have brought genuine peace or grace to the life of others as I believe I have, is not then our pitiful battle against the darkness worth something after all?  If I have touched another's life, am I then vindicated in my struggle?

The great minds of the human race have wrestled with queries such as these throughout the annals of the existence of our species, and I don't pretend to add anything new or substantial to the discussion.  But if I have reached one conclusion in the course of these musings it is this: Even if language is flawed and imperfect and even if we are never able to truly connect with those around us, we must never stop trying to do just that.  By fighting the battle in the spaces between us, we assert the worth of our existence and regain, however briefly, those codes of meaning that the postmodern intellectual landscape has banished from our scope and sphere.  To do any less would be to yield to the hopelessness of Death.  We must always fight and struggle and bite and claw and exercise our force of will so that beauty and love and kindness and all those things that offer redemption to the tedium of life may continue to eke out a tenuous existence, the brief, flickering flame of a candle that we feed with the strength of our lives to prevent its extinguishment by the vacant, howling wind of darkness.

I will end with two lines from Dylan Thomas that I feel sum up my argument fairly well:
"Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light."

Lake District and Oxford

Hey there!  I know it's been a long time since my last post, but I have been absolutely SWAMPED with homework.  After putting forth a valiant effort to avoid falling behind in all my classes, I've come to the conclusion that it's better just to pick my battles, especially since I will not be held accountable for the vast majority of things that I "have" to read as far as the assessments are concerned.  I still intend to read as much as I can, but I couldn't possibly read everything that's assigned and still be able to see this beautiful country to which I've come; in this case, I believe that a compromise is both healthy and forward thinking.

I'm sure you're all dying to know what's been going on in my life since my last post, when I saw Love Never Dies and wrote and epic critique, if I do say so myself.  Well last weekend, my program took us to the Lake District, reputed to be one of the most beautiful areas of the entire country.  It certainly was a sight; the calm, placid lakes and gently wooded landscape drew a sharp and sublime contrast with the suddenly jutting mountains.  I got to visit the former home and the grave (!) of one of my literary idols, William Wordsworth.  Here's a picture of his old house, Dove Cottage.

It was surprisingly small inside, but Wordsworth was a simple man who by all accounts enjoyed traipsing about in nature far more than the amenities of the home.  We also went to Beatrix Potter's place, Hilltop Farm.  She is not one of my literary idols, but it was interesting to see her house all the same.

Oh yeah, before I forget, here's Wordsworth's grave at Grasmere.

When we got back to the place where we were staying, my program threw us a party; and I got fearfully, frightfully, far too drunk (which, I may remind you, is legal here in the UK).  I hadn't had anything to drink in quite a long time, and I suppose I just threw caution and self control to the wind; needless to say, I payed for it the following morning.  I'd rather not dwell on the particulars of that unfortunate hangover, however, as I feel my time and yours would be better spent addressing happier, less morally degrading topics.

Yesterday, I went to see Red with a couple of my friends; it wasn't the best movie ever made, but it had an incredible cast that largely redeemed it of its ludicrous plot; said cast included my older girlfriend...

...and my even older girlfriend:

Which of these two women do you think wielded an assault rifle and a gatling gun during the course of the movie?  I'll give you a hint: it's the one with the Oscar.

Anyway, enough about Red.  In my attempt to speed read through Dracula, I only got 45 minutes of sleep last night before I roused myself to go to Oxford.  I've been pretty groggy all day long, but Oxford was gorgeous.  Highlight of the trip - the Ashmolean musem, which is pretty legit as far as museums of its size go, and had a special exhibition on the Pre-Raphealites.  I LOVE the Pre-Raphealites.

I wanted to write a long, eloquent post filled with captivating imagery describing how my sleep deprivation had thrown my mind into a wonderfully hazy state of oneirism, thereby priming my receptive faculties to the sensitive appreciation of the sunlight drifting in dappled patches over the brown and gray stone of the college buildings and of the intense, voluptuous beauty captured in Jane Morris' contemptuous sneer by the brush of her idolater, Dante Gabriel Rossetti; but I decided that my time would be better spent sleeping than gushing over the physical and artistic beauty I beheld during the course of my day.  I have to rest up for my trip to Cambridge tomorrow.  I'll catch you all later.  Before I leave, here's a wonderful portrait of Jane Morris (as Proserpina) by Dante Gabriel Rossetti (This was definitely on display in the temporary exhibition at the Ashmolean, but I can't remember if it was a study or actually the original painting.  At any rate, I know that the original typically makes its home at the Tate Museum in London, which I have to get around to visiting one of these days.).

Thoughts on Love Never Dies

On Monday night, I was lucky enough to attend an original cast performance of Love Never Dies.  For those who don't know, Love Never Dies is Andrew Lloyd-Webber's new musical; and it is also the sequel to The Phantom of the Opera.  When Lord Lloyd-Webber announced his intention to write a sequel to the work that most people consider to be his crowning achievement, reactions ranged from gleeful expectation to guarded reserve.  The Phantom of the Opera has built up such an intense and devoted fan following that the new show was almost certain to disappoint, at least to some degree.  I don't believe, however, that it was ever Andrew Lloyd-Webber's intention to "top" Phantom, but rather to create a companion piece that would still be capable of existing separately from Phantom as a standalone work.  Therefore, when I went to the theater, I was not expecting a mere rehash of The Phantom of the Opera; I went with an open mind, remembering that, Phantom or no, I almost always enjoy Lloyd-Webber's music.

Reaction to Love Never Dies has been mixed.  Some of the negativity doubtless stems from "phans" who would see any sequel as unable to live up to the original.  As I've perused several of the show's reviews, however, I noticed that there were particular aspects of the show itself with which the critics took issue.  Many critics praised the music, the singing, and the staging but felt that the plot was absurd.  Looking back on my Monday night experience, I would tend to agree with these critics.  In the following paragraphs, I will consider both the positive and negative aspects of Love Never Dies; and I will leave it to you, the readers, to draw your own conclusions regarding the quality of the show from my observations.  I will begin with what I liked about the show.

THE SCORE
By far my favorite part of Love Never Dies was the music.  I'm certain that Andrew Lloyd-Webber knew that the score of his new show would be pored over and scrutinized by the legions loyal to Phantom in order to ascertain its "suitability" as a successor to the original musical phenomenon.  The score for The Phantom of the Opera is unlike anything Lloyd-Webber has written either before or since, except for perhaps passages of his Requiem mass.  Though Lloyd-Webber has always incorporated elements of classical music in the scores for his productions (even to the point of being accused of plagiarism of specific classical pieces on numerous occasions), this classical influence was never so obvious as in The Phantom of the Opera.  I don't think a comparison with the work of Stephen Sondheim is out of place here; like Sondheim so frequently does, Lloyd-Webber created a musical score that echoes with repetitions of its motifs.  A handful of melodies essentially recycle themselves throughout the length of the show, sparkling differently in each of their different settings.  Mixed in with this are individual show stopping numbers, such as "Think of Me," "The Music of the Night," and "Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again."  In fact, this musical structure resembles the conventions of opera, with its juxtaposition of recitative and aria.  I was curious, upon attending Love Never Dies, to see if Lloyd-Webber would adopt the same strategy in his new show.

In short, yes, he did, but only to an extent.  The difference lies in the ratio between recitative and aria.  Whereas the original Phantom had several songs that essentially functioned as showpieces in and of themselves, Love Never Dies has fewer; additionally, most of these are duets rather than solo pieces.  There is the added problem that there are some songs that do indeed stop the action, such as the lovely "Look With Your Heart," but that I still count among the recitative not only because their themes are recycled elsewhere in the instrumental score, but because they also lack grandness.  Every time the action stopped in The Phantom of the Opera and someone sang, it occurred with all the grandeur of an operatic aria; the case is simply different in Love Never Dies.  There is a greater variety of themes in the new show; because there are more themes to go around, each theme is less represented than those in the original Phantom were.  Essentially, the musical tapestry is more variegated but less rich; but oh, what a tapestry it is.  The music of Love Never Dies retains enough of its obvious classical influence to be instantly relatable to the score of The Phantom of the Opera; but it develops a new, distinct sound all its own.  The Phantom of the Opera was bombastic, melodically precise, crisp, clean, and elegant while still managing to evoke a sense of voluptuous darkness in songs such as the title track, "The Music of the Night," and "The Point of No Return"; Love Never Dies expands and explores this darkness, reveling in its languorous, seductive beauty; even the obligatory rock number (for there is one) is darker and harder-edged than its predecessor, the title track of the original show.  The Phantom of the Opera was, in a sense, interested in imitating to some extent the forms of opera and classical music; when watching Love Never Dies, one never feels that the music is attempting to imitate anything; it is truly a standalone work.

One thing I must address here is the incorporation of themes from the first show into the score of the sequel; this was inevitable, but I also feel that it is necessary as well as appropriate.  Those familiar with The Phantom of the Opera will be thrilled to hear snippets of some of the shows original themes, such as "Little Lotte," "Prima Donna," and that part that came between the end of the title track and the beginning of "The Music of the Night."  At one point, Christine actually reprises a bit of her song "Twisted Every Way," although it has now taken on a whole new context; but more on the plot later.  Though, as I have already said, Love Never Dies has fewer "singles" (I suppose that's a good way of putting it) than Phantom, it is not wholly devoid of them.  I will now examine the four most memorable of them along with the musical's general theme and the vaudeville music that is incorporated in the show.

THEME - THE CONEY ISLAND WALTZ
As everyone will recall, the theme from the The Phantom of the Opera was the title track.  The thundering DAAAHHHH-dah-dah-dah-dah-dah appeared over and over again through the show, serving as a musical reminder of the phantom's darkness and danger.  That theme does not show up in the new show (possibly because Andrew Lloyd-Webber didn't want to tempt fate, aka Pink Floyd, to sue him for plagiarism).  The new theme, which the orchestra plays after the opening scene (appropriately entitled "Prologue"), is called "The Coney Island Waltz."  This song has less of a presence in the show than the original theme had in Phantom, but it still manages to pop up from time to time.  One of the most significant differences regarding the use of the theme music is in its relation to danger or major moments. In The Phantom of the Opera, the theme was always used to mark the Phantom's entrance or during momentous occasions; for Love Never Dies, Lloyd-Webber has composed an entirely different tune for those moments that I refer to as The Danger Cue.  Interestingly enough, The Danger Cue shares its first chord with the theme from Phantom, which was probably intentional.  But I digress.

The Coney Island Waltz itself is remarkably indicative of the style of Love Never Dies and how it differs from that of The Phantom of the Opera.  Whereas Phantom's theme tempted me to think that Andrew Lloyd Webber had somehow managed to commune with the spirit of Richard Wagner and to receive a piece of his music written from amid the fiery torments of hell, the theme of Love Never Dies is nowhere near as assertive.  The Coney Island Waltz is a playful piece of music, as it undergoes drastic shifts in tone many times before coming to a close.  Overall, the predominate feeling of the piece is one of a mysterious, dark, and often capricious beauty.  The tune, rather than attempting to shock us backward into our seats as the theme of the original Phantom did, draws us into its opaque world and then has a great deal of fun tossing us about from one realm of its shadowy kingdom to another.  It's really quite a superb track, and it's great fun to listen to.  In fact, why don't you judge for yourself?



THE PHANTOM'S SONG - TILL I HEAR YOU SING
This is the new "Music of the Night."  If I recall correctly, this is the only song of any note that the Phantom sings completely by himself; it's also the first time we hear him sing in the entire musical.  The song is beautiful and yearning and, in my opinion, expresses his passion and yearning for Christine every bit as well as "The Music of the Night" did.  This is a devilishly hard song to sing, requiring a full-on chest voice belt well into the man's upper register; in other words, for tenors only.  Here's a video of Ramin Karimloo, the new Phantom, singing this song.



CHRISTINE'S SONG - LOVE NEVER DIES
This particular song has a long history.  It's first incarnation was as a song Lloyd-Webber wrote many years ago called "The Heart is Slow to Learn."  From the very first, this song was intended for the Phantom sequel, which Lloyd-Webber began planning shortly after the success of the original Phantom. The song was first performed in concert by Kiri Te Kanawa the glorious and talented soprano from New Zealand.  The following video is her performance from the Royal Albert Hall Celebration of Andrew Lloyd-Webber's music in 1998.



As it didn't seem as if a Phantom sequel would be happening in the foreseeable future, Lloyd-Webber had new lyrics written for the song and included it in the score of his unsuccessful musical The Beautiful Game; it's new title was "Our Kind of Love."  It took a bit of looking, but I found a decent video of a performance of it by Simone Kleinsma, the Dutch singer and actress.  The quality's not so good, but it was either this or Donny Osmond, so you do the math.



I think that this is a beautiful song; but as it is Christine's only really big song, I would have preferred something a little more operatic and classically influenced to show off the singer's voice.  That's just a matter of personal taste, however, as even the show's negative critics all agreed that the title song was a triumph.  For those interested in Lloyd-Webber's long history of plagiarism, the first couple of measures of the chorus were lifted from a song called "Jealous Lover" which was later more famously incorporated in the theme of the movie The Apartment, by Billy Wilder.  Here it is in its final incarnation as sung by Sierra Boggess, our new Christine.



THE BIG DUET PART 1- BENEATH A MOONLESS SKY
Although Love Never Dies abounds with duets, occasional trios, and one quartet, this is the big one.  Think of these two back to back duets (clocking in at combined time of 10.5 minutes) as "All I Ask of You," "The Phantom of the Opera," and "The Point of No Return" all rolled into one.  Although some of the lyrics are a bit silly (in general, lyrics are not this show's forte), the melody in the first segment is perhaps the most perfect representation of this new show's lush musical darkness and passionate energy.



THE BIG DUET PART 2 - ONCE UPON ANOTHER TIME
Oh, this song has such a stupid name.  This takes place directly after the preceding song to form part two of the super-duet.  Once you get past the ridiculous phrase "one upon another time," you'll realize how gorgeous this song really is.  If any song from this production can claim to be the new "All I Ask of You," it's this one.  It's short, but its theme crops up in the score later on from time to time (I think).



THE ROCK SONG - THE BEAUTY UNDERNEATH
Although I like this song, I don't feel like it's necessary.  It loudly interrupts the flow of the musical by introducing a sudden and dynamic shift in tone.  I really feel like the only reason it exists is because the title track of the original Phantom had rock influences and Lloyd-Webber realized that his "phans" would want something similar.  Once you get past the fact that what you're hearing is actually happening, it's really quite a cool song.  As I stated earlier, this song seems to have a darker musical heart and a significantly harder edge than "The Phantom of the Opera"; also, the rock influence is much more evident.  I wanted to post a video of a cool live performance, but the sound quality's not so good, so here's the cut from the original cast recording.  Ignore the little boy orgasmically yelling "Yes!" every so often.



THE BAD SONG - BATHING BEAUTY
So...In a few numbers, Lloyd-Webber decided to incorporate some of the vaudeville music endemic to the new musical's setting.  This music, however, is always satirically presented as inferior to Christine's true artistry; in other words, it's supposed to be bad.  And it is.  Oh, how it is.  I can't really say much more about it; you'll have to listen to this for yourself.



THE VOICES
Now that I've finished my discussion of the music in Love Never Dies, I have to pay some attention to the interpreters who perform it.  Essentially, there are six main characters.  I will only critique the actors' singing voices in the following examinations because all of the main characters, without fail, give superb dramatic performances.  Since all of them are good actors, there's no need to examine their acting skills any further.

THE PHANTOM - RAMIN KARIMLOO
As you have already heard in the above clips, Mr. Karimloo has an exceptional voice.  He played the Phantom on the West End and appeared in the film version of The Phantom of the Opera in a silent role as Christine's father during flashbacks.  Though he doesn't have a conventionally classically trained voice, neither did Michael Crawford when he originated the role of the Phantom 24 years ago.  I think that Mr. Karimloo's voice is perfect for the material he has to sing in Love Never Dies; I really don't think anyone else would be capable of performing it better.  Mr. Karimloo's voice is the best in the show and one of the best that I've ever heard in musical theater.

CHRISTINE - SIERRA BOGGESS
Miss Boggess played Christine in the Las Vegas production of The Phantom of the Opera and originated the role of Ariel in the stage musical version of The Little Mermaid.  Miss Boggess is beautiful, young, and elegant; this grace is important, as it allows her to convincingly play a role originated by Sarah Brightman, who in my mind is the epitome of elegance.  Miss Boggess handles the difficult title song, as well as the rest of her material, with aplomb.  Though I was concerned by what sounded like a shrill top register to her voice in Youtube videos, this shrillness was not as apparent at the performance I attended. She has a lovely voice and the right amount of training and technical expertise to play Christine.  On the whole, I find her voice too bright for the original Christine; but I think this new material is better suited to her tone.  All in all, though, it would be a stretch to imagine her as "the soprano of the century," a claim Love Never Dies makes about Christine Daaé.

RAOUL - JOSPEH MILLSON
Raoul doesn't do nearly as much heavy lifting vocally as he did in the original Phantom, but Mr. Millson has the right voice for him and could easily play the original Raoul.  Good, but not remarkable.

MADAME GIRY - LIZ ROBERTSON
Madame Giry, meanwhile, does much more singing in Love Never Dies than in Phantom; and Liz Robertson rises nobly to the occasion.  This 56 year old actress has an alto voice more powerful than you'd imagine in a woman of her age, and she uses it to sing with great strength and pathos.  Bravo, Ms. Robertson.

MEG GIRY - SUMMER STRALLEN
I don't know if Miss Strallen is a good singer or not, because Meg, in the show, is a bad singer.  Therefore, it is Miss Strallen's task to sing badly; if you listened to "Bathing Beauty," I think you can see that she has been successful in this endeavor.

GUSTAVE - MULTIPLE ACTORS
Gustave, Christine's son, is played by many different child actors.  The one I saw on stage had a pretty muffled, closed off voice; but the child who appears on the original cast recording has a bright, crisp, almost ethereal boy soprano, which is exactly what the role requires.

THE STAGING
The staging was, in a word, ideal.  The set design was fantastical and opulent and made particularly interesting use of a series of screens on which images were projected.  The end effect of these projections resembled holograms on stage; one review I read claimed that Love Never Dies has "the best special effects on the West End."  Also, there are trapeze artists in one scene - 'nuff said.

THE PLOT
I really don't think I can bring myself to relive the nightmare of this show.  I've written for too long, and I'm too tired to put myself through it.  You can look up the particulars of the plot on your own.  Suffice it to be said here that the motivations and psychological profiles of all the characters in the original show that appear here are perverted and betrayed, Christine the least so and Meg Giry the most.  Also, the show asks us to believe that immediately following the events of the first Phantom, Christine sought out the Phantom on the night before her wedding to Raoul and had sex with him.  Christine would never have done that.  Why would she do that?  The Phantom already killed two people and kidnapped her, and she's finally able to escape his obsessive clutches!  And she goes back to him!  Why?!  Ugh.  Whatever; I'm so over it.

To sum up, the music - sublime.  The singers - talented, especially Ramin Karimloo.  The staging - innovative and enthralling.  The story - shit.  Absolute, stupid, unnecessary, insulting shit.  I would still recommend the show for its beautiful music; but if you're a fan of the original Phantom, you'll be mad about what happens in the plot.

Seaside Fun!

I took my first trip out of London yesterday to sunny Brighton!  Or so I thought it would be, until I arrived there to find rain and gale force winds.  All was not lost, however, for a stormy Brighton had its own charms.  I walked along the deserted promenade to the pier and saw all the empty attractions, which was singularly strange.  There's something unsettling about a deserted fairground; needless to say, I loved it.  Here's a shot of the pier.

As I left the pier, I looked out over the water and saw the English Channel churning with frothy whitecaps.  Some distance from the pier stood the shell of the old West Pier, which burned in 2003.  There was something so lonely about the image of a shell of deserted iron standing amidst the pounding, incessant force of the wild waves that I took a picture; and I think it turned out pretty good.

As I walked back to the entrance of the pier, I spotted a woman standing at the head of a breaker, looking out over the waves.  I found the scene to have a certain poignancy, so I took her picture.

Upon leaving Brighton Pier, I wandered over to the Royal Pavilion, Brighton's most famous landmark.  The beautiful building used to be a royal palace and is now owned by the city of Brighton.  The exterior architecture shows obvious Indian influences, while the interior is decorated in chinoiserie.  Unfortunately, photos were not permitted inside the Pavilion, but here is the exterior.

After I toured the Pavilion, I found a cozy coffee shop in which I could do some of my rather copious class reading.  All in all, I enjoyed the day; I got to see a side of Brighton that most visitors don't observe.  When people think of Brighton, they think of tourists sunbathing on the beach and playing on the pier; but their absence during my visit brought out a certain quality in the city that I appreciated.  I'm trying to travel every weekend, but I don't know where to go next week.  I'm sure I'll figure it out.

In other news, I went to the British Museum today.  I hate to say that I was underwhelmed, but it certainly wasn't as enjoyable an experience as I had imagined it would be; I chalk this up to my preference for art museums over other sorts of museums.  I did get to see the Rosetta Stone, though!  I have SO MUCH reading to do for my classes next week that I expect that tomorrow and Monday will be largely given over to academic pursuits.  If all goes well, however, I may go see Love Never Dies on Monday night.

Thoughts on The Phantom of the Opera

Let's get one thing straight - I love love love The Phantom of the Opera.  I find the music spellbinding and wholly unlike anything I've ever heard in musical theater before.  I saw Phantom in Atlanta in 2004, but imagine my glee at being able to attend a production in its original theater (Her Majesty's, in London).  As the curtain rose and the bidding for various items from the opera house began, I was filled with a giddy energy.  As the theme music kicked in and the chandelier began its ascent to the ceiling, I was practically jumping up and down in my seat.  And then the cast started to sing.  I cannot express how completely unsatisfactory nearly the entire cast was; allow me to list my grievances against them in the order in which they presented themselves on stage.

Carlotta - I thought I was going to love this Carlotta.  When the overweight, large busted diva walked out onto the stage and began to sing, I found Wendy Ferguson everything that Carlotta ought to be - namely, a ridiculous, loud caricature of a coloratura soprano.  Ms. Ferguson ran into trouble, however, when she was forced to sing with other people.  Though her initial singing proved that she was capable of being truly LOUD, she was nearly imperceptible during her performance of Prima Donna.  Why?  Perhaps she was worried about drowning out the voices of the other actors, but then she's missing the point, for she is SUPPOSED to drown them out.  Her voice grew increasingly thin throughout the show, and I eventually just stopped caring.

Piangi - The good signor suffered from the same weakness as his female counterpart; he simply DID NOT SING OUT.  Piangi, like Carlotta, should be very, very LOUD.  Rohan Tickell, the actor who played Piangi, never projected, and his voice was lost in the mix when singing with the other actors.  Just awful.

Christine - Oh dear, here we go.  Perhaps I can't even fairly judge this role, since I am a little bit in love with Sarah Brightman; perhaps no one will ever be good enough.  But I know that's not true because I thoroughly enjoyed Marie Danvers' performance in Atlanta, and I also enjoy Lisa Vroman's interpretation of the role, so perhaps I'm not completely closed-minded.  The Christine of this production, Sofia Escobar, is a Portuguese woman; and when she spoke, she spoke with a Portuguese accent.  I know that the character is a Swede living in France, but for me, Christine will always be English.  I was willing to overlook Ms. Escobar's accent, but I cannot overlook her singing voice.  The difficult thing in criticizing her is that Sofia Escobar is not a bad singer, but I don't believe she is suited to the role.  In musical terms, Ms. Escobar is what is known as a soubrette - the lightest of all female voices, thin, airy, insubstantial, and sweet.  There are roles written for soubrettes - Eponine in Les Miserables comes to mind.  I firmly believe, however, that Christine should be played by a lyric soprano; in fact, the role was written specifically for the voice of Sarah Brightman (a lyric soprano).  A lyric soprano is a  light and sweet voice with great beauty of tone in contrast to the size and power of a dramatic soprano; however, the lyric soprano possess a greater strength and suppleness of voice than the soubrette.  The character of Meg Giry is a soubrette, but Meg never has to sing anything particularly difficult.  When Ms. Escobar overtaxed her thin voice in singing the role of Christine, the results were disastrous.  At many times, her voice took on an oddly flat character and lost all vibrato as if she were singing pop music rather than classical music; also, her upper register, though stronger than I would have imagined, managed to sound both shrill and hollow at the same time.  In my opinion, Ms. Escobar should stick to roles that better suit her voice; as I already mentioned, she would make a lovely Eponine or perhaps Mrs. Lovett from Sweeney Todd; what she should NOT do is attempt to sing Cosette or Joanna, which is essentially what she did here.  Here's a video of her singing some dreadful song from some other musical so you can hear her for yourself.



The Phantom - The role of the Phantom is more crucial to the success of a production of The Phantom of the Opera than any other role save that of Christine, which is equally important.  As such, the Phantom cannot be simply a good singer, but he has to be a superlative singer.  This was my issue with the film version, because Gerard Butler could not sing AT ALL.  Michael Crawford, though he did not have a conventional classical voice, was perfect for the role because the unique blend of creepiness, sweetness, and strength in his voice suited the character perfectly.  Scott Davies, the Phantom of the production I attended, is a good singer - a VERY good singer, in fact.  I looked him up on the internet, and I was not surprised to find that he has a professional background in actual opera.  He has a rich, dark, powerful yet still lyric voice that reaches tenor highs but is surprisingly warm in the lower register; I suppose you might call him a tenor with a low tessitura.  Unfortunately for the show, he's not much of an actor; in fact, he's a dreadful OVERactor.  He seems to be of the mind that moans, wails, gasps, flailing about, and general histrionics make for a good performance; in fact, all they really do is ruin the songs in which they appear.  Michael Crawford (who won awards for his acting in Phantom) managed to express his feelings through his singing voice while still maintaing the tone of the music; Mr. Davies, on the other hand, apparently thinks it's appropriate to gasp his way through The Music of the Night like an invalid who needs oxygen.  If only he had toned it down a little, he would have been a very enjoyable Phantom; what a shame.  I managed to find a video of him performing the title song (it starts halfway through); he actually didn't do any moaning or gasping in this particular song (except when he yells "Sing for me!", which just sounds ridiculous), so he sounds quite good here.



I was severely disappointed that the actors playing so many of my favorite roles just, to be frank, sucked, but there were three other actors that stood out as really quite good, even better than they needed to be.

Madame Giry - The role of Madame Giry really doesn't require much technical expertise, but Cheryl McAvoy, the woman who played her in the production I attended, really had quite a fine voice, a strong lyric alto with a very pleasing and balanced vibrato.

Monsieur Firmin - One of the two new proprietors of the Opera Populaire (the other one being Monsieur Andre), Firmin is not really a role that requires a skilled singer.  Andre and Firmin always appear together, and their principle songs are Notes and Prima Donna.  While the man playing Andre was, as is usual, rather unremarkable, I noticed that Barry James, the actor playing Fermin, had a delightful lyric second tenor voice.  He had a sweet, dark timbre and a wonderful vibrato and was also fairly young and attractive (at least from afar), which leads me to believe that he could play a convincing Raoul in the future.  And speaking of Raoul....

Raoul - The role I've always ignored, the bland, boring Raoul, turned out to be the best thing about this production.  Will Barratt, as Raoul, shone in every facet of what is normally (for me, anyway) a throwaway role.  His voice actually very closely resembled that of Steve Barton, the original Raoul - that is to say, he had a sweet, bright, rich, and supply lryic tenor (as did Patrick Wilson in the film version).  I don't know why, because apparently all Raouls have the same sort of voice, but I really enjoyed his performance, probably because Scottt Davies as the Phantom was overacting so wildly.  Mr. Barratt hit all the right notes and turned Raoul from a boring plot device into a passionate man who is deeply in love with Christine and who will go to any lengths to save her from the madman who desires her.  In my opinion, a triumph.  I could only find one video on youtube with him on it; he comes in around 4:00; Little Lotte isn't exactly a song that shows off anyone's voice and Raoul only sings for a few seconds, but what can you do.



So, now that I'm done ranting, my overall impression?  Musically - lackluster.  However, the staging was wonderful, as it should be considering that Her Majesty's was where The Phantom of the Opera premiered 24 years ago.  I look forward to seeing the show again, hopefully with more apt singers in the lead roles.  The next show I will attend, perhaps on Monday, is Love Never Dies, the sequel to Phantom; I'll be sure to let you all know what I think of it!

Last Day Before Classes/Thoughts on the English Language

It's my last day of freedom!  I actually thought that class started today, but one of my classes was moved from Monday to Tuesday at the last minute.  This means that I showed up at my classroom at 10:00 and was told by some other professor that there had been a class switch.  I was mad for a little while until I realized that I now have Fridays AND Mondays off.  This is a terrific turn of events.  Meanwhile, tomorrow won't be the most fun since I now have two classes on Tuesday, but I think it's worth it in the long run.  Tonight, I am going to see The Phantom of the Opera for the 2nd time (1st time in Atlanta); I'm very excited!  Enjoy Sarah Brightman doing what she does best.



Additionally, I wanted to use this post to discuss the state of the English language in London.  I came to London to have an authentic English experience, but I don't think that it's lived up to my expectations.  Every morning when I walk out the door, I'll hear at least two and sometimes three different languages before I even hear any English.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not immigrant bashing; it's just that I thought that in the capital city of the nation that originated the English language, I might here some English every now and then.  I honestly don't think I've ever heard so many languages spoken in one place before.  London is a multicultural city; if I want the English experience I've come for, I'm going to have to travel. Luckily for me, I have Fridays and Mondays off.  I'm thinking of kicking things off with a trip to Brighton this weekend.

Tales of a Profligate Spender

So, I spent far, far, far, far, far too much money last night buying drinks at a couple of trendy London nightclubs.  This can never happen again.  I don't even want to dwell on it, cause it's only going to make me depressed.

On another note, I'm going to see Chicago tonight!  That should be fun.  It's still cold and windy, but at least it's been sunny today.

Tired, Damp, and Dreary

I suppose I really experienced English rain for the first time today.  Matt (who lives next door) and I decided to ride one of those double decker buses around London, but we hadn't counted on it drizzling, being in the 50s, and being really windy.  I wore short sleeves and was miserable.  I didn't get enough sleep last night, so now I'm cold and tired.  I fully intend to crawl into bed with my favorite tv shows and possibly take a nap.  If all goes as planned, I'll go out tonight and go see The Phantom of the Opera tomorrow.  I do love London, even if it does rain.