25 greatest musical movies?


The American Film Institute, in their infinite wisdom, have announced the 25 greatest film musicals, probably so that there can be some sort of exciting countdown documentary on American television at some point soon.  These things are always fun, and great for a debate/argument/fight.  It’s an interesting list – the oldest is 42nd Street from 1933 and the newest is 2002’s Chicago.  Some are adaptations from the stage, like West Side Story and the inevitable Sound of Music, others are originals written specifically for the big screen.  Some I agree with, some I don’t. Continue reading

Gymtastic


Just over a month ago, I joined the gym.  For many people this would probably not be a particularly significant thing, but for me it certainly is.  As a non-sporty academic type of person, the gym is a strange, alien environment where I feel somewhat out of place, even after a dozen or so visits, but I’m determined to keep going.  During term time it will be even stranger, as the place will start to fill up with ridiculously fit sport science students who will make me feel most inadequate just by existing, let alone throwing weights around like peanuts and making the rowing machine beg for mercy…

Anyway, my motives for joining the gym are many and confused.  The choice of gym was easy, as the university I work for gives a staff discount at its gym, which is good.  So, why have I joined? Continue reading

The librarian’s little list – a patter song


So, I rather enjoyed yesterday’s post, as it was very cathartic.  I also very much enjoy taking existing songs and abusing them horribly by altering the lyrics.  Since Gilbert and Sullivan are long-dead and very much out of copyright, I’m afraid that the song from The Mikado which started the whole thing off has now undergone a library rewrite.  You really can sing these lyrics to Sullivan’s music, but I can’t imagine why you’d want to, particularly as you have to cheat by giving ‘library’ three syllables.  Mr Gilbert, I’m so very, very sorry…

The Librarian’s List

As someday it may happen that a victim must be found,
I’ve got a little list – I’ve got a little list
Of library offenders who might well be underground,
And who never would be missed – who never would be missed!
There’s the people who break copyright and think it’s not a crime,
The folks who never think, so that their questions waste your time,
All people who would hide the books and save them for their own,
And those who are so arrogant, you’d think they had the throne.
And all the students who on running riot do persist:
They’d none of them be missed.
They’d none of them be missed!

I’ve got them on the list, I’ve got them on the list;
And they’ll none of ’em be missed, they’ll none of ’em be missed.

There’s the bacon-rasher bookmarker and others of his ilk –
We just can’t coexist, so I’ve got ’em on the list.
And people who eat pizza, chew tobacco or drink milk
In the library’s hallowed midst! They never would be missed.
Then the people who assume you know their weight and date of birth,
And those who think that calling you a [BLEEP] is cause for mirth.
The clever ones who think that we’re the lowest of the low,
The stupid ones who cannot tell an index from their toe.
And that singular annoyance, who you simply can’t assist –
I don’t think he’ll be missed
No, surely won’t be missed

Yes, I’ve got him on the list, yes I’ve got him on the list;
And I don’t think he’ll be missed, I’m sure he won’t be missed!

And that idiot who uses Sellotape to ‘fix’ the books
Why couldn’t she resist?  I’ve put her on list!
And leering people, coming in who give us creepy looks
They never will be kissed, and they truly won’t be missed!
Plus the FBI and others, they’re too nosy to abide
Or those who think you’ll never know that they have baldly lied
And anyone who hurts the books – how can they sleep at night?
But I can see this list is rather full, has reached it’s height.
And there’s many other patrons who could surely make the list
And they’d none of them be missed – they’d none of them be missed.

You may put them on the list, you may put them on the list;
And they’ll none of ’em be missed, they’ll none of ’em be missed!

How to get on a librarian’s little list


Admit it, we’ve all got one.  A little list of the people who’d be first up against the wall if you were to stage a revolution.  Ko-Ko, in Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado, puts it like this:

As some day it may happen that a victim must be found,
I’ve got a little list – I’ve got a little list
Of society offenders who might well be underground
And who never would be missed – who never would be missed!
There’s the pestilential nuisances who write for autographs-
All people who have flabby hands and irritating laughs-

And so forth, through a catalogue of people that he could quite happily cope without.  We all have our little (and not so little) niggles, and this is an attempt to catalogue the ‘little list’ of a typical library.  In reverse, but not particularly precise, order. Continue reading

Singing Librarian flashback: Tosca tantrums


Readers beware.  This is not a happy tale of backstage life, but rather a cautionary tale that I remember every time I am tempted to have a prima donna moment or act like a divo.

Summer 2001.  The Gulbenkian TheatreTosca.  This was one of the summer operas for the University of Kent with a combined professional and amateur cast, where I sang in the chorus.  In this one, I also had a significant ‘silent role’ as a soldier, but perhaps more on that another time.  As part of the project’s mission was to take a fresh look at each opera (always performed in English), the action was moved from occupied Italy during the Napoleonic era to occupied France during the early 1940s, which mostly made very good sense.  One notable change that is significant to this flashback is that the shepherd boy who sings a little ditty to open act three became instead a lost young woman in a holding camp, one of many about to take the train journeys we know so well from that period.

As act three opened, it was snowing on stage.  Continue reading

Adventures in ontology


A number of recent events have come together to force me to write a post on the subject of ontology.  Firstly, there’s the ongoing debate about the classification of the stuff in the solar system, which has been fascinating to observe.  Secondly, there’s the terrifying fact that I’m about to begin my librarianship qualifications, which will immerse me yet deeper in the murky world of cataloguing.  And finally, I came across a link to an article called Ontology is Overrated, which caused my thinking on the subject to step up a gear.

But what is ontology?  Continue reading

Shouting at the telly


Until recently, my television viewing was fairly passive.  I’d enjoy (or not) what was being offered, and perhaps discuss it with those who happened to be in the room.  The news is an exception, but it probably is for everyone.  Shouting at one’s leaders (or the leaders of bigger nations) is a satisfying occupation (though to have any point it should be followed up in the form of letters or e-mails), and occasional whoops of joy creep through from time to time as well.

Recently, however, my housemate decided to subscribe to Sky television, and through the wonder that is the Challenge channel, I have rediscovered the Crystal Maze.  Has there ever been a show that encouraged more shouting at the screen?  ‘Get out!’,  ‘It’s over there!’, ‘The square of three is nine, you idiot!’, ‘Listen to your team-mates!’, ‘Not like that!’, ‘Yes!’ and lots of variations on ‘Aaaarrrggghhhh!’  Continue reading

KaraNOke


Firstly, I do apologise for the length of yesterday’s post, particularly as it didn’t really have a point.  Ah well.  Shorter today, though whether it has a point I don’t know.  A confession.

I’ve never done karaoke.

And I don’t particularly intend to.  The very idea fills me with horror, which is really rather strange.  I sing to myself in the shower, in the office, walking down the street and probably in my sleep.  I sing in concerts, sometimes solo.  I once performed a set of songs a cappella at an open mic night.  And I sing and dance in front of hundreds of people from time to time.  So why don’t I want to do karaoke? 

I just don’t think it’s for me.

Firstly, I can’t imagine that many karaoke organisers have songs in their machines that I would actually want to sing.  Pop doesn’t really suit my voice, and rock even less so.  Can you do karaoke to songs from musicals or big band standards?  Maybe, but most people would probably rather hear a bit of Abba, Oasis, the Beatles, Queen or the latest boy band.  I like some of those songs, but have no burning desire to perform them.

Secondly, performing is not something that comes easily with karaoke, as there’s little room for interpretation.  Any decent accompanist will go with the singer, speeding up or holding back as appropriate to the way the song is being sung, but a machine carries on at the speed and volume that someone decided is right.  I never sing the same song exactly the same way twice, so it seems unlikely that I’d want to sing it the way that the karaoke machine wants me to sing it.

And finally, it all seems so corny.  I have sometimes enjoyed watching people perform karaoke, but I’d just feel completely wrong, and would certainly blush to a disturbing shade as I watched the words change colour.  It’s probably a snobbish thing, but the very idea of singing karaoke is just embarrassing – and this from someone who skipped around in sock suspenders singing a silly ditty for a week in March!  Nerves are always a part of my singing experience, so I have no idea to add cringe-worthiness or embarrassment to the mix.

Perhaps the oddest thing about this is that when I’m alone I do, to all intents and purposes, do a spot of karaoke.  Various books of sheet music come with backing CDs with piano accompaniment, and this is very useful for learning a song, though also restrictive in terms of tempo and dynamics again.  In my living room, this is fine (and to be honest, I’d quite like to have a go on the SingStar game that various people rave about), but take the same track into a smoky pub with a dodgy compere and the chance to win a small prize, and the useful tool becomes anathema.  Isn’t that strange?

Singing Librarian flashback: Preparation Fugue


My second flashback is cheating in some ways, as it’s to an aspect of my most recent show, and I have already discussed it, as it was happening, on an h2g2 discussion thread.  But I think it might be an interesting insight into the joys and woes that go into making the near-impossible seem effortless.

Spring 2006.  The Marlowe Theatre.  Me and My Girl. I played the Hon. Gerald Bolingbroke, an upper-class twit and one of the principal roles.  This involved a number of marvellous costumes and a couple of essential props – a monocle, and an engagement ring.  The poor fool spends most of the show trying to persuade a perfectly awful woman to marry him, so the ring made several appearances, and the monocle had to be worn with all of the costumes, being secreted away in a range of waistcoat or shirt pockets.  Learning how to use a monocle was an entertaining struggle in itself, but I mention it as an aside because it’s vaguely relevant to the scene in question.

The scene is the last one in the first act, the preparation for a grand party (which will soon be interrupted by the famous Lambeth Walk), and the beginning of the scene made us all break out in a cold sweat every time it approached.  The Preparation Fugue.  Continue reading

Why, there’s a wench!


It can be easy to overlook the fact that texts hundreds of years old can be controversial.  Non-religious texts, that is!  But having seen a production of Shakespeare’s The Taming of the Shrew this week, in the beautiful grounds of St. Augustine’s Abbey, it would be foolish to pretend this isn’t the case.  You could actually feel the tension in the audience rise as we approached the rather sticky conclusion of the play, particularly the husbands nervously wondering how their wives would react to Katharina’s final speech.  Even if you don’t know the play, you probably know of the speech, particularly this bit:

I am ashamed that women are so simple
To offer war when they should kneel for peace
Or seek for rule, supremacy and sway
When they are bound to serve, love and obey
Why are our bodies soft, and weak, and smooth,
Unapt to toil and trouble in the world,
But that our soft conditions and our hearts
Should well agree with our external parts?

Place your hands beneath your husband’s foot,
In token of which duty, if he please,
My hand is ready, may it do him ease

It’s not really an easy pill to swallow, is it?  ‘Let your husband walk all over you.’  Not a message I’d like to give to anyone.  But of course, it’s not quite so simple.  In theatre, the text is only part of the equation, and whether the dramatist likes it or not, the director, the actors and even (to a lesser, though also more complicated, extent) the audience can have as great an influence on the play’s meaning and tone as the words do.  In this particular case, there are various ways of playing the scene or interpreting the action which make the ending far easier for modern audiences to accept.  Whether you should do so is a different question entirely, which I shall dodge around and leave for others. Continue reading

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