Sunday, October 21, 2012

Sunday Classics: What can we say? Composer Gustav Holst performed this foul deed himself!

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HOLST and SPRING-RICE: "I vow to thee, my country"


From the Royal British Legion's Festival of Remembrance, Nov. 12, 2011

by Ken

As I indicated in Friday night's preview, in which we saw a technically blah video clip of a pretty decent performance of the "Jupiter" movement of Holst's The Planets, it was slogging through Episode 2 of Series 2 of the new Upstairs Downstairs that set me off on this musical mini-inquiry.

It is, in a word . . . well, the technical term is dreck. It had a reason of sorts for coming into existence when it did, c1921, as Britons tried to rally from the horrors of World War I. But that's an explanation, not excuse. Just by way of reminder, here's where the music came from.

HOLST: The Planets, Op. 32:
iv. Jupiter, the Bringer of Jollity: central theme



London Philharmonic Orchestra, Sir Adrian Boult, cond. EMI, recorded 1978-79


WHAT'S STARTLING ABOUT THE TRANSFORMATION
OF THIS GLORIOUS MUSIC TO SUCH DRECK . . .


. . . is that the deed was done by the composer himself!

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Monday, January 09, 2012

"Go to death, and go to slaughter!": The un-glorious carnage of war is just one thing that Series 2 of "Downton Abbey" is capturing strikingly

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"Go to death, and go to slaughter;
die, and every Cornish daughter
with her tears your grave shall water.
Go, ye heroes, go and die!"


No, Series 2 of Downton Abbey hasn't become a battlefield drama, but World War I looms over everything that's happening so far, and we even get some effective glimpses of the battlefront in France, with not a lot of glory involved. That's conniving Thomas, the mobilized Grantham footman (Rob James-Collier), in the foreground.
Major-General Stanley has called on the gallant young Frederic to "let your escort lion-hearted be summoned to receive a general’s blessing, ere they depart upon their dread adventure" -- going into combat against the dreaded Pirates of Penzance. "Dear Sir," Frederic replied, "they come." Indeed they do. The "escort lion-hearted" turns out to be the local constabulary.

Enter POLICE, marching in single file. They form in line, facing audience.

SERGEANT, with POLICE: When the foeman bares his steel -- tarantara! tarantara! --
we uncomfortable feel -- tarantara! --
and we find the wisest thing -- tarantara! tarantara! --
is to slap our chests and sing -- tarantara!
For when threatened with emeutes -- trantara! tarantara! --
and your heart is in your boots -- tarantara! --
there is nothing brings it round
like the trumpet’s martial sound,
like the trumpet’s martial sound.
ALL: Tarantara! tarantara!, etc.
MABEL: Go, ye heroes, go to glory,
though ye die in combat gory
ye shall live in song and story.
Go to immortality!
Go to death, and go to slaughter;
die, and every Cornish daughter
with her tears your grave shall water.
Go, ye heroes, go and die!
GIRLS: Go, ye heroes, go and die!
SERGEANT, with POLICE: Though to us it’s evident -- tarantara! tarantara! --
these attentions are well meant -- tarantara! --
such expressions don’t appear -- tarantara! tarantara! --
calculated men to cheer -- tarantara! --
who are going to meet their fate
in a highly nervous state -- tarantara! tarantara! tarantara!
Still to us it’s evident
these attentions are well meant -- tarantara! tarantara! tarantara!
EDITH: Go and do your best endeavour,
and before all links we sever,
we will say farewell forever.
go to glory and the grave!
GIRLS: Go to glory and the grave!
For your foes are fierce and ruthless,
false, unmerciful, and truthless;
young and tender, old and toothless,
all in vain their mercy crave.
SERGEANT: We observe too great a stress,
on the risks that on us press,
and of reference a lack
to our chance of coming back.
Still, perhaps it would be wise
not to carp or criticise,
for it’s very evident
these attentions are well meant.
POLICE: Yes, it’s very evident
these attentions are well meant, etc.
CHORUS OF ALL BUT POLICE:
Go, ye heroes, go to glory, etc.
CHORUS OF POLICE:
When the foeman bears his steel, etc.
MAJOR-GENERAL STANLEY: Away, away!
POLICE [without moving]: Yes, yes, we go.
MAJOR-GENERAL STANLEY: These pirates slay.
POLICE: Tarantara!
MAJOR-GENERAL STANLEY: Then do not stay.
POLICE: Tarantara!
MAJOR-GENERAL STANLEY: Then why this delay?
POLICE: All right, we go.
Yes, forward on the foe!
MAJOR-GENERAL STANLEY: Yes, but you don’t go!
POLICE: We go, we go
Yes, forward on the foe!
MAJOR-GENERAL STANLEY: Damme, you don’t go!
ALL: At last they really go!
-- from Act II of The Pirates of Penzance (1879)

The shivering-in-their-boots police, spoken for by their intrepid Sergeant (Donald Adams), are exhorted on to glory by Major-General Stanley's daughters Mabel (Valerie Masterson) and Edith (Ann Hood) and prodded on -- in mounting exasperation -- by the general himself (John Reed). Sir Malcolm Sargent conducts the D'Oyly Carte Opera Chorus and the Royal Philharmonic in this 1965 recording.

by Ken

I enjoyed Season 1 of Downton Abbey without quite getting what the uproar was about, on both sides of the Atlantic. So while I certainly intended to watch Season 2 when it arrived (which it did last night on many PBS stations), I also had a little trepidation about it. I mean, how much more mileage could you get out of the premise, which was sort of moving Upstairs, Downstairs to rural Yorkshire and the estate of an almost too-good-to-be-true earl (Lord Grantham, played by Hugh Bonneville, pictured here in uniform) whose immediate family faces something like eventual ruination due to the preposterous law that makes it impossible for either the title or the estate to pass to any of his three (shudder!) daughters? And never mind that the not-so-near cousin to whom the title will instead pass, Matthew (Dan Stevens), doesn't want anything to do with it.

I have to say, I was encouraged by the premiere episode last night. As I usually do, I had avoided reading or hearing about it as much as I could, which I would have done even if I was waiting on tenterhooks for it. I want the story told by the storytellers -- the writer (once again series creator Julian Fellowes) and the teams of actors, directors, and producers. (UPDATE: And of course the legions of other behind-the-camera people. They're part of the storytelling too, and I don't know how I could have left them out.)

I had nevertheless become aware that Series 2 would be interacting with World War I, and I can't say that encouraged me either. Hasn't that been, you know, done? Yes, but as it turns out, it can be done again, and still show us some powerful things about what it means to go to war, things I'm afraid we still need to be shown quite a lot.

The new series jumps two years from the end of Series 1 to 1916, meaning that the "Great War" is well under way and our characters have all had time to adjust to the new realities of national "glory" and horrific carnage. It's still possible for one of the servant characters (Thomas, wasn't it?) to rattle on about his willingness, no eagerness, to serve "King and country." But it may be that the very absence of any discussion of the geopolitical issues of the war serves to underscore how little idea these people have as to why they're fighting this unimaginably horrible war.

Already by 1916 the scale of the dying -- and the maiming -- has become a horrifying reality for most everyone. And one of the fascinating realities is how war intersects with the entrenched class system. The war doesn't break the system down, but it sure gives it a mighty shaking, and the Downton Abbey team so far is doing a dandy job of showing us how the experience of war is filtered through the characters' very different class situations, including the way people of different standings were forced into interactions that just wouldn't have happened otherwise, to the frequent befuddlement of most and the consternation of some.

The team finds all sorts of interesting ways of dramatizing the preposterousness of those class differences. Maybe it's just me, but something as simple as the arrival of a train from London at the little local station packed a wallop, as people emerge so differently from adjacent third-class and first-class carriages, even before we become aware that two of "our" characters are among them -- Lord Grantham's valet Bates (Brendan Coyle) emerging from third class and the eldest Crawley sister, Lady Mary (Michelle Dockery, pictured here), from first. In all the scenes directly related to the war -- in the trenches in France, in the hospital back home -- there's the preposterous reality that officers are officers simply because they did so much better a job at being born, and are attended by batmen who are in all likelihood older and wiser.

We're also exposed to the reality that especially by 1916 the country wasn't by any means unanimous in its thirst for military glory. Oh yes, life could be made unpleasant for able-bodied men not in uniform, but we also see our share of men by no means eager to be drawn into the fray.

And of course the war also wreaks havoc on that other "settled" great division: the one between men and women. The youngest of the Crawley sisters, Lady Sybil (Jessica Brown-Findlay), driven by her war awakening ("Sometimes it feels as if all the men I ever danced with are dead," she says), seeks a way of serving in the war effort, and determines to become a nurse. The evil middle sister, Lady Edith (Laura Carmichael), learns to drive a truck (shocking!) -- and manages to do evil while ostensibly helping a local farmer. And poor Mr. Carson, the Grantham butler (Jim Carter, pictured here), having lost both his footmen to the war effort, and after experimenting disastrously with using His Lordship's new valet, Lang (Cal Macaninch), via whom we're introduced to the new and improved phenomenon of "shell shock," has to contemplate the unthinkable: having women serve at table!

Sure, you notice plot mechanics creaking around the edges. But the reward for having establlshed such a nice set of characters in Series 1 (many of whom I haven't mentioned, only because they didn't happen to come up here -- the huge cast is really all awfully good) is that you can get a lot of mileage by adding the new reality of war to the already-established battlefields of class and gender inequality. It's early yet, of course, but there's the potential for Series 2 of Downton Abbey to be better than Series 1.
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Sunday, April 17, 2011

"Law & Order L.A." is back! (Did you miss it?) So, sort of, is "Upstairs Downstairs" (but not really). Meanwhile, "Army Wives" keeps rolling on

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Last week on Army Wives, Frank Sherwood (Terry Serpico) thanked psychiatrist Roland Burton (Sterling K. Brown) for all he did for Jeremy, which turned out to be making him well enough to get killed in Afghanistan. (As the grieving Roland had said to his wife, Colonel Joan, "I was really looking forward to watching his life unfold, you know?")

by Ken

Finally today I had some time to catch up on some DVR-stored TV, including the pair of episodes with which NBC reintroduced Law & Order L.A., billing it, strangely, as a two-hour "premiere." Among those who noticed it was gone, did anyone actually miss it?

At this point I don't think there's any risk of spoilage, but if you haven't watched the first new . . . er, premiere episode yet and still plan to, be warned. Skeeter Ulrich is gone from the role of the "good-looking cop," and it's hard to mourn, because he was terrible. NYT dolt Alessandra Staley seems to regret his departure, though that may have been nothing more than the opportunity to make one or two bad jokes. (Ohmygod, it just occurred to me that I must have wasted one of my precious NYT "hits" on her review!)

The thing is, I don't see how you can single poor Skeeter out, when everyone was terrible -- even the previously always-reliable Alfred Molina as ADA Ricardo Morales. On the pretext that his character came to the DA's office from the police force and is now so disgruntled with political meddling in the DA's office (where, come to think of it, the usually reliable Peter Coyote, in the recurring role of the DA, was also pretty terrible), he has been "returned" to his old job as a detective, pairing neatly with the surviving detective, shaved-headed TJ (Corey Stoll), and slotted into the ADA role is none other than our old Law & Order pal Alana de la Garza as Connie Rubirosa, transplanted cross-country.

I spent most of that first new episode trying to puzzle out, "What's wrong with Law & Order L.A.?" A good measure of my problems with it is that it leaves me so much time to wonder about things like this. Curiously, in all the time I've spent pondering it, I'm not inclined to put the blame on the writing. In fact, I think it must have been workable enough to account for my continuing to watch the show, even though I thought it was pretty lame.

The best I could come up with is that somewhere along the line, or perhaps all along the line, the show came to be populated by "ideas" of characters instead of actual characters. And since the actors weren't by and large incompetent, though the acting by and large was, there seemed to be something hanging over all of them making it difficult if not impossible to make the situations and characters either believable or interesting. Naturally you have to wonder about direction, which is always so hard to see let alone evaluate in television. Or maybe it's just an overall attitude, possibly related to the final demise this past season of the original Law & Order, which had unquestionably grown tired after those 67 seasons, but certainly never as lifeless as the new spinoff.

Is it possible that the creative team was so concerned about falling into the tired "oldness" of the old show that it actively encouraged the creation of characters no one could possibly care about? I can't point to any element of the show that has been tangibly "the problem," not even the music, which is certainly terrible and intrusive -- a problem I noticed in a somewhat different way in the new Upstairs Downstairs. (More about that below.) Is there a fashionable school of TV production that now insists viewers need music to tell them what to feel? Or maybe just to keep them occupied when the shows don't? But I know that the music hasn't been "the" problem with L&O L.A., because I kept noticing that at those blessed times when it stopped, the show was just as uninteresting.

Curiously, in the second new episode, where the cast reshuffle was in place (though there wasn't much for Rubirosa to do -- was she squeezed into the script at a late stage?), I thought the whole atmosphere was a shade more believable. Instead of spending my spare time while viewing to trying to figure out what's wrong with the show, I started to wonder if maybe it's been turned around.

We shall see. Meanwhile, for stark contrast compare the episodes of Law & Order U.K. being shown on BBC America. True, the producers there start with the advantage of a blank slate, the U.K. airwaves not having been saturated with L&O programming, and they're even able to recycle sturdy old U.S. L&O scripts. But they have, presumably successfully, Britishized the show, and they have unquestionably done a bang-up job of casting all six "standard" L&O roles: Jamie Bember and Bradley Walsh as, respectively, the "good-looking" and "wizened veteran" cops (Bember as good in the "good-looking cop" role as Skeeter Ulrich was impenetrable in L&O L.A.), Harriet Walter as the detective overseer, Ben Daniels and Freema Agyeman as the senior and junior prosecutors, and the always-splendid Bill Paterson as their Crown Prosecution Service boss.

Maybe there are other ways of making a successful TV series than creating interesting, believable, and involving characters, but it was a stark contrast when I finally got around to watching last Sunday's new episode of Army Wives, which after all this time I still love. That show's producers have been fanatical about guarding the believability and involvability of their characters, and the run of episodes in the aftermath of the death in Afghanistan of young Jeremy Sherwood have seemed to me incredibly powerful, even as other characters' plot lines have continued to develop very nicely.

Which brings us back to the reincarnation of Upstairs Downstairs in a three-part series set in 1936, with an upscale young couple reoccupying the long-closed house at 165 Eaton Place. That other TV dingbat Nancy Franklin natters on in this week's New Yorker (mercifully not available online except via the digital edition or the iPad app), and does mention the intrusiveness of the music, though I don't think she gets what makes it so intrusive, and makes obligatory but rather pointless comparisons with Downton Abbey (which I thought wasn't bad -- certainly worlds better than this) and never gets around to noticing that the characters are incredibly uninteresting, barely reaching two dimensions.

That, after all, is what kept us coming back to the original Upstairs Downstairs -- all those brilliantly conceived and sustained characters, both upstairs and down, who gave us a reason to come back each week. Original series co-creator Jean Marsh is back as Rose, now running a down-at-the-heels agency that supplies staff for discerning households, and is engaged by the new occupants to staff 165 Eaton Place! But while there are some characters I mind less than others, so far there isn't anyone I'm actually looking forward to spend more time with

I loved Keeley Hawes as Zoe in MI5 (Spooks to U.K. viewers) and rather enjoyed her in Ashes to Ashes, and while her haughty but majorly-clueless-about-reality young aristocrat's wife may be believable, why would we want to spend any time in her presence? Jean Marsh is back as Rose, returning to good old 165 Eaton Place. (Am I the only one who found the only involving moments those when the original series was invoked? As when Rose, or rather Miss Buck, as she's called throughout the first episode, stands in front of the front door of the old house for the first time since her departure from it.) Lady Agnes's husband, Sir Hallam Holland (Ed Stoppard) is more or less a cypher trying to live up to the legacy of his lamented father, while his unlamentable mother is all too present, in the person of original-series co-creator Eileen Atkins.

Meanwhile downstairs we've got, much as in L&O L.A. a collection of types rather than actual characters. For example, there's nothing implausible about the idea of a quickly developing flirtation between the rambunctious young maid Ivy (Ellie Kendrick) and the provincial-rube footman-in-training Johnny (Nico Mirallegro), but when the characters barely attain two dimensions, how are we supposed to care?

I had half-watched the episode earlier in the week, while recording it, and then faced the tough decision whether it was worth the time to rewatch more attentively. I'm glad I did. I liked it a little better, but not much. And I'm thinking that in a series that has only three parts, if by the end of the first the makers haven't gotten you much farther than a grudging acknowledgment that the thing might not be totally unwatchable, they're way behind schedule, with hardly any time left to catch up.

That said, I'm committed to taking in the second episode. About the third, we'll wait and see.
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