Fourth Post: Why Does it All Matter?: Modern Connection and the Personal Experience

When I proposed the idea of writing about offensive and inaccurate facets of this production, the question was brought up, not only by my professor but by peers, “why does it matter?” Well, why does it matter if something is offensive?

In our modern culture, it matters a great deal. Inaccuracy in journalism can be slander or libel; overplaying the negative aspect of a person or a group of people can be considered defamation of character; and personally offending someone can cost an individual a great deal of money, opportunities, and reputation. So, why does it matter if an opera offends someone, or inaccurately represents a whole culture of people for the sake of humor? Do authors/librettists have a moral obligation to accurately represent others?

I will once again quote critic Michael Beckerman, who raises an excellent question by making the following point: “Of course, the larger issue of offensiveness is a subjective one and has to do with the complex relationships which exist between the portrayed and those who are portraying. The question, for example, of whether a work like Porgy and Bess is ‘offensive’ can be answered in many different ways depending on the relationship between blacks and whites in a particular time and place" (307). Do you agree or disagree with this point? Can someone outside of both cultures (the portrayed and those doing the portraying) be offended by this portrayal?

The first modern connection that came to mind while reading The Mikado was the cartoon television show Family Guy. This may seem like a stretch, but consider it: Seth Macfarlane’s politically incorrect world is built and supported by perpetuating stereotypes (i.e. the Mexican housemaid), mocking the misfortune and mistakes of others (i.e. Laura Bush committing involuntary vehicular manslaughter), and judging the actions of whole bodies of people (i.e. innumerable references to Catholic traditions/political associations).

Can you think of any other modern connections similar to this satirical representation, including television shows, books, movies, public figures, etc.? Does their mockery/satire make you enjoy the experience less? If you disagree with the satire of a show/movie/book, does it make you less likely to watch/read again? Have you ever been personally offended by any of these mediums?

"Program of the Original Production of The Mikado." 1885. Photograph. University of Rochester Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, Rochester.
Gilbert, William Schwenck, and Ed Glinert. The Savoy Operas: The Complete Gilbert and Sullivan. London: Penguin, 2008.

Third post: "Otherness" in the Mikado: a Mix-and-Match Grab Bag of Cultures.

This third post will reflect on the nature of “otherness” for W. S. Gilbert in The Mikado. Although this opera is supposedly focused on a Japanese society, there are elements of other cultures interspersed throughout the different scenes, including words pulled from other languages and a mix of government styles. Gilbert does not present any sort of unified voice for the Japanese; his version of “foreignness” isn’t an exclusive presentation of the Japanese, but rather a mix-and-match grab bag of other cultures, all presented in one lump form of otherness.


For me, the mix of languages was remarkable. This is a play set in Japan, and performed in English. If an audience member was to expect any foreign language to be interspersed throughout the performance, they would expect Japanese. There are a few items borrowed from the Japanese language (including the Miya Sama march that Sullivan borrowed), but the only phrase included in the text is “O ni! bikkuri shakkuri to” (Gilbert 393), which translates roughly to “Oh, no, what a surprise and shock” (Glinert 832). Even when this is said, it is only as a bunch of gibberish sounds used “to drown [Katisha’s] voice” (Gilbert 393), and not a phrase invoked to demonstrate or exemplify the Japanese language. However, immediately after this, Katisha shouts “your gay gambado!” which is a Spanish word for “surprise action” (Glinert 832). Why use a Spanish word in this context, when you have just spoken in Japanese? With no indication to the contrary, Gilbert uses these languages interchangeably as if the difference in the two foreign tongues is negligible. Other words used in The Mikado include the Italian words “con fuoco” (with fire); “gioco” (joke); and the Dutch word “snickersnee” (knife). While the Japanese phrase is understandable in an operetta set in Japan, how does one go about explaining the Spanish, Italian, and Dutch? The sound of these non-English words would be delightfully foreign to an audience, but would they be able to tell the difference between the languages? And if they could, do you think it would affect their viewing of this operetta? The “otherness” that Gilbert presents isn’t England versus Japan (versus Spain versus Italy versus the Netherlands), but rather England versus the world as two lump groups, with no distinctions between different sorts of “others.”


In portraying the Japanese setup of government, Gilbert mixes Japanese government positions and English ones. This concept is of particular interest to me – why mix and match the foreign with your own culture? My first opinion is the ease of access for English audiences. Not having to explain the Japanese style of government, but simply to put the Japanese hat of “Mikado” on the leader and have every other position representative of current British offices would be the easiest way to set up this opera to an audience unfamiliar with the Japanese government. But, is it ethically right to purposefully change the representation of a culture, just for the sake of confusion? Are there ethics one must follow in art or in performances? Do ethics change or become complicated by the performance nature of operas or other stage productions?


Does this mixing of foreign cultures make Gilbert’s portrayal of the Japanese culture less legitimate, less effective, or less believable? Does it make you trust your connections/reactions to the work as a whole less?

In my research, I discovered the personality of William Schwenk Gilbert was a hot-button topic. There were many critiques of his odd and egotistical ways. One such interesting point was that "Gilbert was a prolific correspondent who made a habit of keeping drafts of his replies, particularly when, as frequently happened, he believed himself to be in the right and his correspondent in the wrong" (Gransden 67). When questioned about his off-color portrayal of the Japanese people, Gilbert made this extreme reply:

"[The Japanese] attained their present condition of civilization very gradually, and at the date of my story they had particular tastes, ideas, and fashions of their own, many of which they discarded when they found out that they did not coincide with the ideas of the more enlightened countries of Europe. So if my readers are of the opinion (as they very likely will be) that some of their customs, as are revealed in this story, are curious, odd or ridiculous, they must bear in mind that the Japan of that time was unlike the Japan of today" ("The Story of the Mikado Told by Sir W. S. Gilbert," as quoted in Beckerman 317).

Essentially, he says here "that perhaps he did make the Japanese ridiculous in The Mikado, but that is only because they were ridiculous!" (Beckerman 317). As a reader, this extremely discriminatory remark makes me regard the rest of the work in a lower light.

Does knowing these facts about Gilbert's personal habits and opinions affect your understanding of his opinions? Does it make you trust his sense of "otherness" less? Is it possible to separate the function of the text from the author, or does this lend to an incomplete interpretation of it?

Sources:

Gilbert, William Schwenck, and Ed Glinert. The Savoy Operas: The Complete Gilbert and Sullivan. London: Penguin, 2008.
Beckerman, Michael. "The Sword on the Wall: Japanese Elements and Their Significance in ‘The Mikado’." The Musical Quarterly 73.3 (1989): 303-19. JSTOR. Web.
Gransden, K. W., and P. J. Willetts. "Papers of W.S. Gilbert." The British Museum Quarterly 21.3 (1958): 67-69. JSTOR. Web.

Second post: Distance and Objectification: Identity Crises in The Mikado

This second post will explore the ways in which the Japanese, especially the women, are objectified. There is a distance illustrated between the Japanese in this operetta and the English who are in the audience, and this lack of connection is, I believe, harmful to the audience’s experience.


The operetta begins with the stage direction of “Japanese nobles discovered standing and sitting in attitudes suggested by native drawings” (365). The Japanese people aren’t portrayed as true individuals, but as a group of people who are nothing more than Gilbert’s imitation of their illustration on artwork. Their first chorus is as follows:
If you want to know who we are,
We are gentlemen of Japan:
On many a vase and jar –
On many a screen and fan.
We figure in lively paint:
Our attitude’s queer and quaint -
You’re wrong if you think it’s ain’t, oh! (365)
There is an immediate distance created between character and audience as we view the Japanese people not as humans with personality, but only as they have been seen on objects of artwork.


The objectification of the Japanese people was not only directed to the population as a whole, but also more specifically towards women. The dramatis personae list shows three of the four women in the play grouped together with ellipses and identified as, “Three sisters – Wards of Ko-Ko” (364). This is significant, as they are the only characters to not receive their own identification (by contrast, Nanki-Poo receives the specific descriptor of “[the Mikado’s] Son, disguised as a wandering minstrel, and in love with Yum-Yum” (364).
Although I have already discussed the significance of the women’s names, I will mention a few specific points that play an important part here. Yum-Yum, an arguable heroine in the operetta, is desired for marriage by both Ko-Ko and Nanki-Poo, and her character name describes her not with human traits, but that of a dessert, something delicious to be desired and devoured. Pitti-Sing’s name gives the audience no clue whatsoever as to her personality; she is merely a character that can obviously, well, sing well (unexpected and shocking for an operetta). Peep-Bo’s name is significant because, as a reference to Little Bo Peep, it demonstrates the sheep-like quality that women are given in this work. They are grouped together like sheep, and also travel and live like them (the women’s first song together is a trio, “Three little maids from school are we” (377)).


Men in this play, while mildly objectified themselves, treat women like objects. As Ko-Ko is staring after Yum-Yum, he says “To think how entirely my future happiness is wrapped up in that little parcel! Really, it hardly seems worthwhile! Oh, matrimony!” (384). Yum-Yum is nothing but a package to him, a very obvious comparison to an object. In the same scene, he also refers to her as “the most tender-hearted little creature alive” (388). Later still, when telling Nanki-Poo not to turn Yum-Yum against him, he tells him “I’ve educated her to be my wife; she’s been taught to regard me as a wise and good man. Now I shouldn’t like her views on that point disturbed” (388). He speaks of her here as if she has no mind of her own to make up. In a more broad sense, Yum-Yum is also an object in terms of contract. She is the prize for Ko-Ko and Nanki-Poo in their arrangement on who shall marry her in light of laws on capital punishment. At one point, Ko-Ko even shouts “Take her – she’s yours!”, as if she is his to give in the first place. Despite Yum-Yum’s obvious will to marry Nanki-Poo, her views on who shall marry her are inconsequential and disrespected.


Along with this objectivity, women are shown to be vain, painting and accessorizing themselves like objects as well. This is most clearly shown as Yum-Yum is being fawned upon by women as they prepare her for her wedding and she says, “Yes, I am indeed beautiful! Sometimes I sit and wonder, in my artless Japanese way, why it is that I am so much more attractive than anybody else in the whole world. Can this be vanity? No! Nature is lovely and rejoices in her loveliness. I am a child of Nature, and take after my mother” (396). She says it is not vanity, but of course it is; she considers herself as beautiful as nature itself, and the other women encourage this.


The character of Katisha is an obvious exception to these rules, but not in a positive way. She is the only female listed with a descriptor; but, she is not beautiful, kind, or submissive, and as such she lacks the objectivity of other women. She is elderly. She is self-described as bloodthirsty. She tells the townspeople to bow down to her power in her song about being the Mikado’s “daughter-in-law elect” (405). But, she is not a beautifully painted object, and therefore is undesirable. In Gilbert’s illustrated world, women simply cannot win in society – they can be beautiful and objectified, or ugly and undesirable, but there is no middle ground.


Does the distance created by this objectification affect you as a reader/watcher of this operetta? Does it make it more difficult for you to connect to the work as a whole? If you haven’t yet seen the operetta, can you think of a situation in which a similar distance between audience and performers matters?

"Three Little Maids from School Are We." 1885. Photograph. University of Rochester Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, Rochester.
Gilbert, William Schwenck, and Ed Glinert. The Savoy Operas: The Complete Gilbert and Sullivan. London: Penguin, 2008.

First Post: Potentially Offensive Elements of The Mikado and Implications of This.

Sometimes I wish I was as bold as Chinua Achebe, who had the academic fortitude to go so far as to say that Joseph Conrad, author of the groundbreaking novella Heart of Darkness, “was a bloody racist.” Unfortunately, this method of name-calling and finger-pointing, while attention-grabbing and effective, really isn’t my style. What I can say with certainty is that William S. Gilbert, the librettist of the opera The Mikado: or, the town of Titipu, was a man who perpetuated absurd stereotypes. His portrayal of the Japanese culture in this opera is inaccurate and offensive.


In this first introductory post, I will explore the facets of Japanese culture that are presented in Gilbert and Sullivan’s opera, The Mikado, and also introduce my aims for writing this blog. Although the aim of The Mikado is clearly for a humorous reception, the presentation of Japanese society that Gilbert writes is offensive because it is often incorrect, ill-researched, or stereotypical. Some examples of this offensiveness include a lack of authenticity in character’s names, the false presentation of Japanese government, and stereotypical gender roles that present women as objects.


Some critics argue that this work isn’t really about the Japanese, but about the British. I don’t believe this is necessarily the case; however, even assuming that it is, that doesn’t change the fact that there are still offensive elements in this production. The setting is in Japan. There are constant references to being “in Japan.” The costumes were Japanese. How could it be inaccurate and over-reaching for someone to assume the commentaries being made were actually about Japan?


To explore this opera, I am simply using the text, and not a staged performance. This may cause some to question the authority of my opinions regarding certain topics, but from a critical stand point, it would be impossible to examine every performance of this play to observe every director’s stage interpretation. Referring solely to the text of the opera is the only concrete, and mostly objective, way to explore it. Along the same lines, I will be referring to Gilbert far more often than Sullivan in my explorations. The reason for this is that Gilbert was the exclusive lyricist for this work; Sullivan’s role was musical, and while this is an equally important part of an opera (some would argue that it is more important), my issues with the work deal solely with its content, not the music that accompanies it.


Character names are the first thing I noticed about this opera that struck me as off-color. There are nine main characters in this opera, and a majority of their names are nonsensical. Not even half of the character names are authentic to Japanese culture in this time period. Here are the names listed, and perhaps an origin or sense someone can perceive from reading them:

*Nanki-Poo: Although Asian in origin, it carries more of a Chinese heritage than a Japanese one (with the city of Nanking, China being an apparent root of origin). “Poo” is, obviously, often an exclamation one makes in disagreement.
*Pish-Tush: A character name simply employed to invoke anglicized, childlike syllables.
*Pooh-Bah: see both explanations above.
*Pitti-Sing: a clear imitation of how Gilbert imagines a Japanese person would say “I sing prettily” in English.
*Peep-Bo: a reference to Little Bo Peep, a children’s nursery rhyme in English, perhaps also to the children’s game of Peek-a-boo.
*Yum-Yum: a way of saying something is delicious in English, this female character is desired for marriage by both Ko-Ko and Nanki-Poo, and this lends to the argument that her name is a clear example of objectification of women, but that is an issue we can discuss later.
*Go-To: an optional character introduced in later versions of the opera to "relieve Pish-Tush of an uncomfortably low-lying vocal line" (Lamb 536). His name is obviously a joke about a person whom you can trust to help you out when you're in need of assistance.

And two names that are arguably Japanese:

*The Mikado: not really a name, but it is a Japanese figurehead.
*Ko-Ko: the editor’s notes of the edition I have of the Savoy Operas refers to this as “a rare Mikado name with some Japanese relevance” (Glinert 830). It has 37 different meanings in the Japanese language, including pickles, prince, and pithead, but which meaning was intended we can’t be sure.

My point in making all of these observations is to show the lack of authenticity of character names in this operetta. While all of these names do have some significance, none of this meaning relates to authentic Japanese culture in the slightest. Not only are some of them just plain silly, but others are a downright mockery of the Japanese people (Pitti-Sing in particular). It is presented as a play that is set in Japan, revolving around the lives of Japanese characters, yet there is a striking lack of a sense of anything that is truly Japanese. If this is the case, then why employ the Japanese setting?


Some scholars argue that Gilbert’s use of a Japanese setting related to the Japanese mania that was sweeping through England at this time. Japanese travelers set up a colony in Knightsbridge that had exhibitions of culture and talent, and was wildly popular – even Gilbert himself attended. His inspiration for The Mikado is said to derive from a sword that he purchased from this exhibit, but there are several tales which were spun and reported around this myth. One story says the sword fell off of the wall, inspiring him to write the opera; another says he was merely inspired by gazing upon it; yet another notes that Gilbert had owned the sword for years, and was inspired when it fell (Beckerman 304).


My point in writing about Gilbert’s hazily documented experiences is to demonstrate the microscopic nature of which he actually knew the Japanese culture. The ambiguity of the sword-on-the-wall story is unclear, and quite representative of his portrayal of Japanese culture: undocumented and lacking any sort of veracity. My other point in mentioning the Knightsbridge exhibit and its influence on Gilbert was to demonstrate the fad of Japonisme in England; in fact, when asked why use used the Japan as a setting for his operetta, he replied that “he could not give a reason for it” (304), to which the newspaper replied, “Was it not then because we are all interested by a certain Japanese village in Knightsbridge, which happens to be one of the successes of the season?” (305). This is, yet again, a personal opinion, but in my experience works that are inspired by fads and trends, and not by genuine interest in a topic, are generally illustrative of a lust for money and not scholarly portrayal.


My argument about the offensiveness of The Mikado is not to make the point that the opera shouldn’t be performed, or should be censored, or even that it isn’t a legitimate work of musical and lyrical art. Reading with my own personal sense of humor, I found it to be clever and entertaining. However, my personal feelings aside and my academic ones taking over, my argument is merely one of caution for authors (and librettists, for that matter) that the presentation of a foreign culture in such an inaccurate way isn’t an act that will go unnoticed. Some critics have argued that the opera wasn’t intended to represent the Japanese, but is simply a cover-up so mockery of the British could take place with plausible deniability. According to critic Michael Beckerman, one of the “pervasive stereotypes” surrounding The Mikado is that “writers on the subject seem compelled to insist that The Mikado is really about the English (whether it is considered specifically a satire on capital punishment or a more generalized caricature of English manners), and, moreover, that no one, least of all the Japanese, would have any reason to find the work offensive” (305). I agree with his following point that “[i]t is distressing that certain scholars find it difficult to believe just how offensive The Mikado would have been to most Japanese in 1885.” He raises an important question that I will echo here: “If the work is really about the English, why is such authenticity either necessary or desirable?”


Sources:
Gilbert, William Schwenck, and Ed Glinert. The Savoy Operas: The Complete Gilbert and Sullivan. London: Penguin, 2008.
Beckerman, Michael. "The Sword on the Wall: Japanese Elements and Their Significance in ‘The Mikado’." The Musical Quarterly 73.3 (1989): 303-19. JSTOR. Web.
Lamb, Andrew. "Notes." Music Library Association 61.2 (2004): 532-36. JSTOR. Web.
Allers, C. W. "Aren't We Three Nice Little Maids?" 1888. Photograph. University of Rochester Department of Rare Books and Special Collections, Rochester.