"The Mikado” in Jazz

Star (Christchurch), Issue 18311, 12 November 1927, Page 19 (Supplement)

"The Mikado” in Jazz

Daring Berlin Experiment JRERLIN’S biggest playhouse has made what is surely the most daring venture in modern theatrical history. This is nothing less than the presentation of “ The Mikado ” as a revue, writes Leonard Spray from Berlin to the London “ Daily Chronicle.” I am writing this notice after seeing the performance which preceded, last night, the first performance this evening, to which the critics are officially invited. I do not know what their verdict will be, but I am certain that the production will cause a considerable sensation, and will probably prompt a world-wide theatrical discussion. For this is a “ Mikado ” jazzed and syncopated; a “ Mikado ” dressed with all the splendours of London and undressed with the discriminating abandonment of Paris; a “Mikado” with a multitudinous chorus of “ sunshine girls” and “Jackson boys.” It is a “ Mikado ” in twelve scenes 1 A “ Mikado ” of Charleston and Black Bottom- A “ Mikado ” with an orchestration that Sullivan never knew’, tortured from instruments which we eccentric modems like, but whose mere design would probably have caused Gilbert to rack his brains for something diabolical enough “to make the punishment fit the crime.” It is a " Mikado ” that is a riotous phantasmagoria of operetta, pantomime, musical comedy, Russian ballet and Chauve Souris. Yet, withal, pure Sullivan—though far from Gilbert. I mean that nothing of the lilting lyrics, the lovely concerted numbers, the delicious choruses, is omitted. But, you ask, jazzed and syncopated? Yes. Well, before you get indignant, just hum to yourself, breaking the rhythm as you do so, “ He’s Going to Marry Yum-Yum, Yum-Yum.” Admit that it syncopates very nicely. Then imagine it syncopated in chorale and dance by 500 artists on a stage that is the largest in Europe—the stage of the Grosse Schouspielhaus, the amazing theatre that was built by Reinhardt for classic drama, but has been conquered by revue. Even this gigantic stage is not big enough for the colossal scale of this “Mikado” production. The setting extends into the auditorium to either side of the stage, where has been built up «■ comnlata lanane.se town.

Here, during comparatively quiescent intervals, the chorus “ lives,” emerging from their little houses when they are required to Charleston on the stage. And if you try again, you will find “ My object all sublime I shall achieve in time ” is equally piquant material for jazz. And this is jazzed, not only by the Mikado and Ko-ko and Poohbah, and by the “sunshine girls” and the “ Jackson boys,” but by the very acenery. Pagodas and minarets, in a setting that is a splendour of crimson and gold, sway and rock and bob in broken rhythm. You yourselves in London, having garbed Hamlet in plus fours, will not, I hope, be shocked to learn that Berlin puts Nanki-poo into Oxford bags. This Nanki-poo is not the exiled son of the Mikado, but the vagrant heir to “Mr Clifford,” an American sugar king. He is in disfavour with his father because he does not want to marry Katisha. Gilbert’s Katisha, too, has undergone a startling metamorphosis. She is “ Lady Katisha," who owns illimitable orange groves. You see, if the Clifford sugar is united with the Katisha oranges they will be able to make marmalade ! And even if, as a devotee, you were shocked by Berlin’s “ Mikado,” you would have to admit that it is a wonderful production. Spectacularly, I have seen nothing to surpass some of the stage pictures. Moreover, the, cast includes Max Pallenberg, Germany's greatest comedian, whose appearance in revue is in itself an event. Pallenberg gives an original and fascinating rendering of Ko-ko, the Governor of Titipu. He is a sort of Hamlet-Musso-lini, unwilling to be despotic, but afraid not to be lest he is expelled from the International Union of Dictators. But most wonderful of all. and, after all, is the proof of the vitality of Sullivan’s music. It triumphs over the burlesque. It dominates the stagic splendour. In fts humour and Its vigour. Its beauties and its charm, it makes the music of all the other revues that I have seen in London, in Paris, in Berlin, sound like blatant noise. Unless I am very much mistaken, every impressario in the world will be hastening to Berlin. And every producer of revue will be scanning the scores of “ The Pirates of Penzance ” and “ The Gondoliers ” and half a dozen others. And Mr Cochran will surely be gnashing his teeth because he has overlooked all this “ raw material ” awaiting