Making Emile of it: manliness and the musical

Recently caught the Chichester production of South Pacific. Good stuff, although I'm never sure how to judge a production when the story and songs are so familiar.

Anyhoo, one of the most surprising things was Emile De Becque. In part, it was the voice. The character was written for an operatic bass and Julian Ovenden who plays him in the Chichester production is a trained opera singer. I couldn't remember the last time I had heard that kind of voice - rich, deep, powerful - in a musical.

But it wasn't just the voice; it was the manliness. Debeck is a manly man. He's been around a bit. He's killed a guy, made a fortune from scratch, had kids. In the show, he not only survives a dangerous military operation but also bags a young nurse. Let's just say, Evan Hanson, he ain't.

Is it my imagination or don't you see this kind of manly man is musicals these days? Male characters tend more towards the geeky and shy and awkward. Perhaps musicals have always had a touch of the nerdiness about them. But it seems that in recent years they've been playing more and more into that stereotype. I suspect it started sometime between High School Musical and Glee or maybe it was the other way round. To be honest, I wasn't really paying attention.

The point is that sometimes it feels that modern musicals have gone full geek.

Now there's nothing wrong with that. I like geeks. Some of my best friends are geeks. It only becomes a problem if it limits the kind of stories that musicals can tell and the kind of characters that musicals can portray. And I wonder if Emile De Becque would ever find a place in a modern show.

There are times when it's all about that bass. 

Desert Island Discs in the South Pacific

Old interview with Lord Andy from Radio 4's archive of Desert Island Discs.

The Lord's (at that time merely Sir's) music selections are typically diverse - from rock 'n' roller Shostakovich to Bollywood composer AR Rahman - as well as typically populist - Elvis Presley and The Beatles. Only one pick was a musical theatre number but it was a goody: Rodgers and Hammerstein's "Some Enchanted Evening".

Hard to argue with that. But what makes the melody so enchanting? For me, the secret of the song is in one little semi-tone. Let's take the first six notes:

"Some En-chan-ted Eve-ning"

The second of those notes is an F sharp. If you are of a certain musical disposition and knowing that we are in the key of C, you may give a small shudder. F sharp, you see, is foreign to the key of C. It should be an F natural. Play a C chord and stick an F sharp on top of it and it sounds dissonant, wonky, wrong.

So how come this wrongness sounds so right? Well, firstly the F sharp falls on an off-beat - the "en" of "enchanted" - so there isn't a direct clash with the chord underneath. Place that F sharp on an on-beat like the "eve" of "eve-ning" and the whole thing sounds wonky again.

Secondly, try substituting the foreign-sounding F sharp for a "proper" F natural. Go on, I dare you. With just that tiny change the melody feels so different; it's lighter and brighter but, at the same time, a whole lot less enchanting.

The song is from South Pacific. The character singing is Emile de Becque, a romantic (he's French) and exotic (he has half-Polynesian kids) plantation owner with a dark past (he killed a man). In short, he is a man who would definitely sing an F sharp.

Sometimes a semi-tone makes all the difference.

A Bit of a Nellie

Forbush, that is. The heroine of South Pacific. Last year I caught the Lincoln Center version at the Barbican and ever since I’ve had Nellie’s song “Cock-Eyed Optimist”, well, let’s just say I can’t get it out of my head:

“I could say life is just a bowl of Jello
And appear more intelligent and smart
But I’m stuck like a dope with a thing called hope
And I can’t get it out of my heart
Not this heart”

Let’s take a look at the details here.

The rhyme scheme is tight: ABCB plus. The plus is the fact that the A rhyme links to the first lines of the other two verses (jello/yellow/bellow) and there’s also an internal rhyme (dope/hope). The rhymes themselves are simple. I imagine Lorenz Hart would have had Nellie playing a ritornello by Ivor Novello on a violincello at this point. But there’s nothing fancy schmancy with Hammerstein.

So what does this add up to? The neatness of the rhyme scheme and the simplicity of the rhymes speaks to Nellie’s neat and simple philosophy: cock-eyed optimism. It's heartfelt but, in truth, Hammerstein is telling us that it’s too neat and too simple; it’s naive.

As for Rodgers, well:

I could say life is just a bowl of Jello
And appear more intelligent and smart

The tune is basically a descending scale. There’s also a lovely triplet wobble on "je-ell-o" which makes light of the sentiment. Nellie ain’t one for pseudo-intellectualism and wouldn't even use the such a silly word. So she makes fun of the idea.

But I’m stuck like a dope

Now the contrast (“But...”), so the musical phrase starts heading upwards. Her optimism is coming through. Again, there are details: the “stuck” literally getting stuck with a shorter staccato note .

With a thing called hope

Rule of three: first phrase (“But I’m stuck”), repeat the phrase (“like a dope”) and then the third time it gets a little extra (“with a thing called hope”), those repeated notes (“thing called”) adding a bit more certainty and confidence. Optimism rising.

And I can’t get it out of my heart

Again, this musical line is basically three repeated phrases, intensified by the D+ chord underneath, as if this idea is going round and round her head.

Not this heart

The final line is more than just a way to end the song. Musically it’s soothing and dreamy. There’s another little wobble note on “he-a-rt”. Nellie’s corn-fed, homespun philosophy is honest but untested. The spine of the plot is how her cock-eyed optimism gets put on trial by the experiences of love and war.

So in four and a bit lines of song a fully-rounded character is revealed to us, moving from playful to hopeful to assertive to dreamy. All the while being lyrically precise, memorably tuneful and dramatically true. Remarkable.

Miss Forbush sets the standards for musical theatre (with a little help from R&H).