Hot Mikado Notes on the Production
LET THE PUNISHMENT FIT THE CRIME
It is widely acknowledged that the Japan of Gilbert and Sullivan’s The Mikado (1885) is really England in disguise—an England full of legal ironies and trifling technicalities that librettist W.S. Gilbert, trained as a barrister, found ripe for satire. In fact, not only is England in disguise as Japan, but nearly every character is in disguise as something he is not, either abandoning his rightful place, or usurping a government office (or ten). The characters of Hot Mikado deftly dodge the law at a dizzying pace, avoiding one legal pratfall only to rush into another. In taking on new roles, the characters’ personal ambitions come into direct conflict with their society’s strict sense of duty. No matter how hard they struggle, none of their obligations are entirely escapable.
With all of the complicated plotting and disguises going on, it seems fitting that Gilbert’s original idea for the plot of The Mikado involved a magical lozenge that made whomever swallowed it truthful—that is, it made people become their true selves. Composer Sir Arthur Sullivan rejected the “lozenge plot” as too ridiculous, wanting to abandon supernatural elements in favor of writing more serious opera. One could hardly call the antics of the town of Titipu serious drama, yet even when viewed from a satirical distance, they are grounded in very human desires and obligations. The town’s flamboyant façade allows the audience to find humor even in the most deadly of situations.
In many ways, this sense of artifice is central to The Mikado, along with all of its subsequent incarnations. Lines like the Mikado’s observation that “virtue is triumphant only in theatrical performance” constantly jar the audience from a complete suspension of disbelief, while Gilbert’s dazzling alliteration and wordplay add a theatrical flair that cannot be ignored. There is an intrinsic enjoyment in seeing theatrical conventions intentionally broken in this way, and thus adapting the piece to include more convention-breaking innovations, such as swing music and zoot suits, only adds to the fun.
JAPANESE CULTURE IN VICTORIAN LONDON
When The Mikado was first performed in London in 1885, England, and indeed much of Europe, was at the height of a vogue for all things Japanese. After the opening of Japan to foreign trade in 1854 by the American Commodore Matthew Perry, the western world was swept up in a craze for Japanese art, fashion, and technology. The late 1860s saw a political and social upheaval in Japan, beginning the new era of the Meiji Restoration in 1868. During this period, many European artists traveled to Japan and were influenced by the style of wood-block prints and rich fabric patterns. French painters such as Vincent van Gogh and Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec demonstrated the new style of japonisme in their work, through bold color-block techniques and new subjects like Japanese gardens, painted screens, and geishas in voluminous costumes. Consumers eagerly decorated their homes with enamel vases, lacquered wood chests, and other objects in the Japanese style. Fashion-conscious women who could afford it sported kimono-like dresses and fans.
As it happened, when The Mikado opened on March 14, 1885, London’s romantic fascination with Japan had a very specific center: an exhibition in the neighborhood of Knightsbridge, which consisted of a complete working Japanese village, built and inhabited by actual villagers brought directly from Japan. The public, as well as the exhibition’s royal patrons, flocked to see craftsmen at work in lacquering, metalworking, and painting, and to enjoy the garden and teahouse—all under cover to protect the inhabitants from the dreary London winter.
Though Gilbert had conceived The Mikado’s story and started writing (supposedly inspired by a Japanese executioner’s sword that hung in his study) before the exhibition opened on January 10, 1885, its presence in London proved to be a great asset to his production. He hired a young woman who worked at the exhibition’s teahouse to teach his chorus girls and “three little maids” a more or less authentic style of walking in a kimono and handling a fan. The company was also able to obtain elaborate Japanese silks for their costumes, and it was rumored that Katisha’s costume was an authentic noblewoman’s kimono that was nearly 200 years old. While The Mikado is at heart about English social institutions and sung in typically English song forms, Gilbert took great pains to make sure the glamorous exterior of the opera was authentically Japanese, according to the craze of the time. Of London’s Japan mania, evident in everything from furniture to hairstyles, Mr. D’Oyly Carte, The Mikado’s producer, said, “Can you imagine a more delectable advertisement for us? I can’t.”
THE EVOLUTION OF A CLASSIC
Hot Mikado, the adaptation performed today, has a long heritage: it is a revamped 1986 version of a previous 1939 Hot Mikado, which was a jazzed-up copy of 1938’s The Swing Mikado, which in turn derived from a traditional production of the original. Over the 125 years since the London premiere of the original Mikado, the adaptations have picked up a lot of tricks. The tinkering started with Gilbert and Sullivan themselves. Even after opening night, the famous pair was adjusting song placements, at one point cutting the Mikado’s famous solo, “A more humane Mikado.” Lyrics often changed as well, and even Gilbert, a notorious stickler who actually demanded that his actors say their lines exactly as he had written them (a rarity in Victorian London’s tumultuous world of burlesques and music hall gags), saw fit to change the jokes in “I’ve Got a Little List” to be as topically up-to-date as possible. His condescending reference to “that singular anomaly, the lady novelist” was changed at times to “red-hot socialist,” “sham philanthropist,” “lovely Suffragist,” and “Prohibitionist.”
The Mikado was immediately successful, and enjoyed popularity in several countries, including the U.S., for years after Gilbert and Sullivan’s deaths. In the midst of the Great Depression, a Chicago company sponsored by the Federal Theater Project was set to mount a traditional production of the opera, but after the producer saw the cast “swinging” to the music during downtime at rehearsal, he insisted that the show be performed in this new modern style. The Swing Mikado turned out to be quite popular, transferring to New York in 1939. However, an imitation production, The Hot Mikado, soon put Swing out of business—its lavish costumes, effects, scenery, and stars (Bill “Bojangles” Robinson and a troupe of Lindy Hoppers) were hard to compete with. A Broadway run and an engagement at the 1939 New York World’s Fair cemented Hot Mikado’s place in the social consciousness, combining the familiarity of Gilbert & Sullivan tunes with uniquely American dance styles. Additionally, this production bolstered the reputation of African-American performance in the eyes of mainstream American theater.
The version of Hot Mikado performed today is similar in theme to the 1939 version, but new in approach. It was conceived in 1986 by David H. Bell, then Artistic Director at Ford’s Theater in Washington, D.C. Materials from the 1939 show were not available, so Bell and collaborator Rob Bowman adapted the music and lyrics themselves, remaining true to Sullivan’s score while giving it a unique jazz twist. After transferring to several U.S. cities, Bell and Bowman’s Hot Mikado arrived in London in 1995 for an acclaimed run, earning an Olivier Nomination for Best Musical.
The Mikado has remained Gilbert and Sullivan’s most-performed work, and the only one of their operas to gain significant notice outside of the English-speaking world—the Japanese town of Chichibu, supposedly inspiration for the fictional Titipu, even staged a production of their own in 2006. It has been proven time and again that The Mikado’s charm lies not in stereotyped depictions of Japanese culture, but in the flexible cultural playground that its non-literal use of Japan as a setting provides. Mingling artifice and reality, duty and selfishness, and Japan and jazz, Hot Mikado presents social singularities in a delightfully theatrical way.
Notes on the production by Sam Tempchin