Review: Satyagraha

I went to see the Philip Glass opera, Satyagraha (on until May 1 in London), on the eve of my birthday - perhaps vaguely apt, since Glass (pictured) is celebrating his 70th this year. Before moving from the blogger's narcissism which almost grounds the form and content, the very context, of such posts, let me add that I was very glad to do so, since not only has Glass afforded me much aural pleasure for at least 25 years (since I was fifteen or thereabouts, in other words), the subject of the opera, Gandhi, has inspired my work for peace, since at least the age of 19, when my father first gave me a book of his on Gandhi and Tolstoy; and, indeed, Tolstoy appears (silently) in this production, alongside other figures related through time, history and the search for peace, such as Tagore and Dr. King.

This production by the ENO is, astonishingly for such an important and beautiful work, its UK premiere, though it was first performed in 1980 by the Netherlands Opera. Unlike the other famous Western cultural version, the film that won the Oscars, this work stays focussed on the South Africa years, 1896 to 1913 and the New Castle March. It hardly needs saying that the theme of the opera is resonant today: peaceful resolution of conflict with regards to resistance of imperialist force. While many would see this as a rejection of the Bush Doctrine, it is also fair to note that no one in Iraq at the moment seems to be employing the methods of M.K. Gandhi with much success. The man remains a legend, his methods often neglected in the world of action - our own time's equivalent hero, Mandela, did not renounce violence as utterly, did he?

The opera is long - three acts, 150 minutes. The first two are as mesmerizing as the mind or ear could hope to expect - the combination of the voice of Alan Oke in the lead, the chorus, the repetitive, haunting music, and the bizarre and provocative stagecraft of Improbable is superb. It is only in the last 30 minutes that - as an Obama-style version of Dr. King gesticulates in the background on a huge raised plinth - a sort of post-modern tedium sets in - one induced paradoxically by the fact that, in the last 20 years, the music that Glass once championed along with Reich and Adams has become, if not the norm, then clearly mainstream (often used in film scores, and not just recently); this overfamiliar minimalist pulse, at once lulling and upsetting, with time can wear thin. Still, myself and my friends were deeply moved, in the whole, by the the power of the staging, the vocal performances, and especially the second act.

Glass is a major composer of his American moment, but, comparing this to last year's magisterial Nixon In China, also at the ENO, I am afraid to say perhaps villains make better subjects. Perhaps Glass should write an opera, then, on the Bush Doctrine, after all.

IQ AND THE POETS - ARE YOU SMART?

When you open your mouth to speak, are you smart? A funny question from a great song, but also, a good one, when it comes to poets, and poetry. We tend to have a very ambiguous view of intelligence in poetry, one that I'd say is dysfunctional. Basically, it goes like this: once you are safely dead, it no longer matters how smart you were. For instance, Auden was smarter than Yeats , but most would still say Yeats is the finer poet; Eliot is clearly highly intelligent, but how much of Larkin 's work required a high IQ? Meanwhile, poets while alive tend to be celebrated if they are deemed intelligent: Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill , and Jorie Graham , are all, clearly, very intelligent people, aside from their work as poets. But who reads Marianne Moore now, or Robert Lowell , smart poets? Or, Pound ? How smart could Pound be with his madcap views? Less intelligent poets are often more popular. John Betjeman was not a very smart poet, per se. What do I mean by smart?

"I have crossed oceans of time to find you..."

In terms of great films about, and of, love, we have Vertigo, In The Mood for Love , and Casablanca , Doctor Zhivago , An Officer and a Gentleman , at the apex; as well as odder, more troubling versions, such as Sophie's Choice and Silence of the Lambs . I think my favourite remains Bram Stoker's Dracula , with the great immortal line "I have crossed oceans of time to find you...".

THE SWIFT REPORT 2023

I am writing this post without much enthusiasm, but with a sense of duty. This blog will be 20 years old soon, and though I rarely post here anymore, I owe it some attention. Of course in 2023, "Swift" now means one thing only, Taylor Swift, the billionaire musician. Gone are the days when I was asked if I was related to Jonathan Swift. The pre-eminent cultural Swift is now alive and TIME PERSON OF THE YEAR. There is no point in belabouring the obvious with delay: 2023 was a low-point in the low annals of human history - war, invasion, murder, in too many nations. Hate, division, the collapse of what truth is, exacerbated by advances in AI that may or may not prove apocalyptic, while global warming still seems to threaten the near-future safety of humanity. It's been deeply depressing. The world lost some wonderful poets, actors, musicians, and writers this year, as it often does. Two people I knew and admired greatly, Ian Ferrier and Kevin Higgins, poets and organise

E Y E W E A R, THE BLOG - FREEDOM MEANS BEING UNAFRAID TO WRITE WHAT YOU THINK

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