An October of Some Importance
Salome with the head of John the Baptist
October 28
This blog comes from the October 28 entry in my book Theatre Is My Life! and tells of an enchanting few weeks that I spent pretty much by myself in October of 2003. One theatre piece I failed to mention in my original writing is Oscar Wilde’s A Woman of No Importance. The play is considered one of the lesser “Drawing Room” plays of his, but is an interesting jab at the upper class society of his day — and it is, of course, the source of the title of the film.
In the song “Princess” from A Man of No Importance, Alfie talks to Adele about how wonderful acting is when you can be another human being and leave yourself behind, and hears her sing about her small time ways that she can leave behind. (Listen to the work online or from your library! or right here on YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Z0ihtf8GVL8)
Alfie in A Man of No Importance, a musical with music by Stephen Flaherty, lyrics by Lynn Ahrens, and a book by Terrence McNally, based on the 1994 Albert Finney film
The SiriusXM classical station has been throwing in a few “scary” pieces to get listeners in the mood for the upcoming Halloween holiday. Yesterday, the announcer reminded everyone that the sister Metropolitan Opera station would be airing Richard Strauss’s opera Salome Wednesday afternoon. “Now listen to that if you want something frightening!” he told us.
The mention of Salome reminded me of a few weeks in October of 2003 when I was still mourning my father’s death and feeling lonely for Seth who had gone away to college. I was working at The American Village and also missing my theatre work. At this point, I was still a member of Stage and Screen (formerly Fireside Theatre and now defunct), a book club that concentrated on sending me (and many subscribers) play scripts. That fall, one of the selections was A Man of No Importance, the musical by Stephen Flaherty, Lynn Ahrens, and Terrence McNally.
The work, based on a film starring Albert Finney, tells the story of Alfie Byrne, a middle-aged Dublin bus conductor who lives with his spinster sister, reads poetry aloud to the dismay of his passengers, and is passionate about his amateur theatre company which rehearses and performs in the basement of Saint Imelda’s Catholic church.
In love with Robbie who drives his bus, but unable in 1964 to speak of such homosexual affection, Alfie is a huge Oscar Wilde fan and is intent on staging a version of his play Salome, despite the objections of church authorities. I became as infatuated with the tender and beautifully written Man of No Importance as Alfie is with Robbie. The music is lyrical, and the tale features one of my favorite themes: Who am I and what am I on earth to do?
So I read the play, I listened to the music, then I read the haunting Wilde Salome (which was originally banned on the basis that it was unlawful to depict Biblical characters on stage). Then, I found in the library the Finney film (Man of No Importance) that the musical was based on. I reread the biblical version of the story of John the Baptist and his demise at the hands of a teenager. I found my old book with Aubrey Beardsley’s evocative illustrations created for the first English edition of Wilde's play in1894 and pored over them. And I listened to the Strauss opera Salome. It was an absolutely bewitching few weeks for me. I could not get enough of any of the pieces.
During that time, Seth came home for fall break, Elin broke up with her boyfriend Ben and had a date with her future husband David for the first time, I had a Yard Sale, my work computer had to be totally revamped, I painted and donated an art piece to my university’s silent auction, I worked on camp and club projects.
But in my mind, I kept seeing the Salome setting, a great terrace in the Palace of Herod, a gigantic staircase, an old cistern surrounded by a wall of green bronze, and the moon, a full, scintillating, lustrous orb shining very brightly in the sky, just waiting to watch that dance of veils and see what it might bring. As I carried on my life, in my mind I luxuriated in the overlapping, interconnected, luminous works that formed and informed almost one-twelfth of my year of 2003.