Léo Delibes’ Flower Duet from Lakmé (1883)

Léo Delibes (1836–1891) was a French Roman­tic com­pos­er, best known for his bal­lets and operas. His works include the bal­lets Cop­pélia (1870) and Sylvia (1876), both of which were key works in the devel­op­ment of mod­ern bal­let and remain core works in the inter­na­tion­al bal­let reper­toire, and the opera Lak­mé (1883), which includes the well-known “Flower Duet”. I say “well-known”; it’s pos­si­ble that you know it with­out know­ing you know it (although you may need to wait for the 1.05 minute mark before it clicks). Although Delibes’ name may be less famous today than oth­er con­tem­po­rary French com­posers such as Berlioz, Debussy or Rav­el, the melody he has bequeathed is a gem.

Lak­mé was Delibes’ attempt at a seri­ous opera, hav­ing com­posed sev­er­al light com­ic opérettes in the 1850s and 1860s. The opera com­bines many ori­en­tal­ist aspects that were pop­u­lar at the time: an exot­ic loca­tion (sim­i­lar to oth­er French operas of the peri­od, such as Bizet’s Les pêcheurs de per­les and Massenet’s Le roi de Lahore), a fanat­i­cal priest, mys­te­ri­ous Hin­du rit­u­als, and “the nov­el­ty of exot­i­cal­ly colo­nial Eng­lish peo­ple”. The stuff that would prob­a­bly dis­com­fit mod­ern sen­si­bil­i­ties but which in 1883 was firm­ly de rigueur.

The opera includes the Flower Duet (“Sous le dôme épais”) for sopra­no and mez­zo-sopra­no, per­formed in Act 1 by Lak­mé, the daugh­ter of a Brah­min priest, and her ser­vant Malli­ka. Here we see it per­formed by sopra­no Sabine Devieil­he and mez­zo-sopra­no Mar­i­anne Cre­bas­sa.

Inci­den­tal­ly, have you ever won­dered how for­eign lan­guage poems still rhyme when trans­lat­ed into Eng­lish? Of course, this is where trans­la­tion has to be cre­ative in its own right. The Flower Duet pro­vides a case in point. See how Theodore T Bark­er, in 1890, turned the orig­i­nal French lyrics into singable Eng­lish, pre­serv­ing the form and rhyme:

French lyrics
Viens, Malli­ka, les lianes en fleurs
Jet­tent déjà leur ombre
Sur le ruis­seau sacré
qui coule, calme et som­bre,
Eveil­lé par le chant des oiseaux tapageurs

Lit­er­al Eng­lish
Come, Malli­ka, the flow­er­ing lianas
already cast their shad­ow
on the sacred stream
which flows, calm and dark,
awak­ened by the song of row­dy birds.

Singable Eng­lish
Come, Malli­ka, the flow­er­ing vines
Their shad­ows now are throw­ing
Along the sacred stream,
That calm­ly here is flow­ing;
Enlivened by the songs of birds among the pines.

Now enjoy the music…

Leo Delibes

Dick Clement and Ian La Frenais’s Auf Wiedersehen, Pet (1983)

If you grew up in Britain in the sev­en­ties, you would be well-versed in the comedic TV out­put of writ­ers Dick Clement and Ian La Fre­nais: What­ev­er Hap­pened To The Like­ly Lads? (1974–1976) and Por­ridge (1974–1977) were a sta­ple of whichev­er night they were broad­cast. I loved those shows of course, but in 1983 the pair launched a com­e­dy-dra­ma so replete with char­ac­ter and bril­liant dia­logue that it stands out for me as a mas­ter­piece: Auf Wieder­se­hen, Pet.

Sev­en Eng­lish con­struc­tion work­ers leave an unem­ploy­ment-hit Eng­land to search for employ­ment over­seas and find them­selves liv­ing and work­ing togeth­er on a build­ing site in Düs­sel­dorf. The “mag­nif­i­cent sev­en” char­ac­ters were Den­nis (Tim Healy), Neville (Kevin Whate­ly), Oz (Jim­my Nail), Bar­ry (Tim­o­thy Spall), Moxy (Christo­pher Fair­bank), Bomber (Pat Roach) and Wayne (Gary Holton). I don’t know how the cast­ing process works, but they struck gold with this group of actors; they dis­played an on-screen chem­istry and authen­tic­i­ty that warmed the hearts of the view­ing pub­lic.

The tri­umvi­rate of Den­nis, Neville and Oz pro­vide the core of the group due to their Geordie ori­gins and shared trade as brick­ies, though the three couldn’t be more dif­fer­ent: whilst Den­nis pro­vides the com­mon sense and prag­mat­ic lead­er­ship, Neville is an inex­pe­ri­enced and home­sick fish out of water, and Oz…well, what can we say about Oz? No fil­ters or self-con­scious­ness, blunt and iras­ci­ble, bla­tant­ly xeno­pho­bic ten­den­cies, a ser­i­al abscon­der from his mis­sus, Oz is no angel (and a con­stant source of angst to the others)…but hilar­i­ous nonethe­less.

Bar­ry, an elec­tri­cian from the Black Coun­try, loves to expound bor­ing­ly but charm­ing­ly on the diverse range of top­ics he’s read about, which are usu­al­ly of no inter­est to the oth­ers because they don’t involve beer or women. Wayne the Cock­ney wom­an­is­er of the group, Moxy the slight­ly odd and usu­al­ly under-the-weath­er Scouser, and Bomber, the gen­tle Bris­to­lian giant who nonethe­less is well-capa­ble of look­ing after him­self, com­plete the group.

The key word for me about Auf Wieder­se­hen, Pet is “authen­tic” – the day-to-day ban­ter on site, in “bar­racks”, and out on the town, feels real and it’s a joy to watch. Here’s a mon­tage of typ­i­cal Auf Wieder­shen, Pet fare.

The Auf Wieder­se­hen, Pet “Mag­nif­i­cent Sev­en”