Sunny South Bank Sunday

Not a remotely foggy day in London Town. Strolling toward the Design Museum near Tower Bridge on the South Bank, tourists and Londoners alike are basking in a glorious, sunny Sunday. Visitors from various countries stop us and ask us to take their photos, and we do the same. Your blogger (foreground in picture) and her sister are posed near the bridge in a favorite photographers' spot.

The London version of Mister Softee is Mr. Whippy. Being too cutesy for words prevails on both sides of The Pond.

Kicking the Can Under the Bus

The following expressions don’t bear too much analysis; however…. Have complained before about over-used or incorrectly used catch phrases and words, but there are a couple that do amuse me, although I can’t recall using them myself. They are “Kick the can down the road” and “Throw him/her under the bus.” I believe the late William Safire dealt with one or both of these in his much-missed “On Language” columns in the Sunday New York Times Magazine.

A little online research reveals:

Definition of “kick the can down the road”

To procrastinate. "Kicking the can down the road" has been a favorite metaphor politicians have used to describe someone who is postponing a decision or avoiding an issue.

Definition of “throw under the bus”

One is thrown under the bus when made the scapegoat or blamed for something that wasn't one’s responsibility in the first place. A coverup for your mistake. You get thrown under the bus when someone (usually a co-worker) reports some wrongdoing or slacking off to a superior or other influential person. Sometimes used with the suffix "Vrooooom!" to simulate the noise the bus would make as it passes by at a high rate of speed.

Lately, there has been a veritable flood of “kick the can” usage in connection with legislative debates concerning national debt. How far that can will be kicked, no one knows. As for the bus, a lot of people are getting thrown under it these days.

Silfiden!

Silfiden, Danish for La Sylphide, continues to exert its otherworldly magic as presented on June 18 by the Royal Danish Ballet on its first visit to New York City in many years. The charm and delicacy with which the mostly very youthful company presented this August Bournonville classic certainly captivated this audience member. And everyone else.

The delicate-seeming but actually very difficult choreography—oh, those precise finishes in fifth position!—is complemented by a real sense of fairy-tale fantasy, perfectly expressed by the two leads; they really seemed not quite of this world and could not survive in it.

Quaint nineteenth-century stage touches are managed deftly: the Sylphide whooshes up the chimney at the end of the first scene, so that our hero, James, isn't even sure she's been there at all. When she reappears on the windowsill, cf. the old Taglioni lithograph, she floats to the floor. When she meets her tragic end, her little gossamer wings drop off one by one, and, finally, her corpse is borne off aloft, on wires, accompanied by her fellow airy beings.

As an avid opera as well as ballet aficionada, I was also charmed by the lovely sets and costumes, totally in keeping with echt romanticism, that were designed by Mikael Melbye in one of the most successful career changes in the world of the arts. I heard him sing Papageno at the Met a number of years ago, and he was one of the most prominent Danish lyric baritones when he retired from singing in 1999. Also a painter, he has since become an internationally successful theatrical designer. (New York City Ballet could use him.)

"Bloody, Bold, and Resolute"

The Royal Opera has climbed aboard the HD television bandwagon pioneered by the Metropolitan Opera's highly successful seasons of live matinee transmissions to theaters around the world. This week's live ROH offering was a stunning performance of Verdi's formerly underrated Macbeth, which has come to be appreciated in recent years. Perhaps English speakers and Shakespeare enthusiasts were put off in the past by characters addressed as "Macbetto," "Macduffo," "Banco," and "Il re Duncano." ("È morto e assassinato il re Duncano!") As someone fully conversant with the original text and fairly competent in Italian, I can admire Francesco Maria Piave's adaptation for the libretto, and I even enjoy a full chorus of witches instead of the original three. There were many imaginative touches in the staging, which was never over the top. One such was the delivery of Macbeth's letter to Lady M by one of the witches, who materialized and then vanished. Their supernatural, controlling powers were made evident.

A favorite artist, the extremely versatile and physically attractive Simon Keenlyside, is able to color the music with drama and emotion despite not having a typical Verdi voice. No one seems to have a typical Verdi voice these days, but here it didn't matter. The baritone's excellent Italian was also a help. The Ukrainian soprano Lyudmila Monastyrska sang "La Lady's" fiendish music with flair, seemingly tossing off the most difficult passages. The voice is rich and free of vibrato, and she even has the requisite trill. As an actress she was less effective, but it was a pleasure to hear the music so well sung. She did go against Verdi's original idea that Lady Macbeth should make an ugly sound; her voice is an extraordinarily beautiful one.

The dark, menacing, imaginative production and the fine conducting by Antonio Pappano made this British entry into the HD sweepstakes a success.

"An Isle of Joy"

My friend with the great apartment in a great location snapped this late-day view of park and skyscrapers yesterday. Wow! The fact that the summer solstice is near may have something to do with the wonderful light phenomenon.

Thought that it might have had something to do with this, but not the case—a separate topic:

Manhattanhenge | Hayden Planetarium

Macy's—Art and Commerce at the Flower Show

Despite economic difficulties common to almost all enterprises great and small, Macy’s has continued to delight citizens of New York and elsewhere, especially twice a year with its July 4 fireworks display and spring flower show. This year’s show was somewhat garish, but nevertheless delightful as usual. The ground-floor location, devoted mostly to beauty products and jewelry, is enhanced by the many lush floral and foliage arrangements that reflect the aesthetic intent of most of the merchandise. I saw lots of people like me with their tiny digital cameras, but not too many actually making purchases.

Despite numerous upgrades and its longstanding fame from the film Miracle on 34^th Street—and don’t forget the celebrated Christmas windows—Macy’s still isn’t a chic or even a really convenient place to shop. Still, they’ll always get me in there at least once a year to see the blooms.

Alice on Brrrroadway!

Free-associating again, I was reminded of a childhood trip to New York City at Easter, long ago. The reason is that I was asked about current April weather, and what the visitor should wear. This made me think of how I nearly froze to death in my then-obligatory camel’s hair coat over what was probably a thin cotton dress. This, even though I wore the hat and gloves considered proper at the time. But the discomfort of the cold was more than offset by my very first Broadway show!

Long a fan of Alice in Wonderland—and long before I was really aware of the objects of Lewis Carroll’s satire (and his fondness for “children, except boys”)—I now realize that Mom had made a special effort for me to see this show, which I enjoyed unreservedly. Also, it starred a young dancer, Bambi Linn, who had received a lot of publicity for her talent and youthful success. A protégée of Agnes de Mille, she had already appeared in the dream ballet in Oklahoma! and as Louise in Carousel. An aspiring ballet dancer myself, I collected articles and pictures of Bambi and other dance notables, and she was one of my heroes.

The show itself used the Tenniel illustrations for its designs, which also made me happy. Although I don’t remember it all in detail, I do remember the great Eva LeGallienne, who also wrote the stage adaptation, flying in on a wire as the White Queen. I was fortunate enough to find this link, which describes the show in detail:

"Alice In Wonderland - The 1947 Broadway production starring Bambi Linn"