My bias in this review is that I took some of it personally and started crying on the airplane.  I'll explain, but be warned there are thematic spoilers.

Magellania is one of Jules Verne's later works, related to Lighthouse in that it takes place at the southernmost tip of South America, where it is cold and dry and half-Antarctic.  The plot introduces us to a white man named Kaw-djer, who despises governments and religious authorities.  He lives among the native inhabitants of Magellania...appearing to "civilization" to be no more than a drifter or an outcast, but to his friends, a compassionate and dedicated doctor.  Kaw-djer is determined to answer to no one, and is prepared to take his life into his own hands if anyone tries to find him.  Yet surely, he thinks, no one will find him at the end of the world...

Earthly Angels: Iolanta and Billy Budd

Last month, I saw two excellent productions which I've been meaning (ever since) to talk about.  One was an opera - the Met's new/first production of Iolanta, by Tchaikovsky, starring Anna Netrebko and Piotr Beczala.  The second was Billy Budd, a 1962 adaptation of Melville's novella, with Peter Ustinov playing Captain Vere.

Iolanta is about a princess who was born blind, and kept ignorant of the fact.  Her father, King René, insists she lives a sheltered, solitary life in the forest, hoping somehow that her betrothed, Robert, will also never learn of her blindness (until after they are married).  The king tries to enlist the help of a surgeon to give Iolanta her eyesight, though the outlook, he feels, is not promising.  Meanwhile, unbeknownst to him, Iolanta has been found by the knight Vaudémont, who falls in love with her instantly...but is it also unconditionally?

This is such a beautiful story that it's amazing the Met waited so long.  The plotline, surprisingly deep, poses a dilemma to the audience - would you tell someone the truth about herself, at the risk of ruining her life?  Iolanta is innocent, sweet-natured, and, for the most part, content; a Cinderella whose happy ending seems ambiguous.  I didn't have to try to connect with this story; really, it was incredibly moving.

And, of course, who better to debut this opera than Netrebko and Beczala, adding, to their splendid voices, their thoughtful acting which goes a long way in "Live in HD" (I watched this at the movie theater).  I was also really impressed with the supporting cast, and King René's aria, sung by Ilya Bannik, was one of the best parts.

One quibble - it can't be denied that this production (by Mariusz Trelinski) is aesthetically beautiful, with sort of a gothic French Alps vibe going on.  However, I think it was ill-advised to make it so dark...he made all the supporting characters (except Robert) to appear sinister, and that made the buildup fizzle out at the ending.  The king may be an antagonist, but there's a difference between that and a villain.  Anyways, you can tell by Tchaikovsky's lyrics that the story isn't intended to have this theme, and that adds a layer of incongruity that often got in the way of the story.

You'll remember I rated highly the story Billy Budd.  Subsequently, I became curious to know if there were any good adaptations of it.  I actually found an extraordinary YouTube clip of a production starring - brace yourselves - William Shatner and Basil Rathbone.  Then I watched about twenty minutes of the opera, which was both fascinating and gave me the creeps (and I do intend to finish it one day).  The next thing was this 60s movie, with Terence Stamp as Billy.

It far exceeded my expectations.  I felt like this two-hour film was way too long for such a short story, but, apart from the filler (which, in spirit, was still true to the book), it was a first-rate adaptation.  I was watching it with some of my family members, and it kept their interest as well...I was so glad it was true to the book, and kept you guessing until the end what the outcome would be.

Stamp was perfect as Billy, not only for looking like the "Handsome Sailor," but for portraying Billy's character - innocent, yet human, and in some ways wiser than his years.  As with Iolanta, you feel there's a fine line he's walking on, and something terrible could happen to make it all fall apart for him.  That's good casting and good acting.

It was odd that Claggart was played by an American (Robert Ryan).  (I had to keep telling myself he must have been impressed from a U.S. ship, though that might be an historical stretch.)  However, he came across fairly convincing as Billy's self-appointed nemesis.  Ustinov was excellent as Vere, encompassing the captain's nervousness, sense of justice, and pervading paranoia/wish to exert authority...amazing he was able to portray Vere so accurately (maybe the two hours are partly to thank).

As in Iolanta, the filmmaker decided to add a dark twist to the end of this plotline.  I'm not sure what to think about it.  Though it seems reasonable this way, I can't help but imagine that perhaps Melville more accurately described the crew mentality.  Unsure.

Both of these - highly recommended!

'Lighthouse' - how not to read Jules Verne

For starters, this is not a review of the book The Lighthouse at the End of the World, by Jules Verne.  Rather, this is about the specific version I ordered (and am returning), which is translated by William Butcher and published by Bison Books (University of Nebraska Press).

There were three types of Verne translations which I read, back in the day.  One type was old and Victorian-esque, probably the first English translation and perhaps modified by Michel Verne (Jules's son).  Another type was the rarity - a thoughtful modern translation, often by some large publishing house.  The third type was a modern translation (usually first English) of an obscure Verne novel, with such freedom of editorial interpretation that I wish I had never read it.

Nostalgia trip

How could reading morph from something intrinsically habitual to - a tedious chore?

While I stew on that sad thought, I will just mention these books (they come in threes) that arrived this week, and which I am, in a wistful way, excited to read.

A long time ago, I was on a magnificent Jules Verne streak, and one of the best stories was The Lighthouse at the End of the World.  I've been longing to get back into Verne, re-read my favorites and explore the umpteen other books he wrote...this one is a good place to start.

Kierkegaard's discourse on the "modern" world comes highly rated.  From even the little I've read of and about him, I sense I'll relate strongly to some of his ideas and disagree strongly with others.  A short book is a small commitment (!) and hopefully a tidy introduction.

Finally, somehow I wandered across a memoir by Jacques Cousteau, whose underwater films were a vague but memorable part of my childhood.  I had no idea this existed; I'm big on nautical literature, exploration, and primary sources, so The Silent World looks really great.

(And to answer my question - this is just a phase.)