The Yeomen of the Guard has been called the ‘English Meistersinger’ but the more you think about that, the dafter it gets.
It’s not just the very obvious difference in scale and means between Wagner’s five-hour national epic and Gilbert and Sullivan’s sprightly opéra comique. Wagner’s whole drama builds to a collective affirmation of German art. The Yeomen begins by setting up a fantasy of an English golden age – the Tower of London in the 16th century – then systematically cuts it to ribbons.
Act One’s gallant hero becomes Act Two’s callous seducer, whose march towards his own happy ending leaves a trail of collateral damage: a spiral of lies, two all-but-forced marriages and the unheeded emotional destruction of at least one central character. European directors work overtime (and how!) to puncture the uplift at the end of Die Meistersinger. If the director of The Yeomen merely follows Gilbert’s instructions to the letter, audiences gasp out loud with dismay.
The chorus emerged like human cuckoos from half-timbered clocks.
Get Britain's best politics newsletters
Register to get The Spectator's insight and opinion straight to your inbox. You can then read two free articles each week.
Already a subscriber? Log in
Comments
Join the debate for just £1 a month
Be part of the conversation with other Spectator readers by getting your first three months for £3.
UNLOCK ACCESS Just £1 a monthAlready a subscriber? Log in