FROM THE ARCHIVES:The 50th birthday of the Rathmines and Rathgar Musical Society was marked in 1963 by this editorial which predicted a long life for light opera.
THIS WEEK marks the golden jubilee of the Rathmines and Rathgar Musical Society. Its first production was “The Mikado” in the Queen’s Theatre in 1913; and since then the society has been putting on light opera of a remarkably high degree of excellence.
While it is identified with Gilbert and Sullivan, and satisfied the persistent demand for these operas at periods when the D’Oyly Carte Company did not come to Dublin, it would be wrong to overlook the wide variety of opera bouffe that the society has presented, and its production of “Die Fledermaus” anticipated more solemn bodies.
There is an argument against amateur dramatic societies that they amuse those performing in them at the expense (in every sense) of the audience; but when a company maintains the standard of this one, and when it can draw houses to a leading theatre for half a century, it justifies itself on the record.
Nor, it may be submitted, could any such society continue to exist for fifty years if it had not satisfied the public. Dublin had the reputation of being a musical city. There were many amateur music groups, singing clubs and orchestral societies. Has there been a falling off? With the enormous increase in visual entertainment, have the young dropped out of the way of entertaining themselves?
Cultural bodies (including the Arts Council) would, perhaps, regard the Rathmines and Rathgar – and all light opera companies – as outside the musical pale. Their appeal is popular, and if they do not get popular support they are self-condemned. It will be a long time before Dublin tires of light opera. Of all sorts of entertainment, it is the one most likely to sell at the box-office. Our reputation as a music-loving people is, perhaps, exaggerated. If we like music we know what music we like. The hackneyed is safe, the novel is attempted not without grave financial peril.
Sophistication will increase with time; but there will always be a place for the light and unpretentious. We cannot be serious all the time, and a light opera is a very pleasant way of whiling away an evening. This society, at any rate, seems to be as hale and hearty now as it was when it first began, in the Queen’s Theatre, before the world had borne the shock of two wars. And it is an interesting reflection that the programme could be the same.
It would be interesting to take a census of the audience at the society’s productions. Apart from friends of the members, how many of them are under forty? Is there, for Gilbert and Sullivan, for instance, a new generation of fans? After 80 years or so of vigorous life, have they joined the immortals? The answer lies in the ability of succeeding generations to find something better. These operas have seen many rivals come-and go.
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