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Literature Text
Through the (abridged) Looking Glass
(and what malice was found there)
Part II
OR
Alice: Cultural learnings of Looking Glass Land for make benefit glorious city of Melbourne
In which Inverted-Jabberwocky will attempt to cram in as many references to the city of Melbourne as possible.
Alice steps into the second square and finds herself at . . .
SCENE: A TRAIN STATION packed with DISGRUNTLED COMMUTERS in the thick of complaining about Looking Glass Land’s apparently atrocious public transport system.
DISGRUNTLED COMMUTER 1: So I says to him, I says, “Let’s move to Wonderland – at least they have a halfway-decent public transport system!” “Oh, no,” he says. “That’d be most unpatriotic!” he says.
DISGRUNTLED COMMUTER 2: Well, I for one’d much rather be unpatriotic than stuck here waiting two hours for a bloody train that ought to be coming every twenty minutes!
DISGRUNTLED COMMUTER 3: Too right!
A GUARD strides across the platform.
GUARD: Mornin’ folks. Can I see your tickets?
ALICE: T-ticket?
GUARD: Yes, Miss. Your ticket, please.
ALICE: I-I . . . I don’t have one . . .
GUARD: ARGH! You damned fare evaders, always out to ruin my day!
DISGRUNTLED COMMUTER 4: Well, you know, if you’d just lower ticket prices, maybe you wouldn’t have such a problem with fare evasion!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: (promises to stop making not-so-veiled insults about Melbourne’s public transport system)
The ENGINE DRIVER appears, driving a two-tiered black-and-green platform atop four wheels.
DISGRUNTLED COMMUTERS: ABOUT BLOODY TIME!
AUDIENCE: That’s supposed to be a train?
THING-THAT-DOESN’T-REALLY-LOOK-LIKE-A-TRAIN: Suspend your disbelief, okay?
The guard rounds on Alice.
GUARD: Right then, you cur! Since you’ve failed to produce a valid ticket, I hereby sentence you to be dragged behind this here vaguely-train-looking-thing until you are DEAD.
DRIVER: Alternatively, you could always just, you know, give her a ticket.
GUARD: Ohhh! So that’s why I was holding this book of tickets!
The guard tears a ticket from the book and hands it to Alice. Alice attempts to board the train but can’t find any room in the carriage.
ALICE: This is ridiculous! The train is completely packed and there are only six passengers!
DRIVER: Well, we used to be able to use more carriages, but as the people in charge are so utterly retarded, now if a carriage has so much as even a scratch in the window, we have to declare it dangerous and defective and not run it.
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: (realises she broke her promise about not insulting Connex)
DRIVER: In any case, you can sit in the cabin with me.
Alice climbs up next to the driver and the train departs.
DRIVER: So . . . I hear the underworld is nice this time of year.
ALICE: Really . . .
DRIVER: Uh-huh. Word of advice, though – should you ever lose your significant other down there and manage to convince Hades to relinquish her soul, for the love of all that’s holy, DON’T ever look back at her!
ALICE: . . . I’ll . . . keep that in mind . . .
The train journeys on in relative silence.
ALICE: You know . . . even if a handful of readers get what you were referencing just then, there’s probably no way they’d get the joke behind it . . .
DRIVER: Hmmm . . . then I propose we change the subject tout suite . . . oh, look! There’s a brook! I say, let’s jump over it!
RANDOM PASSENGER: Wow, so this is an F-model jumping train?
DRIVER: Well, of course it’s not – we had to relinquish them all due to our funding cuts. This rust-bucket couldn’t jump an anthill! WE’RE GONNA JUMP THE BROOK ANYWAY!
PASSENGERS: You’re mad!
DRIVER: Well, that can’t be helped – we’re all mad here!
ALICE: I thought that excuse only worked in Wonderland!
The train is violently launched into the air. Everyone screams, except for the driver, who seems positively delighted by the fact that they will almost certainly all die in the resulting crash. All the lights immediately cut out, graciously sparing the audience from viewing what is most likely an horrific train wreck.
ORCHESTRA CONDUCTOR: Will all passengers kindly proceed towards the emergency exits located at the front, sides and rear of the engine in an orderly fashion. And in the event of death . . . well, that’s your own damn fault!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: (is sure there is some sort of joke to made about the orchestra conductor playing the train conductor, but can’t be bothered finding one)
The stage lights brighten once again to reveal Alice, who has somehow managed to survive the carnage.
ALICE: I know Connex has a bad track record, but . . . ugh, that was a terrible pun!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: . . . sorry.
SCENE: A BLACK FOREST (no, not the cake . . . )
ALICE: This must be that forest where people become ashamed of their names and feel compelled to change them . . . well, there’s little chance of that happening – I’m perfectly happy with my own name!
A pause. Then . . .
ALICE: AUGH! How could my parents have been so cruel as to give me such a hideous name?! I must fashion myself a new one immediately! Something starting with . . . “L”! La . . . Loor . . . Lur . . . Lurga!
DISEMBODIED VOICES: “Lurga”? Like that guardian angel from the sixth planet?
The owners of the voices steps into view – three UNHOLY COMBINATIONS OF CHILD, HOBBY-HORSE AND SCOOTER; the audience is expected to believe they are FAWNS.
ALICE: This raises a lot of questions . . . all of them with horrifying answers. And what’s so wrong with the name I chose?
FAWN 1: Oh, nothing much, really. It’s just that you look like more of a “Jennifer” than a “Lurga”.
FAWN 2: Ooh, speaking of which, we need to find a beautiful, beautiful bread-and-butterfly to give as our monthly tribute to the Aristocrats!
FAWN 3: We’re going to transcend our poor ranks and become refined members of the Red Crayon Aristocracy!
FAWN 1: Come and help us, Jennifer! You might even get your very own red crayon!
ALICE: . . . I don’t suppose I’ve anything better to do . . .
Alice and the THREE FAILED EXPERIMENTS OF DR. MOREAU traverse through the forest in companionable silence. After a few minutes, Alice takes off her blazer and drapes it around the lead scooter-fawn. Doing so makes her look even less like a Victorian-era lady and all the more like a modern-day Melburnian on her way to the Block Arcade to do a spot of window shopping.
FAWN 1: So, this is how the Red Crayon Aristocracy dupes us all into thinking they have all the power: rather like society in general, they put labels on people – as represented here by the rankings – so as to make us think that some of us are more exclusive than the others. But us lower-ranked members, we know the truth. See, you and me, we’re equal, so – OH, DEAR LORD, YOU’RE A HUMAN!!
FAWNS 2 & 3: RUN AWAY! RUN AWAAAAY!
The THREE AMIGOS panic and flee, leaving Alice alone.
ALICE: . . . speciesists! Well, at any rate, at least I’m not ashamed of my name anymore – “Alice”! And I shan’t forget it again! Now . . . what was my name again . . . ?
SCENE: A clearing beyond the forest.
Alice comes across TWEEDLEDUM and TWEEDLEDEE, who are engaged in enthusiastic conversation. The TWEEDLES are TWINS, so naturally, they are dressed in opposing colours and are a BASS and a TENOR respectively.
TWEEDLEDUM: So I went and saw that sculpture of the cow up a tree, and guess what they’re calling it . . . “Cow up a Tree”!
TWEEDLEDEE: Wow! Who’d’ve thought!
ALICE: Um . . . sorry to interrupt, but could either of you tell me –
TWEEDLEDEE: Look, Dum! It’s what’s-her-name from the neurotics ward! Nurse’s favourite lu –
ALICE: Actually, I’ve already done that joke.
TWEEDLEDEE: Oh. Well . . . I’ve got nothing, nohow!
TWEEDLEDUM: Contrariwise, I don’t have anything either!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: And I’m sure that somewhere, a linguist is crying over the sheer awfulness of that sentence.
ALICE: Wait, you’re . . . Tweedledum and Tweedledee, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be fighting?
TWEEDLEDUM: Fighting? Us? Really?
ALICE: Well, yes. Dee ought to be furious at you for breaking his rattle.
TWEEDLEDEE: . . . why should I be so furious about something so . . . insignificant?
TWEEDLEDUM: Yes, it all seems a bit petty if you ask me.
An awkward silence ensues.
ALICE: Not to be rude or anything, but have either of you actually bothered to read the book this opera is based on?
TWEEDLEDEE: Books! You can find lots of those at that library in Swanston Street!
TWEEDLEDUM: And opera! They do that at the State Theatre! But you know, lately the opera company there has started doing musicals too!
TWEEDLEDEE: They have? Because I’m sure I remember a time when all they did was opera.
TWEEDLEDUM: An opera company that only does opera? Fancy that!
Alice casually leans on the FOURTH WALL.
ALICE: Is it just me, or are these Melbourne references becoming increasingly . . . forced?
TWEEDLEDEE: In any case, we don’t really get any sort of say regarding that – if you’ve got a problem with it, you can go sulk under the clocks!
TWEEDLEDUM: So, how many references is that now?
TWEEDLEDEE: I counted at least eight!
TWEEDLEDUM: Hmmm . . . the audience’s interest appears to be waning . . . perhaps we ought to have a battle after all?
TWEEDLEDEE: Capital idea! A bit of a scrap ought to appease the purists out there!
The Tweedles begin singing over each other, as this is apparently how men do battle in contemporary opera. They are suddenly interrupted by a great, resonating sound.
ALICE: What’s that horrible noise? Are there lions and tigers hereabouts?
AUDIENCE: Lions and tigers? They expect us to believe that Looking Glass Land is in western India?
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: Or Oz, I suppose . . .
TWEEDLEDUM: Lions? Tigers? Heavens, no!
TWEEDLEDEE: Come and see for yourself!
The Tweedles lead Alice over to where the RED KING lies sound asleep.
TWEEDLEDEE: It’s our King, see?
TWEEDLEDUM: Snoring away, so peaceful-like.
At this, the Red King suddenly springs awake.
RED KING: I CAN’T HELP IT IF I SNORE – I HAVE A LEGITIMATE MEDICAL CONDITION! And honestly, I get enough grief about it from the Red Queen; I don’t need to hear it from my subjects as well!
TWEEDLEDUM: So what of it, big man?
RED KING: I . . . er, well . . . I could have the both of you excommunicated!
TWEEDLEDEE: Fat lot of use that’ll do – we don’t worship your silly deities anyway, nohow!
TWEEDLEDUM: Contrariwise, you could always excommunicate yourself!
Alice suddenly produces a sledgehammer and proceeds to obliterate the fourth wall.
ALICE: Is there supposed to be some sort of joke here?
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: I honestly don’t know anymore.
TWEEDLEDEE: Wait . . . (gasps) You great dunce of a king! You’ve just ruined the sting of this entire scene!
TWEEDLEDUM: That you have! You were supposed to stay asleep so we could tell the lass here that you were dreaming about her, and that if you woke up, she’d cease to exist!
TWEEDLEDEE: And we were going to have ever so much fun messing with her head about it, but you had to go wake up and fudge the whole thing!
ALICE: Hate to change the subject, but . . . there seems to be something flying towards us rather quickly . . .
TWEEDLEDEE: (ignoring Alice) Why are you still here?! Go excommunicate yourself already! Go on, shoo!
ALICE: No, really, it’s getting closer and closer! Oughtn’t we go and take cover?
TWEEDLEDUM: (ignoring Alice) ARGH! Why do we have such an incompetent monarchy?!
ALICE: It’s practically on top of us! And it’s so very big and so very black and . . . and . . . ghost-like?
At this, the Tweedles’ interest is piqued.
TWEEDLEDEE: Ghost-like? Could it be a Phantasmagoria?
TWEEDLEDUM: Or a flying Boojum?
RED KING: Or a Snark?
TWEEDLEDEE: The Boojum was a Snark, idiot king!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: I think American McGee might beg to differ . . .
ALICE: Experience tells me that it ought to be a monstrous crow . . . but it just looks like a regular ghost . . .
WANNABE-GHOST HUNTERS IN AUDIENCE: IT’S FEDERICI!
ALICE: . . . the ghost that’s supposed to haunt that theatre in Spring Street? What business could he possibly have here?
RANDOM AUDIENCE MEMBER: Maybe he got bored with watching Guys and Dolls night after night and decided to come see the opera instead?
ALICE: . . . no. Just . . . no.
TWEEDLEDEE: No one would ever buy that, nohow!
TWEEDLEDUM: Contrariwise, the readers are confused enough as it is!
AUDIENCE: Oh, fine! Have your stupid crow then!
TWEEDLES: THE MONSTROUS CROW! AUGH!
A MONSTROUS CROW – that is apparently invisible to the audience – descends upon the stage. Tweedledum and Tweedledee fall to pieces and throw themselves off the stage. Alice manages to escape the crow by hiding amidst some TREES, which exist solely by virtue of Alice’s dialogue.
TREE 1: What’s that? You mean, if Alice didn’t mention us, we’d cease to exist?!
TREE 2: Oh, horror upon existential horror!
ALICE: Recycling jokes is lazy writing!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: BITE ME! . . . or should that be “eat me”?
From his seat on the balcony railing, FEDERICI applauds.
FEDERICI: Guys and Dolls has got nothing on this!
(and what malice was found there)
Part II
OR
Alice: Cultural learnings of Looking Glass Land for make benefit glorious city of Melbourne
In which Inverted-Jabberwocky will attempt to cram in as many references to the city of Melbourne as possible.
Alice steps into the second square and finds herself at . . .
SCENE: A TRAIN STATION packed with DISGRUNTLED COMMUTERS in the thick of complaining about Looking Glass Land’s apparently atrocious public transport system.
DISGRUNTLED COMMUTER 1: So I says to him, I says, “Let’s move to Wonderland – at least they have a halfway-decent public transport system!” “Oh, no,” he says. “That’d be most unpatriotic!” he says.
DISGRUNTLED COMMUTER 2: Well, I for one’d much rather be unpatriotic than stuck here waiting two hours for a bloody train that ought to be coming every twenty minutes!
DISGRUNTLED COMMUTER 3: Too right!
A GUARD strides across the platform.
GUARD: Mornin’ folks. Can I see your tickets?
ALICE: T-ticket?
GUARD: Yes, Miss. Your ticket, please.
ALICE: I-I . . . I don’t have one . . .
GUARD: ARGH! You damned fare evaders, always out to ruin my day!
DISGRUNTLED COMMUTER 4: Well, you know, if you’d just lower ticket prices, maybe you wouldn’t have such a problem with fare evasion!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: (promises to stop making not-so-veiled insults about Melbourne’s public transport system)
The ENGINE DRIVER appears, driving a two-tiered black-and-green platform atop four wheels.
DISGRUNTLED COMMUTERS: ABOUT BLOODY TIME!
AUDIENCE: That’s supposed to be a train?
THING-THAT-DOESN’T-REALLY-LOOK-LIKE-A-TRAIN: Suspend your disbelief, okay?
The guard rounds on Alice.
GUARD: Right then, you cur! Since you’ve failed to produce a valid ticket, I hereby sentence you to be dragged behind this here vaguely-train-looking-thing until you are DEAD.
DRIVER: Alternatively, you could always just, you know, give her a ticket.
GUARD: Ohhh! So that’s why I was holding this book of tickets!
The guard tears a ticket from the book and hands it to Alice. Alice attempts to board the train but can’t find any room in the carriage.
ALICE: This is ridiculous! The train is completely packed and there are only six passengers!
DRIVER: Well, we used to be able to use more carriages, but as the people in charge are so utterly retarded, now if a carriage has so much as even a scratch in the window, we have to declare it dangerous and defective and not run it.
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: (realises she broke her promise about not insulting Connex)
DRIVER: In any case, you can sit in the cabin with me.
Alice climbs up next to the driver and the train departs.
DRIVER: So . . . I hear the underworld is nice this time of year.
ALICE: Really . . .
DRIVER: Uh-huh. Word of advice, though – should you ever lose your significant other down there and manage to convince Hades to relinquish her soul, for the love of all that’s holy, DON’T ever look back at her!
ALICE: . . . I’ll . . . keep that in mind . . .
The train journeys on in relative silence.
ALICE: You know . . . even if a handful of readers get what you were referencing just then, there’s probably no way they’d get the joke behind it . . .
DRIVER: Hmmm . . . then I propose we change the subject tout suite . . . oh, look! There’s a brook! I say, let’s jump over it!
RANDOM PASSENGER: Wow, so this is an F-model jumping train?
DRIVER: Well, of course it’s not – we had to relinquish them all due to our funding cuts. This rust-bucket couldn’t jump an anthill! WE’RE GONNA JUMP THE BROOK ANYWAY!
PASSENGERS: You’re mad!
DRIVER: Well, that can’t be helped – we’re all mad here!
ALICE: I thought that excuse only worked in Wonderland!
The train is violently launched into the air. Everyone screams, except for the driver, who seems positively delighted by the fact that they will almost certainly all die in the resulting crash. All the lights immediately cut out, graciously sparing the audience from viewing what is most likely an horrific train wreck.
ORCHESTRA CONDUCTOR: Will all passengers kindly proceed towards the emergency exits located at the front, sides and rear of the engine in an orderly fashion. And in the event of death . . . well, that’s your own damn fault!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: (is sure there is some sort of joke to made about the orchestra conductor playing the train conductor, but can’t be bothered finding one)
The stage lights brighten once again to reveal Alice, who has somehow managed to survive the carnage.
ALICE: I know Connex has a bad track record, but . . . ugh, that was a terrible pun!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: . . . sorry.
SCENE: A BLACK FOREST (no, not the cake . . . )
ALICE: This must be that forest where people become ashamed of their names and feel compelled to change them . . . well, there’s little chance of that happening – I’m perfectly happy with my own name!
A pause. Then . . .
ALICE: AUGH! How could my parents have been so cruel as to give me such a hideous name?! I must fashion myself a new one immediately! Something starting with . . . “L”! La . . . Loor . . . Lur . . . Lurga!
DISEMBODIED VOICES: “Lurga”? Like that guardian angel from the sixth planet?
The owners of the voices steps into view – three UNHOLY COMBINATIONS OF CHILD, HOBBY-HORSE AND SCOOTER; the audience is expected to believe they are FAWNS.
ALICE: This raises a lot of questions . . . all of them with horrifying answers. And what’s so wrong with the name I chose?
FAWN 1: Oh, nothing much, really. It’s just that you look like more of a “Jennifer” than a “Lurga”.
FAWN 2: Ooh, speaking of which, we need to find a beautiful, beautiful bread-and-butterfly to give as our monthly tribute to the Aristocrats!
FAWN 3: We’re going to transcend our poor ranks and become refined members of the Red Crayon Aristocracy!
FAWN 1: Come and help us, Jennifer! You might even get your very own red crayon!
ALICE: . . . I don’t suppose I’ve anything better to do . . .
Alice and the THREE FAILED EXPERIMENTS OF DR. MOREAU traverse through the forest in companionable silence. After a few minutes, Alice takes off her blazer and drapes it around the lead scooter-fawn. Doing so makes her look even less like a Victorian-era lady and all the more like a modern-day Melburnian on her way to the Block Arcade to do a spot of window shopping.
FAWN 1: So, this is how the Red Crayon Aristocracy dupes us all into thinking they have all the power: rather like society in general, they put labels on people – as represented here by the rankings – so as to make us think that some of us are more exclusive than the others. But us lower-ranked members, we know the truth. See, you and me, we’re equal, so – OH, DEAR LORD, YOU’RE A HUMAN!!
FAWNS 2 & 3: RUN AWAY! RUN AWAAAAY!
The THREE AMIGOS panic and flee, leaving Alice alone.
ALICE: . . . speciesists! Well, at any rate, at least I’m not ashamed of my name anymore – “Alice”! And I shan’t forget it again! Now . . . what was my name again . . . ?
SCENE: A clearing beyond the forest.
Alice comes across TWEEDLEDUM and TWEEDLEDEE, who are engaged in enthusiastic conversation. The TWEEDLES are TWINS, so naturally, they are dressed in opposing colours and are a BASS and a TENOR respectively.
TWEEDLEDUM: So I went and saw that sculpture of the cow up a tree, and guess what they’re calling it . . . “Cow up a Tree”!
TWEEDLEDEE: Wow! Who’d’ve thought!
ALICE: Um . . . sorry to interrupt, but could either of you tell me –
TWEEDLEDEE: Look, Dum! It’s what’s-her-name from the neurotics ward! Nurse’s favourite lu –
ALICE: Actually, I’ve already done that joke.
TWEEDLEDEE: Oh. Well . . . I’ve got nothing, nohow!
TWEEDLEDUM: Contrariwise, I don’t have anything either!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: And I’m sure that somewhere, a linguist is crying over the sheer awfulness of that sentence.
ALICE: Wait, you’re . . . Tweedledum and Tweedledee, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be fighting?
TWEEDLEDUM: Fighting? Us? Really?
ALICE: Well, yes. Dee ought to be furious at you for breaking his rattle.
TWEEDLEDEE: . . . why should I be so furious about something so . . . insignificant?
TWEEDLEDUM: Yes, it all seems a bit petty if you ask me.
An awkward silence ensues.
ALICE: Not to be rude or anything, but have either of you actually bothered to read the book this opera is based on?
TWEEDLEDEE: Books! You can find lots of those at that library in Swanston Street!
TWEEDLEDUM: And opera! They do that at the State Theatre! But you know, lately the opera company there has started doing musicals too!
TWEEDLEDEE: They have? Because I’m sure I remember a time when all they did was opera.
TWEEDLEDUM: An opera company that only does opera? Fancy that!
Alice casually leans on the FOURTH WALL.
ALICE: Is it just me, or are these Melbourne references becoming increasingly . . . forced?
TWEEDLEDEE: In any case, we don’t really get any sort of say regarding that – if you’ve got a problem with it, you can go sulk under the clocks!
TWEEDLEDUM: So, how many references is that now?
TWEEDLEDEE: I counted at least eight!
TWEEDLEDUM: Hmmm . . . the audience’s interest appears to be waning . . . perhaps we ought to have a battle after all?
TWEEDLEDEE: Capital idea! A bit of a scrap ought to appease the purists out there!
The Tweedles begin singing over each other, as this is apparently how men do battle in contemporary opera. They are suddenly interrupted by a great, resonating sound.
ALICE: What’s that horrible noise? Are there lions and tigers hereabouts?
AUDIENCE: Lions and tigers? They expect us to believe that Looking Glass Land is in western India?
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: Or Oz, I suppose . . .
TWEEDLEDUM: Lions? Tigers? Heavens, no!
TWEEDLEDEE: Come and see for yourself!
The Tweedles lead Alice over to where the RED KING lies sound asleep.
TWEEDLEDEE: It’s our King, see?
TWEEDLEDUM: Snoring away, so peaceful-like.
At this, the Red King suddenly springs awake.
RED KING: I CAN’T HELP IT IF I SNORE – I HAVE A LEGITIMATE MEDICAL CONDITION! And honestly, I get enough grief about it from the Red Queen; I don’t need to hear it from my subjects as well!
TWEEDLEDUM: So what of it, big man?
RED KING: I . . . er, well . . . I could have the both of you excommunicated!
TWEEDLEDEE: Fat lot of use that’ll do – we don’t worship your silly deities anyway, nohow!
TWEEDLEDUM: Contrariwise, you could always excommunicate yourself!
Alice suddenly produces a sledgehammer and proceeds to obliterate the fourth wall.
ALICE: Is there supposed to be some sort of joke here?
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: I honestly don’t know anymore.
TWEEDLEDEE: Wait . . . (gasps) You great dunce of a king! You’ve just ruined the sting of this entire scene!
TWEEDLEDUM: That you have! You were supposed to stay asleep so we could tell the lass here that you were dreaming about her, and that if you woke up, she’d cease to exist!
TWEEDLEDEE: And we were going to have ever so much fun messing with her head about it, but you had to go wake up and fudge the whole thing!
ALICE: Hate to change the subject, but . . . there seems to be something flying towards us rather quickly . . .
TWEEDLEDEE: (ignoring Alice) Why are you still here?! Go excommunicate yourself already! Go on, shoo!
ALICE: No, really, it’s getting closer and closer! Oughtn’t we go and take cover?
TWEEDLEDUM: (ignoring Alice) ARGH! Why do we have such an incompetent monarchy?!
ALICE: It’s practically on top of us! And it’s so very big and so very black and . . . and . . . ghost-like?
At this, the Tweedles’ interest is piqued.
TWEEDLEDEE: Ghost-like? Could it be a Phantasmagoria?
TWEEDLEDUM: Or a flying Boojum?
RED KING: Or a Snark?
TWEEDLEDEE: The Boojum was a Snark, idiot king!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: I think American McGee might beg to differ . . .
ALICE: Experience tells me that it ought to be a monstrous crow . . . but it just looks like a regular ghost . . .
WANNABE-GHOST HUNTERS IN AUDIENCE: IT’S FEDERICI!
ALICE: . . . the ghost that’s supposed to haunt that theatre in Spring Street? What business could he possibly have here?
RANDOM AUDIENCE MEMBER: Maybe he got bored with watching Guys and Dolls night after night and decided to come see the opera instead?
ALICE: . . . no. Just . . . no.
TWEEDLEDEE: No one would ever buy that, nohow!
TWEEDLEDUM: Contrariwise, the readers are confused enough as it is!
AUDIENCE: Oh, fine! Have your stupid crow then!
TWEEDLES: THE MONSTROUS CROW! AUGH!
A MONSTROUS CROW – that is apparently invisible to the audience – descends upon the stage. Tweedledum and Tweedledee fall to pieces and throw themselves off the stage. Alice manages to escape the crow by hiding amidst some TREES, which exist solely by virtue of Alice’s dialogue.
TREE 1: What’s that? You mean, if Alice didn’t mention us, we’d cease to exist?!
TREE 2: Oh, horror upon existential horror!
ALICE: Recycling jokes is lazy writing!
INVERTED-JABBERWOCKY: BITE ME! . . . or should that be “eat me”?
From his seat on the balcony railing, FEDERICI applauds.
FEDERICI: Guys and Dolls has got nothing on this!
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The long-overdue second instalment of my affectionate parody of Victorian Opera’s Through the Looking Glass.
Here be long-winded, reference-clarifying comments; bear with me.
The alternate title is a play on Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan.
Alice and the engine driver’s discussion pertains to the Greek myth of Orpheus, upon which many an opera has been based. (~SuperMimbles360, I hope you got that one!)
The “joke” Alice is referring to is the fact that both Dimity Shepherd (Alice) and David Hobson (the engine driver, among others) have played Orpheus at various points in their respective careers.
Lurga is the oyarsa (guardian angel, if you will) that presides over the planet Saturn in C.S. Lewis’ Space Trilogy series.
Dimity Shepherd bears (in my mind, at least) a rather uncanny resemblance to Jennifer, the hapless heroine of the video game Rule of Rose, hence the fawn’s remark that Alice looks like a “Jennifer”.
In Rule of Rose, the Red Crayon Aristocracy is a class hierarchy set up by a group of young girls who, among other things, demand a monthly tribute – including, early on in the game, a beautiful butterfly. If someone is given a red crayon, they are subsequently invited to join the higher ranks of the Aristocracy.
The Island of Doctor Moreau by H.G. Wells features animals vivisected by the titular doctor to resemble humans.
The “fourth wall” is the imaginary “wall” at the front of a stage, invisible but nonetheless separating the players from the audience. “Breaking the fourth wall” is when a character directly addresses the audience (or in this case, the author)
Phantasmagoria, Boojums and Snarks are monsters from American McGee’s Alice, all named after creatures featuring in other (i.e. non-Alice-related) stories/poems by Lewis Carroll. Though The Hunting of the Snark establishes that the titular Snark and the Boojum are one and the same, McGee made them two separate creatures: the Snark, a venom-spitting fish, and the Boojum, a banshee-like ghost.
The Melbourne-based references are as follows:
Trains at my local station come every twenty minutes; unfortunately due to cancellations or a train simply being too crowded to board, it is not unheard of to be waiting up to two hours for one. (No, I’m not at all bitter about it . . . )
Train carriages not being used simply because of a scratch in a window actually was commonplace until only a few months ago.
The Block Arcade is a nineteenth-century shopping arcade located in the city (I can highly recommend the Hopetoun Tearooms within!)
“Cow up a tree” – a sculpture depicting a cow up a tree (who’d have guessed? XD)
“That library in Swanston Street” is the State Library of Victoria.
The State Theatre, in the Victorian Arts Centre, is where the Victorian productions by national opera company Opera Australia are generally performed. As mentioned by Tweedledum, the company is now also producing musicals.
The main entrance to Flinders Street railway station is colloquially referred to as “under the clocks”.
The ghost of opera singer Frederick “Federici” Baker is believed to have resided (and still be residing) in the Princess Theatre ever since his death there in 1888. Even today, theatre management leaves a particular seat empty for him on opening nights, and the theatre’s bar is named in his honour.
And I’m fairly certain Guys and Dolls was playing at the Princess during Through the Looking Glass’ season.
I believe that’s everything; as before, feel free to ask if you would like any further clarification.
If anyone has a favourite part/quote, feel free to mention it in your comments; I’m weird and like that sort of thing.
Through the Looking Glass © Victorian Opera; Malthouse Theatre, et al.
Here be long-winded, reference-clarifying comments; bear with me.
The alternate title is a play on Borat: Cultural Learnings of America for Make Benefit Glorious Nation of Kazakhstan. Alice and the engine driver’s discussion pertains to the Greek myth of Orpheus, upon which many an opera has been based. (~SuperMimbles360, I hope you got that one!)The “joke” Alice is referring to is the fact that both Dimity Shepherd (Alice) and David Hobson (the engine driver, among others) have played Orpheus at various points in their respective careers.
Lurga is the oyarsa (guardian angel, if you will) that presides over the planet Saturn in C.S. Lewis’ Space Trilogy series. Dimity Shepherd bears (in my mind, at least) a rather uncanny resemblance to Jennifer, the hapless heroine of the video game Rule of Rose, hence the fawn’s remark that Alice looks like a “Jennifer”. In Rule of Rose, the Red Crayon Aristocracy is a class hierarchy set up by a group of young girls who, among other things, demand a monthly tribute – including, early on in the game, a beautiful butterfly. If someone is given a red crayon, they are subsequently invited to join the higher ranks of the Aristocracy. The Island of Doctor Moreau by H.G. Wells features animals vivisected by the titular doctor to resemble humans. The “fourth wall” is the imaginary “wall” at the front of a stage, invisible but nonetheless separating the players from the audience. “Breaking the fourth wall” is when a character directly addresses the audience (or in this case, the author) Phantasmagoria, Boojums and Snarks are monsters from American McGee’s Alice, all named after creatures featuring in other (i.e. non-Alice-related) stories/poems by Lewis Carroll. Though The Hunting of the Snark establishes that the titular Snark and the Boojum are one and the same, McGee made them two separate creatures: the Snark, a venom-spitting fish, and the Boojum, a banshee-like ghost.The Melbourne-based references are as follows:
Trains at my local station come every twenty minutes; unfortunately due to cancellations or a train simply being too crowded to board, it is not unheard of to be waiting up to two hours for one. (No, I’m not at all bitter about it . . . ) Train carriages not being used simply because of a scratch in a window actually was commonplace until only a few months ago. The Block Arcade is a nineteenth-century shopping arcade located in the city (I can highly recommend the Hopetoun Tearooms within!) “Cow up a tree” – a sculpture depicting a cow up a tree (who’d have guessed? XD) “That library in Swanston Street” is the State Library of Victoria. The State Theatre, in the Victorian Arts Centre, is where the Victorian productions by national opera company Opera Australia are generally performed. As mentioned by Tweedledum, the company is now also producing musicals. The main entrance to Flinders Street railway station is colloquially referred to as “under the clocks”. The ghost of opera singer Frederick “Federici” Baker is believed to have resided (and still be residing) in the Princess Theatre ever since his death there in 1888. Even today, theatre management leaves a particular seat empty for him on opening nights, and the theatre’s bar is named in his honour. And I’m fairly certain Guys and Dolls was playing at the Princess during Through the Looking Glass’ season. I believe that’s everything; as before, feel free to ask if you would like any further clarification.
If anyone has a favourite part/quote, feel free to mention it in your comments; I’m weird and like that sort of thing.
Through the Looking Glass © Victorian Opera; Malthouse Theatre, et al.
© 2009 - 2024 Inverted-Jabberwocky
Comments12
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Brilliant, just brilliant! I did get a few of the references (even though I don't live anywhere near Melbourne, so how do I know? XD) I like the reference to Orpheus and the opera! I never knew there was a ghost in one of the theatres! Cool! 
Poor Invertedjabberwocky - being told of by the characters and being told when the jokes should come in! Are you going to punish them for their insolence? XD Great parody once again, yay! Are you writing another one? If so, yay! If not, both parodies make are brilliant on their own anyway! Love it again! Wooo!!!!!
Poor Invertedjabberwocky - being told of by the characters and being told when the jokes should come in! Are you going to punish them for their insolence? XD Great parody once again, yay! Are you writing another one? If so, yay! If not, both parodies make are brilliant on their own anyway! Love it again! Wooo!!!!!