Last night I went to the premiere of a new opera, The Ecstasy of Rita Joe, based on the eponymous play (1967) by George Riga. Prolific composer and librettist, Victor Davies, a former colleague, adapted the play and created a beautiful new work of art. We did an epic musical, Beowulf, (1975) together long before anyone else thought of it. (Being ahead of one's time is not always a good thing.) I was the librettist, basing the script on my own translations of the Old English poem. I had a lot of reactions to Vic's newest work and had to sort them out before I could report.

First off: I liked it.

MUCH LATER. The trouble with doing too many things is that the doing takes a lot of time and the catching up and writing falls behind. So - Rita Joe, briefly now:

The choral material was outstanding - so nice to have a generously-sized chorus and the songs they sang were melodic and lovely. Vic is an accessible composer and the audience likes it. So do I. I also liked the “indigenous” chanting (or whatever you call it) - very effective. I loved his signature items and (tiny) bits of self-plus- other-quoting. Composers do this but unless you know their quirks you may not notice. The verve and energy of the reservation stomping songs reminded me of Come From Away, not in a bad sense. There's something of the old music hall about these outbursts and they are very welcome, especially in a dark story like Rita Joe's

Vic did his own libretto and realigned the play, not, to my mind, always successfully. I'd have to compare the two dramatic structures. It seemed to me there were a few too many one-shot scenes at the top of the second act without much of a contributing emotional arc to them. But hey, this was a rehearsed, staged reading, not a full producction. As such it was a great achievement and a moving, enjoyable experience.

I' still very proud to know Victor Davies. Prouder.

I have a few thoughts to catch up. As you know, Stephen Hawking died last week. the biopic movie about his life was run on TV a day or so later. I watched; I hadn’t seen it, and it answered some of the questions I had been pondering since I learned of his death. I wonder if anyone remembers the movie Marvin’s Room (1996). I had to look it up to get my facts straight because the only thing I remembered beyond the soap opera quality of the story was the criticism of the conclusion. Marvin, played by Hume Cronyn, who was a friend and probably the reason I went to see the film, is a bed-ridden stroke victim cared for by one of his daughters until she learns she has leukemia. She reaches out to her sister with a plea for bone marrow -a dramatic reason for a family reunion. Okay, this is what I remember, that rather than put Marvin into a long-term care facility, they – one of of them – will go on keeping him at home. It’s a full-time job, a full-time sacrifice, but it’s a Hollywood ending, supposed to make you feel good. The critics liked it a lot (good cast including Meryl Streep and Diane Keaton who earned an Oscar). But I read a letter to the editor questioning the reality of the decision , going into detail about the enormous work entailed, involving daily laundry to keep up with the incontinence and spoon-feeding and patience and subservience to his increasing need.

I thought of that movie when I read of Hawking’s death. He had ALS, as everyone knows – “Lou Gehrig’s disease” – a complete disintegration of the body before death. As his disease progressed, how trying and how expensive it must have been , to keep the body functions performing or substituted. My son was at UofT when the Science students invited Hawking to speak to them. He agreed, no fee required. However, the expenses for the entourage had to be paid – all the people plus equipment required to keep the genius functioning. It was necessary to organize a sizable fund-raiser to meet the financial demand.

I thought of this and wondered at what must have been the incredible cost of keeping Hawking alive for some 50 years past his prognosis. Worth it, of course, for his genius to have given so much to the world. He was aware (or the screenwriter was aware) of this. In the scene when the young (age 20) man is given his diagnosis and his death sentence with a harrowing description of the breakdown of his body, he asks, “The brain?”

The brain.

The brain would keep on but with no means of communicating. He received the means and we are all so grateful.

To whom much is given, much is required

Luke 12:48: "For unto whomsoever much is given, of him shall be much required