THE GIGLI CONCERT
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In his searingly powerful A Whistle in the Dark, seen in 1988 at the Body Politic, Irish playwright Tom Murphy depicted a family of battling brothers, one of whom yearned for a peaceful and intelligent life in harsh contrast to his siblings’ taste for brute force; the hero’s sense of alienation was reinforced by his discomfort as an Irishman living in England. The central characters of The Gigli Concert, also male, are brothers not of the flesh but of the heart; their clashes are mental, not physical (despite the threat of violence represented by a pistol one of them apparently carries in his coat pocket); and their yearnings are not just for earthly peace but for spiritual fulfillment. Their conflicts, and the play’s, are delicate, subtle, hard to define, and impossible to resolve. Seeking satisfaction of the soul, they’re blessed to achieve respite from total despair; the best they can hope for is hope.
Into King’s office walks an Irishman who refuses to give his name: the shabbily genteel, elegantly educated Briton and the burly, well-dressed Irishman are an instant study in contrasts. The Irishman, a self-made building contractor with a bully boy’s blunt manners, proceeds to reveal a taste for fine music: he’s absorbed by the early-20th-century opera star Beniamino Gigli, and has come to King because he wants to sing like his idol.
Art accompanying story in printed newspaper (not available in this archive): photo/Lisa Ebright.
