After Amaryllis’s piano lesson she teases Winthrop by getting his mother and sister to force him to say, “Good night, AmarylliTH!” She giggles at him but then, after he runs off, she’s full of concern for him, and his mother and sister sympathize with her. They don’t understand why he’s so shy.
HE’S SHY BECAUSE YOU TEASE HIM, you pestiferous little blight! You coerce him into exposing his speech impediment by preying on his family’s dysfunctional insistence on “good” manners, then you laugh at him! You hide your supposed concern and sympathy until you’ve driven him up to his room in solitude and then you analyze him in his absence!
With a family like that it’s no wonder his sister falls for the first guy that comes along, even though she knows he’s a fast-talking fraud. Anything to escape that house. Ye Gods!
By the way, as long as we’re talking about one of the great musicals:
What the Hell is a “an iron clad leave for yourself on a three rail billard shot”
Yeah, I know that it takes judgement, brains and maturity to score at a (fault-line?) game. And I know any boob can take and shove a ball in a pocket. And I do call that “Sloth”: The first big step on the road to degrada…
first it’s medicinal wine teaspoon, then BEER from a BOTTLE!
Fenris Shinn, Mayor of River City.
That’s balk-line, Yer Honor, not fault-line. It’s a line on a billiard – not to be confused with pool – table.
You see, according to the good perfesser’s song, billiards (with no pockets on the table and no numbers on the balls), is a wholesome, old, respectable gentlemanly game; but this sloppy, new-fangled – at least for 1912 Iowa – game called pool (with pockets on the table and numbered balls), starts with P that rhymes with… well, you know the rest.
Whenever we watch The Music Man, I always have to say something about Amaryllis’ poor manners. But then again, whenever we watch The Music Man, I fast-forward and just watch “76 Trombones,” “The Shipoopi,” and “Madame Librarian.”
My friend and I had an argument about the words to “The Shipoopi” once. He said he would check with his sisters (who were performing in a local production), but he never got back to me to tell me that I was right.
[Tommy Djilas]
Great honk!
[/Tommy Djilas]
Oh, I just thought of something screwy in the film. Doesn’t Prof. Hill leave Tommy Djilas in charge of conducting the band during their first practice so he can meet Marion at the ice cream parlor? But when he gets to the parlor, Tommy is eating ice cream with Zanita (is that her name? I forget). Wasn’t Tommy supposed to be still conducting the band? Or was that another guy?
I bought the soundtrack CD to the Broadway revival, so I rented the 1962 movie to fill in the gaps (hadn’t seen it in years). So, Marian is our prim and proper, borderline spinster town librarian who’s the only person in town with more than half a brain and the only one who questions this “Professor Hill” character (aside from the school board and the mayor, who are easily distracted). The Wells Fargo wagon pulls into town with the band instruments just as Marian finds documentation proving that he’s not who he says he is, and her little brother Winthrop is so excited with his cornet that she can’t bring herself to show her information to the mayor. Yup, she knows he’s planning to bilk her mother and most of the town and bolt as soon as the uniforms arrive, but she’s falling in love with him.
Then one of the traveling salesmen from the “Rock Island” number arrives to blow the whistle on this character; they all hate Hill because he gives traveling salesmen a bad name and, well, because he’s just too successful doing nothing. Marian intercepts him knowing he’s got only a few minutes before his train leaves and FLINGS herself at him, bestowing what is probably her first kiss on this stranger. Charlie (the salesman) sees right through her and calls her on it, telling her what she already knows about Hill and what she’s doing for this love-'em-and-leave-'em con man.
They finally catch up with Hill and as he’s about to be hauled away, the kids demonstrate what they’ve “learned” using Hill’s phony “think system;” of course they’re terrible, but the adults are so charmed that all is forgiven and Hill leads a big parade down Main Street: big finish musical number and happy ending.
Huh?? So does Hill, or whatever is name is, mend his ways permanently? Do he and Marian get married? Do they settle down in River City? Does he learn an honest trade? Does the law from dozens of other towns catch up with him? Did people buy this stuff in 1962? It’s one of those “boy meets girl, they have absolutely nothing in common, one of them has to completely change his or her character to squeeze in a happy ending” stories: in Grease it was the girl who changed completely.
Yeah, I thought “The Sadder But Wiser Girl” was a hilarious song (“I cheer, I rave / For the virtue I’m too late to save”), but how sad that Harold holds nice girls in such contempt.
Yeah, but then again he ends up hooking up with one…
All that said, I’ve never really liked Music Man all that much, although I was in it once (as an auxiliary Pickalittle Lady) and had a wonderful time. I might just be un-American, though.
If you follow the Music Man carefully, it’s quite obvious that Hill is bilking no one. People get the band uniforms and instruments they paid for; they don’t get music lessons, but they’re not paying him for any lessons.
All Hill does is convince people to buy the things. So after the events in the play, he just goes to New York and Madison Avenue.
Sadder but wiser racy for its day? 1957? After Elvis? Not really. Cole Porter wrote that sort of lyric in the 30s (consider “Let’s Do It”).
a35362 – Congratulations! You win the gold medal for Missing the Point. The reason Marion tears up the incriminating evidence is because Winthrop sings – and in public. This from someone who wouldn’t even speak if he didn’t have to. Marion sees that Hill is doing some good things for the community (and he has, in lots of ways). Underneath his con man exterior, he’s really a decent sort, something that Marion realizes. In other words, no one has to change, other than Marion’s perception of him.
Aw, c’mon, Harold Hill really is a con-man. He even fast-talks the mayor into buying a flugel-horn, or some such, for the son he doesn’t have. And he’s not just selling musical instruments; the idea that he’ll turn the local kids into a marching band is part and parcel of his pitch to separate the townspeople from their hard-earned dollars.
But most of us have a soft spot in our hearts for fast-talking con men, as long as the harm they do isn’t that serious, which is why The Music Man will continue to have successful revivals. And, as the musical tells the story, Hill brings life and excitement into the drab existence of the River City residents, so, as Marian the Librarian sees it, they’re coming out ahead even if ‘Professor’ Hill doesn’t know a lick of music, which he doesn’t.
Whether he’s a ‘decent sort’ depends on your definition, but he certainly hasn’t been making an honest living. It’s silly to imagine what the future would hold for Harold Hill and Marian the Librarian, because something’s gotta give, and playing that through would be too serious for this fundamentally whimsical musical.
This is the most incredible thing that’s happened on these boards since Silo and the moderators locked horns and lay flat on the mat without moving a muscle for an entire week…
And…“For the first time in my life, I got my foot caught in the door.”
It is not so much that Hill changes, only that the good guy underneath is finally allowed to come out. Life for him up to River City has been an elaborate game in which he tries to get away with as much as he possibly can. Meeting Marian and recognizing the sacrifices she is making for him–that stirs something else within him, something he didn’t know was there. For the first time in his life, he doesn’t run away: he connects, and he is ultimately a better person for it.
I’ve played a number of parts in amateur productions of musicals, operettas, and the like. From my perspective, Harold Hill is the richest, most complex, and most satisfying character I have yet portrayed.
“One…one grecian urn.
Two…two grecian urn.
And a fountain…trickle,trickle,trickle,trickle…”
And my question, re: Amaryllis, what is going on in that pigtailed head of hers?? One minute she’s teasing Winthrop, then she wonders why he doesn’t like her. Excuse me, but how do you spell DUH?
“One…one grecian urn.
Two…two grecian urn.
And a fountain…trickle,trickle,trickle,trickle…”
And my question, re: Amaryllis, what is going on in that pigtailed head of hers?? One minute she’s teasing Winthrop, then she wonders why he doesn’t like her. Excuse me, but how do you spell DUH?
Mayor: If there is anyone in this hall who does not want to see this man Hill tarred and feathered…let him by God stand up!
Murmuring from the townspeople; no one moves, then Marion’s mom gets up, standing like a rock. Then the school board nods to each other and stands. Then Zaneeta gets up, defiantly. Waves of people get up; finally Mrs. Schinn gets up. “Eualalie! Sit down!!” Bang. Marion’s mom nudges her, she gets up again and stamps her foot. Then I laugh, of course.
I also laugh during the credit sequence when the anvil salesman finally does what you’ve been thinking he’ll go all along, which is drop his sample case on his foot.
As for Amaryllis, she’s ten at the most. Normally, Winthrop would be pulling her braids to demonstrate his affection, but he’s too withdrawn. Well, someone has to tease someone to get the ball rolling! What is out of line, though, is her saying, “I’ll end up an old maid like you!”
My own WAG on what an iron-clad leave for yourself on a three rail billiard shot means comes from my limited understanding of the rules of billiards and the object of the game.
As I understand it, one of the objects is to block your opponent’s shot while leaving yourself open to a good shot. So an “iron-clad leave” would be “leaving” the ball where you guarantee yourself a good (or iron-clad) shot while snookering your mate.
I could be wrong, of course.
The Music Man is my favorite show. We did it in high school back in '76, and while I wanted to be Harold Hill, I was cast in the quartet. This spawned a long-time love of barbershop quartet music. Plus, the show is really fun to do.
FireUnderpantsBoobs, what exactly were you arguing about re: the “Shipoopi” lyrics? I probably know all the lyrics to all the songs in that show.
It was something stupid, like “the girl is hard to get” versus “the girl who’s hard to get.” Anyway, we got it settled now. Then again, I have had heated arguments with the same friend about meanings of the Spanish word “hombro.”
