Dick Deadeye

Every great comic opera needs a hero, a heroine, a pompous authority figure and, if Gilbert and Sullivan are involved, at least one thoroughly put-upon individual who seems destined to spend the entire evening looking mildly exasperated while everyone else sings at him. Dick Deadeye is that man. Frequently overlooked, occasionally misunderstood and blessed with all the social grace of an audit during a birthday party, he is one of Gilbert and Sullivan’s most delightfully unconventional characters—and here he enjoys a production every bit as eccentric as he deserves.

Published in 1975 by Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Dick Deadeye is a wonderfully inventive theatrical adaptation by Derek Birdsall, inspired by the incomparable drawings of Ronald Searle and the comic operas of W. S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan. Rather than simply reproducing familiar productions, the book celebrates an imaginative stage interpretation in which Searle’s unmistakable visual style collides gloriously with Victorian operetta, producing something at once respectful, irreverent and irresistibly entertaining.

Ronald Searle was the ideal artistic accomplice for such an undertaking. His wildly expressive line drawings, impossible limbs, gloriously exaggerated faces and wicked eye for absurdity seem almost predestined for Gilbert and Sullivan’s satirical universe. Bureaucrats become even more pompous, admirals even more improbable and sailors somehow manage to appear simultaneously dignified and completely ridiculous. It is theatrical caricature at its very finest.

There is a particularly pleasing irony in giving Dick Deadeye centre stage. Throughout H.M.S. Pinafore, he is the character nobody much wants to listen to, despite possessing a rather inconvenient habit of telling the truth. In many ways he is the operatic equivalent of the person quietly pointing out that the emperor appears to have forgotten an important item of clothing while everyone else is busy admiring the tailoring. Naturally, history—and comedy—has a habit of rewarding such people eventually.

The book itself is as much an art object as a theatrical souvenir. Richly illustrated with Searle’s exuberant drawings, it captures the spirit of a production that embraced visual wit as enthusiastically as Gilbert embraced satire and Sullivan embraced melody. Even readers unfamiliar with the operas will find themselves smiling at illustrations so full of movement and personality that they almost seem to burst into song unaided.

This copy is in Good condition, with a slightly tatty dust jacket showing honest edge wear from years of service. It remains entirely appropriate for a book celebrating theatre—a world in which scenery gets bumped, costumes acquire character and perfection is generally considered rather less interesting than performance. The jacket has earned its wrinkles honestly.

Whether you’re devoted to Gilbert and Sullivan, an admirer of Ronald Searle’s incomparable illustrations, a collector of theatrical ephemera or simply someone who appreciates books that refuse to take themselves too seriously, Dick Deadeye is a delightful curiosity. It combines music, satire, illustration and theatrical imagination into a volume every bit as eccentric as the productions that inspired it.

Sold, as always, by Crappy Old Books—because the best books don’t always star the hero, and sometimes the fellow with the unfortunate name ends up stealing the entire show.

Keep browsing: See more Art books Other books by Derek Birdsall