Ben Greenman, an editor at the New Yorker, passes his time by writing what he calls "fake musicals", though I suspect he means spoof musicals. Here are the opening scenes of his latest, entitled Rupert! The Musical, which is showcased by Gawker. Some people might enjoy it. Some may well think they can do better. Anyway, isn't it time for an impresario to turn this kind of fantasy into a real show? Why should we have plays and TV dramas only about Robert Maxwell?
[The stage is dark, and then it is light. A number of attractive young women dressed as NEWSPAPER BOXES roller skate across the stage from left to right. They are wearing black leggings and they are singing, almost too soft to hear.]
NEWSPAPER BOXES
The long climb up from way Down Under
How did it happen? Sometimes I wonder.
[The stage goes dark. When the lights return, there is a man standing on stage, his face covered by a newspaper. He lowers that newspaper to reveal that he is RUPERT MURDOCH. He begins to sing.]
RUPERT MURDOCH
To give a full account of my ascent into glory
I'll have to take a moment to recount a tragic story.
Do you know about Max Stuart?
I don't really see why you would
But unless I tell you about him
I don't think I can be understood.
This was fifty years ago
In South Australia, near Ceduna
Families were playing on
The beaches in the afternoon. A
Girl of nine went near the water-
Girls of nine will do that.
The parents could not find their daughter.
Her body was found with her face smashed flat.
Max Stuart was a carny.
He was traveling through town.
Suspicion fell upon him.
The law rose up to bring him down.
At the time I ran a newspaper
The News in Adelaide
We took up Stuart's innocence
As a passionate crusade
With journalistic pressure
We averted Stuart's hanging
I felt a surge of pride
We got results with our haranguing
[NEWSPAPER BOXES return to the stage. This time they move from right to left, stopping center-stage to twirl around slowly.]
NEWSPAPER BOXES
It is every newsman's dream.
To bring real change to the regime.
RUPERT MURDOCH
You're right, I guess.
At first, well, yes.
NEWSPAPER BOXES
What do you mean? Did something go wrong?
We sense that the answer is in your next song.
RUPERT MURDOCH
Stuart did not hang
He was sentenced to life
(Eventually he earned parole,
Began to paint and took a wife).
But my part in the trial
Wasn't taken in stride
The government and I
Were fated to collide
I was called on the carpet
By Playford, the premier
Stuart was guilty, he insisted
And I had interfered.
To avoid a charge of sedition
I would have to sacrifice
My best friend at the newspaper.
I bit my lip and paid the price.
Since then I have grasped
The meaning of true power
Without it, you are eaten
With it, you devour
A lesser man might have backed off
And withdrawn into contemplation
A great man such as I set out
To dominate the nation
[NEWSPAPER BOXES return to the stage. They are crossing left to right again, but now they are wearing short skirts.]
NEWSPAPER BOXES
Did he fail? We tend to doubt it.
Extra! Extra! Read all about it.
RUPERT MURDOCH
My riches went up like an Australian pine
And soon the Antipodes were mine, all mine.
In sixty-eight, I went to Britain
In seventy-six, to the States
My need for expansion has proven
The most durable of my traits
I have the Post. I have Fox.
I have Sky TV and Star TV
I have the Times in London
I have MySpace and TGRT
As I say, this is just the opening. If you want more, go to Gawker. Maybe Andrew Lloyd-Webber will be entranced enough to write the music. Then again...
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