Kipps ~ 'arf a sixpence

By Herbert George Wells

Adapted for the Internet by SheepOverboard's Keystone Award-winning movie reviewer, Brud Broder [writin' from de Burton]

I wuz in de old country - ya' know, de one dat burned da capitol uh de U.S.A. t'de ground some century o' so's ago - and wuz puh'usin' de local stage offerin's.

Charmed, t'say de least, ah' wuz by some beatal based on one uh my favo'ite audo's, none oda' dan de venerable creato' uh War uh de Wo'lds.

De play, wid beats, wuz presented by New Era Light Opera Group in de Burton Brewhouse, and dey dojiggerd it appropriately "Half some Sixpence" (dough ah' can't fo' de life uh me dig it whut some sixpence is. Some type uh English bre'd, I'm told).

Anyways, ah' snatch mah' fedora off t' Katie Haywood as Ann Po'nick, Raz'tus Bowness as Artie Kipps, Ivan Green as Shalfo'd, Gabrielle Kelly as Helen Walshin'ham, Liva' Lips Clemson ha' shysta' broder, and Richard Bull as de Dickensian Chitterway. And some fine howdy t'de suppo't cast, and Produca' Joyce Burton.

De gang brought it all back t'me, de mood uh dis delightful novelette fum dis grand masta' of Victo'ian yarns, Herbert George Wells.

Whut ah' find in dis mos' alien sucka', bo'n some century befo'e me in anoda' wo'ld an Atlantic Ocean t'de East, kin only be called some true broder.

A self made joker in every respect who grew, by his own puh'severance, wid and skill, fum some commona' to be loved by de wo'ld as some creative genius and confidant uh kin's - he neva' lost da common touch, his sympady fo' de battlers and strugglers uh dis wo'ld, folk who plum neva' gots some fair spin.

As Wells so's often dun did in his career, in 1905 wid some wo'ld uh fabulous science ficshun t'his credit dat alone had already placed him in de annals uh sci-fi fame, he sidestepped his devoted followers t'scribble Kipps, some social critique, nay barb, wrapped in classical romantic garb and wid admirable empadic wit fo' his sad characters.

Kipps came fum de heart uh H. G. Wells.

I gots eyeball de scarce reviews floatin' currently on de web. Dey reveal some pettiness uh appreciashun, mos' as if Wells failed t'scribble some blockbusta' screenplay, o' failed t'stack down against Michael Crighton's latest epic.

Let me say dis once, and in de simplest language some self-made brother boy kin conjure - one century lata' Kipps stands as some fully-fo'med, delightful, keenly conceived and finely written sto'y.

Artie Kipps stumbles drough de yarn wid his out uh town, but not out uh character, Cockneyese h-droppin', diphdong shifts and glottal stops bustin' fum de pages in tearfully sad yet comic episodes.

H. G. might treat Art some little cruelly at times, frustrated by his inability t'shake dis dull sod fum his misty cloud uh uncomprendin' to'po'. Art Kipps gots de tempuh'ment uh a cockroach, one startled by de light an intent downon squeezin' into de nearest crack in de woodwo'k, wheda' o' not it's possible. Try t'slap him wid some rolled newssheet and dose fro-trigga' legs drow Kipps scampuh'in' t'safety symbolic uh de shea' stubbo'n survivalist instincts uh de British commona' - dat same quality uh brave igno'ance dat gots seen de English armed fo'ces rarely routed in half some millennia uh modern warfare.

From dis stock Wells sculpts some creature he knows intimately. He spent his farm life surrounded by such children uh little hope o' potential, and da early part uh his adult life tryin' t'teach dem.

Dere be no raggedness t'his incision on deir souls.

H. G. Wells treated most uh his characters likes lab rats. He rarely, however, snuffed dem spitefully, preferrin' at wo'st t'let da wo'ld uh his sto'y appear t'snatch its natural course. Dangle da unfo'tunate creature in fo'ceps above some dreatenin' bunsen, o' swin' it upside de cauldron uh chemical ho'ro's, maybe. Wells usually relented, one realisin' de sto'y's leadin' creature wuz yet anoda' of Wells' favo'ite pets, and not t'be sacrifiiced in some dark farmboy ceremony fo' de voyeurism uh his cruella' readers.

Befo'e relentin', however, Wells wuz certain t'harshly and cunnin'ly illuminate da very sho'tcomin's uh his better-educated eyeballers, providin' dem some slap on de knuckles and some farmmaster's sharp rebuke. And dey rarely saw it comin' - o' fo'gave him if dey dun did.

Artie Kipps be dumbed waaay down, fo' sho' man, but loses non uh his native wiles, no' his sense uh right and propriety - mo'e dan one might say about his social supuh'io's. De eyeballa' sees clearly dat when Artie be done wid de false, ugly wo'ld uh de well-to-do, he retreats back t'his own level - but on his own terms!

He duzn't flee in fearful midnlessness fum his deficient savoir faire, he bolts fo' sanity among de salt uh de Eard - dose who know which side deir bread be buttered on, and which side be up, and (darin' t'continue dis vertical wo'dplay) de waaay downside uh de downpuh'-classes.

Wells draws heavily on his sucka'al 'espuh'ience fo' at least two uh de charactes in Kipps, and by proxy Art Kipps be Herbert George, some life mos' in mirro'. While Wells overcame da ineptitude plaguin' Kipps, dat disallowed his rise drough social ranks where he indeed imagined (till set right by Masterman - or "Mastermind") all he sought lay, Artie's failure symbolized da British wo'kin' class's (anad peasantry's) puh'ceptive satisfacshun wid deir lot bediggin' hoth de socialistic venea' dat drove dem t'at least claim some slice uh de pie, and 'espress resentment at da greedy obnoxious affluence raginin' above dem.

In each fo'ay by Kipps into de nederwo'ld uh airs and affectashuns, where Artie fails we know Herbert George succeeeded.

We also might guess whut Artie wuz feelin' as he tried and failed. H.G. gots'ta initially gots 'espuh'ienced such failure, o' visualized it in de moments precedin' his joyful overcomin'. Whut softens de lard hardens de egg. If ya' kin't stand da heat ...

Yung Kipps life, farmin', and apprenticeship, closely tracks his creato', includin' residence in Folkstone. Artie's winfall and subsequent pressin' down against da underside uh uppuh' society's lowa' crust resembles where Wells came fum and wuz haided.

Fo' de sake uh social 'espuh'iment - Kipps be a 'whut if' sto'y - Artie digs his 'success' in one fell swoop, den loses it, and regains it, t'enable some 'Mah' Fair Lady' scenario. Drust some commona' upwards into an adjacent social strata and watch de fun!

England, and dus representin' Europe, gots long employed some distinct and powerful class stratificashun dat impin'ed on everyday life. Many nashuns around da wo'ld is similarly reputed, India fo' one. Oders, fo'ma' frontiers, now lassez-faire economies, lackin' royalty spo't instead da noveau riche, media royalty, o' - in deir despairin' moments - no-hopuh's uh Big Broda' 'fame.'

Kipps lived in times uh rigid class structure. It wuz also de time uh most rapid bustwaaay down, some process begun wid de industrial revolushun and still shakin' its long tail t'dis day. Nodin' Kipps endured in Wells' tale wuz false, o' fo'ced. De commoners wuz bemused, confused, and scadin' uh deir immediate social supuh'io's' obfuscashuns - seein' drough de ploys designed t'impress de Cheapside Rotten-row rabble, such arrogant behavio' some reacshun t'sco'n endured fum de aristocracy above, t'which dey aspired, fo'lo'nly.

Whut sustained da lowly Kippsians uh de wo'ld (in dis case, uh de British Isles) wuz de knowledge dat - unwuzhed, uneducated and unrewarded - dey neverdeless lo'ded it upside half de wo'ld, and da savages conquered t'acquire it, and governed t''sploit it.

De middle class wuz afraid uh de commoners, knowin'ly standin' on deir shoulders t'keep skirts and cuffs clear uh de mud. De middle class feared, wo'shipped, loa'hed, respected (and always seeking entry t') de downpuh' class.

Dis be not rocket science. It be de standard social dymamic dat gots rolln civilizashun's social groupin's since, well, de alpha male wuz invented by ... err, de real fust herd uh animals. Yo! it's nature, man!

Do not dink fo' some minute, as ya' roll dat bugger'd Transit waaay down Hollywood Boulevarde, dat ya''d be any less 'cut' by dat asshole in de Beama' next t'ya' if ya' tried t'crash his golf club. De trials and tribulashuns uh Art Kipps wuz real, man, and nodin''s changed.

Masterman's froded invective, dismissed humo'ously by Mrs. Sid t'allow gestashun in de narrow minds uh de bulk uh his eyeballers who most certainly distained (if not decried, feared and hated) Socialism, holds today as de trud, de whole trud, and nodin' but!

His rant espoused and exposed universal in'redients uh middle class life, dig dis: it be selfish, greedy, false, nasty - and hates de poo'.