"Mikado" is actually an ancient Japanese title for the Emperor of Japan, which means "Gate of Heaven". This makes perfect sense when one realizes that the Japanese followed a very ancient tradition that the Emperors were direct descendants of the sun goddess, Amaterasu-Omikami, and therefore a sacred person. Beliefs of this nature were very common in most ancient civilizations. Even in the West there was a long-held belief that kings ruled by the "divine right" of God. Such a belief persisted in Japan for many centuries until Emperor Hirohito rejected all claims of such status in 1945. But for all that, the Mikado was not really a political figure, and at almost no time in history did he ever truly control the government of Japan. The true rulers of Japan were the military samurai class, and the Shoguns (Grand Generals) were the highest secular authorities in the land until the Meiji restoration of the monarchy in the 19th century. And yet, even then, the role of the Emperor was mostly ceremonial. During World War II, when one saw the famous image of the Emperor on his white horse, his function was more that of a Shinto High Priest than a monarch.

Gilbert & Sullivan's Mikado is more like a Shogun than an Emperor. He appears to be an absolute monarch who gives only lip service to some sort of vague parliamentary government, and a host of local officals. Unlike the real cloistered emperors, who stayed hidden away in palaces behind white silken curtains, Gilbert’s Mikado leaves his palace with a great entourage at the behest of Katisha, who is a mere courtier.

When Gilbert and Sullivan wrote their operetta, they knew extremely little about Japan. It had closed itself to the outside world for almost two hundred years, and people had few points of reference. Gilbert had been to a Japanese trade show in the London enclave of Knightsbridge, where he purchased an old samurai sword and was impressed by the wonderful things he saw.

Gilbert had one other frame of reference, less often talked about. While many people have seen the film "Shogun", or read the novel, it was loosely based on the real life adventures of William Adams, an Englishman who became a samurai and a close friend of the Shogun. But there was also, in fact, a small, struggling British Trading Post in the town of Hirado. The men who worked there left letters and journals describing a Japan not unlike the one in "The Mikado". They also repeatedly (and mistakenly) called the Shogun the "Emperor".

The Mikado is also probably quite mad. He is one of those people who grumble, "There ought be a law against...", except that he actually has the power to inact his fantasies upon his people, and does so with glee and gusto. He traditionally punctuates his song, (after listing favorite punishments for petty crimes,) with a maniacal laugh that is enough to curl the hair of all present -- yet he should never be shown as a terrifying man. In fact, the kindlier and more benign he behaves, the funnier he actually becomes. A truly remarkable character, his arrival in the second Act is a delightful climax to everything that has built up to it.

And as a curious footnote, there actually was once a reigning Empress by the name of Koko !

As hard as it might be to imagine today, Koko, the hero of our story, was originally conceived of as a kind of benign "villain". Gilbert never completely strayed from that original concept. Even in his novelization of the story, Gilbert's hero is unquestionably Nanki-Poo, with Pooh-Bah in the principle supporting role. But somewhere along the line, a transformation occurred that even Gilbert never anticipated: Koko became the play's most popular character, and unquestionably one of the best-loved of all Gilbert's character creations. Even among so many other memorable personalities, Koko always stands out and takes center stage. And so, for once, what the great author intended has usually been grandly brushed aside. Today, even he would have to admit (in the words of the Sorcerer, John Wellington Wells), "...to popular opinion, thus I yield."

What we know of Koko himself is more or less what we know about most of the others. Koko is an artisan - a "cheap" tailor, according to Nanki-Poo, though we only have his word for it (and there is little love lost between Nanki-Poo and Koko). Whatever the quality of his work, he seems to have been reasonably prosperous and able to afford the upkeep of three young girls who are most likely apprentice Geisha, which in itself would require a lot of money. How he came to be accused (and convicted) of flirting is never explained, but there is a dark suggestion under the surface that he may have been set up. (See "Yum-Yum") Through a twist of fate, he finds himself dropped like a ripe plum into the lap of luxury and unaccustomed power. It is to his credit that he never fully realizes how potentially powerful he is, and at heart remains the same Koko as ever.

The title of "Lord High Executioner" is not a Japanese title, but a parody on some of the pompous-sounding titles in British politics. If such a person ever existed, he would have perhaps been a headsman under command of the Shogun, acting as the "second" for men committing seppuku (ritual suicide). His job would have been to behead the dying man and end his suffering quickly. The famous "Lone Wolf and Cub" movies from Japan tell the adventures of a fictional samurai named Ogami Ito who held such a position until falsely accused of treason by his enemies. It is interesting to note that one English-language dubbing of the first film actually refers to Ogami Ito as "Lord High Executioner".

What of course motivates Koko, apart from a survival instinct, is his infatuation with Yum-Yum, and he does not seem to imagine her capable of anything underhanded. The "relationship" between them seems entirely one-sided; not at all to Yum-Yum's liking, though Koko himself is completely smitten. He concedes to her marriage with Nanki-Poo only in order to stall for time, and he wastes no time at all in getting Pooh-Bah to concoct a story of "being buried alive" simply to make the marriage undesirable to her. Koko undoubtedly knows that Yum-Yum has no interest in him, but a streak of stubborn pride refuses to let him acknowledge the truth until it is wholly inescapable.

How old is Koko? It is unclear, though as the great Sir John Reed said, Koko is "ageless", and can be portrayed as any age at all. He has been portrayed in many ways: as a complete buffoon, as a serious man among a throng of lunatics, as a con artist, and a wannabe samurai. But he seems to work best as a nervous Little Man caught up in a whirlwind of improbable events, always remaining gentle, lovable, and kind-hearted.

Koko is a survivor. He would probably be the last man left standing if Mt.Fuji errupted next door, or who in another reality, would have scrambled through the bombing of Hiroshima unscathed. He is truly one of the most appealing and endearing of all Gilbert & Sullivan's creations.

A number of suggestions have been offered for why the name of "Koko" was given to this character, as the word koko has several possible meanings in Japanese. Among other things, it is a little girl's nickname, and was also the name of a real 5th century Empress and a famous 20th century Geisha. It has also been suggested that it was the name of a Victorian hair tonic for balding men, and Koko usually wears a samurai haircut, with the shaved crown. It has also been described as a plate of small pickled veggies. However, Koko is also another spelling for a warm, sweet, comfortable chocolate drink, much loved by children. That is as good an answer as any, considering the abundance of "nursery rhyme" names given to the other people of Gilbert's Titipu.

A lot of siamese cats have been named "Koko" in his honor, including a famous cat detective in a popular book series with a partner named Yum-Yum, and my first siamese cat was named Koko - while my current dear old siamese is named "Koko Too".

Nanki-Poo is another remarkable character. In Gilbert's original concept, he was the hero of the story, as several of the other great tenor roles were. Nanki-Poo is a disguised prince, having escaped the Imperial Palace in order to avoid an unwanted arranged marriage with a woman he cannot stand. He tries to bury himself in obscurity by pretending to be a strolling street musician -- but even in the Town Band of a provincial community like Titipu, he never gets beyond playing second trombone and is usually assigned to pass his hat around for tips. Even Yum-Yum lets it slip that he is not much of a musician.

Most people to want to play Nanki-Poo as a stock romantic tenor lead, but that only spoils a very funny character, and reduce him to the kind of insipid, conventional dullness seen in the 1938 movie.

It was typical in the days of the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company to portray Nanki-Poo as a reserved young man with an obvious upper-class accent, as well as upper-class attitudes. He brushes Koko off as a "cheap tailor" in a wonderfully toffee-nosed dismisal. None of the people on stage seem to notice this at all, though everyone in the theater audience grasps it at once. (NOTE: This may not be as apparent to most people in American audiences, who are less familiar with the class distinctions detectable in British speech.)

The funniest Nanki-Poo I ever saw was a cocky and young man with a snarking, obnoxious laugh: a Monty-Pythonish "upper class twit". He was someone that Koko would NOT want living under his roof for any reason, let alone in order to cohabit with Yum-Yum.

Nanki-Poo's most endearing trait is that he seems to be truly and sincerely in love with Yum-Yum, and is willing to do anything at all for her. He even briefly considers the virtues of dying for her, which of course is very important to the storyline. However, he is also a resourceful fellow, even cunning. He learns to read Koko like a book, and figures out very quickly how to manipulate him. The two characters are perfectly matched for wits and purpose, making excellent foils for each other. One suspects that Nanki-Poo - (whatever his real name is, for we are never told) - will someday make a very interesting Mikado in his own right.

The name "Nanki-Poo" is unspecific in its meaning, but it is all the same suggestive of something nauseatingly cute. Sums it all up!

The character of Katisha is one of Gilbert’s most memorable and controversial women.

She comes from a long school of theatrical characters whom Gilbert relished in, often known as “Pantomime Dames”.The tradition of the Pantomime Dame goes back at least to the comedies of ancient Rome, and persists in British humor to the present. Whenever an outrageous, ugly old "dame" was needed for comical purposes, a beefy male comedian would dress up as a woman for the part. Monty Python comedians filled their shows with such pantomime characters, and it was extremely funny.

Katisha was originally conceived of as such a character, though she has never been played by a man. In this respect, her relationship with Koko, however you interpret it, is meant to be something grotesque and sadistically funny.

Katisha can appear a threatening and fearsome force, bordering on theatrical villany - yet on the other hand, she is also a misunderstood, lonely woman who really only wants to be loved. Portraying her as a villain may work from the viewpoint of Nanki-Poo, Yum-Yum and the other two Little Maids, but her own words do not make this entirely convincing. She puts on a tough front, but she is clearly much softer under the surface.

Katisha is something of a princess - a courtier of very high noble birth, but she is bad-tempered, scowling, and someone who has never been able to make successful human relationships on her own. She is unmarried, which would have been unheard of for a woman of her social station, so she has to accuse a man of flirting in order to force him into marriage. Perhaps a case can be made that her accusations were not entirely malicious.

Katisha thinks she’s in love with Nanki-Poo, and will go to any means to secure him. She seems to be someone who usually gets what she wants, and even the Mikado seems to have some trouble controlling her. Nanki-Poo’s proxemity to the Throne does not seem to be what attracts her, so it may be his youth and vitality. Nanki-Poo himself gives us a clue: In his own words, she “...misconstrued my customary affability into expressions of affection.” She is a desperate woman ready to leap on anything resembling a courtship. Did Nanki-Poo in fact do something, however inadvertantly, to lead her on? A friend of mine once jokingly suggested that it might be very funny to see an obviously-pregnant Katisha appear at the end of Act One, and perhaps it would be, indeed. But such, of course, would not have been Gilbert's intent.

Which brings up another issue - how old is Katisha? She is repeatedly described as "elderly", and she says, “my face is plain”. The reactions of the men in the story certain seem to agree. Yet she has other physical attributes that are reputedly quite beautiful, and are on view with the presentation of a visiting card. So what gives? The statement that Nanki-Poo makes, "...from seventeen to forty-nine are considered years of indiscretion." is a bit misleading, because in old Japan, any woman over thirty was considered past her prime - practically an old woman. I suspect very strongly that Katisha is either over thirty or fast approaching that daunting age.

Gilbert's original idea, then, was to humiliate Koko by sticking him into an unwanted marriage with an ugly old broad, the way Yum-Yum or Nanki-Poo might have been stuck, so that he will get his "just deserts". This is not unlike the annoying, unlovable Bunthorne in "Patience" who in is left with nobody, but is only temporarily daunted by the prospect. In the end, the only way to make "The Mikado" have a truly happy ending is for Koko and Katisha to be meant for each other in ways perhaps obvious to the audience, if not immediately obvious to the characters themselves. And after all, as Koko says,“Your notions, though many, are not worth a penny, the word for your guidance is ‘mum ’--you ’ve a very good bargain in me.” I suppose those words speak volumes, and even the D'Oyly Carte Opera Company, which performed these plays according to strict tradition, eventually found themselves restaging the final moments so that there was no doubt left in anyone's mind where these two characters stood.

Katisha's name probably was derived from the term "catty", used to describe a spiteful woman, who cheerfully dimenishes other women behind their backs. Katisha heaps "catty" remarks upon Yum-Yum, right to her face, at the end of Act One. But no one is harder on herself than she is. So her bitterness and spite probably comes from her own life experiences, which are not happy ones.

It is my opinion that she is best served if she is played as a more sympathetic woman, as Gilbert himself indicates in her two powerful arias. I personally feel that she is about 35 years old, and the "ugliness" of her face comes from her bad temper and her habit of constant scowling - which unravels by the end of the story. You cannot actively dislike her, and you can't help but feel she deserves a better fate than she has so far been dealt.

If tradition has it that Koko was the first character Gilbert created, then tradition also holds that Pooh-Bah came second. According to Gilbert himself, Pooh-Bah was "the most remarkable man who ever lived". He is certainly one of the best characters in the play, and his very name has entered into the English language as synonymous with a self-important person who holds many official positions all at the same time. He was also clearly Gilbert's own favorite character in the story, for much detail and obvious affection was spent on him when Gilbert wrote his novelization in 1911, shortly before his own death.

Pooh-Bah is a self-appointed public official, and he is also a samurai. We know this because all contemporary photos and sketches show him bearing his two swords proudly in his obi, though it is unlikely he has ever drawn them except maybe to polish them. He is also a man who could single-handedly destroy the concept of Bushido, since his loyalties are to himself alone. In fact, to use a Japanese term, Koko has become Pooh-Bah's Lord Daimyo - which would require his absolute loyalty, even unto death. But when Koko requests that he should be appointed "Lord High Substitute", his response is to all but laugh in Koko's face. He is one of those very arrogant people who makes a great show of flaunting his importance and high social station, and an even greater show of pointing out how self-depreciating he can be by “humbling” himself to accept bribes at any hand, however lowly. There is a streak of the corrupt official in Pooh-Bah that the Japanese themselves would recognize: the samurai who gives lip-service to his lineage and social position, but who in practice contradicts everything his title represents.

At the start of the play, we learn that all the local officials resigned in protest, refusing to serve beneath a Lord High Executioner who was only a common little tailor. All, that is, but Pooh-Bah. Pooh-Bah promptly “humbled himself” to serve under Koko, assuming the jobs, titles, responsibilities (and of course salaries) of the entire City Council. He can be bought for a small fee, and is disappointed when the bribes are small. He is the epitome of greed, graft and corruption, and yet he manages to be one of the best-loved characters in the story, with some of the best lines.

He and Koko have a very curious relationship. At first Pooh-Bah has the upper hand, taking full advantage of Koko’s inexperience and naivité, but it doesn’t take long before Koko understands Pooh-Bah’s mind and learns to out-manipulate the old rascal.

Pooh-Bah grovels for a fee, snivels, whines, brags shamelessly, and he even doesn't like girls. Yet we love him all the more. Go figure!

It has become popular in many modern productions to play him as Gay, and even as the principle comic character in place of Koko.

A gentleman of Japan, Pish-Tush is also a samurai, and in charge of a chorus of samurai. He can be played one of several ways - usually either a stern type with no sense of humor whatsoever, or just another vain and vapid sycophant, as his name suggests. He is probably somewhere in between. As a samurai, his code of loyalty is no more goverened by Bushido than is Pooh-Bah's. He should have been loyal to the death to whichever man he considered his leige lord - in this case, Koko. But like Pooh-Bah, he refuses to sacrifice himself in service to his master. In fact, he does not hesitate for a nano-second to carry out the Mikado's desire to execute Koko, Pooh-Bah and Pitti-Sing! Arguably, service to the Emperor takes precedence over service to his Daimyo, but in this case, it all smacks of insinserity and opportunistic self-preservation. I can easily imagine him expecting to be the next Lord High Executioner, and therefore the next Daimyo.

Many times, Pish-Tush is played as a sort of suck-up political bureacrat, low on the food chain, and hoping to climb it one way or the other. I personally prefer to allow him the dignity of being a serious samurai. Tradition long has held that he and Peep-Bo pair off at the end, and I think it far more interesting if both of them are played as being just too "gorgeous" for the rest of us, and they sort of make you want to gag for it. Much funnier that way.

Yum-Yum is the beautiful heroine, and I have a lot to say about her!

We are told that she is a schoolgirl, “eighteen or under”, which is open to considerable interpretation. On one side of the coin, she is an English-style teenager, sent to a finishing school for young ladies, along with her sisters. This may be the case, of course, but there may be something more.

To put a Japanese twist on the story, there is a better-than-even possibility that her “school” is a Geisha school, which would have been not unlike a finishing school. At the ages of "eighteen or under", the “three little maids from school” would then actually have been Maiko - apprentice Geisha.

We could now go into a long explanation of how Geisha are highly-paid professional entertainers; respectable women, and not prostitutes, as they have often been mistakenly confused with. They are business women as well as artists, and within their own ranks have a sisterhood, complete with guilds and heraldry, and call their guild-mates their "sisters". I have long suspected that Yum-Yum is a Maiko, and that her sisters may not be biological sisters at all, but guild sisters. Gilbert left room for this in his 1911 novelization (published posthumsously) in which he simply referred to Peep-Bo and Pitti-Sing as Yum-Yum's friends, and not real sisters at all. This would go a long way in explaining her relationship to Koko, as well. He was engaged to marry her before he became Lord High Executioner, which would indicate that he was successful enough to have afforded the sponsoring of a Maiko’s training. In other words, he is her "danna", or patron.

In the old days, most Geisha patrons were also their lovers - but it doesn't exactly appear to be true in this case. Koko clearly wants a wife, not a mistress, and has courted her as such. In this sense, Gilbert would not have been far off in saying Koko was marrying his “ward”.

We know of no family connections between them. Yum-Yum is not a niece or an adopted child, which might have created a situation Gilbert would not have dared approach in 1885. So identifying Yum-Yum as a Maiko is an explanation that really works. Koko may also have been therefore paying for the training of Peep-Bo and Pitti-Sing, and most likely at Yum-Yum’s insistance. After all, she has him around her little finger.

Yum-Yum is not as sweet, kind and innocent as Koko believes she is. Like Katisha, she is another woman who knows how to get what she wants while using wholly different tactics. She is beautiful, she has mastereed the art of innocent sweetness, but she also is extremely vain. She preens before her mirror, marveling at how very beautiful she is, and her true love seems to be herself. She finds Nanki-Poo much more attractive than Koko, whose existance she barely tolerates. Koko, as Lord High Executioner, is much more valuable to her than Koko the ordinary tailor, but she cares for neither. Nanki-Poo may be handsomer and much more exciting to her, but she is only prepared to dump Koko for Nanki-Poo when she learns he is the son of the Mikado. I have also long harbored a suspicion that it was Yum-Yum herself who accused Koko of flirting in the “old days”, hoping to get rid of him - but then, that was back when Koko was just a lowly tailor and she was looking forward to a dull future as his wife rather than his pampered mistress.

No, she’s not a nice person. She is two-faced, and she is also a tease. She never openly commits anything to anyone, not even to Nanki-Poo (until she is brought before the registrar), but goes with the flow of the situation, accepting whatever comes her way when it is to her best advantage. She is everything a romantic heroine shouldn’t be, while giving all the outward appearance of being the epitome of innocent, helpless beauty. Topsy-turvey, indeed.

Her name speaks for itself.

Pitti-Sing was originally conceived of as a comic role for the popular comedienne, Jessie Bond, so it goes without saying that she is intended to be funny and full of fun. She can get away with saying and doing the kind things the other two girls wouldn’t dream of, and does so with relish. Her name, of course, is a play on the words,"pretty thing".

Pitti-Sing is no more a stranger to Koko's world than Yum-Yum is, and is plainly familiar with his tailoring business. She also seems to get along quite well with him, as she gets along with practically everybody. She thinks Pooh-Bah is the funniest person she has ever seen, and loves poking fun at him. This is, of course, how she ends up as part of the trio accused of beheading Nanki-Poo.

Pitti-Sing is not in the slightest frightened or intimidated by Katisha, and does not hesitate to tell her off - although she does so nicely. She does not appear to be a person who would deliberately hurt someone else's feelings, yet she is full of playful mischief, and in many ways the most genuinely Japanese girl in the story. As a Maiko, I suspect she would have been very popular, with the makings of a very successful Geisha. This, however, does not seem to be in her future. Gilbert's novelization stated that she eventually marries Pooh-Bah, of all unlikely people, but more recent D'Oyly Carte productions hint very broadly that she in fact might end up as a royal mistress for the Mikado! This is a distinct possibility of comical irony.

Pitti-Sing forever!

Of the three sisters, she has the least to say and do, and appears to be the most quiet and timid of them all. I have also personally suspected that she was the prettiest, and just once I would love to see her performing a Maiko’s traditional dance while Pitti-Sing is singing her song of advice to Yum-Yum at the start of Act Two. It is a very Geisha-like moment, and perfect for the use of fans and delicate hand gestures combined with dance. Peep-Bo comes briefly to life after this scene to crack one-liners at Yum-Yum about her marriage to Nanki-Poo being “cut short”, and more of the same. The Traditional production also implies that she pairs off with Pish-Tush at the end, though no explanation is ever given why. I suppose that’s what a good stage director is for. I personally like to see them as being too gorgeous for the rest of us mortals, and therefore naturally drawn to each other.

Her name implies a child-like charm and sweetness, based on the name of nursery-rhyme heroine, Bo-Peep.

Goto was a character invented by Sullivan when a singer who played Pish-Tush did not have a deep enough voice to sing the bass line in the “wedding day madrigal” of Act Two. So they created a stand-in character who could “go to” fill in whenever necessary. In actual performances, the most effective way of using this character is to show him as a silent role, a samurai forever at Pish-Tush’s side, who opens his mouth for this moment of song only. Goto goes back into obscurity after the madrigal, and once again it is left to a director's imagination as to what to do with him. Whatever else is done with this character, he is a sentimentalist, no doubt very loyal and dedicated - to Pish-Tush, if no one else. He probably comes closest of them all to being a true samurai, but again, that is only a guess.

AND LAST BUT BY NO MEANS LEAST...

The Town of Titipu itself is NOT, according to common belief, a completely fictious location. It is, in fact, claimed by the real-life town of Chichibu, Japan - a small suburban city in the moutains northwest of Tokyo, which has faithfully performed "The Mikado" for several years now, before loyal fans, even selling G&S character dolls, snacks and other souvenirs.

Chichibu has also been called the "cement capital of Japan." Does this mean that Titipu was finally reduced to the rank of a village after all, or has it been taken over by the Mob? Cement, indeed! No wonder some Japanese productions have taken such delight in presenting "The Mikado" as a comical gangster story, with the "Mikado" as a mob boss rather than the Emperor!

Some people in Chichibu have come to take this story very seriously as something that might have actually happened in their ancient past. After all, for many years Chichibu was an unincorporated farming region that was little more than a village, having once been famous for a thriving silk industry. No doubt a tailor would have prospered in such a place. Today, their "Mikado" production is also set at the time of the famous Chichibu Night Festival, and they have pointed with relish to the old 1938 movie, as it starts off with a prologue, clearly in a setting that resembles this same festival! Food for thought, and certainly food for fun, especially for those determined to stage a realistic-looking "Mikado."

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