Susan Rising

David Begelman

It was only a short rendition of the song, I Dreamed a Dream from the musical Les Misérables on an otherwise uneventful Saturday night. The performer who waddled on stage looked nothing like what the large crowd on the Britain’s Got Talent show expected to hear as she began to sing.

Millions of enraptured viewers who watched her on YouTube were also privy to the silent sneers and eye-rolls of audience members and judges who pretended to know beforehand what the dumpy lady might deliver. For them, it wasn’t something they fancied would be pretty; more like the embarrassing auditions scheduled by producers of American Idol. Those backstage savants seem to enjoy the prospect of certain contestants making fools of themselves. Otherwise, why schedule the transparently untalented for a jeering audience in the first place?

A 47 year-old Scottish spinster from Blackburn in West Lothian, Scotland, Susan Boyle is reportedly learning disabled, had cared for an ailing mother who died in 2007, was unemployed, and lives alone with a cat named Pebbles. Another rumor is that she has never had a boyfriend or been kissed, a tradition that will, as the world turns, promise to end abruptly.

She put her best foot forward many times prior to her debut on Britain’s Got Talent. With an ambition to sing like Elaine Paige, she had a stint in an acting school, brief recording gigs (she cut a 1999 CD of the original Julie London hit Cry Me A River), and auditions that went nowhere.

Her physical appearance, not her talent, was probably the thing that was holding her back in the eyes of small town producers. Like-minded promoters around the world  are usually eager to advance the good looking—better, the gorgeous—among those angling for stardom. With some notable exceptions, it’s the surface appearance that counts in show business, as we have long suspected. There are countless aspiring actors who look more like models or handsome surfers from nameless beaches than they do thespians.

Contestants in beauty pageants are a case in point. Everything about them is visually arresting, and they seem prepped to put on a stunning show for audiences—until they open their mouths. If the illusion based upon surface appearance in their case is shattered when they speak, an illusion also evaporates on hearing Susan Boyle—except in the opposite direction. In her case, the expectation of drabness, of the inconsequential or the unattractive, was shattered instantaneously the moment she started to sing.   

So what is the mystery about the Susan Boyle phenomenon? Clearly, the sudden popularity of unrecognized talent is hardly a novel story. Nor does it occasion the intensity of emotional response quite like the one to this singer.

One theory—among several that came fast and furiously on the wings of her performance—is that her sudden prominence captured the attention of listeners jaded with gloomy economic times. Then there is the idea about the singer’s “naturalness,” her down to earth quality in combination with her talent that accounts for the reaction to her. But there are countless recording artists, Eva Cassidy among them, who were combinations of extreme modesty and outrageous talent, yet fail to make the same impression. Another guess is that Susan Boyle is just another case of a media blitz atop of what is grudgingly conceded as a genuine talent.

Things are a bit more complicated than that.

Is it that implausible to suggest that Susan Boyle has struck some kind of elemental chord in us? Public reaction to her performance is more than just keen appreciation. It smacks of touching a nerve that brought many of us to the verge of tears, including yours truly. Patti LuPone and Demi Moore had similar reactions (I recall the soprano Victoria de Los Angeles weeping off stage on hearing the tenor Jussi Bjoerling deliver an aria, but such sentimental occasions are rare in the business.) The coloratura soprano Lily Pons was once reduced to tears on hearing Florence Foster-Jenkins sing; but that was only because the latter was so bad.

Is it that far fetched to suggest that the disconnect between Susan Boyle’s appearance and her singing happily confounds all of our silent beliefs about quality based on external appearance? What is more, are we gladdened by that disconnect because it touches something deep within ourselves about our own aspirations? Does Susan Boyle resonate with things inside us that struggle for recognition in what often seems to us to be an uncaring world? Is our response to the singer drenched in identification with her?

About Susan’s technique. Her choice of the song I Dreamed A Dream was excellent; it is a rousing number that sits well in her voice, a happy blend of head and chest voices. Her pitch was faultless, a rare treat these days when listening to all those rock stars and attractive male and female singers on American Idol who, dolled up in makeup, suitably contrived coiffures, funky attire, gleaming teeth, youthful exuberance, and occasional tattoos, could benefit from yet another accoutrement: a pitch pipe.

Anyway, if we’re always prepared to judge a book by its cover, the Susan Boyles of the world have a surprise in store for all of us.