Like all of my posts, this one is late. Not late like a marinade or summer come at last. Too late, in this case.

Of course, I couldn’t have stopped the inevitable.

Recap: Sting (the musician) wrote some songs (a musical) about his town (a shipyard) and it got him out of writer’s block. You can go hear about it in the shiny TED talk I referenced. It came and went to the fanfare of the typical “How Dare You” chorus of the New York literary crowd.

I really couldn’t care less about the critical community here.

What interests me is the short life of this musical Gotham deserved, but the one it refused to receive at present. And when I say “musical” I should really say “myth.” Assuming I cared about spoilers, what I’m about to say wouldn’t matter because the show’s over, folks.

The Last Ship :: The Myth

Boy grows up in the shadow of a shipyard among hard workers. Falls in love, leaves for ten years. Turns out he impregnated the girl with a son. Son is born and the shipyard gets bought out by some corporate conglomerate. And when the shipyard gets bought out, the corporation shuts it dow.

Now the men of the town are out of work until the local priest says, quite literally, “Screw the bishop,” and reallocates the money that’s been set aside for a new parish.

For what?

Well for building ONE LAST SHIP, of course. They all storm the gates of the now-locked shipyard in the middle of… well… a rainstorm and begin building a ship. Something irrelevant happens with the love story and all of the men and their families sail away from the crappy little town on The Last Ship.

 

I really don’t want to write any more because as a mythology, it’s exactly what I want to hear right now. I got chills just thinking about the bones of the story: the myth works. It works for a city (and country) that’s plagued by greed and its effects. It works for the revival of mainstreet. It works as a Cathlolic play, as an Irish Catholic play, even. It works as a vision of a way we might rebuild society together.

Heck, it works as a particularly American myth, for what is the American second chance if not a ship setting sail? The opposite — Titanic — haunts us.

Don’t believe me?

Go watch it again. It holds up.

Yeah, okay, fine. The book for The Last Ship was broken beyond repair — the story didn’t work at the three-hour length. And yeah, some of the key players on the cast were timid, especially when Sting joined the tour.

So?

The songs were great. The myth worked. The set was gorgeous. There was alchemical and Noaic and Apoaclyptic imagery aplenty to tickle my fickle heart.

I say rewrite the book around the myth and try again.

And if not…

Dear Sting,

Thank you for this myth and these songs. If for no one else, The Last Ship was for me.

Love,

Lancelot

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