Issue link: https://maltatoday.uberflip.com/i/1312765
12 maltatoday | WEDNESDAY • 25 NOVEMBER 2020 OPINION OK, let's start with the obvious (which, by the way, is the obvious way to start, when you can't actu- ally think of a better intro): I hav- en't really been following 'Malta's Got Talent' all that much, so far. But that's not to say I haven't watched a single episode, or a sin- gle clip. A couple of weeks ago, for instance, I chanced upon an episode half-way: and - having missed the beginning of the act - what I saw on screen was… yeah, you probably guessed already. It was the same act that went on to cause a minor furore last Sun- day, by actually making it through to the semi-finals… at the expense of other, more 'traditional' dis- plays of that ineffable, indefina- ble (and, quite frankly, entirely subjective) quality we call 'talent'. (You know: singing; dancing; do- ing comic impersonations… that sort of thing.) This, in turn, seems to have got everyone talking about the 'de- cline and fall of Malta's artistic standards' (with 'Bis-Serjeta' even suggesting a 'state funeral for the arts'…) Perhaps more usefully, how- ever, it may also have got people to question the specific criteria on which 'talent' even gets to be judged in the first place: not only on our own version of the interna- tional 'XGT' franchise (where 'X' represents the initial letter of the country hosting the show; and… well, you can work the rest out for yourselves)… but pretty much everywhere else in the known uni- verse. Questions like: is it ever wise to entrust a significant chunk of the judging process to the general public (as opposed to a panel of experts)? Doesn't this open up the possi- bility of a final decision influenced by… um… 'ex-ternal factors': such as lobbying (as seems to have been the case here)… or even (in other cases) political bias, xeno- phobia, homophobia, etc…? Besides: on what criteria can Mr Joe Public even make that kind of decision, anyway… if not on the basis of his own, purely idiosyn- cratic tastes? And even then: isn't that what ultimately counts, when it comes to the single most ineffable, inde- finable aspect of them all: i.e., the part of 'talent' we refer to as 'en- tertainment value'? Conversely, we could also ques- tion the wisdom of leaving all the judging in the hands of 'experts'… and please note, I'm not using those inverted commas to dis- pute, or in any way minimise, the expertise of MGT's own panel of judges. It's just that…well… 'singing', 'dancing', and all the rest of the usual, traditional fare: that's something a career in the music industry, or in the performing arts, - or in virtually any sphere that requires at least the ability to recognise 'talent' - can actually prepare you to evaluate. But… imitating the sound of fire- works? What sort of credentials could even a lifetime career in the arts possibly equip you with, to take that sort of artistic decision? No, no: make no mistake: the only people who could possibly judge Joseph Mangion on that performance, are the ones who share his evident passion for the sound, smell, and spectacle of the traditional Maltese fireworks dis- play. In other words, the ones who really do accept that Malta's py- rotechnics culture is an integral (if not essential) component of the 'local arts scene'… and that it I therefore right and fitting, for its centrality to our cultural heritage to be acknowledged in a local tal- ent. And… um… that is, in fact, ex- actly what happened last Sunday. But it all happened later; and I'm still at the part when I had on- ly just tuned into the act for the first time… without catching any of the introductory banter, and therefore without actually know- ing what the hell Joseph Mangion was even trying to do. My first reaction was: 'Oh my God, is he really doing what I think he's doing?' And my second reaction was: 'Because if so… he's pretty darn good at it, you know…' Hey, let's not be too judgmental. It is no small feat to accurately replicate the precise sound, tex- ture and intensity of human bow- el movements… using only your vocal cords. And yes, I know it's something we all think we can do ourselves – be honest now: who hasn't ever 'blown a raspberry', at least once in his life? – but to let it rip so naturally an effortlessly, live on stage… and to even distinguish between the unique auditory qualities of different types of flat- ulence, too (displaying, in the pro- cess, such a masterful grasp of the sheer complexity of the human digestive system…) That takes some talent, you know. So much talent, in fact, that… heck: even now, that I belat- edly realise I had originally got it all wrong: watching the clip again, I am still just as impressed by the achievement, despite knowing full well that it was all along uninten- tional. Consider for instance, the initial 'phut'-sound that indicates (be- cause, alas, we all now know what he was really doing) the launch of a petard that is destined to ex- plode as an overhead firework… … to my ears, that sounded (and still sounds) like a perfect vocal- isation of a very specific type of fart: one that, in Maltese, would be referred to as a 'fiswa'. And I use that word with pride, too: because few other languages in the world can boast terminolo- gy that is so phonetically accurate, it can capture not just the word's meaning: but also its precise sound, quality, and even – dare I say it - smell. The closest English can possibly come to that is… S.B.D ('Silent But Deadly'). But while that does indeed attempt to capture both auditory and olfactory qualities… it doesn't really count, because: a) it's three words, not one; b) with- out contesting the 'deadly' part… a 'fiswa' isn't really 'silent', is it? and; c) the all-important ono- matopoeia is somehow lost in the translation…. But that was the just the begin- ning. Like the petard it was along meant to be, that 'fiswa' promptly erupted into a whole series of oth- er, equally impressive examples of imitation 'chamber music': start- ing with the most recognisable fart-sound of them all. This time, the English language does possess an entirely apt word to describe it: it's called a 'prip'. And what makes that word so effective, is that it could be used only one – to describe that sud- den (mostly involuntary) escape of wind, that usually occurs when trying to keep a much larger one in for too long – or else, you can repeat it several times in sequence, to emulate the rapid machine-gun fire of several 'prips' being invol- untarily let off at once. ('Prip-pip- prip-pip', etc.) So there he was, our future semi-finalist of Malta's Got Tal- ent: 'prip-pip-prip-pipping' away, with great gusto, on stage… and that, of course, was before even he got to the Grand Finale: the 'kaxxa infernali', which cannot realisti- cally be described in any language, because… well, let's just say it's the sound a herd of hippopotami might make, while on a strict diet of beans, cauliflower and Jerusa- lem artichokes… So I need hardly add that, by the end of the act, I was on my feet cheering. Never mind 'talent'; that's sheer genius, that is. Because not only was the im- pression itself so utterly realistic… but you could even interpret it as a classic raspberry-blow, right in the face of the 'panel of experts' themselves. And that elevates Joseph Man- gion's performance onto a whole new symbolic plane: suddenly, it becomes a bold (albeit cheeky) gesture of defiance, against an es- tablishment which has somehow imposed its own aesthetic stand- ards onto the entire global per- forming arts scene… and which can (no offence to MGT's own judges, or anything) be conceiv- ably accused of 'mass-producing generations of Beyonce-soun- dalikes' (or, at least, of moulding popular tastes according to prede- termined - and highly subjective - patterns… As such, you could almost com- pare it to the sudden, violent ir- ruption of The Sex Pistols, more than 30 years ago, onto a mid- 1970s rock scene that had become far too musically self-indulgent for its own good… But let's not get too carried away. Point is: I was (initially, an- yway) just a little disappointed to discover that I had, as usual, read slightly too much into things… that: no, actually… Joseph Man- gion wasn't really expressing his own sentiments about 'the global hegemonisation of the perform- ing arts, through corporate fran- chises like XGT', directly to the judges' faces…. Or at least: maybe not intention- ally. Because at the end of the day: it still remains a rather accurate description of what his he actually did last Sunday. If nothing else, his surprise victory seems to have fired a much-needed rocket up the ar- tistic establishment's backside… and if it wasn't fully intentional, on his own part: it may well have been a very deliberate, conscious decision, on the part of the thou- sands of voters who propelled him – much like the fireworks he imitates so well - directly to the semi-finals…. Either way: as for myself, I am now officially rooting for the fart… I mean, firework imperson- ator, all the way. Long may the sound of flatulence prevail… The sound of flatulence… Raphael Vassallo By the end of the act, I was on my feet cheering. Never mind 'talent'; that's sheer genius, that is