Home Puzzle 1781 Mozart opera seria / SAT 10-21-23 / 1998 rap hit by Big Pun (feat. Joe) / Cocktail fruta / Astronaut Cooper informally / Magazine that originated the words “payola” and “striptease” / Bandmate of Keith and Brian / Haka dance performers

1781 Mozart opera seria / SAT 10-21-23 / 1998 rap hit by Big Pun (feat. Joe) / Cocktail fruta / Astronaut Cooper informally / Magazine that originated the words “payola” and “striptease” / Bandmate of Keith and Brian / Haka dance performers

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1781 Mozart opera seria / SAT 10-21-23 / 1998 rap hit by Big Pun (feat. Joe) / Cocktail fruta / Astronaut Cooper informally / Magazine that originated the words “payola” and “striptease” / Bandmate of Keith and Brian / Haka dance performers

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Constructor: Kelly Morenus

Relative difficulty: Medium

THEME: none 

Word of the Day: “IDOMENEO” (5D: 1781 Mozart opera seria) —

Idomeneo, re di Creta ossia Ilia e Idamante (Italian for Idomeneus, King of Crete, or, Ilia and Idamante; usually referred to simply as Idomeneo, K. 366) is an Italian-language opera seria by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart. The libretto was adapted by Giambattista Varesco from a French text by Antoine Danchet, based on a 1705 play by Crébillion père, which had been set to music by André Campra as Idoménée in 1712. Mozart and Varesco were commissioned in 1780 by Karl Theodor, Elector of Bavaria for a court carnival. He probably chose the subject, though it may have been Mozart. The work premiered on 29 January 1781 at the Cuvilliés Theatre in Munich, Germany. (wikipedia) ///  King Idomeneo is returning from his victory in the Trojan war when a great storm destroys his ship. Desperate to save his own life, he begs the god Neptune to spare him, and Neptune asks him for a sacrifice in return: the first living person that Idomeneo sees when he reaches the shore. // Back in Crete, reports of the wreckage of his father’s ship have brought Idamante to the sea’s edge to see if his father is alive. A fatal reunion on the shore seals Idamante’s fate. His own father must sacrifice him to appease the god of the sea. // Nothing can prevent this destiny. Sending Idamante away will not work, as he would have to travel by sea. Impatient for his sacrifice, Neptune sends a great monster to attack the people of Crete and force Idomeneo to fulfil his oath. Only the pure heart of Princess Ilia can prevent the fatal blow from striking Idamante, as love and innocent triumph over all. (stageagent dot com) 

• • •

I thought the bottom stack—in fact, the bottom in general—was really strong on this one. I especially liked the very current “TAKE MY MONEY!” underneath and counterbalancing the more formal and perhaps more sober DISCRETIONARY spending. The juxtaposition makes DISCRETIONARY seem almost admonitory. 

A: [Points to pink box on top shelf] “I want that!” 

B: [Looks disapproving, removes monocle] “Hmm, perhaps you should use some discretion when considering how y—” 

A: [Turns to cashier] “TAKE MY MONEY!” 

B: [Sputters] “Now see here, DON’T INTERRUPT ME. We’ve been having some budgetary shortfalls of late and I just—”

A: [Holds pink box aloft] “Too late, Diamond-Eyes Barbie is mine, Mine, hahahahahaha” [runs wildly through Tiffany’s] [end scene]

As for the rest of the puzzle, it was solid enough, but a little on the wan side (!), and a little too reliant on proper nouns for its difficulty. The only obstacles in my way today were names, which made them stand out. Astronauts aren’t nearly the names they used to be when I was a child, so I honestly didn’t know GORDO (39A: Astronaut Cooper, informally). Wikipedia says he was the “youngest of the seven original astronauts in Project Mercury,” which covered 1958-63. I was born in 1969, so I missed him. It’s the 1969 astronauts I know. The only ones I ever heard about for the longest time. So GORDO was tough. Then there was “STILL NOT A PLAYER,” which a. I can’t believe I don’t know—I was actually paying attention to music in 1998, how embarrassing—and b. I can’t believe spells “PLAYER” with an “-ER” (14A: 1998 rap hit by big Pun (feat. Joe)). Feels very un-rappy. I resisted PLAYER for a few beats because the spelling seemed too … let’s say, standard. But that title was inferable, ultimately. I’ve seen that How to Be an Antiracist guy’s name in bookstores all over hell and gone, and I could’ve told you IBRAM, his exact last name seems to have eluded me (24D: Ibram X. ___, author of “How to Be an Antiracist” => KENDI). This led to the most unfortunate possible puzzle finale today, as the last thing I entered was the second “N” in WANNEST, which has to be the WANNEST word I’ve ever seen (30A: Least robust-looking). Oof. Who is doing Comparative Wan Studies, such that this word would ever be uttered? Somehow, that second “N” is a tolerable phenomenon in a word like TANNEST, but with the vowel sound in WAN … the whole superlative adjectival enterprise just seems absurd

[This is fantastic, how did I miss it!? Stupid grad school…]

But so far these are just a few names, the kind you’d find in any Saturday. Where’s the problem? Well, there’s the fact that the names keep coming—so many of them from one narrow cultural arena: music. In addition to the Big Pun (feat. Joe) song, there’s Chick COREA, MICK Jagger, Brooks & DUNN, FATS Domino, and then the one musical answer that seemed truly unfair. Like, intentionally cruel to all non-opera lovers (and non-opera knower-abouters). That answer is, of course, “IDOMENEO” (5D: 1781 Mozart opera seria). If you don’t know the opera, those letters are totally uninferable, and while most of the crosses are fair, there is one that is not only not fair, but that seems designed to send you to Natick* City without passing Go (a horrible fate). Attics are, famously, conventionally, paradigmatically, DUSTY. If there’s one thing I know about attics, it’s that they might have a WEB or two in them … and then there’s the dust. Now, “IDOMENEO” just sounds more plausible to my ears than “IDODENEO,” but there’s absolutely no definitive way for someone not familiar with that Mozart title (i.e. many, many solvers) to make that M/D decision without guessing. That’s just … bad. This is the clue’s fault, not the answer’s. There are mustier ways to clue MUSTY, and in the interest of fairness, that’s the direction they should’ve gone. I wonder if people are going to get “IDODENEO”‘d today in anything like the way they got KATNAK’d earlier this week.

So the proper nouns are overly plentiful, they run in too narrow a category (overwhelmingly music), and at least one of them is trying to murder you. Outside of that, the grid is solid (with the bottom section being the highlight), and solving it provided a proper Saturday workout. 

Some notes:

  • 26A: World Trade ___ (fixture of Hong Kong or Toronto) (CENTRE) — bizarre clue. Why would you want to evoke the (actually famous, destroyed by terrorists) WTC this way? I guess it’s … interesting? … that there are others, but this clue clanked for me. 
  • 40A: Cocktail fruta (PIÑA) — who doesn’t love “strained pineapple”!?

  • 28D: Tech support? (MONOPOD) — no idea what this is. I assume it is a relative of the bi- and tripod. And it holds … tech? Of some sort? “A one-legged support for a camera or fishing rod” (!). Now I have the “Andy Griffith” theme in my head for some reason.

  • 42D: Bandmate of Keith and Brian (MICK) — I wrote in PETE. As in Townshend. Of The Who. “Oh, Keith Moon, got it!” Nope. 
  • 46D: Joey of children’s literature (ROO) — Thus concludes ROO Week at the NYTXW… (when was that, yesterday? The day before? They blur together … (it was Thursday))
  • 35D: Bleak (WINTRY) — so weird to me (still) that we lose the “E” when adjectivizing that season. It’s not SUMMRY! (oh god, is it SUMMRY? … so, phew, definitely SUMMERY … thank you for enduring my SUMMRY v. SUMMERY summary).  

Signed, Rex Parker, King of CrossWorld 

*For a definition of “Natick,” see sidebar of this blog

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