A wonderful joy our eyes to bless

Thanks for all the comments on the last post, and for the people who've emailed me privately with their thoughts. I'm terribly sorry to have upset people, but I don't know that I feel as if I've done anything that I shouldn't have. The only resolution for change I've made thus far is: be even more careful not to be misinterpretable.

One comment I did want to respond specifically to, because I found it interesting, was Martin's:

I frequently get vibes that Jonathan views that there is only 'one true' way to do G&S - and that all other attemps just don't come up to his expectations.

It's surprising to me that Martin places me in the "one right way to do it" camp; I generally think of myself as an appreciator of intelligent innovation. Trent provides two good examples in recent memory: I liked the new setting and new take on Princess Ida this year, and I loved Simon Theobald's performance as Jack Point last year, even though I disagreed with much of the interpretation. I don't like every concept and alternate interpretation I see, because many of them aren't sufficiently thought through. But I'm certainly not opposed to them in principle. (And Martin, I loved your Pooh-Bah last year.) I absolutely agree with Martin when he says:

I prefer to be in the 'creative' arts, and am admittedly not interested in 're-creating' anything, G&S or otherwise.

I'm at Gatwick airport now, waiting for my flight back to the U.S. This means I finally have a bit of time to write a couple of things I've been promising for a while, starting with a review of the professional Ruddigore, which I saw Saturday night. I loved the production; I think it's hard to imagine a show that is better suited to the particular performers in the G&S Opera Company. (Running through the canon and casting the principals in my head, Yeomen is the only other one that makes me raise my eyebrows and say "oooh".) I thought that almost all of the central roles -- Robin, Dick Dauntless, Despard, Hannah, Roderic, and Mad Margaret -- were really cast with the absolutely ideal performers. Rose is missing from this list, not because she wasn't good, which she was, but because I don't think she's the best Rose I can imagine. It's too bad she had to follow Charlotte Page, who was the best Rose I can imagine.

I spoke a bit with Simon and a few others in the professional company after the show, and the general impression seemed to be that it wasn't as crisp as they'd've liked; things had gone wrong, and it sounded from the inside like it was one of those nights where one is just thankful to have been able to hold everything together. This wasn't hard to believe -- I did notice mistakes, including even one or two from my hero Simon, but it was in every respect a professional production, and someone less familiar with the show wouldn't have noticed anything wrong at all.

I smiled almost the entire show, beginning with the opening chorus. How exciting it is to see a professional chorus in action! There's really nothing like it at the amateur level. The very best principal performers in excellent amateur productions sometimes approach the quality of professional principals, but one never sees and hears such involved choreographed precision, musical sensitivity, and vocal power, in an amateur chorus. I didn't love the opening choreography -- I thought it was a little more "sign-language-y" than I prefer -- but it was so wonderful to see the precise, deliberate, and coordinated movement that I didn't mind a bit. The bridesmaids did a very nice job with that classic challenge of displaying boredom without being boring. A few village men going about their business unobtrusively in the background added a nice touch of realism.

The chorus of bridesmaids was also full of beautiful young women.

Jill Pert as Dame Hannah was at once kindly and commanding. She delivered the first verse of her song sitting down left in her rocking chair and had no difficulty commanding the stage from that position. (The chorus helps here, of course.) A glorious, powerful voice, too. Like I said above, I think she was perfect for the part.

Mary Hegarty's Rose Maybud was beautifully sung and comfortable on stage. But I didn't quite feel that Rose was her role the way I felt about the other principals, or indeed about Charlotte last year. Her spoken voice was deeper, more worldly. I think she'd make a phenomenal Josephine, but she was only a very good Rose. There were a couple of points where I felt as if she wasn't quite sure what Rose was thinking. The most obvious example was at the beginning of Act II, where she sang:

While you'll be asserting
Your freedom by flirting
With every woman you meet,
You cheat--Ah!
With every woman you meet! Ah!
FOR I am such a smart little craft, etc.

The "for" should be a "though", and the sentence doesn't make sense the way she sang it -- he'll cheat on her because she's so great? No, he'll cheat on her even though she's so great. Her acting matched what she sang. The chorus sang the correct word when they repeated her.

I did think that Rose's acting in her Act I duet with Robin was delightful. I loved that scene.

And speaking of Robin, Simon Butteriss did not disappoint. He's a phenomenal performer, and I really do think that Robin must be one of his very best roles. (I've only seen a few -- I've seen him do Ko-Ko, Sir Joseph, and Robin twice, so it's just possible that he might be even more brilliant in other roles, but Robin seems awfully perfect for him to me.) Robin's an interesting character, even before his dramatic interval transformation, and Simon is flawless at turning his dual nature into depth, instead of inconsistency. I'm thinking especially of the "My boy you may take it from me" scene.

I also loved the way that he communicated the ridiculous plot exposition to the audience in their first scene. I think you can tell a lot about an actor by the way he handles this sort of pure exposition. Here's the line I'm thinking of:

Hush! As you love me, breathe not that hated name. Twenty years ago, in horror at the prospect of inheriting that hideous title, and with it the ban that compels all who succeed to the baronetcy to commit at least one deadly crime per day, for life, I fled my home, and concealed myself in this innocent village under the name of Robin Oakapple. My younger brother, Despard, believing me to be dead, succeeded to the title and its attendant curse. For twenty years I have been dead and buried. Don't dig me up now.

Simon did the two absolutely necessary things, plus the nice bonus: he effectively communicated the important information, he wasn't boring, and he effectively communicated the bit of ironic exposition meta-humor without breaking character. It was awesome.

Simon included "Henceforth all the crimes," which is a song I like quite a lot. He took it at a very fast clip, which is no surprise from Simon. I do think, though, that the recit. before it benefits from being sung more or less in time. Each phrase -- away, remose; compunction, hence; go, moral force; go, penitence -- is written with a different rhythmic pattern. I think it's interesting and worthwhile to preserve that element of Sullivan's writing. (This is something I learned last spring when the M.D. for the Rice Patience insisted, quite rightly, that I observe the written rhythms in the recit. before Bunthorne's solo.)

Simon sang one word different from the version I know: "Propriety I wring THY knell." My Schirmer score says "YOUR knell." Schirmer sometimes gets things wrong, though; any suggestions as to where I can double-check this?

Oliver White's entrance as Dick Dauntless was exciting and fun. He looks the part exactly: tall, blonde, dashing, with just the right swagger, including the bit of hair that falls over his forehead. And he moves very well, and I just loved his command of the dialect. Great voice too, obviously. He was loads of fun.

I decided that night what should have been obvious much earlier: G&S benefits dramatically from good and interesting choreography. I need to learn to dance, and I need to learn to choreograph.

I thought the dialogue leading up to "In sailing o'er life's ocean wide" was phenomenal. It was a wonderful scene. The trio itself was excellent too, although it did include one of the few moments of musical imprecision I noticed the whole night. The three performers were not all together with the ending consonants in "a heart, a heart". One of the drawbacks of such a short rehearsal, I guess -- it's phenomenal that they're so clean as much of the time as they are!

Victoria Byron's performance of Mad Margaret had drama and humor and excitement and a wonderfully clear and strong mezzo. The "I once was a very abandoned person" scene with Despard is tricky, I think. It reads very well on paper, but it can be difficult to be put effectively on stage; it's basically a one-joke affair, and the danger is that it will get old. It didn't even get close to getting old in this production.

There was a nice joke in that scene which seems pretty obvious, now that I've seen it, but I don't recall ever noticing it before. Margaret says

Master, when I think of all you have done for me, I fall at your feet. I embrace your ankles. I hug your knees!

A joke was made of the implied imminent continuation of the apparent progression.

Speaking of Despard, I remember being disappointed in Bruce Graham's acting in the role last year. I don't know whether he's improved or my preferences have changed, but I thought that he was a delight to watch. There was a delightful understated melodrama to his Act I entrance. I loved it. And of course his voice is amazing. I do think that he was suffering vocal fatigue by that point, though -- either that or he really does not have the low range that Despard needs. His large, sonorous voice did not have its customary resonance on the bottom notes of the Act II duet.

At the end of his Act I entrance, Despard scared off the various villagers with a rose -- not a traditionally threatening implement. I love the flower imagery that runs throughout Ruddigore, and I'm very tempted to suppose that this particular flower, like so many in the libretto, teemed with hidden meaning. I haven't been able to figure out just what that hidden meaning is yet, but I'm still thinking about it.

(Self-involved aside: I have only a little experience directing, and only moderate interest in doing more. But I do aspire to direct a production of Ruddigore. Preferably after I've discharged my aspiration to play Robin.)

I loved Robin and Adam's (Michael Rayner's) entrance in Act II. The costume and attitude change was phenomenal. And both of them nailed that E-flat or whatever the note lands on for "de-sham".

I have never heard an audience laugh at this line from Rose:

Prove that this was no selfish love by according your consent to my marriage with one who, if he be not you yourself, is the next best thing--your dearest friend!

I think it's a very funny line, and that it was delivered perfectly well by Mary. I wish it'd gotten a laugh.

Roderic's entrance was convincingly and frightfully done, and Donald Maxwell's performance was imposing and strong. There's a hell of a voice on that one, and his figure was suitably threatening. His costume and make-up reminded me of Cervantes, one of the characters I learned to play this summer in Soul Caliber II.

I have to remark that Simon is a very effective collapser. As some of you know, I have a new appreciation for this particular talent, and Simon had to do it several times over the evening. Well done.

Some people say that "There grew a little flower" does not fit well into Ruddigore. They tend to say things like: it's a nice song, and I like listening to it, but it just slows down the end of Act II too much. I find this very difficult to understand. I think that any time you have even half-decent performers as Hannah and Roderic, listening to the Hannah's lyrics can give chills. It's a beautiful, beautiful song, and it's thematically important, and it's important for the characters. (A bit of restored dialogue afterward is probably a good idea, too.)

The company added one new line (someone correct me if this is traditional and/or Gilbert's): after Rose leaves Richard for Robin (again) at the end of Act II, Richard says, "Well, I think it's exceedingly unfair." He looks forlorn for a couple of seconds, then brightens up with an idea and adds: "Where's that other girl?" and finds Zorah. I loved it.

I don't usually like the odd rhythms written in the "Basingstoke" version of the finale. We sang them in the MIT production that I did in 2003, and they just seemed so awkward. I learned from this production, though, that they can be perfectly effective if they're taken at a quick tempo. They just sound interesting instead of weird.

It was a phenomenal production, and I'm glad that the Smith's decided to bring it back. I think that it was quite a lot better than the Sorcerer from the previous weekend.

Back safe in Houston now. Coming soon: a more detailed account of my Pirates Sunday.