Back to Buxton for 10 am, for the penultimate day of rehearsals for Ruddigore.In the morning, it's principals only, completing and polishing Act II. My earlier impression, that this is a potentially very strong cast is becoming firmer by the day. During the morning session, the costumes are announced as having arrived, and one by one, we troop to backstage at The Paxton Theatre to try on, then trooping back through the Pavillion complex for Alistair's approval. Mine fits me quite well, the trousers in particular which are blue, not the white I had expected, but in terms of figure-shaping, work wonders! A long-time friend and fellow chorus member is celebrating his birthday today, and his wife has come to Buxton to watch the rehearsals. At lunchtime, we meet them for a birthday lunch in The Old Hall Hotel. Most pleasant, but hardly ideal preparation for a hard afternoon's rehearsal! The principals are joined by the chorus for the afternoon session, and we manage two complete Act II run throughs. Tomorrow we are scheduled to run the show twice in its entirety, once in the morning and once in the afternoon.
We are dismissed by Alistair well before the published time, giving Andrew Nicklin the opportunity to do a little polishing with the full cast. This is most notable for Paul Thomas (Sir Roderic), who sleeps extremely soundly during all the Act I polishing, and is only roused with considerably difficulty in time to sing his "Beware!". Andrew finishes with us before 5 pm, which gives me a little more time than I had anticipated before this evening's performance in the Opera House, South Anglia's Princess Ida. We are eagerly anticipating this treat, as I've never seen South Anglia, and they have consistently won awards and earned nominations at past Festivals in Buxton and in the USA.
On the whole, it is rather disappointing in retrospect. The general opinion of the cognoscenti at half time (and afterwards) is that it is polished, but dull. To attempt to elucidate, the movements and choreography are almost immaculate, but on the whole the thing does not sparkle or shine. There are high spots; Patrick Gallagher (Guron), Patrick O'Brien (Scynthius) and Paul Lazell (Arac) are exceedingly good, and look absolutely fabulous. Their costumes (and props) seem to be a near-exact replica of the original 1884 ones. Paul Lazell in particular is outstanding, and was for my money the best male voice I heard at the festival, and by a considerable margin.
The high point of the evening, comedy-wise, was perhaps "This Helmet, I suppose", when the ladies assisting Scynthius (or it could have been Guron) fell way behind schedule, and proceeded to fall further behind with each verse. A sense of panic seemed to set in, and further ladies joined in the disrobement. As the end of the song drew near, they finally managed to release the offending articles, and he was ready for the fight. I was a little disappointed, as I had visions of him fighting to the death whilst the ladies were still frantically trying to remove his brassets!
A further point of note was that, early on in the fight scene, one of the soldiers dropped his sword, which momentum carried it straight into the orchestra pit, from whence came a sickening thump. These swords were also true to the original design and were, I should say, fully 5 feet in length, and judging by the noises made, possibly metallic in construction. It was a miracle that no person, nor any instrument was damaged, as the thing could potentially have become a lethal weapon once more.
On the whole, though, as I say, the show was for me disappointing. The lady principals were on the whole rather weak in comparison with the men, but of the men, only the three soldiers and Mick Wilson as Hilarion were above average.
We eschew the Festival Club and South Anglia's cabaret for a moderately early night, and for my own part to continue looking at my lines for Ruddigore, which, I regret to say, are still giving me some trouble.
Back to Buxton for the last day's rehearsal. A 10 am start. Today's itinerary shows complete run-through in the morning, and a similar programme for the afternoon.The morning's rehearsal goes once more quite well and without trauma. For a moment, at the end of the morning's rehearsal, it looks as though Alistair is contemplating letting us go for the day and cancelling the afternoon's rehearsal, but this is not the case. I am pleased, because my dialogue could definitely do with another workover. I am, however, pleased with my (singing) voice, which is no longer giving me such cause for concern, with the result that I am really looking forward to tomorrow's show with a sense of anticipation as keen as any I can recall.
The afternoon's rehearsal over with, again, slightly more polished than the morning, Alistair finishes with us well ahead of 5 pm, which gives us time to practice one or two items for our cabaret, which is to take place in the Pavillion Lounge tomorrow night, after the concert and awards ceremony. This done, I make my way back home for a good night's rest in preparation for the last day of the festival tomorrow. As I drift off to sleep, my mind is reciting over and over those lines which are still looming large and a little foggy: "It calls me Dick acos......."
Arriving in Buxton at around 11 am for the 12 noon dress rehearsal, I make my way straight to The Opera House, and I meet Alistair, who informs me that I have been placed (by him) in Dressing Room Nr. 2 (adjacent the stage door) along with Stephen Godward (Robin). I have been in this dressing room before, two years ago when I played Tolloller in the 1996 Festival production of Iolanthe. I felt fortunate then to have so much dressing room space, and little else has changed in here. The wallpaper and carpet (what's left of them) are still apparently the original 1908 fabric, and the furniture in here is pre-war. I'm not sure which war; could be the Crimean, could be the Boer war. However, this is merely an observation, certainly not a complaint; as I said above, to have so much space is a most welcome luxury.Before the dress rehearsal begins, I nip into the nearby Cafeteria to acquire a sandwich or two, as I suspect there may not be time for any further refreshment until after the performance.
The dress rehearsal begins promptly at 12, and I take advantage of the opportunity to watch some of the rehearsal from the auditorium. I make my way up to the gallery, high above the stage. It's the first time I've been all the way up here for years, and I'm astounded at how good the view is, and how well the sound carries from down below. It is warm up here, even at this time of the day. What it was like on the hottest evenings, I shudder to think.
Presently, I make my way down in time for my entrance, and for the next half hour or so, I'm hardly off stage. One particular point of alarm is the duet with Sir Despard (Howard Turnbull). I'm sure Howard won't mind me saying that he has had some difficulty all week with this dance. It's not the frenetic constantly-skipping routine normally associated with this number, but a slightly calmer version. Up until this point, we have not yet done this perfectly. The dress rehearsal does not bring this about. For some reason, we end up doing the dance completely the wrong way round; every movement to the left goes to the right, and vice versa. We vow to try harder this evening and leave the rest to the fates. With a silent hope that we don't knock each other out cold tonight, we leave it be.
I watch most of Act II from the wings. The ghost scene goes fairly well, although one ghost has some trouble waiting until the appointed moment before opening his picture frame to step through, which does spoil the effect somewhat. Generally speaking, the second act also runs quite smoothly, including the resurrection of the ghosts for a second time and the "original" finale ending. This is a welcome break with recent tradition for most of us. It means the gentlemen of the chorus don't have a second costume change, for instance, and lengthens the finale instead of the normal "blink and you've missed it" version.
The dress rehearsal is finished by around 2.15, and Alistair declares himself quite pleased with the way things have gone. One or two points are referred to, but on the whole there is reason for a good deal of optimism. There is a lull for an hour or so, then things begin to get busy backstage, costumes once more donned, and make up is applied. Judith Mills, costume goddess, is busy with her industrial steam iron putting creases in ghostly tunics and so forth.
There is that familiar buzz of excitement as the 4pm curtain approaches, and once Ian Smith has given his final pre-show address to the impatient throng in front of curtain, we're away.
I make a determined attempt to relax during the first half hour or so preceding my entrance, sitting in the comfortable chair in the dressing room, sipping blackcurrant juice, reading through the libretto one more time, keeping one ear on the audio relay of the show provided via the ancient speaker high on the dressing room wall.
In due course, I am standing back stage listening to the brief dialogue between Robin Oakapple and Old Adam, and then the music for the entrance of the Jolly Jack Tar and the ladies begins, and I bound on to stage. As soon as I open my mouth, I know that the rest I've been giving my voice has been well worthwhile; it sounds to me as good as it's sounded in a long time, perhaps ever. There is only one heart-stopping moment in the song, at the begining of the third verse, one of the fisherwomen of the chorus grabs me in a place where she had previously not done, and I almost lose the words. Thankfully, I hang on tenuously and get to the end of verse three. Now the hornpipe. Again, all the hard work I've put in on this dance over the past week pays dividends, and I don't feel as much like a pantomime horse trying to do a hornpipe as I'd feared I might.....
The scene with Robin goes pleasantly; I do feel for Stephen Godward, as the tempo for "My boy, you may take it from me" seems quite a bit quicker than normal. He's more than up to the task, but it does make the short dance routine we do on the final chorus interesting to say the least. We manage to stay upright, and Stephen departs into the wing to loud applause.
The scene with Rose is very satisfactory, and the duet "The Battle's Roar" is a definite highlight for me, and, judging from the audience's reaction, for them too. Next the scene with Robin, Rose and the bridesmaids and the trio, then I get a few minutes off stage, which I use to mop my very damp brow and ponder on the likelihood of Despard and I getting the dance right.
To our mutual astonishment, the dance goes exactly right, for the one and only time. Really. It's hard to believe, after so much practising and never getting it exactly right, that this time, the one and only performance, we do. Much slapping of backs in the wings follows, then it's a swift return for Finale Act 1. Musically and dramatically, I feel that the finale goes well, and the rustic dance (labelled amongst other things "Clog Dance" by Alistair) which brings down the curtain is a fitting and lively conclusion to a good act.
Act II begins for me with "Happily Coupled", which is a great sing for Richard and Rose, particularly the high B-flats painted over the chorus at the end. After coming off stage at the end of this number, there is a very long break until the finale until my presence is required on stage once more. I take this opportunity to watch the ghost scene from offstage left, and also sing parts of it (well, who could resist?), having previously obtained clearance from Andrew Nicklin to do so, provided I could see his beat. This last concern is needless, as there is an excellent CCTV link for the benefit of the stage manager, which I am able to watch.
I retire backstage for the remainder of Act II, enjoying the lack of pressure now I'm almost done, and enjoying the audience's reaction to the Despard/Margaret scene, which is emphatic.
The whole cast re-assembles once more for the "original" finale, which is a fitting end to what felt (from the inside) like a very good show indeed. Looking back, the whole week spent preparing for and delivering this show was an intensely rewarding experience for me. Working with an absolutely first rate Musical Director and Producer and as strong a cast of principals as I have to date been part of has made this a week to remember, and changed my opinions of Ruddigore as a show and Dick Dauntless as a part forever.
Miss Dixon appears backstage with a page of notes, determined, she says, not to forget to mention anyone (which was sadly not the case in the early part of the festival). She speaks in very complimentary terms about just about everyone, and departs, declaring "this has really put the cat amongst the pigeons". (It transpires later that she had all-but completed her deliberations on the awards, which ceremony is later tonight, not expecting Ruddigore to have been anywhere near as good as it was).
We troop happily from the stage and take off make up and costumes for the last time at this festival. We have a room at The Old Hall to shower and change before tonight's concert and awards ceremony. I repair thither, and am hailed by savoynetters Sam Silvers, Sha Brindle, Roger Turner and Don Smith, who are picking over the bones of Ruddigore. They were also impressed by it, and predict a number of nominations in tonight's ceremony. There is time for a swift chicken sandwich in the Lounge, then a quick shower and change of clothes until we have to go back to The Opera House for the last time. Meeting friends outside the Opera House prior to the concert, the talk is mainly about the forthcoming awards ceremony, and who might carry off the various awards. I find that my name is featuring on quite a few people's own lists as a potential winner, but I don't honestly believe I will win anything. (I do confide to myself that I would be absolutely delighted to be nominated for an award, but I really don't expect to win.) Peter Zavon goes as far as to tell that he expects to be leaving the awards ceremony later to rush back to his laptop with its remote link to Savoynet to post of my success!
It is a "Gala Concert" from Derby which forms the first half of tonight's programme, preceeded by some singing from the gallery. It is an innovative programme that has been chosen by Derby, featuring about two-thirds G&S and one third other numbers, carefully selected. There is an interminable delay between the end of this enjoyable concert and the start of the awards ceremony, but whether this is due to some hitch in the video presentation, or difficulties in deciding award winners, we are not informed.
However, eventually, the awards ceremony begins. The format, new to the festival, is similar to that used in The Oscars and other similar ceremonies, in so far as a video clip of each nominated artiste/number etc., is shown on a giant screen, followed by the opening of the envelope in the time-honoured manner.
I have to confess that I can't remember the order in which the awards were given out, but it will serve to demonstrate the strength of the Ruddigore Cast if I list the following:
I can't remember exactly when, but presently it was time for the nominations for "Best Male Voice" award. This was, I suppose, the moment of truth. Those who had spoken of me as a potential winner had most often mentioned this category. The first nominee is Paul Lazell, whose Arac in South Anglia's Princess Ida was, for me, easily the best male voice I had heard at this year's festival. The second is David Parkins, for his Duke of Dunstable in Trent Opera's Patience. David won "Best Male Voice" award at the Buxton leg of last year's festival, and is surely a good nominee, though I didn't see the show. The tension in me, which has been building ever since the award ceremony began, reaches fever pitch as Ian Smith pauses before announcing the third nominee for this award. Unbelievably, I hear my name being read out! The surprising thing for me is that it's for my Defendant in the Savoynet Trial By Jury, which, as I have previously stated in this journal, was for me, vocally, probably my least accomplished performance.
- Stephen Godward (Robin Oakapple/Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd) won "Best Male Performer" award for his Sergeant Of Police with Derby G&S
- Tony Smith (Old Adam Goodheart) was nominated for "Best Male Performer" and "Best Supporting Actor".
- Bronwen Evans (Rose Maybud) won "Best Female Performer" for her performance in Ruddigore.
- Julia Foster (Mad Margaret) was nominated for "Best Character Actress" for her performance in Ruddigore.
- Judy Savournin (Dame Hannah) won "Best Character Actress" for her performance in Ruddigore.
- Howard Turnbull (Sir Despard) won "Best Supporting Actor" for his performance in Ruddigore.
The next few seconds seem to take forever. Thomas Round is brought on to the stage to present the award, and after one final pause of about a century or so, during which I swear my heart does not beat, as though in a dream, I hear Ian Smith declare the winner to be "Nick Sales". At this point, there comes from above me (I'm sitting in row C of the Stalls) such a huge roar that for a moment, I am absolutely convinced that I'm going to cry. The thought that so many people think enough about me to be so delighted at this award to cheer and shout is so very humbling. However, I have a more pressing problem. I don't seem to be able to walk. I get to my feet with difficulty, and almost fall into the lap of the lady sitting to my left. I manage to get to the aisle, and on very wobbly legs, make my way to the stage entrance door. I make my way up the few steps and round the corner. Andrew Nicklin is amongst those who greet and congratulate me in the wings, and then I walk on stage to receive the Donald Adams Memorial Trophy from the man who is perphaps the most revered tenor in the history of Gilbert and Sullivan. He makes a short speech, and then clutching trophy under one arm and certificate under the other, I make my way back to my seat, to a delighted Mandie.
I now feel totally and utterly drained by the emotion of the last hour or so as we make our way through to the Pavillion Lounge for the last time this year. Our cabaret is somewhat truncated, due mainly to a tedious half hour routine from an unwanted and unfunny Lancastrian comedian, the result of which is to deny some people the chance to sing their carefully prepared cabaret numbers.
Presently it's time for goodbyes. Although I shall be returning to Buxton tomorrow to hopefully pick up videos of today's performance, many of my friends will be departing overnight, and I won't see them again until maybe next year or even longer, so many hugs and kisses are exchanged. Presently, on a tide of happiness, we leave Buxton for home for the last time of what has been an incredible, happy festival for me, one at which I have made so many virtual and long distance friendships into real and lasting ones, and one during which the company of friends has made me realise how lucky I am to be involved with such a lovely pastime and to have met so many wonderful warm, friendly people of whom I am privleged to think of as friends.
| Nick Sales |