This production was partially double-cast, and I attended four performances, to see each cast twice. Michael Withers seemed to have aged and become more tranquil since the last show. Before, his conducting seemed to have a restless busyness about it, and when he tried to be slow (which was seldom) he tended to be boring. In Iolanthe, much of the fairy music was calm and placid, almost languid in places, and I got the feeling that he was letting the music lead him, rather than trying to drive it along. My only quibble was that the opening passages of the overture seemed to me to be a little too heavy, and the oboe a little too pushing to create the necessary fairy atmosphere, but then I think it is a mistake to precede the Iolanthe overture with something as musically vulgar as the National Anthem. I am not convinced about the advisability of the rubato before the refrain of the Trio, which did seem to bring a note of vulgarity into the thing. Also, I did not agree with having the line "Iolanthe thou livest" sung, rather than spoken as it was here (Cox-Ife was of the same opinion), it is impossible to sing that line with as much emotion as one can speak it, and on this occasion it caused a hiatus in the emotional build up of that scene, rather than helping it. The omission of "P.A. Arliament" and reversal to the original (who first introduced this?) I did approve of. Wilf Judd's production was suitably whimsical and zany, his style suited this opera, done in an ultra-Victorian way, which included a magnificent programme richly decorated in Victorian style and including programme notes by yours truly written in a pseudo Victorian style. There were a lot of pyrotechnics, magnesium going off when the Fairy Queen appeared and when she made her pronouncements at the end of Act 1. Mist filled the stage at the opening, and the fairies wakened in it as it gradually cleared. There were one or two peculiarities, surely the two earls should carry, not wear, their hats in act 2, and the Fairy Queen should not have a grey wig, she may be stout but she isn't old. Strephon had to upstage himself at one point. The costumes were Fox's third set, I think, the principals looked good, the Peers fair, except that their cloaks didn't have the required sheen of velvet. I have complained before about the sea green Fox's fairy costumes. Andy Potter's set for act 1 looked a bit juvenile, or amateurish, but his Act 2 set was a masterpiece with the clock-tower of Big Ben on the backdrop at the end of a long avenue leading directly backwards from the acting area, which gave the stage the feeling of depth it needed. The girls' chorus seemed nervous and sang without a great deal of enthusiasm. The men were better, but mixed, some of them did little more than stand around and sing, others, like Alan Crewe, had dignity; the latter showed a natural sense of stagecraft in the way he draped his cloak over his knee when he knelt. Tony Moorby held his nose perhaps a bit too high; Tim Frain flashed aristocratic fire from his eyes, pursed his lips and wrinkled his dose disdainfully. Roger Woodward's Lord Chancellor was more or less what I expected. It would not have been my interpretation of the LC, but it was in keeping with the production, and Roger, needless to say, executed it impeccably, and showed his usual sense of ingenuity in getting himself out of tight corners. It was a very athletic performance and whatever I might have thought of it from the dramatic or literary point of view there was no doubt that Roger's performance was excellent theatre. Contemporary drawings of the first production show the LC leaping about athletically in the trio, and one must suppose that this is authentic, though it always seems to be strangely at odds with the text of the character that Gilbert wrote. I suspect that the "traditional" interpretation of the LC may owe more to Grossmith than to Gilbert. The trio, for example, always suggests that it ought not to be done in this way, for LC is still miserable at this stage, and the music of his verse is written in a minor key. However, it may be that Gilbert intended the humour of this song to be the absurdity of the hitherto staid and dignified Lord Chancellor suddenly galvanized into action. I was not looking forward to the prospect of having to make comparisons between John Barratt and Ellis Pike in the role of Mountararat. At the last performance, at which John sang, there was no doubt that he won hands down, it was truly a 5 star performance the like of which I have only rarely seen on the amateur stage. Vocally, John always had the edge over, even at the first performance I heard him do, when he was thoroughly excellent but only a shadow of what he proved to be at the final one, singing with a richness and making his song a show-stopper as it is obviously designed to be. Ellis was not John's equal, although he has a fine voice which with experience and practice will improve. He had problems with diction, and his movements were often jerky and nervous; he tended to fidget, whereas John was always very polished. Where Ellis scored, however, was in his sheer identification with the part, his speaking voice took on an aristocratic disdain which John never managed to achieve, and he delivered the George-Thomas scene with much more meaning, - and that in spite of the fact that he didn't know his lines. My impression was that Ellis is a natural actor who started from the heart of the character but didn't quite manage to reach the surface. Whereas John is a superficial actor with a learned professionalism who started from the outside of the part but didn't quite manage to reach the centre. Tim Johnson sang Tolloller with firmness, clarity and understanding, and made a good deal of this not very grateful part. He also acted with a whimsical sense of humour, timing such lines as "No. Not even to oblige a lady" to perfection. Roger Nicholls was a really very funny Willis doing some superb bits of scene stealing, and on the last night interpolating "a Latin word" after "cerebellum" in his song. Few people seem to want to play Strephon, they say "but he's so wet". In Steve Chaytow's hands Strephon was anything but wet, he gave it a brusqueness and masculinity which was probably what it needs. Dick Stockton, who shared the part with him, was suffering from the twin problems of a bad throat infection and a part which was really too high for him, and coped really remarkably well under the circumstances. He was a softer Strephon than Steve, and showed reserves of quiet strength on the last night (when he was much recovered) and together with his Phyllis (Bethan Howells) made "None shall part us" sound like the most beautiful love duet ever written. "Fold your flapping wings" was IN, the first time I had heard it in context, and in spite of what some people have said, I do think that it adds to the opera, and to the character of Strephon. (Steve Chaytow admitted that it had made the part for him). Bethan Howells and Sally Heslop shared Phyllis. On the last night Bethan was about the most beautifully sung and dazzlingly performed Phyllis I have ever seen. She managed to infuse every line of dialogue with feeling and meaning, and she created a wonderfully gentle and languid feeling of romance. Sally Heslop proved to be a less demonstrative, but more temperamental Phyllis, one, whom, one imagined, would have made a scene when Strephon was false to her, and then given up in despair, whereas Bethan would just have quietly gone about thinking how to entice him back. Sally's relationship with Steve was stormier, but less romantic than Bethan's with Dick. Sally and Steve would probably have had less love, but more sex. Sally sang with strength and clarity but she did not seem to act naturally or to move easily on stage. Jane Capper's Iolanthe was sung with feeling and great tonal beauty, I cannot recall ever having heard "He loves, if in the bygone years" sung so movingly (except by the Iolanthe to whom I played Lord Chancellor six years ago, but I am not unbiased there). The sudden look of wild despair on her face when she said as she sang "now let me die" was almost heartrending. Debbie Johnson (Fairy Queen) was also suffering from a bad throat and was not at her best, but nobody who didn't know what she was normally capable of could have guessed it. It was a dignified, royal performance, sung with a creamy softness of voice. Jane Turner, Anne Otwdrowski and Sally Donegani were the three fairies, and it is difficult to make much of these thankless little parts. MICHAEL WALTERS

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