No 37 -- Summer 1991 Edited by Michael Walters
This was one of a series of joint ventures between the Philbeach Society of London and the Village Light Opera Group of New York. I left the performance with an unwonted feeling of euphoria, for it was one of the most exciting productions I had experienced for a long time. Cecil Hayter, idiosyncratic as usual, had set the piece in the 1920s which did nothing for it, and which I felt was definitely a mistake. Hilarion, Cyril and Florian were in sailor suits, and Gama and his sons in khaki army uniform. This would have been all right except that it made nonsense of the words. Why would Gama say to a sailor "Are you a courtier?" It is not logical. And in Act 3, utter rubbish was made of Arac's song, because of course the men were not wearing armour. To be taking off khaki cloth and singing about helmets and cuirasses was just bloody stupid. Why would a modern soldier take off his clothes and fight in his underwear? The fight itself was silly. It was fisticuffs and no weapons, and the girls crowded round in front so that it could not be seen. At the end, Hilarion, Cyril and Florian who had begun in their women's clothes (gym slips in this production!) were observed to be back in their sailor suits and the three brothers were knocked out with the gym slips on over their underwear. Some may have thought this funny, but I found it merely childish. However, if you could forget these inanities (which you could most of the time) you could enjoy the performance by a superb cast of singers and actors.
It was played fairly straight, with comparatively little dancing and business. What made it work was the intensity and attack of each member of the cast and chorus. The performance moved all the time, both dialogue and music had tremendous pace without ever flagging. Robert Noll's tempi were fast, but never rushed. I was less happy about some of the apparent additions to the score in the form of extra fanfares, and a very extended introduction to Act 3 when the ladies marched round and round the stage like girl guides.
Since I had last been to Holland Park Theatre, a huge canopy had been erected – previously it was completely open. This canopy may be useful in times of rain, but it totally destroys the charm and atmosphere of the theatre, particularly as its corners obtrude offensively over the facade of the building against which the piece is played.
The stage area is very large and extremely wide, and very good use was made of it. On either side of the main acting area were lower areas of approach, with trenches in front masked by low foliage to represent, in Act 2, the river into which Ida falls. The fall was the most convincing I have seen, as was Hilarion's leap in after her and his emergence carrying her in his arms. I was suddenly reminded of a true incident recounted to me many years ago by the late George Draper, which occurred in nineteenth century Siam. The Siamese Royal Family were sacred and it was death for a commoner to to touch one. Once at a river festival, the boat containing the Queen overturned, and weighted down with heavy gold clothes and jewellery, she drowned. Although the banks were lined with thousands of people, nobody could rescue her, they all had to stand and watch her drown because to have touched her was instant death. I don't know exactly when the incident occurred, or whether Gilbert could have known about it, but there is a certain parallel in the way Ida orders Hilarion's death for saving her life.
At the end of Act 1 the three Princes changed into swimming and diving gear, and, when they entered in Act 2, emerged from the river with snorkels, flippers, wet suits etc. They started to appear during Lady Blanche's song, which was very amusing, but I questioned the soundness of the dramatic practice since the maximum seemed to be being done to disrupt the song and ensure that no one was actually listening to it. When Ida said "Fare you well, you and your pupils, maidens follow me", a core of girls, evidently Blanche's pupils, quite logically remained behind and what is usually a soliloquy began as if it were a class. As the lesson was evidently getting boring the girls started to slip away during the song, some of them also being aware of the men peeping their heads out of the moat. All this was ingenious, but wrong, for (a) Blanche's speech is quite obviously a monologue, not a lesson, and (b) it is perverse for the men to be seen by the girls at this stage.
Hildebrand (Shane Collins) was sourly laconic, the sort of man who has the assurance of knowing that he is in command of the situation and has no need to exert himself; he only just lost his cool in Act 2 when Ida defied him. He had the luxury of three costumes, whites in Act 1, a black velvet suit with silver cross in Act 2 (which made him look rather like Scarpia) and full court dress glittering with decorations in Act 3. Murray Nesbitt was the first King Gama I have ever really liked. Unlike most actors who just growl and snarl their way through the role (it was undoubtedly John Reed's most inept creation) he played it with insinuating glee. His first song was quite superb, particularly the naive way he sang "and I can't think why" – but not all of the part was on quite the same level. The glee pervaded all, there was no hint of the bitterness which is implicit in the character. He was not at all ugly or deformed, which fitted the playing style perfectly, but made nonsense of the lines about his deformities, which under the circumstances would have been better cut. At the conclusion of Act 1, Gama and his sons were confined in a cage, which was then trundled offstage.
Hilarion, Cyril and Florian were a trio of good–looking, strong–voiced and personable young men. Hilarion (Cameron Rolls) acted the part of a jolly sailor lad to perfection. He had a strong, forward voice, but of a hard tone, and on the high notes at the end of "When thou hast chained" it produced a distinctly pinched tone. Cyril (Mick Wilson) was even better, with a rounder tone, and face – the juvenile lead dream in fact. The Kissing Song was taken with just the right amount of controlled abandon, and just before it he managed a marvellously convincing and humorous burp. Florian (Paul Arman) was less spectacular, and in his opening solo he seemed to over enunciate. I got the impression that the distribution of parts in the trios had been slightly rearranged, and that, for instance, it was not Cyril who was singing the top line; but I could be wrong about that. Arac, Guron and Scynthius (Mick Brookes, Harry Schutz and Paul Jensen) sang solidly and with good voice, and moved like soldiers, but there is little else that can be said.
Princess Ida (Kim Stengel) had a clear and well–poised voice which sailed easily over the chorus and orchestra. She was a good actress, too, in Act 2 being very gracious with just the right amount of condescension to "her" girls, encouraging them to aspire to great feats of learning. In Act 3, dressed almost in riding dress, she became "jolly hockey sticks". It worked, though this approach could easily have been funny for the wrong reasons, but this was prevented by the sensitive playing of the actress. One splendid moment was Blanche's speech about the needful and the superfluous. Ida marched about inspecting the "troop", not paying the slightest attention to Blanche (Abby Kurnit), a plump, fussy, pompous old hen, who fluttered and twittered along behind trying to look important but unable to distract Ida for a moment, till the latter turned to dismissively crush her. Blanche is indeed treated very cruelly by Ida twice, in Act 2 and Act 3, on both occasions in front of her own students. This was brought out to the full in this production. The fact that Blanche is indeed deeply hurt by these humiliations goes a long way to explain the resentment the latter feels towards Ida – which is a point rarely brought out. Psyche (Susan Wright) was nervous, had a weaker voice than some others in the cast, and tended to get the words of her songs muddled. It was a performance of comsiderable charm, but not outstanding. Melissa (Shelley Eberhart) had a youthful directness and exuberance. The three girl graduates were well played.
MICHAEL WALTERS
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