No 40 -- Spring 1993 Edited by Michael Walters
This was disappointing, particularly for the 25th anniversary of the Society's first visit to Budleigh Salterton, in fact it was one of the poorest things I have ever seen ICOS do. Some of the singing was quite good, but with the exception of Katisha (Susan Foister) none of the cast could act beyond saying their lines (usually) correctly, making a few faces, and bouncing about. Simon Austin (Mikado) sang and spoke like a plebian teenager, without making the slightest attempt to sound like a monarch. Mark van Ments (Nanki Poo) had a strong but uninteresting voice, and not an once of charm or romance in his soul. Philip Hollman has been around the society for many years off and on in chorus and small roles. Some of the latter he had done extremely well, but as Pooh–Bah he was completely out of his depth, and could only flap his gown open and shut and use a series of hats for the scene with Ko–Ko – hats, incidentally, which ran out half–way through the scene, leaving him to do the last few characters bareheaded. Pish–Tush was described in the programme as a "disgruntled" Noble Lord, but there was nothing disgruntled about Matthew Soane's performance, in fact there was really nothing about his performance at all. He sang Go–To's line at the opening, and his line in "So please you sir" was restored. Lyanne Iveson (Pitti–Sing) and Katina Dawe (Peep–bo) were vigorous and bouncy – like 2 St. Trinian's schoolgirls, but this is not a substitute for acting or characterisation. Pitti–Sing, for some unfathomable reason, had a piece of string hanging from her pocket. Susan Foister was a large, aggressive Katisha, but she looked seductive rather than repellent. If any Ko–Ko was afraid of her, it must have been a Freudian complex rather than revulsion. Ko–Ko (Jonathan Heitler), who surely used to play in the orchestra, was a bland, portly, unhumorous figure.
The star of the evening was Adam Craske's set, which, though painted in slightly garish colours, was meticulously executed and atmospheric. It was somewhat upstaged, however, by the stupid costumes, half oriental, half western (when will people learn that it impossible to make westerners look eastern in western dress?) They were a horrid mish–mash of styles which added up to nothing. The concept of having each member of the chorus a different character, with bits of business which have little or no connection with the text, was also displeasing. This tactic seems to have become fashionable in ICOS in recent years. It makes nonsense of the words of the opening chorus to have a motley collection of sailors, tourists, urchins, peasants, etc., (both sexes) singing "We are gentleman of Japan" when they were clearly nothing of the kind.
Amanda Pask's production was both messy and fussy. This type of production might work all right on a large stage, but on one as tiny as this, something sparser and more definite is required. Perhaps the idea of the opening "street scene" came from the Brent Walker video, but (although of questionable validity even there) it had no place in a stage production in a confined space, with lots of distracting and irrelevant incidents occurring in full view where they cannot be relegated to the background. Nor would all this strange collection of sailors, tourists, etc., have had any place in the action after the opening scene. For foreigners to attend aristocratic official functions, like the entrance of Ko–Ko and later that of the Mikado, was utterly absurd.
Musically, the piece was mixed. John Tripp conducted conscientiously, but with little flair. There were some fine performances, eg. the madrigal, but some, such as the Mikado's song, were the epitome of boredom. Curious rallentandi appeared in the overture and the Act 1 finale, with an unnecessary drawing out of "ni bikkuri shakkiri to". The traditional error of singing "Hira hira" instead of "Pira pira" occurred. But I was pleased that the programme note described the story of the falling sword as "possibly" apocryphal. MICHAEL WALTERS
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