No 41 -- Spring 1994 Edited by Michael Walters
The centenary of this opera was celebrated by a radio broadcast - no doubt of the D'Oyly Carte recordings (I didn't listen) - and a talk. Admittedly this opera doesn't seem to have the instantaneous appeal of the better-known G&S works - even though the libretto is, I think, one of Gilbert's best as far as satire and irony go [Hear, hear! Ed.] (no wonder G.B.S liked it): but its charms seem to grow upon one from repeated hearings, and since the performance I've had about half a dozen of the tunes constantly in my head. I've seen this opera about five times in my life - the first being a presentation in either 1955 or 1956 - I think by this same company - in an outdoor evening performance in Melbourne's Treasury Gardens, charmingly performed on a stage erected over one of the ornamental lakes, so that palm trees and general lush growth abounded in keeping with the opera's setting.
I'd like to know who put together the Overture which preceeded this current production. There was some slight contrapuntal concession toward true Sonata form in the development section, and also some of the later harmonies, as well as the orchestration, were a little more adventurous than anything in Sullivan's hand. During the overture a drop curtain was raised to reveal a tropical floral setting behind another (gauze) curtain, behind which two large butterflies flitted lazily. Quite a pleasing idea. The scenery for Act 1 was of the simplest: just an indication of some tropical isle in the barest form. Two stone totems flanked the proscenium - evidently Maori, as they had those characteristic snarling faces with popping eyes and lolling tongues. The production evidently favoured New Zealand as the South-Sea setting, because instead of a European drawing room, the Royal reception was in a sort of Maori "Pa" with, again, the totems in evidence, and suggestions of a grass roof. [Could this be in any way connected with the (supposed) Australian contempt for New Zealand, as portrayed by Barrie Humphries? Ed.] Actually, this was as suggestive and atmospheric as the traditional setting - perhaps even more so, as the contrast between the natives' pretensions to Western civilisation and their true ethnic habitat were emphasized by contrast. When Scaphio & Phantis entered angrily in Act 2, followed by all the chorus, to oust the Flowers of Progress, they had all reverted to their native dress, to emphasize their opposition. This may, in fact, be the general practice in productions of this opera. Gilbert doesn't specify it in the libretto, but it makes sense.
The artistes in this production were quite good, although nobody was electrifyingly outstanding. Only one principal was bad, and that was Calynx, who couldn't project his voice, and moreover gabbled his lines. Fortunately, his is only a small part. I see this actor's name is Max Morris, and I feel he may be the son of one Keith Morris - now deceased - whose name was synonymous with the company for many years, and who did all the "Grossmith" parts with flair. The music was quite well handled - good conductor and a good orchestra - and knowing that the opera was unfamiliar to many people, the company had obviously put a great deal of rehearsal and effort into big numbers like "Eagle high", the entry of Princess Zara and the Troopers, and the orchestral polonaise and following music in the Drawong-room scene. Captain Corcoran's well-known strains from PINAFORE were well received by members of the audience who knew that number.
DAVID THOMAS
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