No 41 -- Spring 1994 Edited by Michael Walters
It was my first visit to this Society, which was founded in 1905, and until the 1950s performed almost entirely G&S or quasi-G&S, with a few departures into operettas popular in that period, such as Les Cloches de Corneville (1922 & 1947), My Lady Molly (1925) and The Duchess of Dantzic (1935). The quasi-G&S included Merrie England, Haddon Hall, (1912, 1931 & 1950), The Rose of Persia and Dorothy. After that time they moved almost entirely to modern musicals and operetta, the most recent G&S being The Yeomen of the Guard in 1975.
THE MERRY WIDOW is Lehar, indeed operetta, at its most sumptuous; and the production was suitably sumptuous to match it. But it was not without its problems. The Northcott is an ungrateful theatre acoustically; a steeply racked auditorium from a stage at floor level, and a tiny half-moon shaped orchestra pit. To those sitting almost on top of it, as I was, the orchestra was far too loud. The scenery, from Stage Sets, and the costumes, organised by the indefatigable Andrew Sandilands from about 5 different sources, were opulent. Given gorgeous settings, and a good cast, THE MERRY WIDOW calls for little more, and Ian Bond's production was serviceable and traditional, and wisely did not attempt to do anything unnecessarily spectacular with the piece.
John Stuart was really too old for the part of Danilo, but he worked wonders with the part, though hampered by a wig which, if anything, made him look older than in his own hair! But he sang firmly, acted with intelligence, and showed that a maturer Danilo can work on stage. Madeleine Haydon as the Widow was not a very demonstrative actress, but sang divinely. "Vilia" stopped the show; the audience clearly wanted an encore, but didn't get one. Hers was not an immediately spectacular voice, and her opening song seemed rather subdued. Her moments of greatness, however, came in sustained passages of emotion like "Vilia" sung perfectly straight and sincerely. Carolyn Randall (Valencienne) had more obvious charm and elegance, and she and Rob Key (Camille) made a fine pair. The latter had been badly afflicted with a throat infection, and had been almost voiceless (I was told) the previous night. However, he had recovered sufficiently to produce some exquisite tone, though he was obviously having difficulty with the top notes. It was a thin, but full voice, finely toned and sustained, without vibrato, unmetallic, like very pale honey; a glassy tone, not unlike Robert White.
Gerald Swainger was rather OTT as Njegus, but highly entertaining. The translation used was the Christopher Hassell, with an extra song for Njegus at the beginning of Act 3, taken from the Basil Hood translation. Unfortunately the singer's diction was abominable, and not a word could be heard. This was not due to unfamiliarity, the translation is not one that I am particularly familiar with, yet I heard every word from the other performers. The remainder of the cast were quite adequate, but I would question the idea of making Daniel Page play Bogdanovitch as such an old man. Mr. Page was actually a very young man hiding behind a huge white beard, and the high kicks he had to perform in "Women" were quite inappropriate from someone supposedly as decrepit as that. John Flower (Kromov) had huge specs and long hair tied in a pony tail - quite out of period, he should have been told to get it cut!
MICHAEL WALTERS
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