ANYONE sniffing at the idea of a professional company devoting time to Gilbert & Sullivan will experience a tasty riposte in this Jo Davies production, revived here by James Hurley.
Unveiled nearly 15 years ago, it was originally (1887) billed as “entirely original supernatural opera”. That seems to have intimidated Victorian audiences more than modern ones and Davies/Hurley really go to town in this escapist revival, unabashed at any idea that Ruddigore is somehow outside the mainstream.
The show ticks two other boxes as well. It fits neatly into the autumnal charm offensive under the company’s new regime: witness the pre-curtain pep-talks at all three productions.
In these straitened times – when are they not so? – it also makes sense to schedule a show dependent on teamwork. With no major lead roles, many could be taken by members of the company’s versatile chorus. So we have Amy Freston returning as Rose Maybud, just as naïve and gullible as before but vocally more flexible too.
Similarly, Claire Pascoe steps into the redoubtable shoes of Anne-Marie Owens as Dame Hannah and makes them her own, not least when greeting her old flame Sir Roderic as “Roddy Doddy”. He is the other returnee – a regular here, although not a chorus member – Steven Page, even more proudly military and stentorian than before.
Updating the action from the 18th century to the 1920s means that the cloaks swirled and the moustaches sprouted, in true silent cinema fashion, which plays right into the hands of John Savournin’s dastardly Sir Despard. Never one to downplay comic opportunities, Savournin is in his element – and making every word count in a firm baritone.
This means even more when he meets his match in Helen Évora’s delightfully capricious Mad Margaret, reacting compliantly to his ‘Basingstoke’ commands; they play off each other superbly.
They also combine winningly with Dominic Sedgwick’s Robin – now Sir Ruthven – in Act 2’s unique patter song. This marks the point at which Sedgwick returns to the comfort zone he inhabited as a genial Robin, a transition as tricky as any in the Savoy operas.
Xavier Hetherington brings a bright tenor and boundless gusto to the role of Dick Dauntless, while Henry Waddington’s Old Adam is both gruff and bumbling, notably as ‘valet de chambre’. Gillene Butterfield adds a neat cameo as Zorah.
Anthony Kraus contributes a vigour and determination that not only inspires his orchestra but enlivens the singers into the bargain. He shows an unerring instinct for colour, mining Sullivan’s orchestration at every turn and making When The Night Wind Howls a highlight.
Special mention must also go to Kay Shepherd’s choreography and the way it is so crisply delivered, despite the addition of only three professional dancers. Dance has had a thin time of it in opera recently and this is a welcome return of an essential ingredient in the G & S recipe.
The chorus revels in its opportunities, the ladies as professional bridesmaids, the men as Murgatroyds from the past. Richard Hudson’s set for the castle picture gallery, allied to Anna Watson’s darkly evocative lighting, makes Act 2 memorable – proving Sullivan’s ability not merely to parody, but to create, real opera.
Review by Martin Dreyer
