Too much of Benny Hill in this G&S revival
It may be a great pleasure to hear some of Gilbert’s sharpest lyrics and one of Sullivan’s most scintillating scores, but how tricky it is to do them real justice. That has to be my verdict on English Touring Opera’s new production of Patience, latterly one of the least performed of the G&S canon. Despite a mix of the right ingredients, the soufflé does not rise.
Glory be, at least Liam Steel’s staging doesn’t attempt any modern updating. What was conceived as a dig at the Victorian Aesthetic movement – the posturing of Wilde, the verbosity of Swinburne, the pretensions of their admirers – remains rooted there, in a set by Florence de Maré that evokes William Morris wallpaper and a text full of arcane allusions to longdefunct cultural phenomena, given only the tiniest of tweaks.
The problem is that the satire is more sophisticated than Steel allows. Instead of trusting to its wit and Spot-on: Lauren Zolezzi as Patience (with Ross Ramgobin as Grosvenor), below point, he lards it over with prances, nudges and winks that might have dropped out of The Benny Hill Show. The ladies’ chorus, in horrid cheap costumes, strike silly poses. Some of the best lines are thrown away by bad timing (“Nonsense, yes – but oh! what precious nonsense” and “O be Early English ere it is too late” barely registered a titter) and mishandling of the rather abrupt conclusion brings the plot to a halt, rather than a climax. The original period may be observed, but there is no authentic sense of its style.
Some good performances could have been even better. Bradley Travis and Ross Ramgobin are vocally adroit and gently amusing as the rival poets Bunthorne and Grosvenor, but I feel they have been cast the wrong way round. Valerie Reid is too glam for the wretched Lady Jane – a character who reveals Gilbert’s misogyny at its most repellent – while Aled Hall and Andrew Slater overdo it as the Duke of Dunstable and Colonel Calverley. The show’s one spot-on performance comes from Lauren Zolezzi as Patience, playing the ingénue absolutely straight and singing with diamantine accuracy. The chorus gets Sullivan’s brilliant counterpoint splendidly, and the orchestra is conducted with a light touch by Timothy Burke.
There is much to enjoy here, but dye-din-the-wool Savoyards like myself will be disappointed, too.