G&S Society presents lively Princess Ida
Sentiment apart, Gilbert and Sullivan must have been doing something right, when they can hold an audience in the palm of their hands with an operetta that is not only 100 years old, but also not one of their great successes.
Princess Ida, written by Gilbert when he was smarting at being passed over for a knighthood, and composed by Sullivan, newly knighted but plagued with acute rheumatism and exhaustion, was not well received when it was first mounted in January 1884, despite its thoroughly modern theme: the intellectual new woman and her disdain for men.
Yet at Hart House last Thursday, at the first in a series of performances mounted by the Gilbert and Sullivan Society of Toronto (which will resume its run from Tuesday until Saturday) both the theme and the music seemed as fresh as ever.
Luckily the Paul Weeks sets were suggestions only of royal castles and ramparts, for, anything more detailed could not have competed with players as overdressed, in costumes ranging from Henry IV to Canute to Duns Scotus, as the 60 or so who had to crowd in on that small stage. Princess Ida even made her first entrance as the Statue of Liberty and her martial entrance as Britannia.
Clearly, director Michael Albano’s intent was to intensify the ridiculous, and many of his touches worked well, in a production that never shied away from the problems of movement and pacing. He even supplied a flashback mime scene to play during the overture, setting up the child-marriage between King Hildebrand’s son Hilarion and King Gama’s daughter Ida the man-hating intellectual.
Though the music, conducted by John Greer, is among the most lyrical of all Sullivan’s scores, there are few memorable numbers and the characters, not Gilbert’s most inspired, need all the help they can get.
For this reason, the crowd scenes, especially the animated second act curtain, one or Gilbert and Sullivan’s most delightful parodies of grand opera, did much to draw the whole production together.
Elizabeth Rothwell as Princess Ida made her first impression with a voice searing enough to weld steel, as befits a woman out of sync with men, but she soon cooled to a more appealing range. Robert Hanks as her Hilarion usually came on shackled to his friends Cyril and Florian (Edward Franko and Emilio Roman) who are only adequate in the trios but improve as the ensembles grow (as in the well sustained second act quintet). Hanks himself, however, had a presence and a depth of feeling lacking in the cast as a whole.
Tom Trouten gave Hildebrand an amiable stature and a bluff clear voice; though Howard Mawson’s Gama could have been more irascible in his tantrums.
Richard Linley, Randall Smith and Donald Devenney made much of their parts as the comic neanderthal sons of Gama, with Linley especially appealing in the Handel parody.
The two professors, Lady Blanche and Lady Psyche, were well differentiated by Elizabeth Mawson and Laurie Bassett; while Debra Selig had much pleasant detail in her role as Melissa.
Other characters included Celia Taylor as Sacharissa, Elizabeth Thomson as Chloe and Wendy Milton as Ada.
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