Iolanthe
April 20, 2018
Show: Iolanthe (by Arthur Gilbert and W. S. Sullivan)
Type: Opera
Venue: London Coliseum
Date: Saturday 7thApril 2018
Seen with: Tout seule
Ticket: £20
View: Few rows back on the balcony, so not too bad really, but slightly impaired by very active children in the family sitting in the row in front
Cast: English National Opera: Samantha Price (Iolanthe), Ellie Laugharne (Phyllis), Yvonne Howard (Fairy Queen), Marcus Farnsworth (Strephon), Andrew Shore (Lord Chancellor)
Verdict: If The Birthday Party is a primer for Theatre of the Absurd, Iolanthe is a primer for opera. The official jury is probably out on whether Gilbert and Sullivan’s works are ‘comic operas’ (as they referred to them) or ‘operettas’ (the European form of light opera that G&S disliked for being too risqué). However, in comparison to G&S shows such as Pirates of Penzance and The Mikado, Iolanthe plays more as a straight opera. Comic, yes, but on a grand (operatic?) scale that Pirates and Mikado don’t really set out to be. Musically, this is some of G&S’s best work, being composed somewhere in the middle of their time together. Which can turn out to be both a blessing and a curse. On the one hand, it’s a great way to dip your toe into more opera-like music and familiarise yourself before you head off to see something like La Traviata (English National Opera’s other production running concurrently). But if you’ve come to a G&S production expecting just fluff and frivolity, you may actually end up leaving disappointed.
All of G&S’s works are satirical, but in Iolanthe they really go after the British parliament, the House of Lords in particular. Essentially, the peers are bumbling idiots all in love with one young beautiful woman (of course) who is a Ward in Chancery (??? – appears to mean a ward of the state but under the guardianship of the Lord Chancellor particularly?) and therefore can’t marry the man she loves (a simple shepherd) without their permission. Which they don’t give.
Oh, and the shepherd’s mother is a fairy. Who was banished from the fairy kingdom for loving a mortal.
Oh, and when the beautiful girl sees the shepherd hugging his mother (who still looks young herself because she is, of course, a fairy), she assumes he’s cheating on her, so she promises to marry one of the Lords instead.
Oh, and the Lord Chancellor turns out to be the mortal that the fairy mother fell in love with, and therefore the shepherd’s father.
Oh, and at the end all the peers and fairies fall in love and suddenly grow wings and fly away to fairyland.
Just a regular night at the theatre.
The fairies were fantastically costumed, somewhere between grown-up versions of the Gumnut Babies or Shirley Barber’s Fairies and what you get when a dress-up box explodes. And they moved around the stage like Disney World princesses on crack. Staging and blocking in a G&S production is the first thing to remind you that what you’re watching is a parody. It comes out in the lyrics too, of course, and the music, if you’re familiar enough with the source material to catch the joke, but G&S knew their audiences, and they knew people need to see funny before they hear funny.
The sight gags started with a flamingo coyly peeking its head around the proscenium arch as the first thing on stage, before being abruptly pulled off, and continued on from there in pretty much the same vein. During the very sweet lovers’ duet in act one, a pair of black-morph-suited stagehands placed prop sheep around the stage and then removed them, all while feeling their way sightlessly around and bumping into each other. When the peers appeared (a-peered?), they did so in a steam engine, complete with steam, which broke through the backdrop and left it lying on the stage in tatters. One of them was recognisably dressed as Boris Johnson, down to the bumbling walk and blond mop wig. He even returned to the stage on a Boris-bike at one stage. I’m sure there were a few more gags that I missed, not being a native Brit. Probably like everyone watching Thor: Ragnarok who wasn’t an Aussie or Kiwi. But a special mention has to go to the young man playing the Lord Chancellor’s page – during one memorable song in the second act he threw his body around the stage (or was thrown) with such abandon that it was both hilarious and mildly horrifying.
The orchestra received the loudest applause of the evening, and for good reason – the music was flawless. The acoustics in the Coliseum are fantastic, and sitting through the overture in darkness was an experience in and of itself.
Speaking of music, G&S parodied both Mendelssohn’s music for A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Wagner’s Ring cycle for the fairies and the Fairy Queen respectively. Not being a fan of Wagner, I didn’t pick up on the second, but I had distinct little moments of confusion throughout the show that I’ve since realised were related to the Mendelssohn connections. I’ve loved the music from Ein Sommernachtstraum since performing snippets of it (in English) with my choir as a teenager. During Iolanthe, I kept hearing little things that made me expect someone to launch into ‘Bunte Schlangen, zweigezüngt!’ (or, as we the chorus sang, ‘Philomele with melody, sing in our sweet lullaby!’).
Although most were strong vocally, some of the cast struggled with diction at times, which was a shame. It did mean that you had to rely on the surtitles at times, even though the performance was in English. But as that was really the only (small) complaint to be made, it was overall a very enjoyable performance!
All of G&S’s works are satirical, but in Iolanthe they really go after the British parliament, the House of Lords in particular. Essentially, the peers are bumbling idiots all in love with one young beautiful woman (of course) who is a Ward in Chancery (??? – appears to mean a ward of the state but under the guardianship of the Lord Chancellor particularly?) and therefore can’t marry the man she loves (a simple shepherd) without their permission. Which they don’t give.
Oh, and the shepherd’s mother is a fairy. Who was banished from the fairy kingdom for loving a mortal.
Oh, and when the beautiful girl sees the shepherd hugging his mother (who still looks young herself because she is, of course, a fairy), she assumes he’s cheating on her, so she promises to marry one of the Lords instead.
Oh, and the Lord Chancellor turns out to be the mortal that the fairy mother fell in love with, and therefore the shepherd’s father.
Oh, and at the end all the peers and fairies fall in love and suddenly grow wings and fly away to fairyland.
Just a regular night at the theatre.
The fairies were fantastically costumed, somewhere between grown-up versions of the Gumnut Babies or Shirley Barber’s Fairies and what you get when a dress-up box explodes. And they moved around the stage like Disney World princesses on crack. Staging and blocking in a G&S production is the first thing to remind you that what you’re watching is a parody. It comes out in the lyrics too, of course, and the music, if you’re familiar enough with the source material to catch the joke, but G&S knew their audiences, and they knew people need to see funny before they hear funny.
The sight gags started with a flamingo coyly peeking its head around the proscenium arch as the first thing on stage, before being abruptly pulled off, and continued on from there in pretty much the same vein. During the very sweet lovers’ duet in act one, a pair of black-morph-suited stagehands placed prop sheep around the stage and then removed them, all while feeling their way sightlessly around and bumping into each other. When the peers appeared (a-peered?), they did so in a steam engine, complete with steam, which broke through the backdrop and left it lying on the stage in tatters. One of them was recognisably dressed as Boris Johnson, down to the bumbling walk and blond mop wig. He even returned to the stage on a Boris-bike at one stage. I’m sure there were a few more gags that I missed, not being a native Brit. Probably like everyone watching Thor: Ragnarok who wasn’t an Aussie or Kiwi. But a special mention has to go to the young man playing the Lord Chancellor’s page – during one memorable song in the second act he threw his body around the stage (or was thrown) with such abandon that it was both hilarious and mildly horrifying.
The orchestra received the loudest applause of the evening, and for good reason – the music was flawless. The acoustics in the Coliseum are fantastic, and sitting through the overture in darkness was an experience in and of itself.
Speaking of music, G&S parodied both Mendelssohn’s music for A Midsummer Night’s Dream and Wagner’s Ring cycle for the fairies and the Fairy Queen respectively. Not being a fan of Wagner, I didn’t pick up on the second, but I had distinct little moments of confusion throughout the show that I’ve since realised were related to the Mendelssohn connections. I’ve loved the music from Ein Sommernachtstraum since performing snippets of it (in English) with my choir as a teenager. During Iolanthe, I kept hearing little things that made me expect someone to launch into ‘Bunte Schlangen, zweigezüngt!’ (or, as we the chorus sang, ‘Philomele with melody, sing in our sweet lullaby!’).
Although most were strong vocally, some of the cast struggled with diction at times, which was a shame. It did mean that you had to rely on the surtitles at times, even though the performance was in English. But as that was really the only (small) complaint to be made, it was overall a very enjoyable performance!
Notes: Iolanthe was the first new theatre in the world to be lit by electric lighting instead of gas.
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