No 41 -- Spring 1994 Edited by Michael Walters
A hippy PATIENCE in the 1990s? Surely a piece of perversity in an era when "everyday young girls" in miniskirts look just as dated as Carnaby Street flower power? Surely there are as many young people today who know who Oscar Wilde was, as who remember Lonnie Donegan? Doing the Magnet and the Churn as a rock'n'roll number with Grosvenor as Elvis (sort of) really seemed rather pass. The whole point about PATIENCE is that Gilbert was not so much mocking the aesthetic movement in particular, as mocking affectation in general - and this makes its point just as well in the original setting as in an updated. But there is no reason why a "hippy" version could not work if given a rather more sensitive and carefully thought-out treatment than this ham-fisted production. A number of phrases, lyrics and other bits of dialogue were "updated" (Empyrean, Della Cruscan & Early English became Merseybeat, West Coast and Status Quo, whatever they are!) yet others remained unaltered. In his rather brash guise, Grosvenor was certainly not "mild" or "insipid" as Bunthorne claims, nor was the latter particularly "highly spiced". Nor did hippies, so far as I am aware, ever strive to make themselves "angular and flat" or do any of the other things described in the aesthetic trio. It was simply not believable. And when the "updated" terms had to be explained in the programme's glossary, along with the items in Col. Calverley's (unaltered) song, the updating becomes purposeless. It seemed that the producer (Gary Gordon) was trying to be clever, but not really succeeding.
But there were compensations. Musically, it was excellent. Richard Stockton guided the orchestra with precision and elegance, and the best brass I have heard for a long time in a provincial orchestra, with a superbly acid Verdian edge. The second verse of the Patience-Angela duet was restored, as were the Duke's Song "Though men of rank" and his later short solo "I have a boon to give away". Christopher Orr provided the band parts for both the Duke numbers, but Richard Stockton had provided his own re-construction of the tune, which differed somewhat from both those of Christopher Orr and Ian Bartlett. So now there are three versions - it's getting a bit like UTOPIA overtures or re-constructions of THESPIS! Dick's tune was very pleasing, but in places uncomfortably low for a tenor. The Duke's solo makes a far smoother transition into the Act 2 finale than the dialogue, and also helps to break up the rather undramatic pattern of having the penultimate number a reprise of the one before, and the finale a reprise of the number before that. Seemingly the only reason for cutting the solo would be that it had the same tune as the earlier song, the cutting of which is arguable. Had Sullivan's original vocal line survived, I would recommend the permanent restoration of both numbers.
The sets were from Stage Productions, Castle Bunthorne set in a beautiful 18th century garden for Act 1, and an almost Arcadian woodland glade for Act 2. Extremely attractive, but the very last place you'd expect to find hippies. The costumes, from the Haslemere wardrobe, were the standard uniforms for the dragoons, and the ladies were in rather elegant tea gowns in a multitude of mottled colours, not very hippyish at all! Bunthorne was in flared jeans and an Afghan jacket, Grosvenor in a white Elvis or Liberace suit studded with diamonds.
Ken Boon simpered, pranced and camped his way through Bunthorne, dancing with agility, singing with charm, and delivering his dialogue with intelligence. But the performance lacked direction, he did not seem to have made up his mind who Bunthorne was, and there was little difference between the "aesthetic" and "normal" modes. He delivered his poems in a Japanese accent, which seemed to be the only real concession to the pose, and his acting lacked depth and focus. David Stares was more consistent as Grosvenor, but there is less in the role. The lines about his beauty took a different tone when delivered with self-assurance rather than naivety. Lesley Banks (Patience) was a charming Welsh soprano, but with a slight dryness on her top notes.
Brenda Lovitt gave a curious interpretation of Lady Jane. Her voice was rather light in tone (she has played soubrette as well as contralto roles), and her manner rather that of a prim schoolmistress letting her hair down. There is no ipso facto reason why Jane should be played as a baleful battleaxe, but the text does not really make sense unless there is something about her. Mike Wiltshire was a mellow Duke, John Bevan as the Major came into his own "twisting" in the aesthetic trio (the part has little else in it), and Jonathan Hall, suffering from an injured leg, opted to play the Colonel as though the character had gout. Unlike Bunthorne, the Colonel knew exactly the direction the performance should go, and was a a model of relaxed but controlled characterisation. Ghislane Dixon was a slightly thin-voiced Angela, Anne Maynard a full-bodied Saphir, and Anthea Kempston a youngish Angela. Steve Chaytow was in the chorus.
MICHAEL WALTERS
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