A Production for the Purist

PRINCESS IDA was not well received when it opened in London in 1884, and it seems to have been discretely swept under the rug ever since by Gilbert and Sullivan devotees anxious to preserve the good names of the masters. But, judging from the current handsome production mounted by the Harvard G. and S. Players, their discretion has been misplaced.

The fact that Ida has the ability to charm a 20th-century audience is impressive, considering that its basic theme is, well, sexist. Princess Ida, married to Prince Hilarion at the tender age of one (he was twice her age, he tells us), has withdrawn from society to become the dean of a woman's University"--an institution Gilbert seems to find inherently ridiculous. Anything male is strictly forbidden--the female dons are awakened not by a rooster, but by "an accomplished hen," and one of them is expelled for bringing in a set of chessmen.

Undaunted, Prince Hilarion decides to make good his claim on Princess Ida's affections and, accompanied by his two friends Cyril and Florian, scales the walls of Castle Adamant--which serves as the university's campus. The three are, of course, openly scornful of the whole idea. Florian seems to speak for Gilbert when he says. "A woman's college! Maddest folly going! What can girls learn within its walls worth knowing?...I'll teach them twice as much in half an hour outside it."

Florian gets his chance. Everyone falls in love with everyone (naturally), and the scholarly maidens come to their senses, abandon their studies, and dance off to discover the infinitely more satisfying delights of Victorian married life.

GILBERT'S DEFENDERS claimed that he was not attacking women's higher education as such, but merely ridiculing "male-less society." That's interesting, but it doesn't explain why nobody thought England's "female-less" universities were worthy of ridicule. Nor does it explain why everyone seemed to assume that women who were highly educated had to be fiercely virginal as well.

But it doesn't pay to get worked up about the sexist slant of Princess Ida because, like any G. and S. operetta, it is, after all, a period piece. And that is exactly how the play is handled in this production--which, thank God, doesn't try to get funny with any embarrassing 20th-century gimmickry. There are plenty of slapstick embellishments, but--from the opening blast of "God Save the Queen" to the fake 19th-century programs, this production remains true to the spirits of Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan themselves.

The only weak point is, unfortunately, a glaring one. Tamara Mitchel as Princess Ida has a voice that is too overly operatic for the part, and her idea of expressing anguish, dismay, or annoyance is to look as though she has just tasted something ghastly. She succeeds in making a heroine who is, as written, something of a prig, absolutely insufferable.

Just about everything else is, quite simply, wonderful. The scenery and the choreography are somewhat constrained by the claustrophobic proportions of the Agassiz stage, but the opulent costumes provide all the visual splendor necessary.

Tom Fuller as Prince Hilarion and Paul Seltzer and Paul Hewitt as Cyrill make an irresistably impish trio. Fuller proves once again his skill in portraying the standard G. and S. straight man--sweetly and stupidly earnest--and Seltzer and Hewitt sharpen one another in their roles as comic foils.

Another familiar face is that of Jeffrey Wayne Davies, who turns in a predictably excellent performances as King Gama, Ida's father. Gama is a grouchy, twisted troll of a man, constantly pointing out everyone's faults. "Everybody says I'm such a disagreeable man/And I can't think why!" he complains in a solo that Gilbert wrote as a jocular self-description. (Gilbert positively reveled in his reputation as an ogre. Around a scowling self-portrait, he once wrote. "I loathe everybody--I love to bully--Everybody is an Ass--I am an overbearing beast--I hate my fellow man--confound everything--I like pinching little babies--I am an ill-tempered pig and I glory in it--W.S. Gilbert.")

All in all, this is a production that is worthy of even the most devoted G. and S. fans--the ones who bring their Handbook of Gilbert and Sullivan along opening night, and even the ones who don't need to because they already know it by heart. A.G. and S. pursuit will find much delight and little to offend him--or her.