Bloody Good G&S

RUDDIGORE, or The Witch's Curse seemed cursed when it premiered in 1887. A vital piece of stage equipment malfunctioned; genteel members of the audience found the title vulgar, objecting to the offensive adjective "bloody;" lower class viewers demanded the revival of The Mikado, which had closed three days earlier. Despite extensive revisions, Ruddigore acquired a reputation for failure, artistically and financially. It was known as "the unlucky opera"--but Harvard is lucky to have it, thanks to a particularly fine Gilbert and Sullivan Players production.

The production's success is especially remarkable given the substantially flawed material. The two acts are only loosely connected by the curse on the Murgatroyd family: a love triangle that dominates the first act almost completely disappears in the second, despite a token reappearance by two of the characters. Except for a delicious song spoofing a pair of civil servants, the opera lacks much of the celebrated Gilbert and Sullivan social satire. Worst of all, the witch's curse, which has plagued the noble Murgatroyds for more than three centuries and the audience for nearly three hours, is dispelled abruptly, leaving the viewer convinced that Gilbert, unable to find a satisfactory conclusion to the opera, simply manufactured an ending as quickly as possible.

The story-line is convoluted, in typical Gilbert and Sullivan fashion. Rose Maybud (Cathy Weary), a village flower much preoccupied with etiquette, loves young Robin Oakapple (Mark Clements), who possesses "the manners of a marquis and the morals of a Methodist." Robin loves Rose, too, but he harbors a terrible secret: he is masquerading as a farmer to avoid acknowledging his position as the 22nd baronet of Murgatroyd. His title carries with it some rather grim duties: the baronet must commit a crime every day, or die in torment at the hands of his ancestors. This curse makes life troublesome for ladies who love Murgatroyds. Dame Hannah, played by Jeannette Worthen, was forced to renounce Robin's uncle, and Mad Margaret, depicted by Rosemarie Grout, quite lost her wits over Robin's brother, Despard, the current baronet. The arrival of Richard Dauntless (William Monnen), dashing sailor and lady-killer, precipitates a crisis. Dispatched to plead Robin's suit, he falls in love with Rose himself. Richard and Despard reveal Robin's identity just as he's about to marry Rose. The heartbroken maiden turns reluctantly to Richard; Despard is reunited with Margaret; the bewildered but enthusiastic chorus sings nuptial congratulations. End Act One.

Despite the excessive length. Act One moves briskly. There are no awkward lulls between songs and dialogue. Ruddigore further avoids monotony by alternately tingling and tickling the audience's spines. The overture and an early number that re-enacts the original curse freeze the viewer's blood, but as the plot progresses the mood shifts to a more comic melodrama, complete with Dracula-like capes and ominous laughter. The chills resume in force during Act Two's climactic portrait scene, in which the paintings of deceased Murgatroyds literally come alive--a moment that is as visually dazzling as it is technically brilliant.

But then, technical expertise traditionally characterizes the G&S Players' productions. The costumes, designed by Gael Simonson and Christie Brown, are lavish, lovely creations. John Magouin's sets are equally pleasing. The somber Murgatroyd castle lurking behind Magouin's pretty village scene is an especially inspired touch. Musical director Richard Hoffman deserves credit for a minor miracle: the orchestra nearly perfectly accompanies the singers--quite a feat considering the Agassiz's notoriously miserable acoustics.

Director Sully Brown seems to have cast with an eye to physical appearance. This effect works particularly well when Hannah and the ghost of the Murgatroyd she renounced (David Haughton) sing the tale of their love; the actors literally embody the subjects of their song--a "pretty little flower" and a "big oak tree." Overall, the cast is in fine singing and speaking voice, though the stilted dialogue overpowers Weary at times, and Monnen's Cockney accent seems to have a mind of its own, coming and going at will. But there's no need to carp. Acting in a Gilbert and Sullivan opera is mainly a question of facial expression and stage poise. All of the principals mime and move exceedingly well, and as for the chorus--suffice to say that they deliver a very fine ensemble performance.

Bonn's direction of the large group scenes is quite adept. She can cram the stage with numerous bustling actors yet the audience's attention remains clearly focused. Bonn and choreographer Holly Hendrickson devised several good moments for smaller scenes as well; the sight of Richard dancing in and out of Despard's cape as they scheme together provides one such memorable bit.

The production's only real weakness lies in the unsatisfying finale. Presented "just as Gilbert wrote it," the ending seems forced, almost hurried, although Bonn tries to lessen the perfunctory note with sensitive staging. Hannah's prominent grief, for example, nicely mitigates the atmosphere of mechanical, happily-ever-after celebration. Nevertheless, the production could have punched or prolonged the moment--brought in the chorus, perhaps, to ooh and ah as Robin explains how he's "broken" the curse.

The clumsiness of the finale, however, barely tarnishes the polish of the entire show. As Robin lifts the jinx on the Murgatroyds, so this G&S production lifts the jinx on the opera itself. This Ruddigore is almost perfect--worth seeing twice. The Gilbert and Sullivan Players have done it again, and nobody does it better.