The Gondoliers, Gilbert and Sullivan’s last big hit, came hot on the heels of their infamous quarrel over the cost of a carpet at the Savoy theatre. There is no hint of acrimony, however, in what must rank as Sullivan’s sunniest, most sophisticated score wedded to some of Gilbert’s most brilliantly barbed lyrics. What could be shrewder than, “When everyone is somebody, then no one’s anybody”?
A sharply pointed satire on the pitfalls of egalitarianism, the plot features babies swapped at birth and a pair of gondoliers, one of whom may or may not be the son of the recently deceased King of Barataria. English Touring Opera’s period production locates the action in the late 17th century, but contemporary resonances abound: the cash-for-endorsements antics of the money-grubbing Duke and Duchess of Plaza-Toro are but one step removed from the Andrews and Fergies of today.
Visually, Liam Steel’s staging channels the chocolate box style of the D’Oyly Carte company, but there the resemblance ends. This fast-paced, intricately choreographed show is a masterclass in clarity over chaos. The demands placed on the hard-working, fresh-voiced ensemble are exceptional, yet each and every one of them rises to the challenge with boundless enthusiasm. Set designer Michael Pavelka’s revolving Venetian bridges and Laura Jane Stanfield’s rococo costumes – à la Watteau, to quote Gilbert – create a feast for the eye, while Jack Ridley’s stylish shaping of the music does the same for the ear.
Robin Bailey as mellifluous Marco and Samuel Pantcheff as eager-to-oblige Giuseppe are perfect foils for Natasha Agarwal and Beth Moxon as their feisty wives. The Cockney knees-up in A Regular Royal Queen is a gas. Phil Wilcox’s preening Duke of Plaza-Toro, camp as a row of tents in periwig and gold platform boots, is a glittering baroque soufflé, ditto Lauren Young as his domineering Duchess. Pulling the strings is Matthew Siveter as Don Alhambra del Bolero, the Mephistophelian Grand Inquisitor whose cape deserves an Oscar, as do his deliciously rolling eyeballs. Kelli-Ann Masterson and George Robarts are a side-splitting double act as secret lovers Casilda and Luiz.
What really makes this production fly, though, is the mischievous wit of Steel, who places dance at the heart of everything while never missing a trick with copious running gags and deft comic timing. The putting of the true king’s elderly nursemaid to the rack is worth the price of admission alone, I kid you not. Like so much here, it is pure laugh-out-loud entertainment.
