While they had the services of Bill Grierson as producer, Ayrshire Philharmonic indulged in some adventurous experiments - starting with the rewritten Princess Ida of 1966 [Reviewed in The Savoyard by Derrick. Ed.] including a Yeomen which ended with Jack Point left alone on the stage, looking sadly in the direction in which Elsie had gone out, and then walking off the other way; and a Mikado in which Nanki-Poo was replaced by a character in a kilt and red wig called Macaroon (I was sorry to miss that one). Now that Bill has left they've returned to strict orthodoxy; the new producer, Bill Galloway, firmly holds to the idea that Gilbert knew best. This Gondoliers was an example of a very good, very polished production along strictly D'Oyly Carte lines. Its great strength lay in the chorus work. Throughout the opening scene not a foot was put wrong; there was lots of movement - indeed I don't remember many performances in which the bustling activity was maintained more effectively - and it all went like clockwork. Quite clearly, but without any suggestion of being overdrilled or loss of spontaneity, each chorus member knew exactly what he had to do and when. The performances of the principals were not of so consistent a standard. Marco and Giuseppe (Bill Gardner and Robin Doncaster) were a pretty feeble pair: with the other Gondoliers (except for Antonio who was even poorer) performing so expertly, it was impossible to believe that those two lack-lustre specimens could have been so highly regarded by the maidens of Venice. Marco in particular was disappointing: he has been one of the Philharmonic's stalwarts for many years, but his bent is for comedy: he has neither the appearance nor the manner of a romantic hero; and (at least on the night I heard him) he was in very poor voice. They had two delightful brides, however, in the Gianetta and Tessa of Jean MacArthur and Ella Kerr. If there was a fault in those performances it was that neither brought out the pathos of the parting at the end of Act 1. Gianetta is surely pleading with Don Alhambra - not just trying to charm him - in "Kind Sir”; and "Now Marco dear" should convey a suggestion of tears behind the teasing flirtatiousness (isn't "and if so be you think of me" one of the most suddenly poignant touches in Gilbert?) that was entirely lacking here. Pathos was present, though, in "There was a time": those parts should emphatically not, though they often are, be taken by secondary actors, and Leonora Pieri (who had also the best voice of the evening) and Andrew Millar made Casilda and Luiz both credible and moving. The Duke (Brian Johnston) had the distinction of uttering the only line that wasn't by Gilbert: "And possibly a soupçon of this sort of thing - Oh you are awful, but I like you;" (was it worth it?). Apart from that, he gave a good pseudo-John Reed performance, nicely partnered by the dignified Duchess of Lesley Roger. The most carefully thought-out and polished performance of the evening came from Geoff Dixon as Don Alhambra: unfortunately, though, it was a somewhat uninteresting one. This Don was a blandly benign figure, very concerned for the social graces but not, seemingly, with any serious awareness of his actual power over the other characters. I'd normally think it pretty unconvincing that Inez should cling so affectionately to the arm of the man who had sent her to the torture chamber, but with as harmless a Don as this it hardly seemed odd at all. DERRICK McCLURE

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Web page created 2 January 2001