If by “woman's lib” you mean the notion that's currently being peddled - that women are just men with another shape, and the differences between them are not of the slightest importance except in bed and maybe not even there, then I don't think this is silly or laughable. I think it's fundamentally monstrous, like breeding mutants: an attempt to deny a basic truth that's known to every nation, tribe and culture in the history of the world - that males and females are different. This being so, I was not disposed to be very sympathetic to a Trial that was going to have a mixed jury and a female Counsel. I needn't have worried, though: the whole thing was a straightforward send-up. (And if you think that's a somewhat portentous opening for a send-up, you're right, but I'd written it before I saw the production and didn't want to waste it!) It was pretty clear what was in store when the curtain rose on a motley crowd of nuns, nurses, policemen, scouts, hippies, flappers and plain unmitigated students, conspicuous among whom were two girls in tee-shirts sharing the slogan “G&S RULES OK”. The stage was full of bustling business - little of it having anything to do with whatever “characters” were supposed to be represented. (Some fussy disapproval by a couple of elderly ladies of the afore-mentioned girls, who were imbibing from large wicker-covered bottles, was about the only exception). Stasis descended with the Usher's song - rendered from the very front and centre of the stage (even then you couldn't hear him) with no action except a galvanic stand-to attention on "From bias free". The Defendant (in maroon velvet suit with enormous yellow tie) couldn't sing either; and the guitar wasn't very convincing - not that that mattered - in a production where the accompaniment was confined to two pianos. The Judge had a voice to be reckoned with; and he sang his first song from centre stage, where he livened the proceedings with a remarkable variety of dance steps (including the Morecambe and Wise prance). The accompanists had a field day here too, bringing in the Muppet theme (to puppet-like movements from jury and public) and various pieces of jazzy improvisation. I think the tripping and near-avoidance of a headlong collapse by the bridesmaids (four in number, all the rest of the females being already on the stage in various guises) was unintentional. The Defendant seemed very impressed with the female Counsel, whose "My pretty" sounded especially preposterous in view of the fact that she was about ten times prettier than the Plaintiff. And I suppose it was to be expected that in a production like this they would take advantage of the possible double meaning of the word "briefs". Well - it was all good fun, like a charities day rag - but G&S? Although I laughed quite a lot, I can't say I approved wholeheartedly: there was little that was really clever, though plenty that was good enough as slapstick. A gradual nodding off to sleep by the entire cast as the Judge indulged in a very protracted "wi-i-i-i-i-i-it", followed by a jerking awake when the Counsel hit the top note on "se-EHHHHHHH-e-e-e-e-eettle it" was about the only touch that struck me as really in the Gilbertian vein). I'm in favour of an original approach to a production but I'd like a consistent thought behind it; this was just fun at all costs. This Trial in fact, formed part of a very unlikely triple bill with Bach's Coffee Cantata - a highly polished dramatic performance of it - and Borodin's Polovtsian Dances, choreographed with a setting and costumes that could have been anything from Mayan to Mesopotamian; and it was pretty obvious that they were aiming for the biggest possible contrast between the three items. But this was surely unfair to Sullivan - in company with Bach and Borodin, he should be allowed to show up at his best; and he could hardly do that from a stage so full of crazy antics. DERRICK McCLURE

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