TRIAL BY JURY & H.M.S. PINAFORE, Barnes & Richmond OS. Richmond Theatre, 3 Oct. 1978

This production proved to be one of the most interesting, original, creative efforts in amateur G&S that I have seen for a considerable time. Trial was a basically conventional, but slightly stylized production. It was dressed in 1920s costume, with the women as flappers and the men in blazers & boaters (but would they have worn the latter indoors?). People fainted elegantly, rather than naturally, etc, The main blunder was the set. David Casey had placed the Judge on a sort of battlement high up above the well of the court, where he was totally invisible from the gallery where I was sitting. Such an oversight, or deliberate slight, is unpardonable. Barry Knight took the music at a spanking pace, it bubbled like a mountain brook, yet was quite capable of sounding languid in places. The "water from far Cologne" was an eaudecologne spray, not a glass of water. A nice touch. There was one juryman (a certain Alan Titchmarsh) who managed to grab to himself a few bits of extra business, just enough to ensure that one noticed him. Who else could make himself stand out at once from a line of jurymen on his first entry, without actually doing anything different? Richard Matthiae sounded a suitably starchy Judge, but without much musical subtlety. Peter Jones gave an interesting interpretation of the Defendant, playing throughout for sympathy, a rather down trodden little boy "you know I really can't help it, it wasn't my fault" sort of interpretation. In contrast to the usual "masher" it was very refreshing. He sang well, but was a bit low on volume, possibly due to lack of experience. John Bellamy was a melodramatic, coarsesounding Counsel, the interpretation is histrionically valid except that it throws the lyric beauty of one of Sullivan's most beautiful roles right out the window. Robert Salter's Usher was brilliant, seedy and stodgy, and yet sung with intense feeling and sensitivity for the music, while at the same time showing no compunction about relapsing into speech in a few places in the recit where he felt it was dramatically appropriate. Pauline Kendrick's Plaintiff was good and vivacious but somehow her performance left me strangely unmoved. One felt little sympathy for her, and indeed if her offhandedness was anything to go by, it was quite easy to see why the Defendant had thrown her over. All one's sympathy was for him. Of course, that may have been the intention.

Pinafore was more stylized in its staging than Trial, leaving all suggestion of reality behind. The set consisted of a symbolic arrangement of rostra, stairways and companionways which suggested but in no way resembled, a ship. The set was painted in red, white and blue (idea ex Kent Opera?) and the overture was played against a front gauze painted to resemble a Union Jack. For the reception of Sir Joseph a table decorated with flowers and piled with wine and cakes was placed on one side and on the other a white painted wroughtiron table and chairs to match, with sun umbrella (which unfortunately gave the whole thing the air of taking place outside the Orange Tree, a local pub) and a tray of teathings from which the Capt. poured tea for Sir J. Like the set, much of the movement was symbolic, dancing being "musical show" rather than operetta style, with geometric patterns for the chorus. This was OK but there were a lot of other fussy details, such as some incomprehensible business with barrels at the beginning of Act 1, which was distracting. The set was too high, but one could more or less see the back of it. The Overture was played with feeling, the slow movement having an almost "palm trees" romantic air, and the final section lurched through a rather fine rubato before gathering momentum. One was always aware that Sir Joseph is a short part, but it took Alan Titchmarsh to demonstrate how short it really was, every moment he was off you wished he would come back so that one could see a bit more of him. He wrought a miracle with that part, in a remarkably selfeffacing way he made Sir J (for once) into a really believable character. Sir Josephs tend to be (a) dreary & stuffedshirted (b) foppish and stylized, or (c) zany. Alan was none of these he was so genuinely a common man, using a voice that was a perfect blend of his native Yorkshire and an uppercrust English. His legs (and what quaint spindleshanks they looked in those hose) were placed just sufficiently apart to give him that inelegant "common" air. The business during his song had been worked out very carefully; he drank tea during the first verse, which he sang sitting, then he wandered about. The Capt. in the meantime heavily sugared his tea in a very obsequious way, handing Sir J. the cup during a later verse, enabling him to drink a mouthful, pull a face and sing: "But that kind of ship had TyPhoo tea, and now I am the ruler of the Queen's navee," He couldn't manage the low A of "dungeon cell" and stayed on the E, very sensible. Alan's Sir J, was a remarkably "lowkey" and restrained performance, which, knowing what an ostentatious actor he usually is, came as something of a surprise, but it goes to prove what a fine and sensitive actor he is and a perfect master of subtle changes of tone. I have rarely met one whose dialogue can convey so much just by a slight change of tone and inflexion, the lugubrious and despondent way he said "three loving pairs on the same day united" conjured up a complete mental picture of his entire future existence with Hebe. Clive Boot was a lightvoiced Captain, and had problems with the music; "Fair Moon" was dull. Histrionically, however, he played the part as a fussy mother hen, not exactly "camp" but certainly "fey", wheedling his sailors and being very obsequious to Sir J., grinning inanely when reprimanded for not saying "if you please". One almost expected him to chuck the sailor under the chin when he said "if you pleeease". Christopher Boa's voice has improved since I heard him as Marco, but he has little idea how to act, and a total lack of stage personality. The best that can be said of his Ralph is that it "also ran". He did not attempt the optional top B at "not to be expected", which was probably wise, as his voice is distinctly thin and toneless on top. Mike Pallette sang Deadeye's music with satisfactory but unexceptional voice. He did not act at all, but relied for the effect of the character on a peculiar deformity invented for the production. He had three legs and one arm, the third leg being operated by his other real arm under a sort of labcoat he was dressed in. This embellishment was a violation of the principals of Gilbert; it was both unnecessary and futile, for though it did raise a laugh of surprise on Deadeye's first entrance, after that the joke was over and it became tedious. It was just a cheap gimmick. I was told afterwards that it was probably based on Rolf Harris' “Jake the Peg”. Pauline Lythall as Josephine started off well but as the evening wore on her voice seemed to tire and become ragged at the edges and spread on the top notes. Her top C was flat. Nevertheless it is a good voice if she works on it. She acted beautifully, brightly, vivaciously and yet warmly. She sang an inexplicable slide at the end of "Sorry her lot". Catherine Applegarth was Buttercup. There is little to say except that it was warmly sung. She made her first entrance on a trapeze; the reason for this escaped me. Her diction was unclear, particularly in the opening number. There is not much that you can do with Hebe, but there are a lot of things that one ought not to do with it, and Sue Barber managed to do most of them. She was much too "busy", and although most of what she did was in character and would have been appropriate in a leading role, in this case it distracted one's attention from the main action. Business from minor characters needs to be very carefully timed if it is to make its point, make its impact, and at the same time not intrude. MICHAEL WALTERS

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