The Pirates of Penzance at the London Coliseum review: bold, bright and inviting as a comic strip
Unlikely as it may sound, you could make a neat Venn diagram of theatrical affinities linking Gilbert and Sullivan, Samuel Beckett and Mike Leigh. The last two fit together quite comfortably, but G&S? Yes: in their different ways, both Beckett and Leigh sustained a lifelong affection for their Victorian wit and whimsy, to say nothing of sharing their acerbic view of humanity.
Leigh went so far as to make a G&S biopic, Topsy Turvy, celebrating what he called their “very accessible, sexy music”. At the time of the film’s release in 1999, he wrote that “I really have no interest in directing [their operas] at all”, but he later went back on his word and staged The Pirates of Penzance for English National Opera.
Some people have claimed G&S as precursors of the Theatre of the Absurd. That’s pushing it but there have been some pretty zany stagings at ENO. Leigh’s approach is comparatively sober, which isn’t to suggest that he misses the humour. His production, first seen in 2015, is now revived by Sarah Tipple.
Alison Chitty’s designs remain as bold, bright and inviting as a comic strip and the stagecraft sustains its tongue-in-cheek earnestness. Everybody is petty and foolish, except, that is, for the love interest that G&S always had to include, but Frederic and Mabel are so full of sweetness and light that, like everybody else onstage, they become caricatures.
The story, such as it is, is merely a hook on which Gilbert could hang his witty rhymes so that Sullivan could let loose his considerable, sometimes blatant melodic gifts. Conductor Natalie Murray Beale ensures that the orchestra achieves the right blend of park bandstand oompah and Victorian parlour music, while the parodies of 19th century Italian operatic style are precise yet affectionate.
The chorus sings with real gusto and dances prettily when required. In the role of Stanley, “the very model of a modern major-general”, to quote his showpiece aria, Richard Suart demonstrates that, in the matter of patter, he is still a force to be reckoned with, and John Savournin blusters and bellows winningly as the Pirate King. The star comic turn is the small troupe of coppers, led by James Creswell, who turn A Policeman’s Lot is Not a Happy One into a marvellously silly song-and-dance routine.
If William Morgan gets the ardour required for the lovelorn role of Frederic, he occasionally teeters towards can belto. By contrast, Isabelle Peters gives Mabel, the object of his affections, the vocal allure of a true bel canto specialist. She is still a member of ENO’s Harewood Artist; on the evidence of this showing, she’s no longer just up-and-coming, she has well and truly arrived.
London Coliseum, until February 21; eno.org
