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The Review - THEATRE by SIMON WROE
Published: 3 April 2008
 
Playing away with the fairies

IOLANTHE
Rosemary Branch Theatre

UPON its premiere in 1882, Gilbert and Sullivan’s mischievous musical conflux of fairies and peers caused quite a stir.
A campaign to diminish the powers of the House of Lords even asked Gilbert’s permission to use his lyrics; to the detriment of political arguments everywhere, the request was declined.
But provenance aside, why should modern audiences give a powdered periwig about the show?
The answer, if Charles Court Opera’s production is anything to go by, is that Iolanthe is incredibly good fun. Who could forsake the gloriously absurd tale of a fairy, banished for coupling with a mortal, whose love-struck son Strephon is “half fairy” (perhaps not the first in theatreland)?
The object of Strephon’s affection is Phyllis, the ward of the Lord Chancellor’s court (Georgia Ginsburg in a porno-esque platinum wig), so a hair-brained scheme to infiltrate the House of Lords is hatched. Infatuation, confusion, and the green-eyed monster hover in the wings.
The age and experience of the cast runs the full spectrum: Jill Pert, the Queen of the Fairies, has played nearly every role in the G&S repertoire in her long and illustrious career; David Matthews (Private Willis), by contrast, is just 18 in his first year at music college. Director John Savournin, who also plays the blue-wigged Strephon, is 22 but has already directed 12 operas. All perform with relish, indiscriminate of their years.
Giles Davies, another G&S stalwart, has a touch of Alan Cummings about his Lord Chancellor – but don’t hold that against him. His rendition of Love Unrequited Robs Me of My Rest is a standout.
Rosie Bell as Iolanthe possesses all the vocal clarity of her namesake; the bombastic lords are uniformly wonderful, and the Eaton-Long piano duo provide excellent accompaniment throughout.
Production values do vary wildly: Phyllis is a bizarre Playboy bunny type with a basket of stuffed lamb and tinsel while James Perkin’s handsome and austere set is the playground for crazed wigs and day-glo fairies.
Iolanthe may have lost some of its political clout down the ages but its wit and verve has only come further to the fore as a result. Just admire Strephon’s explanation when Phyllis suspects him of infidelity with Iolanthe, unaware she is his mother: “In her lap I lay, within her womb she moistened my clay.”
Until April 6
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