The Story
Sinfonicron's Patience Brings Art to Life
Dave Thomas ('11) breaks hearts as Archibald Grosvenor, the heroic male lead, in Sinfonicron's Patience. Photo by Kate Tidaback.
W. S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan’s Patience was first performed in London in 1881, a time during which literary aestheticism was in its prime. The decadently artistic worldview of nineteenth-century aesthetes, seemingly detached from the earthly society around them, serves as the basis for Gilbert’s clever satire of the wildly popular but easily parodied art movement that had thoroughly swept England.
Modern day aesthetes can fashion Patience’s Reginald Bunthorne (Christopher Richardson, ’13) as a late Victorian Lady Gaga: an attention-seeking, garishly dressed, Dionysian creator of heavily overwrought art qua art for whom throngs of adoring fans only propel the growth of a self-adulatory Fame Monster.
Unlike Lady Gaga, however, Bunthorne’s fan base is made up of a gaggle of babbling second-string Disney princesses, deftly led by the trouble-making Angela (Rebekah Rochte, ’12) and the silvery-voiced Ella (Kelsey Rothera, ’12). Unfazed by Bunthorne’s waxings poetic is the plain, naïve milkmaid Patience (Nora Pace, ’14), for whom the female chorus has an almost irrational hatred. (The Mean Girls-inspired teaser trailer that has been floating around Facebook makes light of this animosity.)
Upon the impeccably timed arrival of the dashing Archibald Grosvenor (Dave Thomas, ’11) at the end of Act I, Patience finds her heart torn between the fiery fever for her childhood sweetheart and her loveless betrothal to Bunthorne. In requisite Gilbert and Sullivan fashion, a labyrinthine plot topples through crazed secondary characters, nonsensical costume changes and a bumbling male chorus before finally reaching a happy ending.
Laying the foundation for Sinfonicron Light Opera Company’s student-run production of this show is Lisette Armstrong’s (’11) dutiful and precise command over the orchestra, especially evident during the overture. Her quiet control over the intimate ensemble was clear in the nearly impeccable performance coaxed out of the brass, from the delicate and sensitive trumpet calls that started off the overture (wonderfully executed by Elizabeth Sterling, ’12, and J. J. Kuchan, ’13) to the clumsily masculine low brass lines which perfectly embodied the male chorus long before its first entrance.
Equally impressive was the set, which dazzled with its simple details without distracting from the action onstage. Technical Director Rachel Taylor (’11), Scenic Designer Lauren Cheniae (’11) and Lighting Designer Cameron Rust (’11) are to be commended for bringing life and color to a world from which it is believable that such inspired aesthetic musings could spring.
Under Andrew Collie’s (’11) thoughtful direction, the cast seemed to run away a bit with the satire for which Gilbert’s libretto first found acclaim, and the cast’s constant self-awareness of the embedded humor and the period tropes that have led to the sustained popularity of the Savoyard operatic tradition detracted from the momentum of the plot. Clocking in just over two hours, however, a refreshing change from the all-night affair that can sometimes be made of similar operettas, the show flew by with only a few lulls in pace.
Anyone lingering on the latter half of the phrase â€"light opera†should not be worried or intimidated, as the vocal direction of Kristina Forero-Hordusky (’11) sits further to the musical theater extreme of the spectrum than classicists (including this reviewer) might have hoped. However, Forero-Hordusky has crafted a warmly appealing musical comedy style accessible both to Williamsburg audiences and to singers still growing into their voices. The syrupy sweet women’s chorus and the jaggedly coarse male chorus of dragoons provide appropriate foils for each other throughout the play.
Pace’s Patience is endearingly naïve in its simplicity. Her lilting, bird-like soprano, sometimes awkward when exposed in its highest reaches or when handling delicate musical ornaments, feels at times like a child walking around in her mother’s shoes, but in the best possible way. The opposite of the tirelessly honed poetics of Bunthorne and Grosvenor, her singing is crisp and without frills, appropriate for the character and an inspired casting choice. And her high notes at the end of Act I are purely delightful, a vocal highlight of the show.
In sharp contrast to Patience’s plainness lie the over-indulgent, decadent Bunthorne and Grosvenor. As the â€"fleshly poet,†a Jheri-curl-clad Richardson perhaps takes too many cues from the flamboyance of Oscar Wilde, the aesthete incarnate and perceived inspiration for Bunthorne’s character. And while the singsong readings of his poems provide some of the funniest moments of the show, the lowest reaches of his voice can easily sound muddy and forced.
The "idyllic poet" Grosvenor, reflecting the simplicity of his poetry (which sounds more like axioms from a children’s book), is approached with a more straightforward touch. Thomas is well suited to a role that pokes fun at the archetypal male hero, and his onstage romance with Pace has a sort of saccharine burlesque nature that you will love to hate.
A widespread diction problem among the cast is most starkly realized in the patter songs of Colonel Calverly (Lex Powell, ’10), which come across at times as breathless and unintelligible. The mustachioed Powell exerts a charming charisma in his dialogue, especially in interactions with the humorously frail Duke of Dunstable (Paul Burgess ’12). Much of the singing from the military male leads, however, is less confident and lacks precision, especially when exposed in small ensemble numbers like the precarious sextet at the end of Act I.
Any slight shortcomings, though, do little to take away from the simple pleasure that is a Gilbert and Sullivan show; in fact, it is difficult to leave the theater without a smile on one’s face and a jaunty tune in one’s ear. Sinfonicron’s production of Patience is a light, easily digestible morsel of culture that showcases the incredible breadth of student talent at the College and is more than worth the $5 student ticket price. While the premise of a nineteenth-century operetta satirizing British aestheticism may sound daunting or inaccessible, the company has done a commendable job repackaging the play for a contemporary audience.
