Though she had knighted Arthur W. Sullivan as a reward for his achievements in music, to the end of her long life Queen Victoria adamantly refused to bestow the same --- or any --- honor upon William S. Gilbert. It was Sullivan, after all, who had written what was considered the great British music of the Victorian Age. It was Sullivan, the protégé of the protégé of Felix Mendelsson (which is why Sullivan and Mendelssohn sound so much alike) who gave promise of restoring British music to a place of honor among nations. It was Sullivan who had provided the lilting operatic melodies that brought British music to the puckered lips of half the world.

        Of course, Sullivan wrote those melodies for words by Gilbert but it was not Sullivan whose libretti lampooned the English legal system in Trial by Jury, or who had pulled the pigtailed periwigs of the House of Lords in Iolanthe or who consistently pointed out the absurdities of the British class system; it was Gilbert. Above all, it was this same William S. Gilbert who had reduced the mighty British navy to a laughable ruin in "that infernal nonsense Pinafore" (as Gilbert himself would refer to it later in The Pirates Of Penzance). So, while she was lavish in honoring Sullivan's achievements, when it came to Gilbert, she was definitely "not amused."

        At the finale of CenterStage's new, scaled-down yet glittering production of H.M.S. Pinafore, the entire company is lustily singing the mock-heroic "For He Is An Englishman." At the last chorus, the actors gather together and begin to move forward into brighter light and the actress playing the part identified only as Little Girl is at the center of them. She is cradling a doll in her right arm and carrying a sparkler. When she comes into the light we see that the doll is a cabbagepatch-type replica of Queen Victoria. If the face on that doll is any indication, Victoria, some 120 years later, is still very much not amused.

        Well, to hell with her! For, as the stage went to black with the final chords, the audience leapt to its feet with shouts of "Bravo!" and rattled the I-beam rafters of the Head Theater with sustained and enthusiastic applause. When the lights came up for curtain calls, the cast members were obviously very gratified by the response. They also seemed slightly surprised. They shouldn't have been, for we had just witnessed what may well be the finest production of Pinafore that has ever rollicked across a stage --- any stage, anywhere. We, in point of fact, had been very much amused and we were determined to let them know it.

        Note that I said the finest production, not simply performance. Almost everything about this theatrical enterprise threatens to exhaust the supply of superlatives: the acting, the choreography, the voices, the casting, the lighting, the set, the orchestrations, the direction .... Have I left anything out? If I have, I apologize but hasten to assure you that it is superlative, too. This is a great evening at the theatre.

        Let's start at the beginning; in fact, before the beginning. Gilbert and Sullivan operettas have been done (mostly overdone) for literally a hundred years. They have become the easy auditorium fillers for schools, amateur theatrical societies, light opera companies, and various assemblages of pretty good voices, ham actors, and choirmasters sickened by a steady diet of "Lead, Kindly Light." H.M.S. Pinafore and The Mikado were Oklahoma! and The Sound of Music before those present day stalwarts were licensed for amateur production. "Doing G&S" has always been much like writing atonal music. It is easy to do badly.

        Over the years Sullivan's music has pretty effectively reduced Gilbert's libretti to filler between "star turns" for Uncle Harry (straining the seams of his old uniform from the Loyal Order of the Rhinoceros) as the Major General and Louise Cleavage of the Ladies' Auxiliary (force-fed into a kimono) as a superannuated Pitti-Sing. "Everybody knew" that the plots are outdated hokum and everybody played their parts that way, with sly winks and an "elbow in the ribs of the audience" attitude --- even the revered D'Oyly Carte Opera Company for whom they had been written. Well, the plots are hokum --- very serious hokum and they need no help from the ignorant patronizing of amateurs (or professionals) to make them funny. This was evident to me as I found myself guffawing at spoken lines and lyrics that I had heard a hundred times before.

       Director Irene Lewis has given us not only an inventive and brilliant production but a thoughtful (I am tempted to say scholarly) one. It is a production that lets the play speak for itself; one that is not over-shadowed by the familiar music or by star turns for show-off actors and singers. The result is that we see that the libretto is funny, not quaint; that the plot is intentionally absurd in its resolution, not the result of a hack sentimental writer. In short, Irene Lewis and CenterStage have done for H.M.S. Pinafore what John McGlinn and the Goodspeed Opera House did for Showboat: they have removed the barnacles and allowed us to see the sleek lines of the original.

        This is not to say that the production is mere theatrical archaeology. By no means. Ms. Lewis' Pinafore is a small explosive device with multiple charges, a "Gilbert and Sullivan meet the 4th of July" affair, that from its opening moments makes you realize that something special is going to happen here; that you are in for one hell of a night at the operetta.

        Irene Lewis has assembled an energetic and attractive cast that functions well as a unit. The overall impression is that these people enjoy the material and are having a helluva good time doing it. As in all good productions, the performances feed off one another and it makes the players' enthusiasm contagious.

        Hal Cazalet is a suitably love-sick Ralph Rackstraw and brings a beautifully clear, sure tenor voice to a part often given to a would-be Domingo with a vibrato of a major third. The part is more difficult than it might appear. Ralph's protestations of love are couched in Dickensian rhetoric while his other dialogue is more appropriate to the simple sailor that he is. Actors in this role often go over the top and play the entire role like Cyrano. Mr. Cazalet is disciplined, convincing, and immensely likeable. He brings such feeling to "A Maiden Fair To See" that you want to clap him on the shoulder and say, "Cheer up, mate. Wait til the second act."

        As Josephine, the Captain's Daughter, the aforesaid maiden fair to see, and the love of Ralph's life, Susan Emerson is a delight. Possessing the one "operatic" voice in the production, she brings power and pathos to "Sorry Her Lot" and "The Hours Creep On Apace." She also has a fine sense of physical comedy and her adroit maneuvering to avoid any contact with her would-be suitor, the impossible Sir Joseph Porter, is amusing but never silly.

        Tom Flynn is Captain Corcoran, the Captain of the Pinafore, and he's a right good Captain, too. The comic effect Mr. Flynn can achieve with an understated twitch of the mouth, roll of the eyes, and a tugging of the jacket is truly wondeful. Until I saw Mr. Flynn's Captain Corcoran, I never realized what a good part it really is. Flynn's sense of physical comedy is also well developed but it is his sense of the "music" of a comic line --- timing and careful inflection --- that not only does justice to Gilbert's comic dialogue but brings depth to a character that is so often played in two dimensions. Given the range, flexibility, and strength of his speaking voice, Mr. Flynn's "Fair Moon, To Thee I Sing" could have been presented with a bit more feeling and power.

        At first, Harriet D. Foy may seem an odd choice for Little Buttercup (a.k.a. Mrs. Cripps). She is not the traditional Oliver Hardy Buttercup, she is not a simpering flirt, and she is not Caucasian. Ms. Foy's Buttercup is Jamaican and she cloaks the role with a sense of mystery that is quite in keeping with the plot. There is an undertone of darkness to H.M.S. Pinafore that is mostly overlooked or ignored, if it is recognized at all. Harriet Foy exploits this quality. In her hands Buttercup becomes a mysterious woman with a secret she dare not tell. Ms. Foy's voice has a lovely timbre and she knows how to infuse a melody with it. Her musical interpretation has a slight tinge of blues / gospel in it which serves her reading of the character very well. "Things Are Seldom What They Seem," the duet for the Captain and Buttercup, takes on an air of mystery that I never knew it had. In truth, it has never been a favorite number of mine. As sung by Ms. Foy and Mr. Flynn it shows itself to be a lovely melody which has dramatic importance. Unfortunately, the positioning of the actors and the Head Theater's mediocre acoustics have a negative effect, despite the use of body mikes. This fact was evident throughout the performance but was most unfortunate here, where the lyrics must be clearly understood.

        This brings us to Sir Joseph Porter, K.C.B. as played by Laurence O'Dwyer. This is the plum part in the show and Mr. O'Dwyer owns the tree. I have seen Martyn Greene, the most renowned Gilbert and Sullivan performer of this century, play this role in a D'Oyly Carte Opera Company production. Please be advised that Mr. O'Dwyer now owns this role. It is not just that Laurence O'Dwyer is a splendid comic actor but rather that he brings a new characterization to the part. Greene and his successors and imitators played Sir Joseph as a sort of sophisticated, world-weary fop. Mr. O'Dwyer plays Sir Joseph for what he really is: a silly, self-impressed, clueless political appointee. There is a Sir Joseph in virtually every local jurisdiction in this country, perhaps in the world. I kept wondering just where I had met this guy before --- Sir Joseph, I mean. His voice is perfect for "When I Was A Lad" and he paces the song properly. With just enough vaudeville, just enough black comedy, just enough bumbling in his interpretation, Mr. O'Dwyer takes this plum part and serves up a pudding fit for an English Christmas. Like all the performers, however, Mr. O'Dwyer never attempts to take advantage of the role. No star turn here; just good, solid, hilarious comic acting.

        As Dick Deadeye, Walter Hudson is appropriately malicious and gruesome, with makeup right out of a Hollywood slasher film. (I confess to checking his picture in the program to ascertain that he wasn't actually missing an eye.) It is a difficult part, requiring a convincing but restrained nastiness: this is, after all, comic opera. He brought just the right amount of vengeful (and comic) malice to his "Kind Captain, I've Important Information," making the duet with Tom Flynn both sinister and funny.

        Robin Lewis as the nameless Sailor, Dancer gives the production a special joy. It is he who opens the show and who punctuates its happiest moments with an athletic performance that is astounding given the small space in which he is given to perform. His pas de deux with the Little Girl is beyond description. Suffice it to say that it is enchanting without being cloying.

        The rest of the cast is equally splendid. Though they might look a tad young for the parts, Sally Willfert, Tina Marie Casamento, and Tina Johnson give properly maidenly performances as the "sisters, cousins, and aunts" to Sir Joseph. Larger productions would include a full array of these choral parts, in keeping with the lyrical reference to "sisters and his cousins whom he reckons by the dozens" but these ladies do quite well as stand-ins for the usual nameless horde of busybodies. The sailors are also reduced in number. Like their female chorus counterparts, Jody Ashworth, Stephen Schmidt, and John Tedeschi have a strength that compensates for a lack of numbers. Their voices and acting are also uniformly fine. I hesitate to single out one to the apparent and unintended neglect of the others but I noted in the program biographies that Mr. Ashworth has played Billy Bigelow in Carousel. I would like to have seen that performance: he seems perfectly suited to the part.

        Let it be recorded here that I loathe child actors and actresses. Let it also be recorded here that Sarah Cincotta has stolen my heart. In the part of the Little Girl in which she alternates with Peyton List, she belies my stereotype. She is beautiful, charming, and talented. In her dance with Mr. Lewis, she is a gleeful imp, matching his joyous performance step to step. Her solo performance was also a highlight of the evening. She has a grin that melted this curmudgeon's heart and though the role is not part of the original cast requirement, I find it difficult to imagine this production without it. I did not see Ms. List in the role but did have the pleasure of sitting near her and her mother at the opening night performance. She is also beautiful and charming and, I am sure, equally talented. It was great fun watching her watch her counterpart. It was obvious that she was enjoying Ms. Cincotta's performance and couldn't wait to get up there and join the fun.

        [As a final note to cast performances, and as an aside to this review, I would like to add that this production affirms my strong impression about the new generation of young actors and actresses that are now coming into their own. I have had the good fortune to see some of the great personalities of the stage perform during my lifetime. This generation is going to equal and, in some cases, surpass those who preceded them. They deserve our encouragement, our support, and our thanks.]

       Choreographer Willie Rosario has given the production dancing that is at once simple in concept and complex in execution. It has been a long time since I have seen choreography so well suited to a production. It takes its cue from the hornpipe but is more inventive and athletic. It is consistently delightful, and at times hilarious, to watch. The dancing is so exuberant that it's a wonder that the cast doesn't wind up in the audience's laps. It was also evident that the cast members enjoyed executing Mr. Rosario's choreography and were not just a little proud of being able to carry it off.

        The sets by John Conklin make use of out-of-perspective boxes as a foil to the main performance platforms. They have a somewhat sinister aspect to them which echo the dark undertone of the plot. Ms. Lewis has required, and Mr. Conklin has devised, ingenious ways to get characters on and off stage. Elaborating further will only serve to spoil the surprise. Suffice it to say that the sets and stage decoration are a major contribution to this wild and delightful production. They are in the grand CenterStage tradition.

       While it may be true that the new six-piece ensemble orchestrations by Mark Bennett are no match for Sullivan's rich Mendelssohnian writing, they are necessary for the scaled-down production and serve as another way of keeping the "traditional" reading of the play at arm's length. Though jarring at first to one used to the original orchestrations, they are in themselves quite lovely, marvelously inventive for the resources at hand, and perfectly suited to the smaller venue of the Head Theater. They would go a long way toward improving other productions of the play which may have limited resources.

       Go see this production. It will amaze you, enchant you, reduce you to helpless laughter and at times touch your heart. Moreover, it will introduce you to some fine young players and most definitely change your opinion about how Gilbert and Sullivan should be performed. "Never mind the why and wherefore," JUST GO!

                                                                                     -- Peter Matthews