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Baritonal Blarney (or William at Waterford) is a series of posts which I have been writing for Savoynet, the famous and indispensible Gilbert and Sullivan internet list. Here it is so far... Note: Names may have been changed to protect the innocent (i.e. me). And possibly a few facts as well. |
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Episode 1 On a sunny and pleasantly warm afternoon in early August, I found myself sitting in The Old Clubhouse in Buxton finishing a pint of Guinness. As you do. The two productions in which I had come to The International Gilbert and Sullivan Festival to perform were over: Davids Cookson and Duffey's Peak Opera Trial by Jury had been a triumph; Dick and Diana's Savoynet Iolanthe of the previous night was already being touted by those in-the-know as the best amateur Iolanthe that anyone had ever seen, and England were soundly thrashing Australia at the cricket. In short, all was right with the world. Neil Smith, Festival Secretary and known to most Savoynetters I suspect, wandered up and offered to buy me a fresh pint. My suspicions should have been immediately aroused by this phenomenally rare occurrance I know, but just at that moment another Aussie wicket fell, and I must confess that my defences were momentarily down. Ian and Neil Smith were recruiting a cast for a Yeomen of the Guard to take to The Waterford International Light Opera Festival in late September, and they were in need of a Second Yeoman. Could I do it? Rehearsals would take place over three September weekends in Halifax, Yorkshire, followed by a single perfromance at The Theatre Royal Waterford, Ireland, on 28th September. I couldn't spare one weekend, let alone three, would have no money left after a fortnight in Buxton - my little business certainly couldn't stand me taking another holiday before Christmas at the earliest - I couldn't see how, carless, I was going to be able to get to Halifax (275 miles away) one, let alone three weekends running; furthermore I didn't have a passport, and in any case I had promised my mother that I would look after the cat whilst she was on holiday for two of the weekends. In short there was absolutely and utterly no way at all that I could accept Neil's offer. After several micro-seconds of careful consideration I found myself saying "Great, I'll do it." To be continued..... |
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Episode 2 At 6a.m. on a recent Saturday morning I was awoken from my fitful sleep on a sofa-bed in Alison and Stuart Box's well-appointed dining room, by the PING of the microwave oven. An 18 year old eating-machine called John, the middle Box child, was up early and heating up curry for breakfast. Leaving at 6.30a.m. we were Chrysler-borne up the M1 through the most torrential rain that I have experienced since I last dared to venture to the north (i.e. Buxton six weeks ago), and a mere five and a half hours later Stuart, Lizzie Duffey, Ian Henderson and I were arriving in Halifax at our rehearsal venue, a grimy church on a hill, a hundred yards from where John Reed lives, I was rather impressed to hear. It was noon and we were two hours late, but didn't seem to have missed much because the pianist hadn't turned up and the entire cast had deserted and wandered off to the pub. This was clearly going to be my kind of production. You may recall that the point of all this driving up and down England (remember USA, Canadian and Australian 'Netters that although you lot may be used to travelling vast distances to a rehearsal or a Qwert, for we Brits a 500+ mile round-trip for a weekend of singing is generally considered a long way) was to rehearse a Yeomen of the Guard, over three weekends, which we intend to take to The Waterford Light Opera Festival in Ireland next week (28th Sept). "Who is in the cast?" I hear you cry. Well impressarios Ian and Neil Smith (themselves playing First and Second Citizens) had been busy recruiting at Buxton, and the cast includes Ian Henderson (Shadbolt), David Duffey (Sergeant Meryll), John Savournin (Lieutenant), Emma Southorn (Phoebe - she was that superb Abbots Langley Phoebe who stole the show, remember?), Alison Davis (Dame Carruthers - her Katisha for Sale had won her Best Female Performer 2005), and Adam Hepkin (Jack Point - his J. W. Wells had won Best Male Performer 2004, and he was a 2005 Peak Opera Juryman). Stuart Box and I are First and Second Yeomen respectively. The chorus includes some familiar faces from Buxton Youth productions, plus some locals: I may tell you something about several of them next time, but I'll have to double-check that they or their nearest-and-dearest are not Savoynetters first! At length, the pianist now present and the cast having been prised out of the pub, I encountered Jim Newby. Doubling as both Musical and Stage Director, he knows Yeomen intimately and seldom needs to consult the score. He conducts at briskish tempi, sometimes with a pencil as a baton, sometimes a lit cigarette. Knowing precisely what he wants, both musically and dramatically, he will get us to repeat a passage or scene four or five times until it is as he wants it. He hasn't lost his temper once. Amazing. I will spare you the other details of our rehearsals, but I think you get the idea - the whole enterprise is very much like a Savoynet or Festival production at Buxton, with a short period of intensive rehearsals, a dress rehearsal, and a single all-or-nothing performance, in this case in Waterford's famous little 18th century Theatre Royal. There are some fascinating tales to tell of the quaint and curious bed-and-breakfast accomodation that Neil Smith has managed to book for us and our attempts to find it, but this would be too much excitement for you all at once, so it will have to wait until next time. |
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Episode 3 (now illustrated!) [Note: the photos are intended to give a flavour only - I make no great claims as to their quality: they were snapped when I had the odd spare moment.] Well the performance has been performed and we are back from Ireland. But you'll just have to wait a little longer before I tell you about our trip and the performance (Not to mention the absolutely fascinating results of my research into the effects of large amounts of Guinness on the digestive system.) Leaving West Sussex at 6.30a.m. and reaching Halifax between 11a.m. and noon, I think that those of us from the South Coast spent more time travelling than we did rehearsing. Once there imagine us, if you will, in the foyer of the Victorian soot-stained church on a hill high above Halifax. [see exhibits A and B]: picture we yeomen being drilled, and the citizens prectising being busy in a market, all supervised by Jim Newby, his cigarette smoke almost obscuring the large "no smoking"sign on the wall. Throughout the day more cast members arrive, and so each time we run through them, the crowd scenes have to be adjusted slightly to accomodate the extra numbers. Principals come and go - some can only make Saturday, others first role up late Sunday morning - and one longs for the discipline of a Buxton Savoynet production and a rehearsal with everyone present at once. |
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Exhibit A. Church on hill, high above Halifax, where our Saturday rehearsals for Yeomen were held: (oxygen masks desirable due to extreme altitude). |
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Exhibit B. Yeomen rehearsal taking place inside the church; (gas masks desirable due to extreme cigarette fumes.) |
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Then on Sundays we are at the Halifax Liberal Club [see Exhibit C], an even blacker Victorian building 100 yards even higher up the hill, where we rehearse in a large dark function room upstairs, the floor slightly sticky from the spillage of decades of beer [Exhibit D]. A selection of pianists play for us - the best Hilary Morgan, Buxton G&S Festival accompanist; the worst John Savournin jnr. (our Lieutenant), saving the day by bravely stepping in for an otherwise pianist-less hour with his unique and rather stylish three-finger version of the Yeomen score. |
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Exhibit C. Halifax Liberal Club, venue for our Sunday rehearsals. Alas the photo doesn't really catch the full grimey splendour of this glorious Victorian edifice. |
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Exhibit D. Rehearsing inside the Liberal Club: the floor was so sticky with a decade of spilt beer that the chorus member in white, who foolishly put her hand on it, found herself stuck for a considerable period, and it took several of us, and considerable patience, to free her without removing too much skin. |
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I am firmly of the opinion that one of the keys to a good production of Yeomen of the Guard is the halberds. Firstly they must be of the correct weight (i.e.very heavy) and with blades made of solid steel (alright, they can be blunt if you insist) so that should they clash together there is a metallic sound, and when someone is hit by accident there is an authentic scream. Secondly they must be available to the yeomen at every rehearsal (and not just substitutes - broomsticks etc.) so that they are handled with ease and experience. We are fortunate in having both, although they weren't easy at first: David Craig and I managed to lock halberds solidly together during a run of the Act 1 finale, which gave it a novel slapstick feel which was sadly not appreciated by the Director. On the Saturday evenings Neil Smith had arranged for the cast to stay in a variety of local hotels, and on one occasion Stuart and I followed Neil's car to ours, the Beethoven Hotel, which turned out to be in the hands of a pair of teenage brothers, their parents, the proprietors, being away on holiday. As a none-too-bright youth in a tracksuit failed to find a key that would fit the door to the basement that allegedly housed our rooms, we all wisely made our excuses and bid a hasty retreat, and the ever-resourceful Neil got out his Yellow Pages and made alternative arrangememts. So it was that Stuart and I found ourselves first in a convoy of three cars following Neil's halberd-laden Range Rover through the rabbit-warren-like backstreets of Halifax being led, we hoped, to The Wool Sellers Hotel; Jill and David Duffey followed us, Hilary Morgan followed them. Some traffic lights started changing, and Neil put his foot down and disappeared over the horizon, seemingly unaware that he had left us all behind waiting for the lights to change. As soon as they did we shot off in the direction that we hoped Neil had gone, and indeed I soon spotted Neil parked down a side-street, presumably waiting for us, as we drove past it. Stuart did a sharp U-turn, hoping that the Duffeys and Hilary would see us and would do likewise, and we waved frantically at them as they passed us going the other way. We found Neil and waited. Alas it soon became apparent that our wait was in vain, so Neil went off in search of them leaving us with directions to the hotel. Following the directions to the letter we found ourselves at Sainsburys supermarket, which didn't seem right. Halifax's delightful one-way system afforded us a scenic tour of this gem of a Victorian Industrial town before we could get back to where we had started. When we did we tried again, and this time ended up in a multi-storey carpark. Despite the soothing effects of another tour of the town, I'm sorry to say that Stuart was showing signs of losing his cool, and I heard him utter several distinctly un-Box-like words. We turned down a side street in search of someone who could give us directions, and found ourselves outside The Wool Sellers Hotel, with Neil, Hilary, Jill and David standing outside waiting for us [see Exhibit E]. |
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Exhibit E. The Wool Sellers Hotel, a converted woollen mill. I took the piles of furniture in some of the corridors for an avant-guard design-feature, but it turns out that they are just in the middle of refitting some of the rooms. The two figures acting strangely in front of the hotel are cast members John Savournin and Mark Burns, very generously attempting to add interest to what they (rightly) feared would be an otherwise rather dull photo. |
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If you are still reading this then you are doubtless keen to find out how our performance of Yeomen in Halifax last Sunday went, not to mention wondering whether I'm ever going to get on to telling you about the Irish trip and the Waterford gig. Well the answer is that you'll have to hang on a little longer! To be continued..... |
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Episode 4 Three weekends of rehearsing the Newby/Smith Yeomen of the Guard were coming to an end on Sunday 25th September, and rather than cram a dress-rehearsal into the afternoon of the performance in waterford on the following Wednesday, it was decided that we would give one on the Sunday afternoon in Yorkshire. When the need for this became apparent Ian and Neil contacted every possible venue in the Bradford/Halifax area. Would we be on the fine stage of the Bingley Arts Centre, or perhaps the lovely Alhambra Theatre? No, it was to be nothing less than the full splendour of the Bradford Lithuanian Club Hall for us. I imagined it was going to be similar to the Halifax Liberal Club (see Baritonal Blarney part 3 for details), but with a floor sticky with decades of spilt vodka instead of Yorkshire bitter. But at the last minute the Smiths obtained the use of a modern school theatre in Elland, near Halifax instead, which was perfect for our needs. Exhibit F gives an idea of the auditorium. |
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Exhibit F: the school theatre that was the venue for our Sunday performance of Yeomen. The dark blue curtains have been drawn to the size of the stage we will have at Waterford. Tiny eh? |
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We had rehearsed in the school theatre on Saturday, with various chorus members arriving throughout the day, which meant that every time we ran an ensemble scene it was slightly different as the stage became more and more crowded. A particularly loud-mouthed woman (she doesn't have a computer - I discretely checked!), who the previous week had made it clear in a penetrating voice that she thought that she should have been cast as Dame Carruthers (I fear that she was sadly mistaken), in lieu became a self-appointed assistant-director and tried to rearrange various ensemble scenes (to her own advantage) whenever Jim's back was turned, which proved most entertaining. Saturday night was spent at the Wool Sellers Hotel, which I think I told you about last time: young John Savournin and Mark Burns were in the twin room that Stuart and I had occupied the previous week, and I amused myself by trying to convince them that it was haunted. Rather spookily they reported that their TV and various lights turned themselves on in the night, but I suspect that this is more a reflection on the slightly esoteric wiring than on paranormal activity. |
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Exhibit G: next to the stage was this gymnasium where we all changed - every theatre should have one: during Act 2 of Patience the dragoons can have a game of basketball while they wait for the finale. |
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On the Sunday morning Stuart led a convoy of cars from the hotel, over the hill back to Elland. This event would have been totally devoid of interest had not Stuart's brand-new SatNav thingy (state-of-the-art and totally necessary for his work - not a new toy at all: how dare you suggest such a thing) developed a lisp. A dark and dusky female voice sexily invited us to "protheed for thixth hundred yardth", and at any moment I expected: "turn left now: I'm currently wearing only thtockingth and thuthpenderth." In the morning Jim took us through a few fragments of chorus music that had gone awry, and a selection of ensemble scenes were walked-through, now that we had the rostrum at the back of the stage (plus some steps down to one of the entrances), that we would have in Waterford. We wouldn't see the rest of the set until we got to Ireland. The performance was at 3pm in front of an invited audience of perhaps 150; rather than charge for entry, Jill and Lizzie Duffey did a magnificent job selling programmes and refreshments, and succeeded in parting them from quite a few hundreds of their pounds, which went towards the cost of taking us all to Waterford. I have always been deeply impressed by the way that otherwise deeply modest and shy people, once under the influence of opera, are willing to strip off and change into costumes, despite the presence of dozens of other people of both sexes in the same room, or in this case, gymnasium: this one was next to the stage and can be seen in Exhibit G. We then performed Yeomen: Jim Newby's tempi are on the brisk side, which I like very much - they seem absolutely right to me. His pace of dialogue is the slowest I've heard for Yeomen, and he has a liking for pregnant, not to say Pinteresque, pauses: this worked well enough with Shadbolt and Phoebe's business, but the scene with Point and the Lieutenant, and virtually every scene involving Fairfax, seemed rather laboured. |
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Exhibit H: David Duffey demonstrates that the secret to a good interpretation of Sergeant Meryll lies in getting the eyebrows right. |
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I may tell you more next time, but for the moment I shall mention just four performances which in my opinion were special in some way. Firstly Emma Southorn's Phoebe: some of you will have seen this interpretation in Abbots Langley's Yeomen at Buxton 2005. Very natural and funny, I loved the way that when she came on in the Act 1 finale she smiled at each Yeoman (because of course they are all old friends and quasi-uncles). She was the perfect foil for the second I shall mention, Ian Henderson's Shadbolt. Ian has the magnificent voice that we all know, and of course he is a formidable actor: I don't think I want to see Shadbolt played any other way. Ian made him a believable person, rather than the grotesque caricature we are often treated to. Jim kept him well in check (for example he didn't allow Shadbolt to blow his nose on the cloth prior to it being used to blindfold Elsie), and one distinctly felt that Phoebe and Shadbolt might be quite happy together in the end. Dramatically speaking David Duffey was Sergeant Meryll - David's natural gruff paternalism (not to mention his arthritic right leg, which becomes a war-wound on stage), made him perfect for the role. His fatherliness (Jim let him sing "A Laughing Boy") and his gloating when Shadbolt is seemingly led off to be executed at the end of Act 1, were a revelation. I have sung Meryll myself and am due to do again in a month's time: when I mentioned to David that I was carefully noting the way that he said various lines so that I could imitate them, he looked at me with a weary and pained expression and said: "My boy, don't copy me; make the part your own." If David's proposed Stagecraft Workshops at Buxton next year are not packed then I'll be amazed. I'm not intending to copy his eyebrows however (see Exhibit H). |
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Exhibit I: Adam Hepkin and Emma Mills as Point and Elsie. In the background is Mark Burns, our youngest yeoman, and the only one slim enough to be able to almost totally conceal himself behind a halberd. |
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Fourthly, and best of all, is 21 year-old Adam Hepkin (Exhibit I shows him with Emma Mills, our Elsie): winner of Best Male Performer in 2004 at Buxton for his J. W. Wells, he is a fine actor and singer, and his Point is an extraordinary thing. At the end of the opera he staggered on, half singing his music, half crying, holding his hand out and sobbing: "Elsie" as he tried to reprise their Act 1 dance before collapsing. We all froze as the curtain closed and opened, and then stood, heads bowed, Point still dead on the ground, until the curtain had finished going in and out. I think at least a third of the cast were in tears, including me, and I had made a point of trying not to get emotionally involved. |
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Exhibit J: Stuart "I sometimes dabble in a serenade" Box, First Yeoman, guarding a carrier bag. |
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Exhibit K: me as Second Yeoman: during the Changing of the Guard someone seems to have stolen the carrier bag. |
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Exhibit J shows Stuart Box as First Yeoman, and Exhibit K shows me as Second. Exhibit L shows Ian and Neil Smith who, as well as organising and partially financing the entire enterprise, were First and Second Citizens: they entered into their roles in a way that was truly impressive, and the enthusiasm with which Neil beat up Jack Point and kicked him on the ground was worryingly realistic. To be continued.... (and next time I promise that we'll actually get to Ireland!) |
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Exhibit L: Ian and Neil Smith, our First and Second Citizens: a dodgy-looking pair - I wouldn't trust them to run a bath, let alone a festival. |
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