Iolanthe

I was sitting in Cronin's last night at a quarter to twelve, trying to review the Winthrop House production of Iolanthe without being either untruthful or pompously high-hat. It seemed impossible. Limited pools of talent and restricted rehearsal time keep the production strictly in the amateur lists--but then, the cast and production staff claim no more. To condemn them for lacking professional polish is unfair. But to praise their adequate performances without the qualifying word "amateur" would be false to the reader.

Then, from, the private party room came the pleasantly raucous sound of the cast resigning the songs they had recently finished. And it was obvious what my trouble was. Few people attend such productions in the same spirit they would see a professional performance. Either they have friends in the cast, or they want to see how the theatrical half of the College lives. So, my specific comments on last night's performance are meant as reflections on an unabashedly exuberant show, put on by people whose talents sometimes lag, but whose enthusiasm well equals that of the D'Oyly Carte company. They are players who enjoyed their singing enough to find it pleasant over a post-performance beer.

The outstanding performer was Allan Miller, as the Lord Chancellor. Closely molding his style to that of Martyn Greene's, he frolis about the stage without over much ham-bone or jump from character. Starting slowly, he hit his stride in the "Nightmare Song" and earned three encores in the following trio.

His partners in the trio are Peter Ncumann and Barry Morley as Mountararat and Tolloller, respectively. They both seem a bit more leaden than their parts demanded, but generally excellent timing made much of their comedy. Morley even had a good voice. He used it seldom in solos, but added much to the general effect. Unfortunately, Neumann's theatrical equipment does not include singing ability, but his deep voice has a passable range, and the lyrics to his one solo, "When Britain Really Ruled the Waves," are clever enough to support far less vocal talent.

Unfortunately, Joyce Freelander's Phyllis is given little that is very clever to say or sing. And so her voice, which often meanders across the proper key, is rather disturbing. Even her obvious and infections delight in being on a stage does not out-balance her inadequacy. But Dusty Gould, who played the fairy queen, came through with a clear alto to match her fine acting.