Iolanthe

Iolanthe is Gilbert at his most wonderfully preposterous, Sullivan at his best, and Harvard G&S only slightly unworthy of them both. But theirs is a clever and, in the end, triumphant unworthiness. They have transformed an admittedly far-out world into a farcical one, and they have done it awfully well.

Directors John Lithgow and Jane Mushabac apparently have no use for heroes, heroines, or straight men of any sort. Strephon, the young shepherd who is fairy from head to waist and mortal on down, is usually played by romantic-lead types. Lithgow and Mushabac have cast an out-and-out comic in the role, and given him plenty of room to operate. Phyllis, the shepherdess Strephon loves, is pretty much of an ingenue part, but at Agassiz she is played mostly for laughs.

And the laughs come. Lithgow himself plays the Lord Chancellor; on his first entrance he is greeted with claps of recognition which he then goes out of his way to deserve. His leg movements alone are worth the price of admission, which--incidentally--seems awfully high, regardless of the return.

As Iolanthe, Janet Walker acquits herself admirably; she sings beautifully and acts well. Jean' Taynton as the Fairy Queen is something of a ham, but a good ham is hard to come by, so who cares? Thomas Siegal would steal the show as Private Willis except that Lithgow has previously stolen it himself.

I'm not sure whether Stephen Michaels, who plays Strephon, is miscast, or has simply been directed for all the laughs he's worth. Whichever, Strephon does not emerge as the creation of Gilbert and Sullivan. Jennifer Lee Kosh as Phyllis, however, ultimately succeeds although she seems more suited to character roles than heroines.

Iolanthe conveniently divides its chorus into two parts: noblemen and fairies. The noblemen in the current production have been inadequately directed all around, and they neither sing clearly nor move in unison. For the most part the fairies fare better, but they too have their troubles. One had a noticeable case of laryngitis last night.

The failings of the chorus became particularly evident in the large numbers. Neither "Into Parliament" nor "We Are Dainty Little Fairies" is well articulated or loudly sung. The choreographer who has no separate credit but I assume to be one or both of the co-directors--doesn't handle a crowded stage any too well.

Susan Dubiner's costumes are an odd lot. The noblemen wear something resembling a toga and wigs that look as if they came out of a toy disguise kit. But maybe it's how they wear their wigs, and not the wigs themselves, that seems so ludicrous. At any rate Miss Dubiner's mass-produced fairy outfits serve well.

The scenery by William Douglas Kelley makes good use of the Agassiz stage. Nothing complicated would work there, and nothing complicated has been tried. The orchestra under the direction of James Paul is large and obviously competent.

But Lithgow and Mushabac have used this considerable talent to put over their own kind of Gilbert and Sullivan. Should this tampering with the master's work be afforded the same respect as the real thing? I'm not sure, but faced with the choice of liking it or lumping it, I like it.