HMS Pinafore – the Carl Rosa Opera, Theatre Royal, Glasgow

shipThe libretto of HMS Pinafore has at its centre a character, in the form of Sir Joseph Porter, who has risen to a status far exceding his talent. There was a certain irony then in the casting of Mr John Savident who, though he looked the part, was wading way out of his depth and would have been wise to keep his feet firmly ashore, treading the familiar pavements of Coronation Street. He could not sing and he could not remember the words that he was supposed to be singing. The ability to sing and to do so using Mr Gilbert’s words are not entirely optional in the production of the Savoy Operas.

Even at its best, there did not look to be a competent crew aboard this Pinafore and whenever the Admiral strode the deck, a palpable sense of nervousness seemed to be catching amongst the rest of the company. The sisters and the cousins and the aunts of the female chorus did a little better at annunciating their words than the sailors, not all of whom knew the lyrics any better than their first Sea Lord, but neither the gentlemen nor the ladies spent the whole evening singing in time with what was going on in the pit.

Rare patches of sunlight shone on the production in the form of some beautiful singing by Olivia Safe as a lovely Josephine.

There can be something endearing and even charming in the production of the works of Gilbert and Sullivan even when performed by amateur companies who can make up for a lack of talent with boisterous enthusiasm and commitment. Such things were absent amongst this professional outfit who looked under rehearsed and under prepared.

Even the bows at the end of the production got into a fankle when the orchestra were acknowledged by Miss Safe before all the cast (in particular Mr Savident) had received the lukewarm adulation of the crowd. One felt she had a point.

This was the first night of a three and a half month tour that will take the ship to Brighton, Wimbledon, Norwich, Belfast, Bath and other points around Blighty.

However the production ends up by the time it gets to Windsor in June, one thing was clear from its opening night in Glasgow.

This ship was not fit to sail.

Rating: ★½☆☆☆

An Inspector Calls – Theatre Royal (Review updated)

Stephen Daldry’s production of An Inspector Calls is a thundering, brooding, iron-clad show which makes for a very safe bet on a February Friday night in Glasgow.

It is a delight that in such a manicured production as this, the play still shines out as being interesting in itself. Notwithstanding the big-bucks set and the almost pitch-perfect ensemble acting, it is, on reflection, the play which still intrigues. Here it is sold to us as a thriller. In the past it has been filmed as a ghost story. For me, I think it will always be simply a morality play. The word “thriller” is not here used simply to pack them in. The chilling music and severe lighting all rack up the tension throughout. Indeed, one particular lighting change (which came just before the Inspector’s big sermon) even managed to eclipse the set which responded appropriately to the devastation and disintegration being wrought on the Birling family.

It is about 14 years since I last saw the Inspector call. In that time, his prophecy that unless we learn to live with each other we will see fire and blood and anguish seems all the more pertinent.

An Inspector Calls was written by a post-war playwright who seemed to think that had the world embraced socialist values, the horrors of the two world wars would not have happened. However, the audience these days is likely to be made up of late-Western capitalists who will probably interpret the play as a call to experience a certain amount of satisfying liberal guilt and hand-wringing before going home to chatter about when house prices will start going up again.

For today’s audience, the play scarcely foreshadows the agony of war and holocaust so much as the Inspector prefigures Dr Who. Notwithstanding his flawed presumption that socialism alone could have stopped Hitler, the sensibilities of the modern audience are hardly the fault of JB Priestley.

If this is a who-done-it, the answer is still obvious.

We did.

Rating: ★★★★☆