Cast members point fingers in the weekend production of Harvard-Radcliffe Gilbert & Sullivan Players’ “Ruddigore,” a nineteenth century comedy operetta by William Schwenck Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan about a love triangle.

RUDDIGORE
LOCATION: Agassiz Theatre
DATEs: Dec. 1-11
DIRECTORS: J. Jacob Krause, Aram N. Demirjian ’08
PRODUCERS: Emma Katz ’06, Casey M. Lurtz ’07, Frances C. Moore ’06

The program notes for “Ruddigore” note that the original title, “Ruddygore” was deemed too racy by the nineteenth century standards, because of its similarity to the phrase “bloody gore,” which was altogether too disturbing for audiences at the time. Such Victorian sensibility pervades the work of Gilbert & Sullivan, and the Gilbert and Sullivan Players faithfully recreate it—from the singing of “God Save the Queen” at its start to the resolution-by-marriage finale.

Granted, one of the happy couples formed at the end of the operetta is composed of a living woman and a ghost. This and other ghastly touches, as well as deftly comic performances, prevent “Ruddigore” from becoming entirely bogged down in its origins.

The story is just silly. A curse requires anyone who carries the title of the Baronet of Ruddigore to commit a crime daily on pain of death. Robin Oakapple (Benjamin T. Morris ’09), the rightful baronet is hiding, presumed dead, and thus free to shyly woo young Rose Maybud (Caitlin C. Vincent ’07) in a small town, while his younger brother bears the brunt of the curse. That is, until his adopted brother Richard Dauntless (Pedro K. Kaawaloa, Jr. ’06), a much bolder sailor who is prone to having audible conversations with his heart, comes along and steals the pliable Rose.

The ensuing love triangle is complicated by the revelation of Robin’s true identity, which forces Richard to give up Rose and submit to the bullying of his dead relatives, who emerge from portraits to browbeat their less-than-imposing descendant. It’s all resolved in the end, of course. Does the method even matter? The entire story is mechanism for getting from song to song far more than the songs are a way to advance the story.

This loosely plotted form works well for the humorous aspects of the operetta—which are numerous, thanks to the content of the work, the stage direction of professional J. Jacob Krause with music direction by Aram N. Demirjian ’08, and the strong cast performances. In particular, Kaawaloa portrays Richard as a caricature of a swaggering sailor—wonderfully drunk and obnoxious but generally good-hearted. Also noteworthy is Mad Margaret, love interest of Robin’s brother, played by Jessica G. Peritz ’06 with a mixture giddiness, attention-deficit disorder, and barely suppressed homicidal psychosis.

When things take the occasional turn for the serious, however, the play’s lack of a serious story becomes apparent. The ridiculousness of most of the proceedings inspires laughs at the expense of characters or situations, so when the audience is asked to really care for the characters rather than laugh at them, the effect is more dull than touching.

Fortunately, such moments are rare lulls in the madcap momentum of the piece. The songs—including the obligatory Gilbert and Sullivan patter song, which is delivered flawlessly—are generally upbeat and full of wordplay that is more memorable than the tunes.

If music is the centerpiece of the play, it is only fitting that it is fully complemented by musicians placed front and center. In fact, the orchestra is placed right in front of the audience. While their central position is perhaps more a function of the limitations of Agassiz Theatre than anything else (as there is no pit, it is difficult to put the musicians anywhere other than front and center without banishing them backstage), this placement imbues the viewing experience with the senses of a symphony concert as well as a play. Indeed, it is tempting at times to watch the musicians as much as the actors, and thus the combination of music and drama succeeds in deepening the audience experience.

As a result of its exuberant humor, “Ruddigore” parties like it is 1889. It is difficult to think of figures more quintessentially Victorian than Gilbert and Sullivan, and this production admirably does not betray their spirit.