Patience, opening night review. “The Standard”, London, Monday, April 25, 1881.

“There is even less plot in this than in the previous productions of Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan but it was found on Saturday evening that there was quite enough for the purpose, and the simultaneous peels [sic] of laughter from all parts of the theatre showed that the satire went home.” 

Now, Patience has found another home, from now until June 15, in the company of Light Opera of Portland, at Portland’s Brunish Theater.

Patience, also titled Bunthorne’s Bride, is a slow burn that gets delightful gusts of wind before becoming ablaze with Gilbert’s satiric wit. All of the joyous absurdity ahead would be a muddle if certain essential characters and themes were not introduced. LOoP performers and artistic staff gave it their all in the operetta’s first scenes, leaning into the time necessary to develop character and plot. And bravo to them for the energy.

You first meet the diaphanously-draped maidens, posing like “Grecian urns” at every fifth step, who must explain – several times over – that their palpable misery is because a guy named Reginald, “the very cynosure of our eyes and hearts,” loves them – all of them – not. Four “named” maidens – Ella, Angela, Jane, and Saphir – serve as spokeswomen for the chorus of 12, the perfect size for the Brunish Stage (although apologies to the opening song, “Twenty love-sick maidens we”). Kudos to Lindsey Lefler, Ashley Moore, Sara Rivara and Morena Colombetti whose clear lyrics, expressive acting and rich tones introduce the storyline.

Then we must meet Patience the milkmaid, played by Kayla Ray, who, observing their misery, pities the maidens and declares she is resolutely happier being “free from [love’s] ministrations” and not at all interested in Reginald’s yearning for her. Ray’s voice is perfect for Patience. Her pitch-perfect shimmering vibrato, present and natural in all registers, brought forth the character’s radiance – as did Ray’s smile. The smile and her authentic joie de vivre – and her tiny little sun hat – were such a salve for the maiden’s relentless grimaces and affectations.

Of course, the maidens find her attitude deplorable. Lady Jane, who is quickly emerging as a mature voice among the maidens, states that though love might be “easily mistaken for indigestion” it is instead “aesthetic transfiguration.” 

Ah ha! There it is. The guiding premise of the entire work. All things aesthetic are in; all things not are out. Now it all makes perfect nonsense.

Which is a great cue for the entrance of the Dragoon Guards. A good bumbling men’s chorus is always a delight for G&S audiences. They can be a choreographic car-crash and we love them still. The Dragoons do not let us down nor does Casey Lebold who portrays Colonel Calverley.

Lebold awed with his authoritative, resonant voice and agile tongue in his semi-patter song – in a perfect tempo – that’s a son-of-a gunne; it’s practically a history lesson in which the Dragoons are the “residuum.” Yes, historic residue, and darn proud of it as you can see here.

This staunch dedication to resisting change – and Aestheticism – is reinforced by the Duke of Dunstable, a Dragoon Lieutenant, who, wishing to shed the attention his title confers, riffs on toffee. The toffee exposition is tedious because the Duke is meant to be tedious. In fact the Duke likes being tedious which is why he joined the “second-class regiment” to begin with. And, by golly, Riven Dederian nails tedium “to a T.” “You’re about as commonplace a young man as ever I saw,” confirms the Colonel and to the Duke’s delight all Dragoons wholeheartedly agree.

At this point in the operetta Messrs. Gilbert and Sullivan must give us something more. We completely understand that the contrasting misery and joy of love are in play but we sense – we hope – that something is about to shake things up. Nope, not something, someone. G&S’s quintessential representation of all things aesthetic in 1881, Reginald Bunthorne. Feel free to interpret that name as you wish.

He enters with nose aloft appearing completely unaware – although he is – of the miserable maidens processing behind him singing “in a doleful train, two and two we walk all day for we love in vain!” The Dragoons, observing the procession of maidens who only a year ago professed their love to them, lament “they all prefer this melancholy, literary man.” 

That aesthete and literary Bunthorne is played by LOoP Artistic Director and performer Laurence Cox. Before each show, Cox always greets the audience in street clothes and it is such a treat. Why? Because when his character makes his stage entrance the transformation is such a delightful contrast. And this, folks, is a good one.

Bunthorne is clothed, as per Gilbert’s script, in a hideous shade of green – let’s name it avochoke – with fabric of a velvetine-ish sheen that doesn’t so much fit as lay upon his padded frame. And his hair? Think early Donny Osmond. In one hand a journal, the other a pencil and his anguish over finishing “Oh, Hollow, Hollow, Hollow” sends the maidens into ecstasy. “He has,” swoons Lady Jane, “come over us. He has come among us, he has idealized us.” Feel free to interpret that phrase as you wish.

The story accelerates. The ladies insult the Dragoons’ uniforms – decidedly not au courant – and everybody leaves the stage. Dunthorne, now quite alone, sings an aria that reveals his true nature, and Cox’s many talents. Cox performs Bunthorne’s motivational confession as both sincere and conniving. When an audience senses more than one nature in a character they get more involved. Cox turns a performance into art. 

Catch the revelatory lyrics in this performance of “Am I Alone and Unobserved?”

By this time our poor Patience is struggling. She has resolutely rejected Bunthorne because he is, well, Bunthorne, but feels she has been wicked for shirking her duty to experience love’s anguish and now vows “I won’t go to bed until I am head over ears in love with somebody.” Hmmm. But as Angela consoles her she recalls that she did once, as a child, love a little boy. After a lovely duet by these two nicely matched voices, Patience turns to find our final significant character, Archibald Grosvenor. 

This young man, portrayed by Lincoln Thomas, is unsettled, tense, annoyingly enamored of his own physical beauty and desperately trying to appear aesthete. It took Thomas a bit to settle in on this opening night, but he soon found his stride and his fine voice. Turns out that Grosvenor is Patience’s beloved childhood friend – of course he is – and after one duet in which Grosvenor the peacock, equating aestheticism with rudeness, decides the “homely” Patience would be his ideal plain wife. And since she now believes that being unworthy of such a man is character building, they vow to wed. Sigh.

Enter the hilariously absurd “cymbolic” procession of ladies and the now garishly garlanded Bunthorne who announces that he has decided – since he is such a prize – to raffle himself off. Act I concludes with the entire ensemble in a brilliant, over-the-top hot mess of confusion, jealousy, switcheroos, revelations…and a lot more questions to be answered. 

It has taken one hour for Gilbert to satirize the Aestheticism fad of the late 1800s, poke fun at the military ranks yet again, portray young ladies as flibbertigibbets free for the taking and even turn his satirical wit upon himself. Sullivan has set Gilbert’s libretto to music not profound but fitting and some of the esteemed composer’s most memorable pieces are yet to come in Act Two.

Musical Director Josh Pounders made some heroic opening-night catches – primarily regarding locking in the beat – but he, and the vocalists, pulled through. The 10-piece orchestra, tucked behind an upstage left curtain, played well. The score is written for full orchestra but the civic band sound of this 3-strings, 6-winds and keyboard ensemble felt just right for this company. Well done.

Also just right was a large singular piece of scenery with an elevated step, Castle Bunthorne. The choruses could process comfortably from upstage right and through the audience aisles and had plenty of room to execute their contained but effective choreography. In this story where so much is about “posing” choreographer Ireland McNeill uses stillness to advantage with melodramatic “holds” requiring balance and strength. 

And of course, there is costuming – accomplished by a LOoP crew of thirteen, many of them performing members as well, who remind us of the commitment these folks make to art in their community. You have had the pleasure of seeing some of these loyal Savoyards on stage for decades. Thank you all for bringing the characters to life with needle and thread and silly hats.

Pleasures to come

Act Two. You’ll read no more plot spoilers in this reflection. If Patience – whom some believe is Gilbert and Sullivan’s funniest opera – is unknown to you, it might be more fun to walk innocently into the twists and turns – all the way to the final bars of music – when you see this show sometime in the next two weekends. Several fine online resources, like this one, can provide full synopsis if you wish.

But we will reflect on some special moments from opening night – hints at some pleasures to come. 

Sara Rivara, also Producer of this production, reveals, with fine acting and a wonderful contralto range, Lady Jane’s deepest fears in “Sad is That Woman’s Lot” but recovers sufficiently to connive with Bunthorne on how to get Grosvenor to become more overtly aesthetic so he, Bunthorne, can be more…oops, sorry. No spoiling, “So, go to him and say to him” is a charming duet that can tell the story itself. 

More poetry than song, “A Magnet Hung in a Hardware Shop” reminds us that William Gilbert was a comedic poet and illustrator. Thomas as Gosvenor did a fine job delivering this fable song to the adoring maidens. Read the poem here. 

Now a staple in the soprano repertoire, “Love is a Plaintiff Song” is a beautiful fit for Ray’s high soprano and she delivers it flawlessly.

What of Patience and her “little boy”? 

What can the Dragoons do to win back their lady loves? Here’s a clue from one of the funniest bits.

Does everyone end up happy? 

Ah. Feel free to interpret happiness as you wish.

The premiere audience in April of 1881 sure went away happy. And ever happier was the audience of October that year when Patience was the first G&S operetta to play in the new D’Oyly Carte Savoy Theater, the first public building in the world completely lit by electricity. Patience played before appreciative audiences for 578 performances. This LOoP performance, 144 years later, is the first time the company has performed the beloved operetta. Congrats.

Let’s let Sir William Schwenck Gilbert’s words close the curtain:

Patience: Well, it seems to me to be nonsense.

Saphir: Nonsense, yes, perhaps – but oh, what precious nonsense!

Light Opera of Portland’s production of Patience is on the Brunish Theater Stage, Antoinette Hatfield Hall, on Fridays and Saturdays (7:30) and Sundays (2:00) on June 6, 7 and 8 and June 13, 14 and 15. Tickets may be purchased here. Tune in to KQAC’s Thursdays @ Three June 5 show for a preview of Light Opera of Portland’s  “Patience,” live or archived.