Ruddigore

Out of the depths of central Ohio the Oberlin College Gilbert and Sullivan Players are back for their eleventh season on Cape Cod, and weekenders in the general vicinity of the Highfield Theatre, Falmouth, Mass., would be well advised to check them out. As usual their make-up is inept, their chorus movement imprecise, and their fourth encores gratuitous. And, as usual, nobody cares. For under the guiding hand of Prof. W. Hayden Boyers the Oberlin group epitomizes all that which is fresh and lively in college theatre.

Last week's production of Ruddigore was a well-chosen and well-performed presentation. Although never a favorite with the Victorian audience (who considered its sanguinary title a bit close to the bone), Ruddigore is a good example of middleweight G. and S. with Glibert's jibes at Gothic melodrama complemented by some wonderfully quasi-Wagnerian effects by Sullivan. Purists might object to Director Robert Gibson's use of the shorter and weaker of the two second act finales extant and to his omission of the charming duet, "The Battle's Roar Is Over," but by any standards the production is a success.

The complicated plot revolves around those old comic motifs, dissipation, insanity and betrayal. There are also ghosts. In the central role of Sir Ruthven Murgatroyd, who disguises himself as a simple farmer to escape the curse on his family, tenor Jan Ewing gave an inspired performance. It may be that his humor lies a good deal in the direction of mugging, but it is muggery of a very high order indeed. As Dick Dauntless, his nautical foster brother, Peter Larson overcame a vague singing voice by the force of his agile personality. His first act hornpipe was a show stopper.

It is the feminine contingent, however, which walked off with the evening. Looking for all the world like a rabid gnome, Margie Hertz in the part of Mad Margaret, the village looney, almost stole the show. It was a joy to watch the diminutive Miss Hertz sprinting purposefully through a forest of knees in the second act patter trio. With a lovely soprano voice and superb comic timing Kathleen Campbell played a village beauty, Rose Maybud-"sweet Rose Maybud," as she often reminds us. Demurely and discreetly, she was a girl on the Victorian make. Her turn came in the second act's "Tight Little Craft" sequence when, with a Maiden At Prayer expression transfixing her lovely visage, Miss Campbell executed a kick step which was far more Minsky than Savoy.

Under the capable baton of James Paul the 24-piece orchestra was all that one could ask for. Maestro Paul (Cape Cod's answer to Arthur Fiedler) is a highly gifted if somewhat flamboyant conductor. His tautly controlled dynamics in the ghost scene were particularly impressive.

This week for reasons best known to their talented selves the Players are presenting Blossom Time, Franz Shubert's life in song.