Smooth Sailing on the HMS Pinafore

H.M.S. Pinafore

directed by Elaina Vrattos

Produced by Rob Jacoby and Susanna Witt

at the Agassiz Theater

through December 11

The program for H.M.S. Pinafore describes the show as "an entirely original nautical comic opera." "Nautical" is the only original item here, for if you've seen one Gilbert and Sullivan operetta, you've seen them all. Take the beloved feel-good plot of protagonists overcoming rigid British class divisions through happy fate, play it out in an exotic new location each time, and voila! You've got instant rollicking G&S humor. Luckily, it's an attractive formula and one that is well-mastered by the Harvard-Radcliffe Gilbert and Sullivan Players.

The set, designed by Chuck Adomanis, is outstanding. The Agassiz stage becomes the quarterdeck of the H.M.S. Pinafore: A large folded sail looms above the stage, rope-ladders dangle from the balconies, varnished wood planks completely cover the floor, and a big mast and two staircases link the upper and lower decks of the ship. In the second act, the night sky is simulated by two back-projected slides, making stars twinkle. Gas lamps and the nicely-decorated captain's room add small details to this vivid environment.

Ralph Rackstraw (Joel Derfner) is a lowly sailor who falls in love with his captain's daughter, Josephine (Sarah Cullins). At the same time, the lowly peddler-woman Butter-cup (Jill Wietzner) hankers for the captain (Aaron Caughey). Neither of these longings, however, can be properly realized if we are to honor Gilbert's satirized British class distinctions, and it is this sitcom-like conflict which drives the play. Ralph professes his love for Josephine; she rejects the suitor her father has chosen and tries to elope with Ralph; Ralph is punished. Then, like a lightning-bolt from the Gods, Buttercup drops the secret that reverses fortunes and neatly resolves the plot.

The Gilbert and Sullivan Players are masters at creating spectacle. Many of the show's scenes are buttressed with cleverly-orchestrated background action: A sailor has his telescope fixed on Buttercup's buxom figure as she enters; the ship's crew produces small pocket-combs in preparing to receive a ship full of women; one particularly unhygienic sailor, who is unable to find a dancing partner, dances with a fish in a bonnet. Director Elaina Vrattos has inserted some memorable moments into the play.

There are, however, a few too many scenes which seem just to be one or two characters on stage, belting out their numbers with little else of interest. It's a shame when this happens; it's like being in a car that accelerates and comes to full-stop, again and again. The characters change moods like cartoon figures, adding to the merry simplicity of the plot and milking Gilbert's wit for all it's worth. This is effortless, fun entertainment.

Joel Derfner as Ralph Rackstraw sings in an elegant, well-projected voice with effortless transitions to higher registers. Even his speech seems melodious, as if half-sung. With arms flailing wildly about him, he gives his part some wonderfully bombastic melodrama. Jill Weitzner shines as Little Buttercup. She communicates complex thoughts with her facial expressions, and has a crystalline, resonant voice to match. Weitzner's movements capitalize almost instinctively on her physique (in the play, she is given enough weight to take down a truck). We have no doubt that she is ideally suited to this type of physical humor.

Aaron Caughey plays the Captain in suitable slapstick fashion, although his accent change in the final scene is a bit bewildering. His singing is nevertheless very solid and done with great gusto. Sarah Cullins as Josephine has a sweet, pleasant voice, but is expressionless throughout. She seems unable to sing and act simultaneously. Stephen Curtis as Josephine's suitor gives a good performance as a bumbling old fool, although his voice is a bit timid to start.

Also of mention is Gavan Meehan as the unhygienic sailor Dick Deadeye. Meehan plays his part with comic grime; his voice is so expertly characterized we can almost see the phlegm in his throat. The male chorus is picturesque and in one scene, becomes a topnotch a cappella and physical comedy troupe. This is not a women's play; the female chorus does little except hum along in the back ground. The orchestra, conducted by Gilbert Rose, is powerful without intruding upon the action onstage.

In the end, when the story has been neatly unravelled and the characters all smile with great relief, one can't help but see the simple beauty in Gilbert's formulaic creations. Like a nineteenth-century sitcom, H.M.S. Pinafore provides us with a comfortable, cozy story, slickly done and sheathed in a fine sugar coating.