Topical satire has a shelf life shorter than unrefrigerated sour cream. Its sting, so reliant on the sharp poke of recognition to be effective, becomes less pointed with the passage of time. Exceptions can be enjoyed without a cavalcade of footnotes because the topical eclipses the specific. Ignorance of Socrates and ancient history does not diminish the satirical punch and pungent comedy of Aristophanes’ The Clouds. A similar lack of familiarity with Aestheticism, with Swinburne, Morris, Wilde, or Coventry Patmore, does not prevent Gilbert and Sullivan’s Patience from continuing to tickle the funny bone, particularly when it is staged with the flair and finesse of Odyssey Opera’s production. While observing many of the Savoy traditions, Odyssey’s Patience resonates most as a lampoon of fads, fame, and the fickle fans who worship at the altar of celebrity. An enthusiastic packed house made it clear they were enjoying every minute of it.
Two minimal sets, artfully incorporating elements from past productions, allowed the cast free play for swanning, swooning, languorous poses, and Larry Sousa’s antic, eccentric choreography. Amanda Mujica’s costumes were simple and traditional: white chitons for the “lovesick maidens”, pastel ones for the Ladies; cutaway and knee breeches of green velvet and a wide-brimmed hat, all modeled on one of Oscar Wilde’s American tour outfits, for Bunthorne; medieval doublet and hose for Grosvenor, and Patience in the milkmaid’s garb borrowed by Gilbert from a widely reproduced painting by Sir Luke Fildes. Grosvenor as the reformed “everyday young man” sported a loud, checked three-piece suit and bowler hat, color coordinated with the blue bicycle he rode in on while the newly-minted “everyday young girls” exchanged their chitons for full Victorian regalia accessorized with bustles, hats, and parasols.
The entire cast of impeccable singing actors employed the plummy tones and extravagant delivery familiar from the D’Oyly Carte recordings to great comic effect. Patience also adopted a rustic accent of indeterminate origin which vanished when Sara Heaton sang. Regardless of accent, Heaton’s crystalline soprano carried clearly and effortlessly. Patience’s ballad, “Love is a plaintive song” was like a shaft of moonlight, a rhapsodic interlude of repose and sadness. Some Bunthornes settle for speaking on pitch, yet Aaron Engebreth sang his part from start to finish. His Act II duets with Lady Jane and Grosvenor, both involving intricate choreography, were enthusiastically received, yielding the evening’s only encores.