Patience, Gilbert and Sullivan’s sixth operetta, is one extended late-19th-century joke. During the aesthetic craze in England, the “twenty love-sick maidens” of the show have abandoned their military fiancés to moon after a poet with long hair and pre-Raphaelite clothes. With a flimsy plot even by G&S standards, the work is clearly just an excuse to poke fun at this fad. Its ridiculousness certainly comes across in Gilbert’s words and Barbara Heroux’s staging for the Lamplighters, but over nearly three hours, the joke wears a little thin.
To be clear: this is a failure of writing, not execution. Other than occasionally ponderous tempos, the Lamplighters’ Patience gets everything right. A uniformly excellent cast and chorus inhabit a lavish production. Melissa Wortman’s costumes (revived by Miriam Lewis) are sumptuous pseudo-medieval creations of velvet and satin, with stunning arts-and-crafts embroidery. Even the Victorian bustle dresses that appear only in the final scene have spot-on silhouettes and great variety of style and color. While I drooled over the costumes, Peter Crompton’s sets had the rest of the audience gasping, especially when the curtains opened on the second act to reveal a columned marble patio overlooking a seascape.
Jennifer Mitchell sang the title role with an expressive soprano voice and a bewildering Irish accent. (I suppose this operetta is so silly that worrying about why the village milkmaid sounds like she’s from Ireland is pointless.) Her top notes sounded harsh in “I cannot tell what this love may be”, but her tone settled by “Long years ago, fourteen maybe”, where she showed a full, ringing voice and excellent storytelling ability. Cary Anne Rosko and Michele Schroder led the rest of the maidens as Lady Angela and Lady Saphir, lending those characters bright voices, arch glances, and languishing poses.
The spinster Lady Jane’s mock-tragic aria “Silvered is the raven hair” was a comedic highlight of the operetta, sung with rolling sound, comical scoops, and deadpan delivery by Anne Hubble. The wit of Gilbert’s lyrics was underscored by Hubble’s perfectly timed sawing on the cello. In fact, she seems to have a particular talent for playing instruments onstage – her sudden appearance gleefully crashing cymbals during “Let the merry cymbals sound” was another moment of surprising humor.