“A mixed bag, some ingredients working better than others. And the overall flavour is certainly enhanced in the magical surroundings of Wilton’s Music Hall.”
“Ruddigore” or “The Witch’s Curse” was originally spelled “Ruddygore”, but the title was changed because people (I’m guessing a small vocal minority) were offended by the use of the word ‘Ruddy’. And there we all were thinking that umbrage was a twenty-first century invention. Nevertheless, both Arthur Sullivan and William Gilbert were of the opinion that their ‘supernatural opera’ was not, perhaps, their finest hour. Despite a long hiatus – of over thirty years – between its premiere and its first revival, it has still managed to survive. Possibly the couple were too hard on themselves, for there is much to admire and savour in this madcap oddity of a comic opera.
It bears all the hall marks of the stock melodrama. The villain who carries off the maiden, the virtuous heroine, the hero in disguise, the snake in the grass, the wild and mad woman. And ghosts and their curses. It is certainly advisable to brush up on the basic plot before attending Peter Benedict’s current revival of the musical. The offbeat libretto isn’t only to blame – the delivery is often unclear, particularly during the ensemble moments and especially when Gilbert’s tricksy, ‘topsy-turvy’ lyrics launch into breakneck mode.
At the heart of the story is the curse of Ruddigore. Centuries before, the first Baronet of Ruddigore persecuted witches, one of whom placed the curse. All future Baronets must commit one crime every day, or die in agony. The current Baronet has faked his own death years before to avoid inheriting the curse, leaving his younger brother with the deadly burden. Returning to the scene under an alias he is soon rumbled. Well – with a posse of unemployed bridesmaids, loose-tongued confidants, long-lost brothers, and a love interest that re-defines the word ‘fickle’; what could possibly go wrong?
Joe Winter is charm personified as Robin Oakapple though really Ruthven Murgatroyd, the Baronet who has shirked his criminal responsibilities. It takes seconds for Madeline Robinson’s deliciously, innocent yet pragmatic Rose Maybud to fall for him. Seconds later she is betrothed to Robin’s long-lost, cocksure brother. When the other, younger brother appears and has his wrongfully placed curse lifted, Rose decides she’d actually prefer him as a husband. Yes – really! It is ridiculous, often funny, but could be much more fun if the pace were to keep up with the elements of farce surrounding the absurdity. There is an innovative, anachronistic opener which places the action in the present before being whisked into Victoriana, but bizarrely this is not followed through. Had it done so, the script’s rather abrupt ending could have been smoothed over.
It is a show of two halves. After interval, the tone darkens and allows for some technical trickery courtesy of video designer Tom Fitch. The spookiness is underplayed but the surrealism is cranked up somewhat, and the dead duet with the living. Musical Director Tom Noyes leads the musical accompaniment; an ensemble comprising some of the cast, a few click tracks and violinist Luca Kocsmárszky who plays on stage, perched on the fringe of the action, watching – and seemingly judging – throughout.
A mixed bag, some ingredients working better than others. And the overall flavour is certainly enhanced in the magical surroundings of Wilton’s Music Hall. You’re not quite sure what to expect. So, at least there aren’t expectations for it to live up to. Taken with a pinch of salt, there is plenty to enjoy and discover. It was written with tongue in cheek and, if viewed in the same way, it has great entertainment value. Not to mention the genius of Gilbert and Sullivan which informs this eccentric libretto and score.
“The action plays and replays in LJ’s bar – Justin Williams’ impressive centrepiece – with the six strong cast giving fine acting performances”
We are in LJ’s bar. It is 7pm on Monday 14th (the month is unspecified). For the next two and a half hours it is 7pm on Monday 14th six times. One day is played out in the lives of the six characters, each time from their own perspective. It is a clever idea. Everything has changed and nothing has changed. There are inevitably going to be comparisons to ‘Groundhog Day’, but “Tasting Notes” owes more to Alan Ayckbourn’s ‘Norman Conquests’ trilogy. With perhaps a touch of ‘Sliding Doors’ thrown in. As we witness the action from the various mind’s eyes, the full picture is slowly revealed. Unfortunately, too slowly.
LJ (Nancy Zamit) runs the bar. She lives in the bar, invariably sleeping there overnight. She loves it, but she tires of it and there is nothing else. Not so for her staff. A waitress is never just a waitress. Maggie (Charlie Ryall – who also co-wrote the book and lyrics with composer Richard Baker) serves drinks in between going off to another soul-destroying audition. Her torch burns for her colleague Oliver (Niall Ransome). Despite the mutual attraction, Oliver is more anxious to get home to his cat (never trust a cat person!). Eszter (Wendy Morgan) spends more time cleaning up after her wayward son than she does washing the dirty glasses. George (Sam Kipling) doesn’t let little things like punctuality get in the way of his extracurricular activities. If only he would set his watch to regular customer, Joe (Stephen Hoo), who’s through the door at opening time, ready to drink away his memories.
The action plays and replays in LJ’s bar – Justin Williams’ impressive centrepiece – with the six strong cast giving fine acting performances. Ryall has an ear for dialogue, which flows naturally; the initial mundanity belying the subsequent significance and dark twists. Baker has a similar way with words, crafting some clever lyrics into the dozen or so songs that flesh out the book. But the show needs condensing rather than fattening up. However good the concept may be, rewinding half a dozen times really starts to dilute the effect, and the ideas lose their taste. We feel like we’re watching a drama game, or some serious ‘actioning’ in the rehearsal room.
The second act does drag, until the dark, unexpected twist jolts us. We wish we could have reached it much sooner, despite the welcome distraction of lesser revelations on the way. This is a work in progress; or a pitch. Except that we are being given the whole menu instead of a taste of what it could be. There is a lot left on the plate, which goes to waste. Ryall’s script is clever, but there are too many notes that cloud the overall flavour. And one questions the decision as to why it needed to be a musical (although everything seems to be a musical nowadays). Baker’s score, more of a song cycle, matches the craftmanship of his lyricism but is too easy on the ear. And the cast, despite their solid grip on the language and characterisation of the piece, invariably find the musical demands beyond their grasp. Which is surprising at a venue noted for the quality of its musical theatre.
“Tasting Notes” has shades of “Friends” or “Cheers”, although with more contrast: it can be funnier, and it certainly gets darker. But ultimately it feels like you’re being talked into having one more for the road; when you’ve already had enough.
Reviewed by Jonathan Evans
Photography by Chris Marchant
Tasting Notes
Southwark Playhouse until 27th August
Take a look at some other shows previously reviewed at this venue:
