The Very Model of a Modern Pirate King

Last Saturday, we went down the road to Wolf Trap Park for the Performing Arts to catch the New York Gilbert and Sullivan Players (NYGASP) performing The Pirates of Penzance (or, The Slave to Duty). Pat’s sister, Kay, had seen them in St. Louis earlier this season and loved them. She wrote a review for her blog which David Wammen, aka the Managing Director, aka the Pirate King, added to the company’s web site (http://nygasp.org). He said it made his parents cry (a good thing).

We skipped down the hill past the grass-sitters (I know, awfully snobbish of me) to our seats in Row B—just a row back from the orchestra pit, where the conductor, also a member of the company, sat (never heard of one sitting before). We had a great listen to the unmiked instruments as well as an unparalleled view of the cast, complete with facial expressions.

It’s hard to mess up Gilbert and Sullivan, but when it’s really done well, it can rival most anything by Verdi or Wagner, and a lot shorter to boot. The singing is every bit what you would expect from a troupe of pros. The Pirate King’s baritone and chief ward Mabel’s soprano are wonderful. Mabel (Michele McConnell) has got one fabulous set of pipes. I swear I heard glass breaking in downtown Vienna.

One of the great things about Gilbert and Sullivan is the second-echelon characters. In Pirates, Major-General Stanley gets to show off his erudition as the Very Model of a Model Major-General—there must be some sort of informal contest amongst Major-Generals, present and past, as to who can sing the fastest and still be understood by the audience. Steven Quint must be in the top ten. His old creaky Major-General can barely walk (wears bunny slippers in Act II) but sings at light speed and like the energizer bunny, keeps going and going, refusing to wind up his aria.

“I can read a washing bill in Babylonic cuneiform
And tell you all the details of Caractacus's uniform.”

The “ad lib” asides themselves produce a chuckle—“Then I can hum a fugue of which I've heard the music's din afore…I'll never come up with a rhyme for 'din afore,”
To which the Pirate King, responds: "What, never?” the answer: "Well, hardly ever!", followed by “And whistle all the airs from that infernal nonsense Pinafore.”

David Auzier, the dance captain and Sergeant of Police (“When the Foeman Bares His Steel”), is the other secondary character, who also pretty much steals the show, or at least the second act. His hang-dog expression and loose limbed, Monty Python Ministry of Silly Walks physical acting compliments the choreography of his none-too-eager policemen, one of whom dances all his moves, Sufi-like, in complete opposition to the rest of the line. That’s got to be hard to pull off and be funny. He does and it is.

As with most Gilbert and Sullivan, the plot proceeds at break-neck pace until everyone—romantic leads, pirates, policemen, etc., have seemingly been painted into the tightest of corners when, in the (ta-da!) nick of time, all is miraculously resolved with happy endings galore, including a Chorus Line-style kick line of pirates, police, and wards, complete with glittery top hats and spirit fingers. I could have sat through the whole thing again—it was that much fun.

Afterwards we hung around the stage entrance until the conductor let us in; we found the Pirate King and handed him Kay's note in which she asked for a autograph for her and her sister (Pat) since they "were both orpans" something the pirates couldn't resist. “Oh!” he said, “you know Kay! I put her review on our web site.” He signed our programs and wished us and you all the best. He had to cut our conversation short, since he is a local boy (Gonzaga High School) and his grandma was waiting to see him. Made it even better…local boy makes good.