Some might argue it passé – juvenile, even – to be itching for a fix of that love-triangle crack ever since The Summer I Turned Pretty ended.
I disagree! Inject it.
And who knew that I would get a sweet, sweet hit of it at the Byre à la Gilbert & Sullivan Society? Me. That’s why I begged our talented, brilliant, incredible, amazing, show stopping, spectacular, never the same, totally unique Head of Online Content – and my most beloved and gracious Editor – Erin, to let me review this production (yes, I’m trying to distract her from the fact this review was due last Wednesday. Pay it no mind; the cast and crew will get their egos stroked momentarily).
In a delightfully absurd and messy twist on the classic
operetta, the production embodies my favourite – depending on who you ask,
slightly problematic – German saying “ein bisschen Bi schadet nie” (a
little bi never hurt). I was obsessed before I took my seat for the opening
night show, and I was not let down. Was it slightly clumsy at times? Sure. But
it works. It was camp. It was silly. It simply was fun. If you’re the
kind of person who expects Olivier-worthy theatre from The Union (bombastic side-eye), get that stick out your arse, I beg. All hail Gilbert
& Sullivan Society!
End of review xoxo
 |
| “I’M JOKINGGGG.” – Ashby, my queen. |
Hold on to your slutty, pink-bushed breeches; I’m about to
get into it.
I loved the Lovesick Maidens, and their etherealised tastes,
united in their down-badism – I salute you, sisters – I, too, fall victim to
the sweet catnip that is the bi patient zero of the sassy-man-apocalypse without a
second thought.
Unfortunately for the Maidens, and Patience, Archibald –
although serving Onceler realness in his green and purple get up – is G&S’ prophetic
version of a SoundCloud rapper, and Reginald is the textbook example of a
Pisces Man. I say this from a place of love – in case my Pisces Man, DJ,
producer, on-occasion-rapper, best friend reads this – but Godspeed and good
luck, soldiers. Watching Jane interact with the ladies felt like I was having ‘Nam
flashbacks to all the times I had girls coming up to me asking for the odds of
them successfully being promoted from casual to wifey… I shudder. Kudos to the directors
and cast for that portrayal: very lifelike.
And the poor dragoons… they never stood a chance, did they?
Until that problem-child, eventual, throuple took themselves out of the
equation, that is. But, by God, were they funny. G&S Society continue to
serve bumbling buffoon malefailure realness.
And I eat that shit up every time.
When they stepped out in that formation, I half-expected them
to break out into Katseye choreography and I would not have been mad about it. And
the cross-dressing. Love. Saying this might mean I’ll have my woke card
revoked, but I don’t care: comedic cross-dressing must stay in theatre. See my
previous statement regarding sticks and arses, if you believe it to be
low-brow.
Before I focus on individuals who stood out to me, I have to
quickly give the cast and crew their flowers: what’s the square root of 64?
Because y’all aaaaaate. And (definitely not because I spoke to one of you on my
way out of the Byre) I have to give a special shout-out to the tech crew – five
stars.
Anyway… can I just say, I was so happy to see familiar faces
on the stage. Especially my favourite ginger diva: Charlie MacBeth. Shining
from the outset. If he has no fans – I am dead.
 |
| There he is! There's my favourite white boy! |
Okay, I do feel a little silly saying that; never, not once, have I actually interacted with the poor boy, but I saw him in Iolanthe last year, and I was immediately obsessed. My word as a theatre critic holds absolutely zero weight or merit, but he’s going to be a star. I can feel it, and so could the audience. He’s got it all: the stage presence, that bumbling comedic air, and, my God, the voice. In song, its rich timbre elevates every ensemble piece – I’m honestly jealous of his seemingly effortless projection – and that posh-twat accent will never not be hilarious. Could one argue a case of typecasting? I mean, sure. But if it works… why fix what ain’t broke?
Now, someone please make sure he reads this, Charlie: if I ever
find out you gave up acting to be a finance bro or some other corporate
nonsense, I will genuinely cry – and then hunt you down for your crimes against
art. That being said, when you make it big on the West End playing Hades in Hadestown
(just a suggestion), do you think you could try and swing me a backstage tour?
Worth a shot.
And what would Patience be without the iconic, messy, bisexual throuple... I feel I can't do them justice: the bi drama, the bi panic, the twink-on-twink violence, Patience being so, so, so endearingly moronic – how am I supposed to put that innate giddiness I felt watching them come to life into words?
I prayed for Bonrad realness, and they delivered. In the most complimentary way, I wanted to strangle Patience. Like, girl! Pack it the fuck in with the mistakenly self-righteous NONSENSE.
God – it felt like Belly was still with me.
But, Eleanor White did manage to keep pacifying my rage with her deliciously divine set of pipes. I love it when a soprano sopranos, what can I say.
Honestly, I just love it when Gilbert & Sullivan Society do their Gilbert & Sullivan Society shit. I take my seat, excited, and leave the theatre elated.
To, sneakily, quote one of the cast members talking to their friends after the show: "I don't remember screaming being a part of the show." Yes, diva, because you can't rehearse an audience losing their shit at how great you all were, but it is a testament to an opening night well done.
By trin (they/them)