Review and Analysis: Haddon Hall by the National Gilbert & Sullivan Opera Company
I give a bit of background information about Haddon Hall and its major dramatic issues at the beginning. If you're just here for the production review, you can skip down a few paragraphs.
The 1892 Sullivan and Grundy opera Haddon Hall is sort of like H.M.S. Pinafore, but on land. Dorothy Vernon is to be engaged to her cousin Rupert, in a generally advantageous match. George Vernon, Dorothy's father, is the Lord of Haddon Hall, and wants the estate to stay in the family. (Rupert, meanwhile, wants the hall all to himself.) But Dorothy is in love with John Manners, a royalist. Rupert shows up, Dorothy refuses him. Dorothy makes plans to elope with Manners. Dorothy elopes with Manners. Parliament grants Rupert lordship over Haddon Hall. Charles II is reinstated to the throne, making Haddon Hall property of the crown, and, at the last second, Manners swoops in with an order from the king restoring George Vernon as the Lord of Haddon Hall. Happily ever after. There's a subplot where Dorothy's handmaid falls in love with Manners' servant.
Arranged marriage plot with twist happy ending. Pretty standard comic opera fare, right?
But Haddon Hall is, of Sullivan's non-Gilbert operettas, among the least artistically successful, though it enjoyed some popular success when it premiered. For the first, it's bloated. Not only is it verbose, in addition to the Dorcas/Oswald subplot, there is a continuing subplot involving Rupert's chorus of Puritans, who end up abandoning Puritanism. This is apparently biting satire, but if you're primarily here for the love story, seems awkward. Add to that the character of the McCrankie, who takes up the bulk of Act II, while contributing absolutely nothing to the plot. Literally, the first half of Act II (the opera is in three acts total) is entirely useless to the opera, except that it has some mildly entertaining songs. Any one of these elements works well on its own, but with the cluttered and confusing libretto, it can be difficult to see the point even trying to unify them.
Which really leads into the second major issue with Haddon Hall, which is the inconsistent tone. It is one-third a historical drama, one-third a romantic melodrama, and one-third a light comedy. And these thirds do not agree at all.
Rupert is a particularly blatant example of this sort of problem, which becomes apparent if you walk through his progression as a character. He shows up midway through Act I presented as a comic villain of the variety the Savoy had come to know and love. The part probably would have been written for George Grossmith if he were still with the company. At the same time, he is not ridiculous. He fits in basically well with the setting, and since we're still in the exposition, he establishes his own tone, independent of Dorothy and Manners, who had the focus for most of the first half of the act. He stays this way for the rest of Act I. In Act II, he becomes more dastardly. In a duet with McCrankie, you can practically see him twiddling his mustache. The material necessitates more camp than was suggested in Act I, and this doesn't mesh well with the rest of the opera. The trio "Hoity Toity What's A Kiss" brings this problem to a head. It's practically a burlesque number -- and if it's played any more seriously than a burlesque number, it becomes unsettling as Dorcas tries to fend of Rupert and McCrankie's advances. With the jaunty tune, it's easy to see how this song could be a slapstick routine where Dorcas easily overpowers and humiliates the two men. And McCrankie is the weakest link in the opera. He appears out of nowhere in Act II, and feels like he belongs in The Pirates Of Penzance.
Midway through Act II, the elopement occurs, and Rupert witnesses some of it. He rushes in to tell Lord Vernon what has happened, and Lord Vernon mounts a chase. By the beginning of Act III, this is all but forgotten. Rupert offhandedly mentions the elopement as having been successful once, but dismisses it just as quickly, having just won the estate. This is the only thing Rupert really does in the opera, and though it is nowhere near as serious as, say, Sir Roderic threatening Robin to perish in inconceivable agonies, it is treated much more seriously. At the prospect of being evicted, Lord and Lady Vernon have a series of sentimental songs that are among the most effective in the opera, and the tone is rather grave. The fact that it is so serious makes it feel that much cheaper when Rupert is defeated in five minutes by a too-convenient plot twist.
All these sudden shifts in tone (and there are more) make the libretto altogether a mess. It is not coherent, and it fails to carry any sense of drama for any period of time.
This is a difficult fix. The Beauty Stone (another Sullivan opera from this period) suffers from verbosity, and the fact that it is tonally distinct from any other Savoy opera. The dialogue is incredibly clunky, and the characterization unusually heavy. But it is at least internally consistent with itself, and could quite possibly be a success with a trim and a good marketing campaign. Haddon Hall seems to require some wholesale rewriting to get the libretto into a consistent form. The tone problems in Haddon Hall are further exacerbated by the score, which matches Grundy's libretto in shifting rapidly from one mood to the next. Haddon Hall does contain some remarkable writing on Sullivan's part, but due to the heavy tonal inconsistencies, it is not difficult to see that Haddon Hall is somewhat less than the sum of its parts.
There are structural weaknesses as well. Act I is mostly setup and exposition, which works just fine, but after that, there are only three major events in the plot (the elopement, Rupert seizing the estate, and the proclamation from the king making everything right), and they do not follow from or relate to each other in any way. In fact, even though the elopement occurs at the end of Act II, and a chase is mounted to stop it, by the time Act III rolls around, it is all but forgotten. Dorothy and Manners aren't so much as thought of again, save a single offhand mention, until the latter shows up at the end to magically fix everything. It's not difficult to see that this is a bad way of maintaining dramatic momentum, when your leading couple turn out to be totally irrelevant to the final act.
Fixing these plot problems is possibly actually easier than resolving the tone inconsistency. Well, not so much fixing the plot, but making it no longer a problem. Gilbert's example shows hat audiences will forgive any number of plot weaknesses or contrivances as long as things are kept brisk and entertaining -- audiences will forgive almost anything as long as things are kept brisk and entertaining. So the central challenge of Haddon Hall seems to be making that happen.
A new production by the National Gilbert & Sullivan Opera Company was recently mounted, first in Buxton a few weeks ago, before coming to the 25th Annual International Gilbert And Sullivan Festival in Harrogate. It is directed by Sarah Helsbey Hughes, and features a revised libretto, presumably with the aim of resolving some of these problems. I've written the above background paragraphs before seeing this production, and will be back in a few hours to a day to give my verdict.
All in all, it would be unreasonable to call the National Gilbert & Sullivan Opera Company's new production of Haddon Hall anything less than a remarkable success. The production elements were stunning, the audience was thoroughly enraptured, and the total run time was not more than 2:40, including about twenty minutes of intermission.
The sets and costumes were gorgeous. Visually every scene began and ended with a stunning tableau, and Jackie O'Brien's choreography was authentic and engaging. Ms. Hughes directed the production completely earnestly, with the only particularly weak points being moments that were weak in the libretto to begin with. I speak most prominently of Act II, which of all the acts is the most inconsistent in its tone -- despite her best efforts, Hughes could not seem to balance the comic and serious as well in this act as she did in the first and third, but that is a failing of the libretto. The fact that she did manage to balance the external two acts is remarkable enough in and of itself, and anyone will tell you that a strong beginning and ending is really all you need for an audience to leave satisfied.
For the performers, I have to speak first of Donald Maxwell as Lord Vernon. He held the house with every note, and delivered some of Sullivan's best bass melodies expertly. As the commanding father archetype he didn't come off as a cliche, and was indeed very likable. More a Tevye than a Hildebrand. If there was a fault in his performance, it's that his voice easily overpowered anyone else he was singing with. His counterpart was Katherine Marriot as Lady Vernon, who made the absolute most of her small part, and delivered an incredibly moving "Queen Of The Garden." (Which, to continue the Fiddler comparisons, somewhat evokes "Anatevka.") Their duet, "Bride Of My Youth" brought the house down, and rightly so.
Moving on to the young lovers, Nicholas Sales was an engaging and enjoyable John Manners, but suffered from the fact that, although he is the lead tenor, and an extra aria was even assigned to him (more on that later) he really has very little to do. (Although I'm sure Mr. Sales is enjoying a somewhat smaller role between the other leading tenors he's playing this week.) Rachel Harland made a better impression as Dorothy Vernon, largely because her material is just plain better. Dorothy has a multitude of marvelous musical moments, and Harland brought the best out of every one of them. "Why Weep And Wait" was a particular highlight. ("When Yester-Eve I Knelt To Pray" seemed to have a revised lyric, and I'm not sure why.)
As the sidekicks, David Menezes and Bee Bradley were quite enjoyable as Oswald and Dorcas. Sadly, a lot of Menezes material was cut, and his one aria assigned to Manners instead. (Again, more on that later.) So although he gave a fine performance as it was, he was denied the chance to truly shine. Ms. Bradley was a major highlight, and the rearrangement of some of her material proved to be a boon. She gave a great rendition of "Twas A Dear Little Dormouse," and I was somewhat disappointed that the way it was staged covered it up a bit. (The chorus acted out the tale as Dorcas described it, with noises accompanying. It was effective on stage, and I don't think Hughes was wrong to stage it that way; I'm just fond of the song and would have liked to hear it all unobscured.) Bradley did disappear on some of the lower notes -- she is clearly a soprano who has been cast in a mezzo role -- but she more than made up for it in character. "We Have Thought The Matter Out" -- a chorus led by Dorcas -- was a triumph in every way, and it was frustrating when the action continued without space for applause. The audience clearly wanted to give a lot of it. (Since Rupert is a uniquely detestable villain, it is also uniquely satisfying to see him defeated.)
And finally, the villains. Bruce Gaham performed well as the McCrankie, but the character itself is a plethora of problems in the plot, and that tarnished my impression of him somewhat. Gaham has a powerful voice and an amusing manner, and I would quite like to see him as any of the comic bass parts in the G&S canon. Sadly, that role does not belong in this opera.
The main villain, Rupert Vernon, was played to perfection by G&S master, Richard Suart. Suart has been one of the world's leading Grossmith-baritones for years, and his expertise is clear in this difficult part. Rupert, as I said before, is one of the most inconsistent elements of Haddon Hall, but with Suart in the part, and Hughes at the helm, you hardly notice the seams. He is appropriately funny and menacing, with the only major weak point in his character, again, being the first scene in Act II. (I repeat, a weak scene if ever a weak scene there was.)
The orchestra, conducted by Andrew Nicklin was fantastic, and aside from a few moments where the cast and orchestra got out of sync (and the ensemble falling apart a little at a climactic moment in the Act II finale), a better musical quality in the production could not be asked for. As far as I could tell, no musical cuts were made, and Haddon Hall's place in Sullivan's musical canon was made undeniable.
From curtain up to curtain down, the production ran about two hours and forty minutes, including a fifteen-minute interval between Acts I and II, and a five minute interval (for a full chorus costume change) between Acts II and III.
Now we come to the dramaturgical stuff. If you were just here for the production review, you can leave now. The version of the opera performed in this production was, according to the program, "based largely on the recent performing version created by the late David Eden and Martin Yates." As best I can catalogue, here are the major changes that were made:
***
The actual Haddon Hall
***
The 1892 Sullivan and Grundy opera Haddon Hall is sort of like H.M.S. Pinafore, but on land. Dorothy Vernon is to be engaged to her cousin Rupert, in a generally advantageous match. George Vernon, Dorothy's father, is the Lord of Haddon Hall, and wants the estate to stay in the family. (Rupert, meanwhile, wants the hall all to himself.) But Dorothy is in love with John Manners, a royalist. Rupert shows up, Dorothy refuses him. Dorothy makes plans to elope with Manners. Dorothy elopes with Manners. Parliament grants Rupert lordship over Haddon Hall. Charles II is reinstated to the throne, making Haddon Hall property of the crown, and, at the last second, Manners swoops in with an order from the king restoring George Vernon as the Lord of Haddon Hall. Happily ever after. There's a subplot where Dorothy's handmaid falls in love with Manners' servant.
Arranged marriage plot with twist happy ending. Pretty standard comic opera fare, right?
But Haddon Hall is, of Sullivan's non-Gilbert operettas, among the least artistically successful, though it enjoyed some popular success when it premiered. For the first, it's bloated. Not only is it verbose, in addition to the Dorcas/Oswald subplot, there is a continuing subplot involving Rupert's chorus of Puritans, who end up abandoning Puritanism. This is apparently biting satire, but if you're primarily here for the love story, seems awkward. Add to that the character of the McCrankie, who takes up the bulk of Act II, while contributing absolutely nothing to the plot. Literally, the first half of Act II (the opera is in three acts total) is entirely useless to the opera, except that it has some mildly entertaining songs. Any one of these elements works well on its own, but with the cluttered and confusing libretto, it can be difficult to see the point even trying to unify them.
Which really leads into the second major issue with Haddon Hall, which is the inconsistent tone. It is one-third a historical drama, one-third a romantic melodrama, and one-third a light comedy. And these thirds do not agree at all.
Rupert is a particularly blatant example of this sort of problem, which becomes apparent if you walk through his progression as a character. He shows up midway through Act I presented as a comic villain of the variety the Savoy had come to know and love. The part probably would have been written for George Grossmith if he were still with the company. At the same time, he is not ridiculous. He fits in basically well with the setting, and since we're still in the exposition, he establishes his own tone, independent of Dorothy and Manners, who had the focus for most of the first half of the act. He stays this way for the rest of Act I. In Act II, he becomes more dastardly. In a duet with McCrankie, you can practically see him twiddling his mustache. The material necessitates more camp than was suggested in Act I, and this doesn't mesh well with the rest of the opera. The trio "Hoity Toity What's A Kiss" brings this problem to a head. It's practically a burlesque number -- and if it's played any more seriously than a burlesque number, it becomes unsettling as Dorcas tries to fend of Rupert and McCrankie's advances. With the jaunty tune, it's easy to see how this song could be a slapstick routine where Dorcas easily overpowers and humiliates the two men. And McCrankie is the weakest link in the opera. He appears out of nowhere in Act II, and feels like he belongs in The Pirates Of Penzance.
Midway through Act II, the elopement occurs, and Rupert witnesses some of it. He rushes in to tell Lord Vernon what has happened, and Lord Vernon mounts a chase. By the beginning of Act III, this is all but forgotten. Rupert offhandedly mentions the elopement as having been successful once, but dismisses it just as quickly, having just won the estate. This is the only thing Rupert really does in the opera, and though it is nowhere near as serious as, say, Sir Roderic threatening Robin to perish in inconceivable agonies, it is treated much more seriously. At the prospect of being evicted, Lord and Lady Vernon have a series of sentimental songs that are among the most effective in the opera, and the tone is rather grave. The fact that it is so serious makes it feel that much cheaper when Rupert is defeated in five minutes by a too-convenient plot twist.
All these sudden shifts in tone (and there are more) make the libretto altogether a mess. It is not coherent, and it fails to carry any sense of drama for any period of time.
This is a difficult fix. The Beauty Stone (another Sullivan opera from this period) suffers from verbosity, and the fact that it is tonally distinct from any other Savoy opera. The dialogue is incredibly clunky, and the characterization unusually heavy. But it is at least internally consistent with itself, and could quite possibly be a success with a trim and a good marketing campaign. Haddon Hall seems to require some wholesale rewriting to get the libretto into a consistent form. The tone problems in Haddon Hall are further exacerbated by the score, which matches Grundy's libretto in shifting rapidly from one mood to the next. Haddon Hall does contain some remarkable writing on Sullivan's part, but due to the heavy tonal inconsistencies, it is not difficult to see that Haddon Hall is somewhat less than the sum of its parts.
There are structural weaknesses as well. Act I is mostly setup and exposition, which works just fine, but after that, there are only three major events in the plot (the elopement, Rupert seizing the estate, and the proclamation from the king making everything right), and they do not follow from or relate to each other in any way. In fact, even though the elopement occurs at the end of Act II, and a chase is mounted to stop it, by the time Act III rolls around, it is all but forgotten. Dorothy and Manners aren't so much as thought of again, save a single offhand mention, until the latter shows up at the end to magically fix everything. It's not difficult to see that this is a bad way of maintaining dramatic momentum, when your leading couple turn out to be totally irrelevant to the final act.
Fixing these plot problems is possibly actually easier than resolving the tone inconsistency. Well, not so much fixing the plot, but making it no longer a problem. Gilbert's example shows hat audiences will forgive any number of plot weaknesses or contrivances as long as things are kept brisk and entertaining -- audiences will forgive almost anything as long as things are kept brisk and entertaining. So the central challenge of Haddon Hall seems to be making that happen.
***
***
The sets and costumes were gorgeous. Visually every scene began and ended with a stunning tableau, and Jackie O'Brien's choreography was authentic and engaging. Ms. Hughes directed the production completely earnestly, with the only particularly weak points being moments that were weak in the libretto to begin with. I speak most prominently of Act II, which of all the acts is the most inconsistent in its tone -- despite her best efforts, Hughes could not seem to balance the comic and serious as well in this act as she did in the first and third, but that is a failing of the libretto. The fact that she did manage to balance the external two acts is remarkable enough in and of itself, and anyone will tell you that a strong beginning and ending is really all you need for an audience to leave satisfied.
For the performers, I have to speak first of Donald Maxwell as Lord Vernon. He held the house with every note, and delivered some of Sullivan's best bass melodies expertly. As the commanding father archetype he didn't come off as a cliche, and was indeed very likable. More a Tevye than a Hildebrand. If there was a fault in his performance, it's that his voice easily overpowered anyone else he was singing with. His counterpart was Katherine Marriot as Lady Vernon, who made the absolute most of her small part, and delivered an incredibly moving "Queen Of The Garden." (Which, to continue the Fiddler comparisons, somewhat evokes "Anatevka.") Their duet, "Bride Of My Youth" brought the house down, and rightly so.
Moving on to the young lovers, Nicholas Sales was an engaging and enjoyable John Manners, but suffered from the fact that, although he is the lead tenor, and an extra aria was even assigned to him (more on that later) he really has very little to do. (Although I'm sure Mr. Sales is enjoying a somewhat smaller role between the other leading tenors he's playing this week.) Rachel Harland made a better impression as Dorothy Vernon, largely because her material is just plain better. Dorothy has a multitude of marvelous musical moments, and Harland brought the best out of every one of them. "Why Weep And Wait" was a particular highlight. ("When Yester-Eve I Knelt To Pray" seemed to have a revised lyric, and I'm not sure why.)
As the sidekicks, David Menezes and Bee Bradley were quite enjoyable as Oswald and Dorcas. Sadly, a lot of Menezes material was cut, and his one aria assigned to Manners instead. (Again, more on that later.) So although he gave a fine performance as it was, he was denied the chance to truly shine. Ms. Bradley was a major highlight, and the rearrangement of some of her material proved to be a boon. She gave a great rendition of "Twas A Dear Little Dormouse," and I was somewhat disappointed that the way it was staged covered it up a bit. (The chorus acted out the tale as Dorcas described it, with noises accompanying. It was effective on stage, and I don't think Hughes was wrong to stage it that way; I'm just fond of the song and would have liked to hear it all unobscured.) Bradley did disappear on some of the lower notes -- she is clearly a soprano who has been cast in a mezzo role -- but she more than made up for it in character. "We Have Thought The Matter Out" -- a chorus led by Dorcas -- was a triumph in every way, and it was frustrating when the action continued without space for applause. The audience clearly wanted to give a lot of it. (Since Rupert is a uniquely detestable villain, it is also uniquely satisfying to see him defeated.)
And finally, the villains. Bruce Gaham performed well as the McCrankie, but the character itself is a plethora of problems in the plot, and that tarnished my impression of him somewhat. Gaham has a powerful voice and an amusing manner, and I would quite like to see him as any of the comic bass parts in the G&S canon. Sadly, that role does not belong in this opera.
The main villain, Rupert Vernon, was played to perfection by G&S master, Richard Suart. Suart has been one of the world's leading Grossmith-baritones for years, and his expertise is clear in this difficult part. Rupert, as I said before, is one of the most inconsistent elements of Haddon Hall, but with Suart in the part, and Hughes at the helm, you hardly notice the seams. He is appropriately funny and menacing, with the only major weak point in his character, again, being the first scene in Act II. (I repeat, a weak scene if ever a weak scene there was.)
The orchestra, conducted by Andrew Nicklin was fantastic, and aside from a few moments where the cast and orchestra got out of sync (and the ensemble falling apart a little at a climactic moment in the Act II finale), a better musical quality in the production could not be asked for. As far as I could tell, no musical cuts were made, and Haddon Hall's place in Sullivan's musical canon was made undeniable.
From curtain up to curtain down, the production ran about two hours and forty minutes, including a fifteen-minute interval between Acts I and II, and a five minute interval (for a full chorus costume change) between Acts II and III.
***
- There were dialogue changes throughout, trimming it down, and replacing the "thou"s and "thee"s with something more understandable on first hearing. The dialogue all felt very natural, and the two biggest laughs of the evening were on jokes that were not in Grundy's original, but felt completely organic. The first:
- PURITAN: (Standing outside in the storm, being that they deny themselves the comfort of shelter.) Truly, we shall reign in heaven.
- RUPERT: It's the rain on earth that concerns me.
- And the second:
- OSWALD: (Having returned from France in Act III) As for the language, I suppose I've picked it up a little. The French speak it all the time!
- DORCAS: They must have great difficulty understanding each other!
- To this end, the dialogue was really a lot cleaner, and went a long way toward making the individual parts of the libretto into a coherent and compelling whole. Even the Puritan subplot, confusing in Grundy's libretto, seemed clear as day. Abridging the dialogue also seemed to help a lot with the tone problems. Many of the more stick-out-like-a-sore-thumb scenes in the original libretto are extended scenes of dialogue that have little to do with the plot, mostly involving Rupert and Puritans. Cutting them down, although it loses some decent jokes, keeps the plot moving, and stops us wondering why on earth Grundy decided to put this scene in.
- In Act I, Rupert expresses doubts about Puritanism (as per the plot, he is not really into it, but joins the Puritans because it is politically convenient for him to do so), and, in this version, his companions take this moment to tell him that the McCrankie will set him right. I liked this for setting up McCrankie earlier, so at least he's expected. He still doesn't belong in this opera, but at least his introduction didn't feel quite so random. As I was watching, I thought that McCrankie might be made more compelling if he were played completely seriously, in an almost threatening way. Unfortunately, a lot of his material is difficult to make anything but light-comic, especially the music. "Hoity Toity What's A Kiss?" alone is a huge incongruity in tone, and though I'm sure Hughes tried her best to make it work, the song just couldn't agree with itself.
- "Ribbons To Sell" was reassigned from Oswald to Manners, and the following scene (originally a dialogue for Dorcas and Oswald) rewritten for Dorothy and Manners.
- Following this dialogue, the duet "Sweetly The Morn Doth Break" was reinstated. (In the original libretto it was in a later scene, and ultimately cut and replaced with "Why Weep And Wait", which remained in this version nonetheless.)
- With the Act I Dorcas and Oswald scene cut, a new scene was added in Act III, where Oswald shows up and tells Dorcas the good news before the rest of the chorus hears of it. "The Sun's In The Sky" (Dorcas and Oswald's duet) was moved from the Act I scene to this moment.
These last three changes were all part of the same "chunk" as it were, and I see the impetus for it. Manners has surprisingly little to do in this opera -- not even his own aria as per the original libretto! Giving him and Dorothy an earlier scene makes sense, but I found it weakened Act I, which was originally the strongest of the three acts. And here's why:
In the original Act I, the sequence of events is this: Oswald shows up, disguised as a peddler. ("Ribbons To Sell") He has come to deliver a letter from Manners to Dorothy. He meets Dorcas first, and they hit it off, starting the sidekick romantic subplot. ("The Sun's In The Sky") Oswald gives Dorothy the letter, in which Manners proposes they elope. Dorothy hems and haws, receiving advice from Oswald and Dorcas ("O Tell Me What Is A Maid To Say") before resolving to commit to the elopement ("Why Weep And Wait?"). Manners then shows up, and they share a dialogue reaffirming the plan. (Originally "Sweetly The Morn," which was cut.)
In the original Act I, the sequence of events is this: Oswald shows up, disguised as a peddler. ("Ribbons To Sell") He has come to deliver a letter from Manners to Dorothy. He meets Dorcas first, and they hit it off, starting the sidekick romantic subplot. ("The Sun's In The Sky") Oswald gives Dorothy the letter, in which Manners proposes they elope. Dorothy hems and haws, receiving advice from Oswald and Dorcas ("O Tell Me What Is A Maid To Say") before resolving to commit to the elopement ("Why Weep And Wait?"). Manners then shows up, and they share a dialogue reaffirming the plan. (Originally "Sweetly The Morn," which was cut.)
In the revised, Manners shows up disguised as a peddler, along with Oswald. ("Ribbons To Sell") It is stated in dialogue that Oswald and Dorcas have had a relationship for at least a year. Manners sees Dorothy in person, and asks her to elope. ("Sweetly The Morn") Manners leaves, and Dorothy hems and haws, receiving advice from Oswald and Dorcas ("O Tell Me What Is A Maid To Say") before resolving to commit to the elopement. ("Why Weep And Wait?") End of scene.
This is weaker in a few ways. Firstly, having Oswald enter before Manners, gives a sense of anticipation to Manners' ultimate arrival. If he just sort of shows up, it's anticlimactic. Secondly, passing over the origin of Dorcas and Oswald's romance in dialogue weakens their character arcs. Quintessential rule of theater: Show, don't tell. Since we don't see Dorcas and Oswald's relationship grow organically out of the plot, we don't care about them as much. Especially Oswald, who's part in Act I is reduced to next to nothing. This then catapults into reducing the weight of their advice in the following trio, and weakens the setup of "Why Weep And Wait."
Which brings us to "Why Weep And Wait." Originally, the song in that scene was Manners', and it was a fairly generic love song. This was followed by a duet, presumably to give Dorothy something to do in that moment. But still fairly generic. These two songs back to back are each charming in their own right, but not dramatically satisfactory. They were ultimately both cut, and "Why Weep And Wait" was added. "Why Weep And Wait" is not generic, it is action. It is the moment Dorothy decides to go through with the elopement, and this makes it a strong theatrical song. In the original setup, this is also the first moment we know for certain what Manners' letter says, because the opening recitative is actually Dorothy reading it aloud. In the revision, Manners has been introduced earlier, he has already duetted with Dorothy, and the whole thing has had a fairly flat dramatic level, and so "Why Weep And Wait" fails to be dramatic capstone in the same way.
(My biggest complaint with the direction also involves "Why Weep And Wait." For a good chunk of one of the verses, Dorothy and Dorcas were placed facing each other, with Dorcas slightly in front of Dorothy, despite Dorothy being the one who is singing. From my seat, this resulted in me staring at the back of Dorcas' head for about thirty seconds -- she had a pretty neat hairdo -- , the singer of the aria totally obstructed. Ninety-seven percent of the audience presumably did not have this problem, but I think ideally Dorothy and Dorcas should be on the same horizontal for this moment, and cheating out.)
Which brings us to "Why Weep And Wait." Originally, the song in that scene was Manners', and it was a fairly generic love song. This was followed by a duet, presumably to give Dorothy something to do in that moment. But still fairly generic. These two songs back to back are each charming in their own right, but not dramatically satisfactory. They were ultimately both cut, and "Why Weep And Wait" was added. "Why Weep And Wait" is not generic, it is action. It is the moment Dorothy decides to go through with the elopement, and this makes it a strong theatrical song. In the original setup, this is also the first moment we know for certain what Manners' letter says, because the opening recitative is actually Dorothy reading it aloud. In the revision, Manners has been introduced earlier, he has already duetted with Dorothy, and the whole thing has had a fairly flat dramatic level, and so "Why Weep And Wait" fails to be dramatic capstone in the same way.
(My biggest complaint with the direction also involves "Why Weep And Wait." For a good chunk of one of the verses, Dorothy and Dorcas were placed facing each other, with Dorcas slightly in front of Dorothy, despite Dorothy being the one who is singing. From my seat, this resulted in me staring at the back of Dorcas' head for about thirty seconds -- she had a pretty neat hairdo -- , the singer of the aria totally obstructed. Ninety-seven percent of the audience presumably did not have this problem, but I think ideally Dorothy and Dorcas should be on the same horizontal for this moment, and cheating out.)
I think my preferred compromise would be to have the setup as it is in the original libretto, but insert the Dorothy/Manners dialogue in between "O Tell Me..." and "Why Weep And Wait? This dialogue could then have "Sweetly The Morn" inserted in as a generic lovers duet, thereby giving Manners something to sing in Act I. This has the added benefit of giving a clearer impetus for "Why Weep And Wait?" In "O Tell Me..." Dorothy is hesitant about whether or not she should elope, as outlined in the letter. In both the original and revised versions, she goes straight from this to her resolve in "Why Weep And Wait?" My proposed change has her seeing Manners face to face in the interim, and this meeting is the impetus hat causes her to commit to the elopement, making "Why Weep And Wait?" not just a dramatic capstone in this sequence of songs, but the climax and conclusion to the first major episode of the opera.
That said, there is one change in this version that I do like very much, and that's the moving of "The Sun's In The Sky" to Act III. Dorcas and Oswald's duet is not absolutely necessary in Act I -- their dialogue is sufficient to set up their relationship, and this revision has put it into a new scene, in which Oswald shows up with the news that Charles II has been reinstated to the throne. He tells Dorcas, which she then passes on to the chorus. (In the original, the chorus just suddenly comes on with the knowledge, and then Oswald steps in and explains it to Rupert.) This sets up "In Frill and Feather" in an effective way, and "The Sun's In The Sky" was inserted into this scene, as Dorcas and Oswald's joyous reunion. The song served as a signpost in the story. After all the rain in Act II, it tells us that the sun has come out, and the tides are turning on Rupert. Indeed, after the duet, everything starts to get better. Even though I'd undo a lot what Eden and Yates did to Dorcas and Oswald's Act I material, I'd keep this scene, and I'd keep their duet in Act III. It really works brilliantly, and resolves the biggest tone problem in Act III.
That said, there is one change in this version that I do like very much, and that's the moving of "The Sun's In The Sky" to Act III. Dorcas and Oswald's duet is not absolutely necessary in Act I -- their dialogue is sufficient to set up their relationship, and this revision has put it into a new scene, in which Oswald shows up with the news that Charles II has been reinstated to the throne. He tells Dorcas, which she then passes on to the chorus. (In the original, the chorus just suddenly comes on with the knowledge, and then Oswald steps in and explains it to Rupert.) This sets up "In Frill and Feather" in an effective way, and "The Sun's In The Sky" was inserted into this scene, as Dorcas and Oswald's joyous reunion. The song served as a signpost in the story. After all the rain in Act II, it tells us that the sun has come out, and the tides are turning on Rupert. Indeed, after the duet, everything starts to get better. Even though I'd undo a lot what Eden and Yates did to Dorcas and Oswald's Act I material, I'd keep this scene, and I'd keep their duet in Act III. It really works brilliantly, and resolves the biggest tone problem in Act III.
As far as I could tell, there were no other major changes to the libretto. ("Major" meaning cuts, reordering of material, or wholesale addition of scenes.) If I'm missing any, do let me know. I think ultimately simply cleaning up the dialogue was enough to make the opera work. It kept it brisk and entertaining, even if there were some things left to be desired in the drama. That''s true of many of Gilbert's libretti as well. Some of the problems were, in fact, resolved. There are still tone inconsistencies, a plot which does not logically follow itself, and a poorly developed love story, but with cleaned up dialogue, great direction, and an excellent cast, this production of Haddon Hall was thoroughly enjoyed by the audience, and, in my mind, an undoubted success.
***
ADDENDUM: In my initial review, I neglected to mention the chorus. The chorus in Haddon Hall is not as characterized as some of the other choruses of the Savoy operas, but this chorus sang with wonderful musicality, and equal expression. The opening musical sequence -- "Ye Stately Homes Of England" going into "Today It Is A Festal Time" -- was as perfect an introduction as this opera could ask for.
There was also another change to the libretto I forgot to mention: The original libretto does not really specify a time frame for the opera (specifically the amount of time that has passed between Acts II and III), but it seems relatively short. Shorter than the several years that are specified in this version. Specified in the program that is. The libretto itself still does not seem to imply any particular passage of time in that interval, and only one bit of stage direction suggested anything more than a year.
There was also another change to the libretto I forgot to mention: The original libretto does not really specify a time frame for the opera (specifically the amount of time that has passed between Acts II and III), but it seems relatively short. Shorter than the several years that are specified in this version. Specified in the program that is. The libretto itself still does not seem to imply any particular passage of time in that interval, and only one bit of stage direction suggested anything more than a year.
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