Pirates take over Seattle Opera’s Stage

Seattle Opera’s current production of The Pirates of Penzance (1879) enchanted Sunday’s matinee audience from its opening bars. This is the first of the Victorian “Savoy Operas” ever to be staged by the company, and it fills a void left by the now-dormant Seattle Gilbert & Sullivan Society. Indeed, Pirates was the last production mounted by the late lamented SG&S in 2022. The current SOA production makes a good argument for including English operettas in its repertoire going forward.

David Charles Abell led the orchestra through the familiar tunes of the overture, conjuring beauty from a rather elementary orchestral score. His was certainly a freer and more sonorous reading than the early–stereo Decca recording I grew up with.

That recording stayed in mind at the curtain, just after the rousing pirate chorus. Here was a Pirate King (baritone Reginald Smith Jr.) who, if not a charismatic stage presence, could certainly command by dint of his huge, dark voice. As Smith mugged his way through the Pirate King’s opening song, I wished the part offered more chances for him to really show off his voice.

The same rang true for the bass-baritone Nathan Stark (Sergeant of Police) and baritone Ilya Silchukou (Samuel.) These three roles were written for character voices like those on the old recording, and all three of these singers possess voices better suited to lyric operatic roles.

This was a minor distraction, however, and an operatic satire manned by opera singers soon had me smiling. Gilbert’s droll rhymes still pack enough punch to draw laughter 150 years hence, and if Sullivan’s musical parodies of Verdi and Gounod are lost on most listeners, the excellence of his melodies and their glove-fit to the words could never be.

The first act revolves around the 21-year-old Frederic (tenor David Portillo) who is celebrating the end of his long indenture with a band of soft-hearted pirates, and whose wicked lifestyle he intends to renounce. Having never seen another woman, Frederic leaves with his 47-year-old nursemaid Ruth (mezzo-soprano Katharine Goeldner,) who insists that she is (or was) considered beautiful, and whom he feels honor-bound to marry. The sudden sight of a bevy of young beauties causes his bitter rebuke “Oh! false one, you have deceiv’d me!”

This sendup of Donizetti was pitch perfect, and Goeldner delivered the most idiomatic singing of the night, but she could not keep down the ire of my poor wife, who declared, “I’m leaving! I can’t believe these slams against older women!” Admittedly, the subject made me squirm, but as a friend advised during intermission, “It’s Gilbert and Sullivan. Deal with it.”

These satirical setups, however creaky and inappropriate they might seem to a modern sensibility, live or die on effective staging. Director and choreographer Seán Curran followed Gilbert’s admonition that all movement be done in dead earnest, that everyone commit seriously to the silliness. To this end, he kept things spinning visually, with all kinds of crossings, group huddles, and exaggerated poses. He was helped by James Schuette’s whimsical high-chroma sets and props, which whirled around the crowded stage like tops. Schuette’s high-camp take on Victorian dress, from spiked custodian helmets to parasols and bustles, topped the frothy trifle.

This all gradually dispelled my wife’s discomfiture, especially Frederic’s aria “Oh, is there not one maiden breast?” which Portillo delivered with élan and a real sense of bel canto style. From within the chorus of demure young girls, Mabel (soprano Vanessa Becerra) volunteers to help Frederic reform his life. Not to be outdone by the tenor, Becerra quoted “Sempre libre” in the fioratura preceding her aria and launched into “Poor Wand’ring One” with assurance and a burnished sound.

Major General Stanley (baritone Thomas Glass) ridiculously arrayed in tunic, pith helmet, and long moustaches arrives in time to thwart the abduction of his daughters by the hapless pirates. Glass gatling-gunned his way through “I am the very model of a modern Major-General” enunciating well enough at speed to obviate the need for supratitles. Clearly enjoying himself, Glass encored the piece in double-time.

​“Hail, Poetry,” an a capella chorale at the center of the Act One finale, was the musical highlight of the evening. Any irony in the lyrics is drowned by its sheer musical excellence, and because it was given the full-throated treatment it deserves by a company of outstanding voices. Kudos to Michaella Calzaretta and her excellent chorus.

Act Two is notable mostly for the scenes including the Sergeant and his timid band of policemen. The catchiest tunes in the show bubble up through their three choruses: “Go, ye heroes, go to glory, though ye die in combat gory,” “A policeman’s lot is not a happy one,” and “Come friends, who plough the sea” — melodies that descend upon one unexpectedly the next day.

The other highlight of the act was the madrigal-shaped duet “Stay, Frederic, stay!” which features a refrain of singular beauty: “He loves thee — He is here.” Portillo showed off excellent legato phrasing here, and Becerra’s melting tone matched him note for note.

This production was aided by a framed proscenium that kept action intimate and the ensemble compressed. It also helped enormously with projecting sound. Singers used the apron as needed, but for the most part the story unfolded beneath the gilded arch and red curtain.