The Daily Free Press--November 5, 1971

G&S Troupe Presents Comic Opera: Ruddygore by Fred Allen, Assistant Editor

Savoyards, the Gilbert and Sullivan company of Boston University is producing the comic opera Ruddygore. Performances will be November 12, 13, 14, 19, and 20 at 8:30, a Sunday matinee on the 14th at 2:00, in Hayden Hall. "The Savoyards started in '67" said Margaret Vincent, the business manager of the company and a CLA student. "Ruddygore will be our tenth production. We've never done it before." Ruddygore by W.S. Gilbert and Arthur Sullivan was written right after one of their greatest sucesses, The Mikado. Although Ruddygore was not well received at the time, it is thought to contain some to the pair's best work. The comic opera is a satire on early 19th century melodramas. It involves an ancient curse, tangled love-affairs, very complicated plot twists, and of course, a happy ending. It also has characters with names like Richard Dauntless, Sir Despard Murgatroyd, Rose Maybud, and Mad Margaret. "The stage direction is by Paul David Seltzer, a graduate student in SED," said Vincent. "The music is directed by David Gaylin from Harvard. Although we are mostly BU students, we have MIT and Harvard students in our group. In addition, we have ex-students and a couple of teachers helping us. The group is open to everyone, though we give priority to BU students." Vincent continued, "All the people who are in our shows are members of the group and elect the board members. We do one major show a semester, plus an orientation show each fall." "We cast the show at the end of September" said Vincent. "We have a six week rehearsal schedule with two rehearsals a week in the beginning leading up to a rehearsal every night the last week and a half." "There was a Gilbert and Sullivan society at BU a long time ago, but it was disbanded during World War II," said Vincent. "We still get a lot of the old timers coming to our shows and giving us advice." Vincent said, "This group is close because they all have a common desire to perform. There is little chance to perform in a musical production at BU, if you're not from SFAA. We're an amateur group, but we put on a good performance and the kids are proud of it. When you have 1500 people come to see you, it is something to be proud of." Ruddygore is going to be a good show," she concluded. "Probably one of the best we've ever had."

The Daily Free Press--November 9, 1971

The Opera Season by Norman S. George

Spawned and nurtured in the bosom of the middle class, I have, over the last three years, tried to reform. Freshman year saw the demise of six tab-collar shirts, three pairs of H.I.S. perma-press trousers, and a pronounced nasal twang. Sophomore year was spent in distributing my meager resources among street peddlers, Asian charities, and bums. By the end of Junior year I had consumed enough synthetic pills and powders to stock a medium-sized pharmacy. These conscientious eflorts at self-rehabilitation have all been for nought, however, and I am about to suffer a complete relapse. Certain thespian elements from Boston University, Tech, and Harvard have coalesced in an effort to subvert my developing humanitarianism, and their campaign begins on Friday night, right on our own campus! The semi-annual Gllbert and Sullivan season is upon us. There is something about the Savoy operas that brings out the Running Dog Lackey of the Wall Street Brokers in me. For at least thirty days each semester all thoughts of revolution are cast to the, four winds and I totally dedicate myself to the opera season. Jarvis my valet, is ordered to resurrect the old suit from its camphorated tomb, and both dress shirts are hustled off to the cleaner. At least one full evening is given over to the vigorous polishing of my good pair of shoes, and if it's particularly good opera, I might even try a trim my hair. Triggered by the opening performance of Ruddygore in Hayden Hall this Friday evening, a remarkable transformatlon will be seen in Yours Truly. Throughout the afternoon I will linger in my bath, regally sipping a glass of the finest apple wine. Apres bain. I still casually don an immaculate silk-embroidered smoking jacket(borrowed for the occasion from Steve Trachtenberg) and leisurely take nourishment from a lunch of sauteed mushrooms and veal. Around sevenish, after producing a pair of front-row tickets on a silver plated salver, Jarvis will summon a hansom to drive me to the theater where I will meet the Dutchess. On most occasions I appear to be a stoop-sbouldered. shuffling wreck, but on Friday night Old Norm will fairly dance into the theater, radiant in a single-breasted number,smoking a cork-tipped cigarette, and jauntily tipping my silk topper to passers by. I may twirl a gold-headed malacca walking stick. By the end of the first act I will be in a Victorian state of mind, fancying myself a latter-day Frank Harris, ever ready to bewitch, beguile and bewilder the ladies of the stage. I will probably be drunk. Aside from nurturing a decadent taste for things bourgeois, Gilbert and Sullivan make me overly critical of my fellow savoyards. Though usually a tolerant sort of fellow, during the opera season I become a theatrical bigot of Bunkeresque proportions. Firmly dug into my center seat I cast a malevolent eye at the man next to me--just waiting for him to ruin my evening. It's a terrible thing to say, but I hate the audience. A Savoy opening is a momentous event and consequently I don't want to miss I single note or lyric. But, inherent to all Gilbert and Sullivan audiences, there is always some cretin in the fourth row who has to stamp his feet and sing along with the actors. No sooner does the orchestra break into your favorite aria but some baldheaded, retired army colonel begins to march in place and whistle off-key so that you can't hear a single note. You sit there, mangling your programme, and harboring murky thoughts of ramming a pair of opera glasses down his throat, it never fails. For every foot-stamping warbler in the audience there are at least a dozen compulsive hand-clappers, usually related to someone in the cast, who insist on at least seven encores per song. I have nothing against good encores, mind you, but why is it that whenever it's a rotten song, the relatives go wild? I mean, there'll be this horrible contralto up there, shrieking like a frightened marmoset, and before she's finished butchering the music her Aunt Beulah and Uncle Warren ( who came all the way up from Camden) are screaming for an encore. In times such as this I wish I owned 1 small caliber pistol. They drive me crazy. So, dear readers, if I appear ostentatious and grumpy for the next few weeks, I trust you'll understand. With f our G and S operas scheduled for the next month, it may be a good while before I can again return to bohemian normalcy. But I will. At least until the Spring Season.

Production List	Ruddygore '71 home	Notes from the Archives...	Photographs