Iolanthe

When in that House M.P.'s divide,
If they’ve a brain and cerebellum, too,
They’ve got to leave that brain outside,
And vote just as their leaders tell 'em to.
But then the prospect of a lot
Of dull M. P.’s in close proximity,
All thinking for themselves, is what
No man can face with equanimity.

In an election year -- especially in this election year -- what could be more enjoyable than a musical about a young man, half-human and half-fairy, being sent to Parliament where he becomes head of both opposing parties and passes a bill requiring that members of the  House of Lords be selected by competitive examination, rather than by noble birth?  Especially since this musical comedy dates back to 1882, and, as we know, things have only grown worse in the interval?

Yes, it's July and time once again for the annual production of the Seattle Gilbert & Sullivan Society.  This year, the production is Iolanthe, an operetta dear to my own heart since it was the first G&S show I ever saw live, back when I was a college freshman.

As I've said in past years, if you've seen one G&S show, in a sense you've seen them all.  But Iolanthe does have some interesting twists of plot, what with the fairies and all. 

Iolanthe, a luscious young female fairy (they all are luscious -- they never grow old, don't you know) married a human.  Although a capital offense, the Queen of the Fairies commuted the sentence to a permanent ban from fairydom.  In the fullness of time, Iolanthe brought forth a halfling son, Strephon, a radiant and unbearably cheerful young twit who, as the story commences, is 25 years old.  He, a shepherd by profession,  has fallen in love with a Bo Peep of a wife who, as an orphan, is a ward of Chancery. 

As all of us British Constitutional Law nerds know, the Lord Chancellor -- in whose hands Phyllis's matrimonial future lies -- sits (or did until 2005) on the wool sack,  presiding over the House of Lords.  Unfortunately, all of the Lords, including the Chancellor himself, have their own connubial designs on Bo Peep (I mean Phyllis).

The Law is the true embodiment
Of everything that's excellent.
It has no kind of fault or flaw,
And I, my Lords, embody the Law.
The constitutional guardian I
Of pretty young Wards in Chancery,
All very agreeable girls — and none
Are over the age of twenty-one.
A pleasant occupation for
A rather susceptible Chancellor!

Complications ensue, as they are wont to do in these little plays, complications that include Iolanthe's return to fairydom and the Lords' incurring the wrath of the Fairy Queen.  Her Fairy Majesty, fortunately controlling a rotten borough or two, sends Strephon to Parliament armed with a spell requiring all other M.P.s to obey his commands.  To the horror of the Lords, his bill to require members of the Upper House to possess intelligence is rushed through its second reading.

Strephon’s a Member of Parliament!
Carries ev'ry Bill he chooses.
To his measures all assent –
Showing that fairies have their uses.
Whigs and Tories
Dim their glories,
Giving an ear to all his stories –
Lords and Commons are both in the blues!
Strephon makes them shake in their shoes!

More complications.  The Lord Chancellor (played by local talk radio host Dave Ross, who always scoops up these most juicy roles) grants a request from himself to marry Phyllis himself.

Lord Chancellor. Victory! Victory! Success has crowned my efforts, and I may consider myself engaged to Phyllis! At first I wouldn’t hear of it – it was out of the question. But I took heart. I pointed out to myself that I was no stranger to myself; that, in point of fact, I had been personally acquainted with myself for some years. This had its effect. I admitted that I had watched my professional advancement with considerable interest, and I handsomely added that I yielded to no one in admiration for my private and professional virtues. This was a great point gained. I then endeavoured to work upon my feelings. Conceive my joy when I distinctly perceived a tear glistening in my own eye! Eventually, after a severe struggle with myself, I reluctantly – most reluctantly – consented.

In the face of such a disastrous potential marriage by her daughter, Iolanthe abandons her inclinations toward secrecy and confesses to her daughter -- and to the astonished Lord Chancellor -- that the Chancellor himself was the man whom she had married yea these many years ago.  The Lord Chancellor could hardly marry his own daughter.

Nor did he wish to, now that he had his fair Iolanthe back again, aged not a whit over a quarter century.  Immediately, all the fairies and all the Lords wish to be married off together.  The fact that such a marriage is a capital offense under fairy law is overcome by the sort of adroit legal maneuvering one would expect from a Lord Chancellor, and everyone lives happily ever after.

Damn!  Who would want to waste an evening watching The Dark Knight Rises when he has meaty fare like Iolanthe at his disposal.  Guess there's just no accounting for tastes.

Tonight's is the final night's performance at the Bagley Wright -- see it if you have a chance. And watch for next July's Gilbert & Sullivan production.