I’m furious. Genuinely, unreasonably fuming. I have been a Gilbert & Sullivan fan my entire adult life and somehow never managed to see The Gondoliers before. So, I was thrilled to hear that English Touring Opera were opening their Spring season in their new home city of Sheffield with my white whale operetta. And now that I’ve seen it, I’m angry on two accounts. First—I can’t immediately rewind it and watch it again. Second—it has pretty much ruined me for all future productions of the show. It’s impossible to fathom a performance that could give the zest, the pure joyous energy of The Gondoliers, with more cheekiness, charm and sumptuous detail.

As it turns out, I was in a good company of firsts; last night’s performance was ETO’s debut production of The Gondoliers. Liam Steel, returning to ETO after a ten-year absence, directed and choreographed. Jack Ridley conducted. The operetta itself, Gilbert and Sullivan’s last popular success, is set in Venice and the fictional kingdom of Barataria. The story tracks gondoliers Marco and Giuseppe, who discover one of the two is the long-lost heir to the throne. The problem is: nobody knows which one. What follows is a delightfully chaotic tangle of mistaken identity, republican idealism, accidental bigamy and dancing. So much glorious dancing.

Michael Pavelka’s set felt like a dollhouse world, with a picture-frame-style false proscenium giving the sense that we were watching a Rococo painting come to life. A quaint tableau curtain drew from the middle to reveal a series of convertible, arch-shaped Venetian bridges in a glimmering waterway. Behind, the windows of the Rialto Bridge featured a series of David statues slowly rotating until a “full moon” overlooked the canal. With one carefully placed bum, we were told everything we needed to know about the production to come. A tunnel was revealed below, where our cast arrived via gondola (what else?) in some of the funniest moments of the night, their feet seen visibly propelling their boats through the water.

The iconic steps did hard graft in the first act, with singers performing full throttle whilst simultaneously wheeling the structures through intricate choreographic patterns. My heart was in my throat when singers danced their way across moving gaps as if taking a careless stroll. Later, the Palace of Barataria offered an entirely different atmosphere. Enormous floor-to-ceiling frescoes depicted scantily clad gods and goddesses winking in the direction of a bacchanal. The mood was pure lads-lads-lads, with gondoliers barbequing, smoking and lazing about in untidy underwear. An oversized throne pedestal, towering through the middle, provided a fantastic contrast to the boys-will-be-boys energy of Marco and Giuseppe’s new republican monarchy. It was a lavish confetti cannon of colours, textures and details.

Laura Jane Stanfield’s costumes were on a level all of their own. Think the Palace at Versailles, but make it fashun, baby. The women of Venice were clad in Easter-egg pastel skirts with a shocking amount of knee and pantaloon on display. The gondoliers, in their white trousers and characteristic boat-hats, leaned into fresh design with striped side pleats and gondola appliqué waistcoats. When the Duke and Duchess of Plaza-Toro arrived, the aesthetic hit full tilt. Styling on top of styling on top of styling, like jewel-toned frosting complete with peacock motifs. Perhaps my favourite costume of the evening was the Duchess’s Venetian mask-inspired creation, complete with a pale lilac wig climbing up a purple structure almost a foot high. I couldn’t take my eyes off the magnificent monstrosity. Casilda’s cerise bedazzled mantua miniskirt (three words I never thought I’d say together) reminded me of Versace in the ’90s. Don Alhambra del Bolero was dressed in a red and black cape, a little black goatee and a red sequined zucchetto that read equal parts heaven and hell; perfect for a pantomime villain who couldn’t resist the gondoliers infectious buoyancy. There was a loving attention to detail—from the stains on the gondolier’s vests, to the cameo portraits on the Duchess’s dress—that you rarely see in productions without a hefty budget.

To see my full review, please visit Northern Arts Review

See you in the shadows my loves,

Sean x