Arthur Sullivan always wanted to be remembered as a composer of serious operas. It didn't quite work out that way - the ones he did write are cherished only by a small band of enthusiasts. But at least there's still The Yeomen of the Guard, enduringly popular and now receiving an eight-week London run courtesy of the D'Oyly Carte company.
It is this that he and WS Gilbert considered to be their best piece of work together, and it is probably no coincidence that, eager to be taken seriously, they favoured the darkest of their operettas. There is even an unusually not-entirely-happy ending, which you can spot coming a mile off if you count up the (odd) number of marriageable principal characters.
Ian Talbot's production serves up the story of beefeaters and buxom lasses in a simple, revolving set, with various useful walkways squeaking into place next to a central tower. Despite one or two ragged edges, the orchestra play well for David Steadman, though the number of strings in the pit could usefully be doubled at the very least.
The casting is consistently decent. Oliver White is a likable and very nearly dashing Colonel Fairfax, and there's good singing from Gareth Jones as Sergeant Meryll, while Jill Pert's Dame Carruthers is seriously scary. As Phoebe, Maria Jones sings with a velvety, plummy mezzo that sounds good, but seems at odds with her flouncy, girly characterisation. Janet Fairlie as Elsie starts off rather monochromatically, but her singing grows in expression during the evening. As ever, it's the melancholic jester Jack Point who comes closest to stealing scenes. He's played here with panache by Paul Barnhill - who would have thought that Brookside's Josh Carter would have such a voice on him?
D'Oyly Carte is getting back on its feet after years of financial uncertainty, and this staging can't rival, say, the English National Opera's production of The Mikado for style, scale and musical values. Nor is the Yeomen one of G&S's more satirical works so, while there are some fine Gilbertian gags, there's not much opportunity for inserting scathing, topical jokes. Don't expect a laugh a minute - but if you're after a solid, traditional and wholly respectable G&S show, this will hit the spot.
Until June 8. Box office: 020-7836 8888.
