"There is some little doubt as to which of you is the gentleman I am
addressing and which is the gentleman who is allowing his attention to wander."
This short attention span version of the plot of The Gondoliers
is presented as a service to that special segment of our audience. We must warn you that
this opera contains a lot of musical notes, many of which are accompanied by castanets and
other startling percussive effects, so don’t doze off. Furthermore, the first half
hour of the opera has no dialogue, and worse yet, the singers keep lapsing into Italian,
so it’s a little hard to follow the action since there are no subtitles.
The story is about some guys who are members of the Italian Boatmen’s Union,
and are staunch republicans (honest). Two of their members (who happen to be brothers),
are pretty shy and have had trouble getting dates, so the local girls set up a game of
blind man’s bluff and agree that these two wannabe lotharios can marry any two of
them they can catch. Well, after a bit of cheating and other carryings on, they pick a
couple of girls, run off to get married, and we move on to where some lines are actually
spoken in English.
At this point, a boat docks at the back of the stage, stranding several seasick
singers on the seashore (try saying that four times!), consisting of a snooty
Spanish Duke, his formidable wife, their equally formidable daughter and the little
drummer boy (no, really!).
They send Louie (that’s the drummer) off to fetch the Grand Inquisitor of
Spain who lives in the Ducal Palace in Venice. (Thus indicating that the author, Gilbert,
skipped more than one history class as a boy!) While he’s away, they explain to their
daughter that she was married as a baby to the infant King of Barataria.
This doesn’t sit well with the daughter for a couple of reasons. First, the
family’s broke and she doesn’t have a thing to wear, and second, she’s been
contemplating running off with Louie the drummer.
Her father assures her that their financial woes are at an end because he has just
incorporated himself under the Limited Liability Act (Hold it! There’s that deja vu
coming back again. I suppose now we get Flowers of Progress?) and, for no
apparent reason, he breaks into a song about his days in the army.
The daughter tells Louie that she has to break up with him ‘cause she just
found out that she is the Queen of Barataria. They engage in a little retroactive necking.
The kindly old Grand Inquisitor shows up and explains that he kidnapped the baby
king for his own good and gave him to an old gondolier to raise. Unfortunately, the
gondolier’s wife ran off with a brigand and the old man began to hit the bottle.
Between that and the gout, he died without being able to remember which of the kids was
his and which was the kidnap victim. So basically, this daughter is married to one of two
brothers, who are gondoliers, and no one is sure which.
(You don’t suppose all this has anything to do with the two guys we were
talking about earlier do you?)
OK, so now the afore-mentioned gondoliers are getting ready to go on their
honeymoon with their new wives. The kindly old Grand Inquisitor intervenes and tells them
that one of them is the King.
This sets them aback (I mentioned that they were both
republicans) but they immediately think of ways that being a king could fit in with their
republican fallacies (Gilbert’s words – not mine).
They envision an ideal sort of a king that "would abolish taxes and make
everything cheap, except gondolas." And "scramble money on the Rialto among the
gondoliers." And be the environment king. And be the education king. And be the
Vision Thing king, etc.
Finally, they decide that this, along with a balanced budget, would be too much
for any given republican, so they agree to rule jointly until someone figures out
who’s really in charge.
At this point, their buddies show up and the two kings explain that they intend to
have an equal opportunity administration and the recession is over because they can all
have jobs about the palace. The kindly old Grand Inquisitor, anticipating a second-act
plot complication, suggests that perhaps it would be wise if their new wives were to join
them "later."
In part two, we learn that having an equal opportunity kingdom can lead to some
interesting complications. Part of the royal duties, for example, include relieving the
sentry so he con go for a beer. Meantime, the girls are getting pretty restless because
their husbands never write, so they borrow a boat and bring their friends to the
palace.
This, of course, leads to dancing, food, drink and general carrying on. (Speaking
of drinking, what was Gilbert up to? The lyrics at this point degenerate to
"pitter-pitter-patter, and the clitter-clitter-clitter-clatter,
clitter-clitter-clatter, pitter-pitter-patter, patter, patter, patter, patter,"
etc.)
Somehow the kindly old Grand Inquisitor shows up at this juncture and for some
obscure reason gives them leapfrog lessons. He warns them that if they don’t mend
their ways they will end up with political party leaders in the street – which is
pretty much where we are today.
He also breaks the news that one of them is an unintentional bigamist and that the
two gondoliers have managed to acquire three wives between them! This leads to an
irrational number involving fractions, during which tempers flare.
The Spanish Duke and his dysfunctional family barge in once again and his wife
explains how she "tamed" him and then they both explain the inner workings of
their new company, The Duke of Plaza-Toro, Ltd. The Duke kindly teaches the two gondoliers
how to dance the gavotte (I don’t know why!)
Finally, the gondoliers' mother shows up and puts us all out of our misery
because she can remember who the king really is (pardon my dangling participle). It turns
out to be Louie the drummer! This straightens everything out and we ring down the curtain
with a great deal more of the clitter-clatter dancing business.
--Mike Storie
