The Many Hats of Tim Rebers
A Preview of Gilbert & Sullivan's Ruddigore
by Paul Kosidowski
A Preview of Gilbert & Sullivan's Ruddigore
by Paul Kosidowski
It’s the rehearsal before the first rehearsal of Ruddigore, or The Witches Curse, and Tim Rebers is wearing many hats.
The adapted music score of Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta—a joint production of Skylight Music Theatre and Milwaukee Opera Theatre--bears his name. And he’s currently at the piano, guiding singers Katie Gruell, Edward Lupella and Megan McCarthy through their parts. It’s no easy task since this trio—in addition to appearing as characters—is singing Arthur Sullivan’s score, music originally written for a D’Oyly Carte orchestra of 30-plus musicians.
But after rehearsing the trio, Rebers is ready for more hats—literally. Costume designer Molly Mason outfits him as a mariner straight out of H.M.S. Pinafore, and Rebers sits in front of a green screen to lip synch the words to “Painted Emblems of a Race,” Ruddigore’s supernatural showstopper. After a couple of video takes, he’s back again. A new hat and different set of false whiskers has transformed him into a London bobby right out of Pirates of Penzance. He lip-synchs to the same music, striking a different set of comic contortions.
Before the rehearsal is done, Rebers will don six different “looks.” Although they are playfully based on Gilbert & Sullivan characters from different operas, they are all part of Ruddigore’s parade of ancestral Murgatroyds, dating back to Sir Rupert, a noted witch-hunter from many decades before.
Not familiar with one of Gilbert and Sullivan’s least performed operettas? We’ll let the show’s co-director, Jill Anna Ponasik, take it from here: “Sir Rupert Murgatroyd of Ruddigore, a witch-hunting baron, is cursed by a witch before she is burned at the stake,” she explained to a gathering before the show’s first rehearsal. “The curse dictates that each baronet of Ruddigore must commit one crime every day or be tortured horrifically. When a friendly baron—20-some generations later—tries not to comply, the ghosts of all the ancestors step out of their portraits and tell him, ‘You’re not holding up your end of the bargain.’ Simply put, the living Murgatroyd needs to commit better crimes.”
If that all seems a bit high concept and high tech for 1887, it’s important to remember that Gilbert and Sullivan were dealing with a curse of their own when they conceived Ruddigore. The Savoy Theatre had been occupied for nearly two years by The Mikado, one of the duo’s most popular and successful shows (672 performances!). The next D’Oyly Carte show needed something special to keep the enthusiasm bubbling: Witch burnings! Ancestral curses! Paintings coming to life!
But Ruddigore was greeted with a ho-hum and even a few hisses at its premiere. A gleeful spoof of Victorian melodrama, its original title, Ruddygore, was considered a less-than-tasteful evocation of “blood and gore.” The “living portraits”—an attempted coup de théâtre—did not go smoothly. And critics and fans thought the second act needed a bit of tightening up.
But after the duo did some editing and repair work, Ruddigore had a respectable run of nearly 300 performances.
The Skylight team saw something far beyond “respectable” in Ruddigore. “I think Ruddigore might be one of Sullivan’s strongest scores,” says Rebers. But faced with the unlikely possibility of gathering more than 30 musicians to play it, Rebers, Ponasik and co-director Catie O’Donnell were faced with some interesting choices. “At one of our first meetings, the conversation went like this,” recalls Ponasik. “Well, we could reduce the orchestra. Or we could alter the orchestra. Or, we could take Sullivan’s yearning for coronation as a great composer—at this point in his career he was really striving to be Beethoven—and hand his orchestral ideas to singers to recreate them with their voices.”
Of course, singing the entire score would be, as Ponasik puts it, “crazy.” So Rebers has included “a little island of misfit instruments” in the musical mix: accordion, viola, guitar and celeste, a keyboard with a twinkly sound just right for a ghost story. They also just happen to be instruments that members of the Ruddigore cast can play.
To go with the unique sound of this production, the directors have crafted a unique look—one that matches, as O’Donnell puts it, “the black-and-white quality of the story and the emotional extremes it takes us to.” In pursuit of that look and quality, the creators immersed themselves in early cinema.
“Silent film’s natural extremes felt right for this world,” O’Donnell explains, “This is melodrama, a black and white world, which is serious and very farcical at the same time. Old movies helped us figure out what we want to do with these moments that are supposed to be soooo scary…but really are not. We had a lot of fun playing with these images.”
Back at that pre-first rehearsal, Tim Rebers is having a lot of fun playing with “these images.” As the vocal harmonies of “Painted Emblems” plays from a computer file (Rebers recorded all the parts), he pantomimes the pomp and indignation of fusty British aristocrats. There are mutton chops, floppy mustaches and plenty of stiff upper lips, along with a fair share of ominous eye-rolls. “A little more jowl in this one, I think,” he tells O’Donnell playfully just before the cameras roll.
And roll they do, creating the raw material of a ghostly chorus. These “painted emblems” will “step unwillingly once more” from January 3-19 in the Studio Theatre at the Broadway Theatre Center. For more information and tickets, go to www.skylightmusictheatre.org.
The adapted music score of Gilbert and Sullivan’s operetta—a joint production of Skylight Music Theatre and Milwaukee Opera Theatre--bears his name. And he’s currently at the piano, guiding singers Katie Gruell, Edward Lupella and Megan McCarthy through their parts. It’s no easy task since this trio—in addition to appearing as characters—is singing Arthur Sullivan’s score, music originally written for a D’Oyly Carte orchestra of 30-plus musicians.
But after rehearsing the trio, Rebers is ready for more hats—literally. Costume designer Molly Mason outfits him as a mariner straight out of H.M.S. Pinafore, and Rebers sits in front of a green screen to lip synch the words to “Painted Emblems of a Race,” Ruddigore’s supernatural showstopper. After a couple of video takes, he’s back again. A new hat and different set of false whiskers has transformed him into a London bobby right out of Pirates of Penzance. He lip-synchs to the same music, striking a different set of comic contortions.
Before the rehearsal is done, Rebers will don six different “looks.” Although they are playfully based on Gilbert & Sullivan characters from different operas, they are all part of Ruddigore’s parade of ancestral Murgatroyds, dating back to Sir Rupert, a noted witch-hunter from many decades before.
Not familiar with one of Gilbert and Sullivan’s least performed operettas? We’ll let the show’s co-director, Jill Anna Ponasik, take it from here: “Sir Rupert Murgatroyd of Ruddigore, a witch-hunting baron, is cursed by a witch before she is burned at the stake,” she explained to a gathering before the show’s first rehearsal. “The curse dictates that each baronet of Ruddigore must commit one crime every day or be tortured horrifically. When a friendly baron—20-some generations later—tries not to comply, the ghosts of all the ancestors step out of their portraits and tell him, ‘You’re not holding up your end of the bargain.’ Simply put, the living Murgatroyd needs to commit better crimes.”
If that all seems a bit high concept and high tech for 1887, it’s important to remember that Gilbert and Sullivan were dealing with a curse of their own when they conceived Ruddigore. The Savoy Theatre had been occupied for nearly two years by The Mikado, one of the duo’s most popular and successful shows (672 performances!). The next D’Oyly Carte show needed something special to keep the enthusiasm bubbling: Witch burnings! Ancestral curses! Paintings coming to life!
But Ruddigore was greeted with a ho-hum and even a few hisses at its premiere. A gleeful spoof of Victorian melodrama, its original title, Ruddygore, was considered a less-than-tasteful evocation of “blood and gore.” The “living portraits”—an attempted coup de théâtre—did not go smoothly. And critics and fans thought the second act needed a bit of tightening up.
But after the duo did some editing and repair work, Ruddigore had a respectable run of nearly 300 performances.
The Skylight team saw something far beyond “respectable” in Ruddigore. “I think Ruddigore might be one of Sullivan’s strongest scores,” says Rebers. But faced with the unlikely possibility of gathering more than 30 musicians to play it, Rebers, Ponasik and co-director Catie O’Donnell were faced with some interesting choices. “At one of our first meetings, the conversation went like this,” recalls Ponasik. “Well, we could reduce the orchestra. Or we could alter the orchestra. Or, we could take Sullivan’s yearning for coronation as a great composer—at this point in his career he was really striving to be Beethoven—and hand his orchestral ideas to singers to recreate them with their voices.”
Of course, singing the entire score would be, as Ponasik puts it, “crazy.” So Rebers has included “a little island of misfit instruments” in the musical mix: accordion, viola, guitar and celeste, a keyboard with a twinkly sound just right for a ghost story. They also just happen to be instruments that members of the Ruddigore cast can play.
To go with the unique sound of this production, the directors have crafted a unique look—one that matches, as O’Donnell puts it, “the black-and-white quality of the story and the emotional extremes it takes us to.” In pursuit of that look and quality, the creators immersed themselves in early cinema.
“Silent film’s natural extremes felt right for this world,” O’Donnell explains, “This is melodrama, a black and white world, which is serious and very farcical at the same time. Old movies helped us figure out what we want to do with these moments that are supposed to be soooo scary…but really are not. We had a lot of fun playing with these images.”
Back at that pre-first rehearsal, Tim Rebers is having a lot of fun playing with “these images.” As the vocal harmonies of “Painted Emblems” plays from a computer file (Rebers recorded all the parts), he pantomimes the pomp and indignation of fusty British aristocrats. There are mutton chops, floppy mustaches and plenty of stiff upper lips, along with a fair share of ominous eye-rolls. “A little more jowl in this one, I think,” he tells O’Donnell playfully just before the cameras roll.
And roll they do, creating the raw material of a ghostly chorus. These “painted emblems” will “step unwillingly once more” from January 3-19 in the Studio Theatre at the Broadway Theatre Center. For more information and tickets, go to www.skylightmusictheatre.org.
