Offenbach's operetta Vert-Vert begins with a scene involving a deceased parrot. Who would have thought that icon of postmodernist humour could have been dreamt up by Offenbach and his librettists nearly a century and a half ago? The bird in question is the beloved pet of the boarding girls at the Convent of Saint-Rémy, and so distraught are they at its demise that they decide to transfer their affections to the young Valentin (Robert Murray), whom they rename Vert-Vert.
The ensuing comedy, involving dragoons, a prim assistant headmistress (the excellent Yvonne Howard), a limp-wristed dancing master (Geoffrey Dolton), a seductive coloratura soprano (Naomi O’Connell), a prickly theatre director (Jack Gogarty), a put-upon gardener (Mark Wilde) and a bevy of convent girls (led by the admirable Fflur Wyn), is an unashamed romp. Little of the subversive critical edge of the genre that often satirised Second Empire mores was evident here: the convent setting is hardly anti-clerical, more St Trinian’s.
Francis O’Connor’s gabled and turreted set suits Martin Duncan’s production, which is spirited but lacks imaginative spark. Thankfully it is rendered in clearly audible English by a hard-working cast, using a witty translation by David Parry that is generally sensitive to word-setting. Parry’s conducting of this tuneful, inventive score is subtle and nuanced.
It’s impressively sung and acted and all moderately entertaining, provided you don’t set your intellectual expectations too high.
Until July 9 (01865 361636, garsingtonopera.org)
