MY
FAIR LADY
CHANDOS CHSA
5358(2)
This, the latest in John Wilson’s exhilarating sequence of totally
complete musicals with the Sinfonia of London, is another absolute joy, though
with one minor caveat.
We have here every scrap of material created by Lerner and
Loewe, My Fair Lady’s creators, and that provides the only tiny problem. Shows in
public presentation often cut segues and links, sometimes just for reasons of
timing. These of course don’t apply in CD recordings, but some of the restorations
here, including the workaday Entr’acte, are really not worthy of our attention –
unless we are completist enthusiasts, and that is of course more than
acceptable. There is a huge appendix of excised numbers at the end of CD2, but
the odd interpolation during the main run jars a little.
That over, my enthusiasm for this glorious release is
boundless. Wilson’s Sinfonia of London plays with huge elan, but always with
tight discipline, and the choral singing of Alex Parker’s My Fair Lady Ensemble
is vibrantly resourceful, from the cockney of “’E ‘asn’t got a tuppence in ‘is
pocket” to the laid-back, show no emotion of the Ascot Gavotte.
The cast here brings presence and commitment to every line,
from Penelope Wilton as Mrs Higgins, Julia McKenzie as housekeeper Mrs Pearce,
up through Malcolm Sinclair as Colonel Pickering, diverting with Alun Armstrong’s
roistering Alfred P. Doolittle, and on to the principals. Jamie Parker an
exasperated Professor Henry Higgins and Scarlett Strallen a wondrous Eliza Doolittle.
Strallen’s opening “Aoooooooow” is the stuff of curdled
nightmares, but the painful, elongated coaching session “Poor Professor Higgins”
during which Eliza’s self-appointed Svengali tortuously untwists her vowels is
a triumph of performance, releasing into a cathartic “The Rain in Spain”.
Her characterisation of Eliza brings us a sweet reminiscence
of “Wouldn’t it be loverly” as the show nears its end, and then an utterly
beautiful concluding exchange between her returning self and Higgins. This is
marred, though (certainly nothing to do with John Wilson and his adept Sinfonia
of London), by the overblown orchestrations by Robert Russell Bennett and
Philip J. Lang disfiguring Higgins’ heartbreaking “I’ve grown accustomed to her
face”.
As a wordsmith I am particularly grateful to this recording
for reminding me of a huge lapse in Lerner’s libretto, which allows Higgins,
the great defender of perfect English, to split an infinitive: “to ever let a
woman in my life”. But Lerner redeems himself later with the most dextrous
rhyme, matching “Budapest” with “ruder pest”.
This treasurable release is completed with an informative,
well-illustrated insert-booklet compiled by David Benedict, who deserves many
congratulations for his insights into this very special show.
Christopher Morley