Going in to see Pacific Opera Project’s latest production, The Mikado, I didn’t know much about it, other than the fun fact that POP had chosen to present it in a production influenced by Harajuku style. Upon arriving, I learned that the alternate title is, “The Town of Titipu,” and my first thought was that this show seems the ideal way to introduce teenage boys to opera. Pandering with names like Pish-Tush and Nanki-Poo seems less objectionable than, say, castration. But that silliness made me wonder where Gilbert and Sullivan’s silliness had come from. After all, they’re British; they had to be aware what these faux-Japanese names would sound like. As it turns out, The Mikado was a satire of British institutions, so the exotic (and ridiculous) names, helped distance the story from home and, in the case of Yum-Yum, seemed also to provide some easy rhymes, if not also a hint of her delicious desirability. Watching the character of Poo-Bah also raised a chicken-or-egg question, and it turns out the term Grand Poobah originates from this Gilbert and Sullivan opera. This was no little-known show. Turns out, it had the second longest run for any work of musical theatre and one of the longest runs of any theatre piece up to that time. And in the show, Pooh-Bah holds numerous exalted offices, including “First Lord of the Treasury, Lord Chief Justice, Commander-in-Chief, Lord High Admiral… Archbishop of Titipu, and Lord Mayor.” It was particularly well done in POP, with the actor giving a different accent and carriage to each position. And as a result of Pooh-Bah’s “multitasking,” the name has come to be used as a mocking title for someone self-important or high-ranking and who either exhibits an inflated self-regard or who has limited authority while taking impressive titles. (definition by Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Grand_Poobah

POP came through with another colorful, engaging and entertaining show. Costumes were fun and dazzling. Choreography was somewhat literal, and gave the sense that, in a different venue, we could learn the moves and dance along. But with 54 singers (!) and the playful Harajuku style, that feeling contributed to a welcome unity of action on stage. The production even boasted some new lyrics, an addition that had me concerned when I saw the credit in the pre-show listings, but for which I’m now very glad. Adding mention of Silver Lake hipsters, comfortable Santa Monicans, bad drivers, hashtags, snap chats and Groupon, gave the show a welcome relevance, letting us laugh because it’s funny now, not because it was supposedly funny in 1885. With all this entertainment, it was easy to forget we were watching skilled opera singers – but only for a moment, until another cast member showed off their vocal stylings. If I had to give one critique, it would be that sometimes, because the singing wasn’t perfectly in synch, it was a little difficult to understand the lyrics. But I’ve only heard one show in LA with perfect synch – Follies. And I give them credit with making sure the dialog after each song cleared up any fuzzy plot moves that happened in verse. After all, I imagine that even at their clearest, lyrics from 1885 may not immediately resonate with us. However, in updated form, with added jokes, and eye-catching sets, this show from 1885 – with POPs help – absolutely does.