Interview with HMS Pinafore guest star Mel Giedroyc

Best known as one half of the comedy duo Mel and Sue, as well as for The Great British Bake Off, Taskmaster, and her delightfully unhinged Eurovision commentaries, Mel has spent three decades making the nation laugh. Now, she’s bringing her comic sparkle to the English National Opera, making her debut in Cal McCrystal’s exuberant production of HMS Pinafore. ‘When ENO called,’ she laughs, ‘my first reaction was: have they got the wrong number?’

Quickly she realised they didn’t. ‘It’s being done by Cal, who I adore. I haven’t worked with him since the ’90s, but I’ve followed his work through the decades – the physical comedy, the clowning, the sheer theatricality of it. When I realised it was that HMS Pinafore, I thought: oh, I am, pardon the pun, on board.’

This isn’t Mel’s first voyage with Pinafore. ‘I did it at school when I was 13,’ she tells me. ‘We had this brilliant music department that liked to push the boat out. Literally. I played Little Buttercup and absolutely loved it.’

When she dropped the bombshell on her childhood friends that she’s set to return to the ship’s deck all these years later, her phone exploded with photos and memories. Then she’s off, painting a scene so flamboyant it could be its own operetta: a family friend – a Catholic priest – arriving at her school production in full naval regalia. ‘I say naval quite loosely; it was more Larry Grayson than Sir Joseph Porter,’ she says, recalling the white flares, navy roll-neck, and spectacular captain’s hat.

‘He even had glasses on a chain and a cane. The audience were more interested in him than us 13-year-olds!’ She roars with laughter. ‘It was the early ’80s, and he was basically having his Billy Porter moment, when he’s borne into the Met Gala by 12 musclebound half-naked men. It was bloody marvellous.’ That sense of flamboyance, Mel says, is what she loves most about opera. ‘Opera is extra. You think musical theatre goes big, and then you see an opera and go, oh, OK, this is the real deal. The outrageousness, the colour, the emotion. Especially with Gilbert and Sullivan [G&S]; it’s permission to press the turbocharge button. You don’t have to worry, you just let it wash over you in glorious technicolour.’

Rehearsals, she says, have been a riot. ‘All the singers I’ve worked with are super-laidback and so funny. That’s the joy of doing a G&S; it’s a gang show. No divas, just a bunch of comedy cogs turning together.’ Mel thrives on that kind of ensemble energy. ‘There’s no room for big comedic egos. Everyone’s there to serve the show and bring the “bantz”. And there are some bloody good banterous people in that room.’ She credits McCrystal’s direction for keeping the atmosphere electric. ‘He’s brilliant at creating these quick-fire, joyous worlds where everyone gets a moment to shine.’ It’s mayhem in the best possible way – particularly as, without giving too much away, Mel hints that audiences can expect ‘a little bit of fraying at the edges’.

‘I don’t want to say I’m there to muck things up,’ she teases, ‘but maybe to add a touch of chaos.’ Mel’s taking on two roles – ‘I do like a bit of multitasking’ – and embracing everything that comes with them. ‘There’s a lot of physical comedy – a lot of physical comedy. So I’ll probably be wearing knee-pads. Maybe not a crash helmet, but we’ll see.’ The true scene-stealers, though, might be the costumes. ‘They’re the best I’ve ever worn,’ Mel confesses happily. ‘And that’s saying something; I’ve worn a lot of costumes over my 37 years in this ridiculous business. These are up there with the milkmaid outfit from Eurovision.’

She’s full of praise for set and costume designer takis. ‘He’s the nicest man on the planet, and so genius and talented. At my fitting, I was almost in tears. I get to play a boy and a rather refined lady. It’s heaven.’

Despite her years in theatre and television, Mel admits stepping onto the Coliseum stage has been overwhelming in the best possible way. ‘We love ENO in my house,’ she says. ‘We try to see as much as we can, because they’re just so innovative and joyful. Hearing that huge orchestra for the first time, I just started blubbing. I’ll have to rein that in before curtain up. You can’t have the guest star sobbing before the overture; that would be a downer. But honestly, the scale of it? All of those people coming together to create that beautiful noise? It’s mad.’ Mel hopes her presence might encourage a few first-time opera-goers to take the plunge. ‘Let’s give it a go!’ she laughs. ‘The Mel and Sue audience usually includes breastfeeding mothers, prisoners – we genuinely get a lot of mail from prisoners – and teenagers bunking off school. If even a slice of that lot turn up, I’ll be thrilled. All comers welcome!’

She’ll also be bringing her own sizeable clan. ‘I’ve got a lot of sisters, cousins and aunts – my own HMS Pinafore-esque crew – plus nephews and nieces galore. Just my family alone will make a good little posse in the Coliseum.’ Asked to sum up the production in three words, she fires back instantly: ‘Fizzing. Affirming. Breathtaking… and hilarious.’ (That’s four, but who’s counting?) As for anyone still hesitating about whether the world of opera is for them, Mel’s advice is very much on brand: ‘Sitting on the fence is really uncomfortable. Take it from a lifelong piles sufferer: get off the fence and come aboard!’ Then, with a sudden tenderness that catches you off guard, she adds: ‘Honestly. I’m sure things are going to get better, because I am an optimist, but you know… it feels like we’re all living through something akin to the eighth order of hell right now. It’s grim, bleak, dark and unremitting. HMS Pinafore is pure joy; I hope audiences go away feeling like they’ve had a week’s holiday. Or a minibreak at the very least.’ Opera as escapism, comedy as connection, and Mel Giedroyc leading the charge? Anchors aweigh!