Fans of Gilbert and Sullivan on no account will want to miss seeing the G & S Players' production of The Gondoliers, or the King of Barataria, but they may come away from it slightly puzzled. The operetta abounds in happy lyrics and exquisite corn. Brilliant costuming and scenery set the stage for some moments of first rate singing and acting. Yet because a variety of things are done standardly, a handful of performers, rather than the whole production, make the evening outstanding.

The evening really begins with the entrance of Joel Martin and John Webber.

To catalog the haughty grimaces, pomopus sneers, supplicating grins, and rapturous ecstasies of Martin's face as he suffers the uncertainty of uncertain royalty would surpass the capacities of the British Museum.

Webber's sweet tenor voice suits the usually many lyrics in Gondoliers; through he may not be quite up to the antics of his neighbors in Barataria, he makes their antics tolerable to listen to. If Martin is Lear the mad, Webber is Hamlet the brooding.

What holds of Joel Martin holds equally of Thomas Segall, the Duke of Plaza-Toro. His hen-pecked pomposity, always delightful, is the converse of his wife's (Judith Press) graceful rhinocerosity.

If there is a female lead in this cast of 17 important characters, it is the continually amazing Melanie Adams. She walks, she talks, she dances, she makes everyone happy.

Gregory Sandow had fine moments as an ominous Grand Inquisitor, a stony-faced lecher, and a jovial torturer. The rest of the gondoliers and contadine (gondoliers' playmates) danced and sang with polish unusual in a chorus.

Yet there were problems. Players and not only minor ones, watched the conductor far too much and far too obviously, instead of listening to the orchestra. They consistently fell behind the tempi, generally correct, set by conductor James Hughes.

The orchestra had its own problems. If it tuned at all, the effect was not observable; at times, intonation was painfully bad, though spirits were always high. Between numbers, it paused instead of maintaining the ridiculous pace that makes Gilbert and Sullivan exciting.

Excepting a few formations, most of the choreography was not only ordinary, it was unambitious.

But worse of all, and most difficult to remedy, was the pogo-stick quality of actors' sensitivity. When some inspired foolishness by Martin, Segall, or Miss Adams seemed to have lifted the show to greatness at last, one failure to respond or another sent it pludging down again.

Fortunately, the moments of greatness remain and with improved pacing and a more relaxed cast, the succeedings evenings of Gondoliers should be well worch sailing to the Loeb for