In ‘Utopia, Limited,’ Fitzbattleaxe (Walter B. Klyce ’10) sings of his love for Zara (Charlotte Munson), who cautions him that love’s true words should be spoken softly. The show is running at the Agassiz Theatre through April 14.

Some plays are obscure for obvious reasons; with others, the fact that they’re not more well-known seems outrageously unfair once you’ve seen them. Gilbert and Sullivan’s “Utopia, Limited” is of the latter category.

With a huge ensemble cast, political satire, unresolved side plots, self-slander, sex, finance, and mutton chops (I could go on), the duo’s penultimate Savoy opera is a work that would lend itself to variation after variation. But until the show’s reputation gets the boost it deserves, the Harvard-Radcliffe Gilbert and Sullivan Players’ (HRG&SP) new production of “Utopia, Limited,” directed by Jeremy R. Steinemann ’08 (an incredible debut) and produced by Ryder B. Kessler ’08 and Benjamin T. Morris ’09, will do just fine.

In fact, I liked this show so much that I’m going to get my one criticism out of the way now and be done with it: the pit orchestra is terrible. It’s been terrible at every HRG&SP production I’ve seen here, but this one beats them all. It is constantly out of tune, out of rhythm, out of sync, and it single-handedly ruins a few otherwise excellent musical numbers. At the beginning of the second act, as the orchestra started tuning, all I could think was, “Why bother?”

Okay. That’s done with. On to the good stuff. There’s much more of the good stuff.

The cast wields an almost embarrassing richness of personality, and under the musical direction of Julia S. Carey ’09, Arthur Sullivan’s daunting melodicism is terrifically realized. Gilbert and Sullivan operas are always wordy, and this dual satire of 19th century English society and limited liability companies—replete with now-obscure references to parliamentary legislation and Hawaiian princesses—is no exception.

But if the letter of W. S. Gilbert’s libretto is sometimes confusing (there’s a joke about St. James’ Hall, for example, that was totally lost on me), the spirit comes through loud and clear. That spirit is usually hilarious.

One of the show’s many central characters is King Paramount the First (Jonathan M. Roberts ’09). As ruler of the fictional island nation Utopia, King Paramount champions the radical Anglicization of his country. Though Paramount is a pushover throughout the show, he’s never one that you’ll feel bad laughing at, and Roberts’ voice is the best in the whole show.

Of course, English customs and governmental procedures are completely alien to Paramount, and so he enlists the aid of his eldest daughter, Princess Zara (Charlotte Munson, another great singer), who returns from school in England and brings with her four representatives of English society to help Utopia along in its transformation.

As deft caricatures of types that would have been glorified in 19th century England, these four “flowers of progress” careen through “Utopia, Limited” with unreserved joy, building up the military, transforming the Utopian monarchy into a totally commercial state—hence the title—and swiftly seducing all three of the King’s daughters.

Captain Fitzbattleaxe (Walter B. Klyce ’10) does the lion’s share of the seducing. (It’s worth the price of admission, by the way, just to hear how much fun Munson has pronouncing his name.) Strutting around in uniform with a charismatic squint and a terrifically nasal speaking voice, Klyce’s strong, clear tenor plays second fiddle only to his great comic timing. There’s a joke involving the hilt of his sword and an erection that is much funnier than it has any business being, and that’s entirely to Klyce’s credit.

The two lesser seducers, Mr. Goldbury (Roy A. Kimmey ’09) and Lord Dramaleigh (Morris), are just as likeable. Initially frustrated in their efforts to win the absurdly reserved hands of Princess Nekaya (Anna M. Resnick ’09) and Princess Kalyba (Megan M. Savage ’10), Goldbury and Dramaleigh burst into song with “Then I may sing and play.” The reason you should sleep with us, they tell the princesses, is because that’s what any proper English woman would do.

Lascivious and exploitative? Certainly. Creepy? Not for a minute. Like “Utopia, Limited” in general, Morris and Kimmey are always charming. It’s also hard to root against a pair who look so good in formal wear.

But not everyone is rooting for these English invaders, even though the audience may be. Scaphio (Charlie I. Miller ’08) and Phantis (Daniel V. Kroop ’10) are two native “Wise Men” who start out with total control of the King’s actions—they even force him to write and publish a tabloid slandering himself called “The Palace Peeper.” But as Utopia is Anglicized, Scaphil and Phantis get pushed out. They’re none too happy about it.

Aside from the alarming degree to which Kroop and Miller look alike, their onstage chemistry is nearly perfect. They feed off each other’s jokes. They make each other necessary. And as they both fruitlessly fall for Princess Zara, they come up with some of the show’s funniest moments.

The second act of “Utopia, Limited” feels harried and confused, but that’s no fault of the HRG&SP. Gilbert and Sullivan themselves got into arguments about the show’s construction and left those arguments mostly unresolved. As a result, an anticipated duel between Scaphio and Phantis for the love of Zara never takes place, among other incongruities.

By the end of the show, the cast has so effectively adopted the English way of doing things that the country’s efficiency actually becomes a problem. The all-powerful army and navy can’t find anyone who is willing to go to war with them, and the laws are so just that the lawyers are starving for lack of criminals to prosecute.

But by the time King Paramount and his Britishized Utopians stumble onto the unlikely cure-all for their excessive prosperity, anything “Utopia, Limited” may have forgotten to address doesn’t matter much. This show is well staged, brilliantly sung, and deeply funny.

Maybe my favorite thing about the HRG&SP is that they’ve never taken themselves too seriously, preferring instead to embody the best sense of the term “amateur,” which originates from the Latin word for one who loves. The cast and crew of “Utopia, Limited” clearly love what they’ve made. I do, too.

—Reviewer Richard S. Beck can be reached at rbeck@fas.harvard.edu.