It’s the King and UCI at Yuletide Banquet : Henry VIII Takes a Curtain Call at Madrigal Dinner

The lights dimmed and the sound of a somber, muffled drum roll filled the great hall.

All eyes turned toward the balcony, where a spotlight focused on a court crier who announced:

“The king is dead. Long live the king!”

This bit of royal good news-bad news echoed throughout the cavernous room as members of the court, dressed in their flamboyant finery, repeated the crier’s announcement:

“The king is dead. Long live the king!”

Forget that it’s 1988 and that the 340 paying guests seated at long banquet tables are really on the Fine Arts Village Theater stage at UC Irvine.

Instead, imagine that, for the next 2 1/2 hours, the year is 1509 and the stage is Westminster Hall in England. After a 24-year reign, King Henry VII is dead, and Henry, the Prince of Wales, is--”with one voice and concert of tongue and heart”--proclaimed King Henry the VIII.

“Let the trumpet blow,” shouted the crier. “Let the songs resound. Let the feast commence.”

A brass fanfare reverberated through the hall, and the 11th annual UC Irvine Madrigal Dinner was under way.

It’s billed as a “royal yuletide banquet of Renaissance England,” and for 12 nights beginning Nov. 28 and concluding Dec. 14, the choral organizations of UCI present a re-creation of a Christmas celebration and banquet presided over by Henry VIII (this year played by John Peterson and Bruce Bales).

Peterson and Bales are among the more than 140 cast members and musicians who perform under the direction of music department Chairman Joseph Huszti, who teaches vocal and choral music. (Two casts split the run of the production.)

“It’s different every night. That’s the glory of live theater,” said Huszti, looking like a Renaissance Dapper Dan in a black and gold-leaf tunic, green cape and black stockings and wearing a heavy silver and gold pendant around his neck.

Beneath colorful banners hanging from the walls, 40 “servants” carried in wassail, the traditional Christmas drink made of hot cider and spices.

That was followed by a feast of potato leek soup, chicken, beef with marshberries, fresh vegetables, and fruits and cheeses topped off by royal plum pudding.

Throughout the evening, guests were entertained with magic and mime by the court jester (Armando Lucero), caroling at the tables (including songs written by the original Renaissance man, Henry himself), dancing and a knighting ceremony.

The costumed cast, despite occasional attempts by the audience to lure them into the 20th Century, remained in character throughout the dinner, which concluded with the coronation of the young Henry, who was only 18 when he ascended to the throne.

Although a 21-page script keeps things flowing smoothly, improvisation is the order of the night as members of the court mingle with diners. Eyeing one man’s red tie decorated with tiny Christmas trees, one royally costumed lady inquired what the strange “little figurines” were.

“Trees!” cried the lady’s royal partner, taking a closer look and inquiring, “Are you a Druid, sir?”

For the 25,000 Orange County residents who have been entertained at the UCI Madrigal Dinner during the past decade, it’s an evening to remember. And in the case of many guests, it’s an evening to repeat year after year.

Robert and Joyce Vaughn of Newport Beach, at the dinner for the third year, played hosts to a table of eight friends.

“I love the music. I love the atmosphere--everything,” said Robert Vaughn. “It’s just a joyous occasion. They do a beautiful job.”

Although the format remains the same, Vaughn said he enjoys the fact that a particular period in the life of Henry is spotlighted each year. At the 1987 dinner, Vaughn said, Henry was married to Katherine Parr (nee Lady Lattimer), “the only one of Henry’s wives to keep her head.”

Pointing to a guest at his table, Daniel Parr of Newport Beach, Vaughn said that Parr is a direct descendant of Henry’s sixth wife and that last year Parr actually had a chance to dance with “Katherine.”

“Back to the future,” joked Parr’s wife, Diana.

Which is precisely the point of the evening.

And for the past 11 years, Joe and Melinda Huszti, who serves as costume designer, have pulled the time-travel repast off royally with the help of students and volunteers.

They’ve come a long way since the first Madrigal Dinner when they had only a 2-night run in Gateway Commons.

That first year, the lighting consisted merely of turning a light switch on and off. This year, a computerized lighting system is manned by three professional lighting technicians who have more than 200 lighting cues. In fact, the lighting budget alone equals the first year’s total budget of $4,700.

The Madrigal Dinner is a $90,000 production. But with sell-out audiences each night and with tickets costing $25 and $30, the dinner pays for itself. Profits go toward music scholarships to UCI and the choir’s foreign concert tours.

From the start, the Husztis have emphasized authenticity, paying particular attention to re-creating “the feel” of the Renaissance.

While on choir tours, sabbaticals and vacations to England, they always make a point of stopping at museums and libraries to do research on the costumes and music of Henry’s era.

The costumes, which Melinda designs and sews, set the tone for the entire production.

Many of her costumes are based on the sketches of Hans Holbein, the greatest portrait painter of the Renaissance. To find fabric for the costumes, Melinda haunts the garment district in Los Angeles and relies on donated items. People also donate old jewelry, which she fashions into Renaissance shapes.

Although she has always been good at sewing, Melinda had no intention of becoming the royal haberdasher.

She said borrowed costumes were lined up the first year, but after the tickets were sold “the people that had the costumes learned food was involved and rescinded the offer.”

Melinda volunteered to make costumes, and Joe suggested that she make them only for the 12 singers in the front row because the back row could wear black. But, she said, the people in the back row were so disappointed that she decided to go ahead and make all 24 costumes. Then the musicians wanted costumes. So did their daughter, Heather, who was serving as head waitress.

With the help of Joe’s visiting mother, who did the hemming and sewed on the hooks and eyes, Melinda ended up making 40 costumes in 30 days.

Over the years, the Husztis’ costume collection has grown to 180, which they store in the attic of their University Hills home.

Despite their penchant for authenticity, Joe said, they ignore the more unpleasant aspects of Henry’s era and stick with the opulence. There are no beheadings here.

“Life was really hard in those days,” he said. “We figure these people (the guests) have worked all day, and they don’t want to hear any gruesome things. We think of it as a G-rated show. It’s not even a PG. The Renaissance period was a very bawdy, secular time, but this banquet is really for a general audience and children. It’s a dignified banquet, not a tavern.”

Just as many of the guests return year after year, so do the cast members.

Wendell Ballantyne of Santa Ana, a member of the California Chamber Singers and a 1981 UCI graduate, has been a cast member since 1983.

“It’s really strange,” said Ballantyne. “Some performances you get so caught up in the magic of the performance, it’s almost as though you are there. I suppose when I look back on my life, these would be some of the highlights. It’s something everybody doesn’t get to do.”

Barring unforeseen mishaps--such as the night rain washed away all the numbers on the carefully planned seating chart and the caterer’s tent blew away--everything seems to fall into place each night.

“To be frank, Joe doesn’t want it to fall into place,” confided Melinda. “He wants it new and different each year. The whole purpose is to keep it live and spontaneous. We want it to be just a happening, rather than a set piece where we all know our lines.”

Although she usually feels tired and relieved when it is over each year, “in a way it’s hard to leave it too. It sort of grows on you. I guess it’s a fantasy land in some ways.”

Her husband of 29 years agrees.

“I think everyone is still up after doing it,” he said. “Every performer is on stage and in character for 3 solid hours, and that takes adrenaline and a tremendous amount of energy. It takes me about 2 days to level off--and the performers as well.”

The hiatus doesn’t last long.

The first planning meeting for stage materials needed for next year is in January.