I’ve just finished reading ‘The Tiger’s Wife’ by Téa Obreht, which won the Orange Prize for Fiction in 2011. I was amazed to discover that this excellent book is Obreht’s first novel, and that she was only born in 1985. She was raised in the former Yugoslavia until 1992 when her family moved, first to Cyprus and then to Egypt, where she learned to speak English, before emigrating to the United States in 1997. ‘The Tiger’s Wife’ is set in the modern day Balkans where Natalia is a doctor attempting to help casualties of war on both sides of a border while remembering her grandfather and recounting to us episodes from his long life. Though I had heard much praise for the novel, I feared the setting sounded bleak but Obreht creates a mythic fairy-tale quality, even in the contemporary scenes in which place names and real people are never directly mentioned (Belgrade is simply ‘The City’). And as she delves (non-sequentially) into episodes from the past, a jigsaw puzzle plot emerges which seems to come from a tradition of Balkan folklore and storytelling. The tiger of the title escaped from Belgrade zoo after the Nazi bombings and survived in the forests outside Natalia’s grandfather’s village. This premise of a liberated zoo tiger obviously reminds you of Yan Martel’s ‘Life of Pi’ and there are similarities in the way Obreht uses a painstakingly realistic tiger (rather than a magical realist device). But ‘The Tiger’s Wife’ is quite a different novel and weaves an enticing spell around the reader. It’s a very clever and enjoyable book and Téa Obreht is clearly a talent to watch.
Friday, June 01, 2012
'The Tiger's Wife' by Téa Obreht
1 June 2012
I’ve just finished reading ‘The Tiger’s Wife’ by Téa Obreht, which won the Orange Prize for Fiction in 2011. I was amazed to discover that this excellent book is Obreht’s first novel, and that she was only born in 1985. She was raised in the former Yugoslavia until 1992 when her family moved, first to Cyprus and then to Egypt, where she learned to speak English, before emigrating to the United States in 1997. ‘The Tiger’s Wife’ is set in the modern day Balkans where Natalia is a doctor attempting to help casualties of war on both sides of a border while remembering her grandfather and recounting to us episodes from his long life. Though I had heard much praise for the novel, I feared the setting sounded bleak but Obreht creates a mythic fairy-tale quality, even in the contemporary scenes in which place names and real people are never directly mentioned (Belgrade is simply ‘The City’). And as she delves (non-sequentially) into episodes from the past, a jigsaw puzzle plot emerges which seems to come from a tradition of Balkan folklore and storytelling. The tiger of the title escaped from Belgrade zoo after the Nazi bombings and survived in the forests outside Natalia’s grandfather’s village. This premise of a liberated zoo tiger obviously reminds you of Yan Martel’s ‘Life of Pi’ and there are similarities in the way Obreht uses a painstakingly realistic tiger (rather than a magical realist device). But ‘The Tiger’s Wife’ is quite a different novel and weaves an enticing spell around the reader. It’s a very clever and enjoyable book and Téa Obreht is clearly a talent to watch.
I’ve just finished reading ‘The Tiger’s Wife’ by Téa Obreht, which won the Orange Prize for Fiction in 2011. I was amazed to discover that this excellent book is Obreht’s first novel, and that she was only born in 1985. She was raised in the former Yugoslavia until 1992 when her family moved, first to Cyprus and then to Egypt, where she learned to speak English, before emigrating to the United States in 1997. ‘The Tiger’s Wife’ is set in the modern day Balkans where Natalia is a doctor attempting to help casualties of war on both sides of a border while remembering her grandfather and recounting to us episodes from his long life. Though I had heard much praise for the novel, I feared the setting sounded bleak but Obreht creates a mythic fairy-tale quality, even in the contemporary scenes in which place names and real people are never directly mentioned (Belgrade is simply ‘The City’). And as she delves (non-sequentially) into episodes from the past, a jigsaw puzzle plot emerges which seems to come from a tradition of Balkan folklore and storytelling. The tiger of the title escaped from Belgrade zoo after the Nazi bombings and survived in the forests outside Natalia’s grandfather’s village. This premise of a liberated zoo tiger obviously reminds you of Yan Martel’s ‘Life of Pi’ and there are similarities in the way Obreht uses a painstakingly realistic tiger (rather than a magical realist device). But ‘The Tiger’s Wife’ is quite a different novel and weaves an enticing spell around the reader. It’s a very clever and enjoyable book and Téa Obreht is clearly a talent to watch.
Norway
1 June 2012
We had a truly wonderful holiday in Norway last week. The weather was perfect and the scenery stunning. It was our first visit to Norway and our first cruise. I think we had seen the cruise merely as a convenient way to get to Norway but after our first day on the P&O liner Oriana we were completely hooked. The ship was great, the food was amazing (and endless!) and we met some lovely people. We even enjoyed the on-board entertainment which was of a much higher standard than I was expecting. We stopped for a full day at each of our four destinations. At Stavanger we explored the town and visited the Museum of Fine Art which was hosting a video installation by Bill Viola. Our second stop was at the pretty village of Flåm on the Aurlandsfjord where we travelled 8 miles up the valley on the remarkable Flåmsbana railway and then hiked back down through breathtaking scenery to the fjord. We also hiked from the village of Olden on the Nordfjord the following day – another 8 mile walk around Lake Floen and part of Lake Olden. Our final stop was the city of Bergen where we climbed Mount Floyen for spectacular views looking back over the city and its historic harbour. You can see a small selection of my holiday photos at http://culturaloutlook.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=norway.
We had a truly wonderful holiday in Norway last week. The weather was perfect and the scenery stunning. It was our first visit to Norway and our first cruise. I think we had seen the cruise merely as a convenient way to get to Norway but after our first day on the P&O liner Oriana we were completely hooked. The ship was great, the food was amazing (and endless!) and we met some lovely people. We even enjoyed the on-board entertainment which was of a much higher standard than I was expecting. We stopped for a full day at each of our four destinations. At Stavanger we explored the town and visited the Museum of Fine Art which was hosting a video installation by Bill Viola. Our second stop was at the pretty village of Flåm on the Aurlandsfjord where we travelled 8 miles up the valley on the remarkable Flåmsbana railway and then hiked back down through breathtaking scenery to the fjord. We also hiked from the village of Olden on the Nordfjord the following day – another 8 mile walk around Lake Floen and part of Lake Olden. Our final stop was the city of Bergen where we climbed Mount Floyen for spectacular views looking back over the city and its historic harbour. You can see a small selection of my holiday photos at http://culturaloutlook.blogspot.co.uk/search?q=norway.
'The Sense of an Ending' by Julian Barnes
1 June 2012
Julian Barnes’ book ‘The Sense of an Ending’ won the 2011 Man Booker prize despite being more of a novella than a novel – it’s only 160 pages long. I read it as an audio book (narrated by Richard Morant) and would highly recommend it. It’s a sad book, dealing with death and regret but I found it enjoyable and intriguing. It opens with a school history lesson and keeps returning to how history is recorded, false or suppressed memories, the value of documentary evidence etc. The first person narrator, Tony Webster, is looking back over his life in old age and realising that some things were not what he had always remembered or thought they were. As he begins to piece the evidence together the book feels almost like a detective story. Although it is very brief ‘The Sense of an Ending’ does not feel like a short story. Rather it seems like the selected highlights of a much longer novel. Tony’s life is a detailed and well-drawn story from which he is choosing to tell us only those parts that are essential to one particular part of it. This is a tale of remorse which surprises with its twists and revelations.
Julian Barnes’ book ‘The Sense of an Ending’ won the 2011 Man Booker prize despite being more of a novella than a novel – it’s only 160 pages long. I read it as an audio book (narrated by Richard Morant) and would highly recommend it. It’s a sad book, dealing with death and regret but I found it enjoyable and intriguing. It opens with a school history lesson and keeps returning to how history is recorded, false or suppressed memories, the value of documentary evidence etc. The first person narrator, Tony Webster, is looking back over his life in old age and realising that some things were not what he had always remembered or thought they were. As he begins to piece the evidence together the book feels almost like a detective story. Although it is very brief ‘The Sense of an Ending’ does not feel like a short story. Rather it seems like the selected highlights of a much longer novel. Tony’s life is a detailed and well-drawn story from which he is choosing to tell us only those parts that are essential to one particular part of it. This is a tale of remorse which surprises with its twists and revelations.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
BBC Young Musician 2012
16 May 2012
I have written extensively here before about the BBC Young Musician competition (in May 2006, May 2008 and May 2010) and I’m pleased to report that, compared to the dark days of 2008, the BBC coverage of the 2012 finals continued the return to a sense of dignity that I observed here in 2010. The TV coverage of BBC Young Musician 2012 was slick and modern but also serious and respectful. It’s just really sad only to see three concerto finalists rather than all five category winners getting the chance to perform at the Sage, Gateshead, with the Northern Sinfonia. Once again this year there was no brass concerto in the final concert. Apart from this, however, 2012 was a vintage year for the competition. The field seemed stronger than I can remember it and amazingly, after predicting the winner for the very first time in 2010, this year I knew Laura van der Heijden was going to win as soon as I saw her performance in the Strings Final. She was clearly something special and her performance of the Walton ‘Cello Concerto on Sunday was mesmerising. It is hard to believe she has only just turned 15. So well done Laura and well done BBC but how disgraceful that none of the national newspapers reported the result of BBC Young Musician 2012, see: http://www.artsjournal.com/slippeddisc/2012/05/not-one-uk-paper-reports-bbc-young-musician-result.html.
I have written extensively here before about the BBC Young Musician competition (in May 2006, May 2008 and May 2010) and I’m pleased to report that, compared to the dark days of 2008, the BBC coverage of the 2012 finals continued the return to a sense of dignity that I observed here in 2010. The TV coverage of BBC Young Musician 2012 was slick and modern but also serious and respectful. It’s just really sad only to see three concerto finalists rather than all five category winners getting the chance to perform at the Sage, Gateshead, with the Northern Sinfonia. Once again this year there was no brass concerto in the final concert. Apart from this, however, 2012 was a vintage year for the competition. The field seemed stronger than I can remember it and amazingly, after predicting the winner for the very first time in 2010, this year I knew Laura van der Heijden was going to win as soon as I saw her performance in the Strings Final. She was clearly something special and her performance of the Walton ‘Cello Concerto on Sunday was mesmerising. It is hard to believe she has only just turned 15. So well done Laura and well done BBC but how disgraceful that none of the national newspapers reported the result of BBC Young Musician 2012, see: http://www.artsjournal.com/slippeddisc/2012/05/not-one-uk-paper-reports-bbc-young-musician-result.html.
Monday, May 14, 2012
'A Midsummer Night's Dream' by William Shakespeare
14 May 2012
We started Voluntary Arts Week 2012 on Saturday by making the short journey to the TADS Theatre in Toddington. TADS is celebrating its 50th anniversary – which it shares with the Royal Shakespeare Company – by presenting its first ever performance of a Shakespeare play. Sue Sachon’s production of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ has clearly been a major undertaking for TADS: the theatre has been transformed for the occasion, creating a central stage area with seating on two sides and the greenery of the Athenian forest covering the whole auditorium. This spectacular setting (designed by Grainne Allen) is perfect for a wonderful performance that makes you wonder why it has taken TADS 50 years to get around to Shakespeare. Setting the production in the Edwardian era gives the play an added poignancy. It feels like a last hurrah for the old way of life – in which an aristocratic father is prepared to condemn his daughter to death for refusing to marry his preferred suitor, while the deference of the servants already seems old-fashioned and outdated. The rude mechanicals are dressed as cloth-capped labourers and bring to mind Robert Tressell’s ‘Ragged-Trousered Philanthropists’. Amid the mirth and mayhem, the impending shadow of the Somme hangs over these “hard-handed men”. There were some great performances: Michael Collins stood out as a mercurcial Irish Puck, Dave Corbett was powerful as Oberon and Steve Loczy and Cameron Hay show an impressive range of emotions as Lysander and Demetrius. Lea Pryer completely inhabits the part of Titania – convincingly amorous with the ass-headed Bottom though it is probably only fair to point out that he is played by Lea’s husband! Steven Pryer is a great comic turn as Nick Bottom but the show is stolen by the tiny young actor, Harry Rodgers: his performance, in a wig of flowing golden locks, as the bellows mender Francis Flute playing Thisbe (in the play-within-the-play) is hysterically funny. All of which reminds you what an excellent amateur theatre group TADS has become – and what a wonderful play ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ is: a triumph.
We started Voluntary Arts Week 2012 on Saturday by making the short journey to the TADS Theatre in Toddington. TADS is celebrating its 50th anniversary – which it shares with the Royal Shakespeare Company – by presenting its first ever performance of a Shakespeare play. Sue Sachon’s production of ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ has clearly been a major undertaking for TADS: the theatre has been transformed for the occasion, creating a central stage area with seating on two sides and the greenery of the Athenian forest covering the whole auditorium. This spectacular setting (designed by Grainne Allen) is perfect for a wonderful performance that makes you wonder why it has taken TADS 50 years to get around to Shakespeare. Setting the production in the Edwardian era gives the play an added poignancy. It feels like a last hurrah for the old way of life – in which an aristocratic father is prepared to condemn his daughter to death for refusing to marry his preferred suitor, while the deference of the servants already seems old-fashioned and outdated. The rude mechanicals are dressed as cloth-capped labourers and bring to mind Robert Tressell’s ‘Ragged-Trousered Philanthropists’. Amid the mirth and mayhem, the impending shadow of the Somme hangs over these “hard-handed men”. There were some great performances: Michael Collins stood out as a mercurcial Irish Puck, Dave Corbett was powerful as Oberon and Steve Loczy and Cameron Hay show an impressive range of emotions as Lysander and Demetrius. Lea Pryer completely inhabits the part of Titania – convincingly amorous with the ass-headed Bottom though it is probably only fair to point out that he is played by Lea’s husband! Steven Pryer is a great comic turn as Nick Bottom but the show is stolen by the tiny young actor, Harry Rodgers: his performance, in a wig of flowing golden locks, as the bellows mender Francis Flute playing Thisbe (in the play-within-the-play) is hysterically funny. All of which reminds you what an excellent amateur theatre group TADS has become – and what a wonderful play ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ is: a triumph.
Friday, May 11, 2012
‘I, Partridge: We Need to Talk About Alan’ by Alan Partridge with Rob Gibbons, Neil Gibbons, Armando Iannucci and Steve Coogan
11 May 2012
I’m not a great one for celebrity autobiographies and I wasn’t sure how much I would enjoy the ‘autobiography’ of a fictional celebrity but I thought that ‘I, Partridge: We Need to Talk About Alan’ might be an undemanding bit of light relief. Once I got started with the unabridged audio book, read by ‘Alan Partridge’ himself, I realised that I was in for a treat. ‘I Partridge’ is a really clever and incredibly funny book. I found myself laughing out loud at least once a chapter. The book, written by ‘Alan Partridge’ with Rob Gibbons, Neil Gibbons, Armando Iannucci and Steve Coogan, is exactly how Alan Partridge would have written his autobiography. It is painstakingly accurate (or pleasingly pedantic) in its references to Alan’s broadcasting career, taking in all the incidents that I remember clearly myself having followed Steve Coogan’s comic creation from its inception. Indeed you quickly realise that Alan Partridge has now been around so long and appeared in so many incarnations, since his debut on Radio 4’s ‘On The Hour’ in 1991, that he has grown into a rounded character with a substantial ‘real’ history. But the historical events familiar to us from Alan’s various radio and TV shows are recounted in the book very much from the Partridge point of view, and with the benefit of hindsight, and may not always be exactly as you remember them. ‘I Partridge’ is not a ‘greatest hits’ exercise, merely replaying old jokes, it actually adds a further layer of hindsight humour. There’s also a lot of playful meta-textual stuff, with Alan being careful to warn us when he is about to shift to a first person, present tense, narration for effect, and pointing out which passages his publishers have insisted he includes. This talking directly to the reader, together with the confusing nature of having a fictional character reading the audio version of a book written by a fictional character about events that, though fictional, we actually remember from more than 20 years ago, gives the book a strangely sophisticated feel. The inclusion of a (very funny) birth scene in the first chapter made me think of Laurence Sterne’s ‘Tristram Shandy’, perhaps intentionally as Steve Coogan starred in Michael Winterbottom’s 2005 film of Sterne’s novel, ‘A Cock and Bull Story’. ‘I Partridge’ is much harder to describe than it is to read: I found myself picking it up at every available opportunity and loved every minute.
I’m not a great one for celebrity autobiographies and I wasn’t sure how much I would enjoy the ‘autobiography’ of a fictional celebrity but I thought that ‘I, Partridge: We Need to Talk About Alan’ might be an undemanding bit of light relief. Once I got started with the unabridged audio book, read by ‘Alan Partridge’ himself, I realised that I was in for a treat. ‘I Partridge’ is a really clever and incredibly funny book. I found myself laughing out loud at least once a chapter. The book, written by ‘Alan Partridge’ with Rob Gibbons, Neil Gibbons, Armando Iannucci and Steve Coogan, is exactly how Alan Partridge would have written his autobiography. It is painstakingly accurate (or pleasingly pedantic) in its references to Alan’s broadcasting career, taking in all the incidents that I remember clearly myself having followed Steve Coogan’s comic creation from its inception. Indeed you quickly realise that Alan Partridge has now been around so long and appeared in so many incarnations, since his debut on Radio 4’s ‘On The Hour’ in 1991, that he has grown into a rounded character with a substantial ‘real’ history. But the historical events familiar to us from Alan’s various radio and TV shows are recounted in the book very much from the Partridge point of view, and with the benefit of hindsight, and may not always be exactly as you remember them. ‘I Partridge’ is not a ‘greatest hits’ exercise, merely replaying old jokes, it actually adds a further layer of hindsight humour. There’s also a lot of playful meta-textual stuff, with Alan being careful to warn us when he is about to shift to a first person, present tense, narration for effect, and pointing out which passages his publishers have insisted he includes. This talking directly to the reader, together with the confusing nature of having a fictional character reading the audio version of a book written by a fictional character about events that, though fictional, we actually remember from more than 20 years ago, gives the book a strangely sophisticated feel. The inclusion of a (very funny) birth scene in the first chapter made me think of Laurence Sterne’s ‘Tristram Shandy’, perhaps intentionally as Steve Coogan starred in Michael Winterbottom’s 2005 film of Sterne’s novel, ‘A Cock and Bull Story’. ‘I Partridge’ is much harder to describe than it is to read: I found myself picking it up at every available opportunity and loved every minute.
Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert
11 May 2012
I’ve played in loads of amateur orchestras and performed in countless concerts over many years. As a French horn player, I have particularly enjoyed playing music by the great Romantic composers of the 19th and early 20th centuries. But I have played hardly any music by one of the most popular and most romantic of all composers, Giacomo Puccini. Puccini was primarily a composer of operas and wrote very little for the concert hall. Our latest Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert last Saturday was ‘A Night at the Opera’ – a programme of overtures, interludes and arias from some of the best known operas. This provided a rare opportunity for the orchestra to play some Puccini, specifically ‘Un bel di’ from ‘Madam Butterfly’, ‘Nessun Dorma’ from ‘Turandot’ and ‘Vogliatemi bene’, the Finale to Act One of ‘Madam Butterfly’ which I particularly enjoyed – it’s gorgeous music to play. We were joined by two operatic soloists, the soprano Sally Harrison and the experienced tenor John Hudson. John is a former Principal with English National Opera who we were incredibly lucky to secure as a last-minute replacement when our original tenor came down with flu the day before the concert. The singers were both great and very entertaining and it was interesting for the orchestra to experience the very different discipline of playing for opera. Because each aria is literally telling a story, accompanying the singers is quite different from playing with a concerto soloist. The ebbs and flows of speed and volume are different every time you play the piece and you need to pay incredibly careful attention. By contrast, Verdi’s overture to ‘La forza del destino’, with which we opened the concert, felt like a very conventional orchestral piece. The programme also included pieces from Bizet’s ‘Carmen’, ‘Cosi fan tutte’ by Mozart and ‘The Merry Widow’ by Franz Lehar, finishing with ‘Brindisi’ from Verdi’s ‘La Traviata’. It was a fun concert which went down well with the audience and we returned to Puccini for an encore of ‘Vogliatemi bene’.
I’ve played in loads of amateur orchestras and performed in countless concerts over many years. As a French horn player, I have particularly enjoyed playing music by the great Romantic composers of the 19th and early 20th centuries. But I have played hardly any music by one of the most popular and most romantic of all composers, Giacomo Puccini. Puccini was primarily a composer of operas and wrote very little for the concert hall. Our latest Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert last Saturday was ‘A Night at the Opera’ – a programme of overtures, interludes and arias from some of the best known operas. This provided a rare opportunity for the orchestra to play some Puccini, specifically ‘Un bel di’ from ‘Madam Butterfly’, ‘Nessun Dorma’ from ‘Turandot’ and ‘Vogliatemi bene’, the Finale to Act One of ‘Madam Butterfly’ which I particularly enjoyed – it’s gorgeous music to play. We were joined by two operatic soloists, the soprano Sally Harrison and the experienced tenor John Hudson. John is a former Principal with English National Opera who we were incredibly lucky to secure as a last-minute replacement when our original tenor came down with flu the day before the concert. The singers were both great and very entertaining and it was interesting for the orchestra to experience the very different discipline of playing for opera. Because each aria is literally telling a story, accompanying the singers is quite different from playing with a concerto soloist. The ebbs and flows of speed and volume are different every time you play the piece and you need to pay incredibly careful attention. By contrast, Verdi’s overture to ‘La forza del destino’, with which we opened the concert, felt like a very conventional orchestral piece. The programme also included pieces from Bizet’s ‘Carmen’, ‘Cosi fan tutte’ by Mozart and ‘The Merry Widow’ by Franz Lehar, finishing with ‘Brindisi’ from Verdi’s ‘La Traviata’. It was a fun concert which went down well with the audience and we returned to Puccini for an encore of ‘Vogliatemi bene’.
Wednesday, May 02, 2012
'Silver: Return to Treasure Island' by Andrew Motion
2 May 2012
It was interesting reading Andrew Motion’s novel ‘Silver: Return to Treasure Island’ immediately after Robert Louis Stevenson’s original story. ‘Silver’, which I read as an unabridged audio book, narrated by David Tennant, tells the story of Jim Hawkins’ son and Long John Silver’s daughter returning to the infamous island to recover more of the treasure. Initially the story appears to follow a parallel path to ‘Treasure Island’ but with very little of the original’s menace. I think you can tell this is the work of a poet – beautifully written with every word carefully chosen – but it feels a bit slow and lacks the thrill and adventure of its predecessor. Once we arrive at the island the narrative twists in a new direction and becomes less predictable and much more interesting – less ‘Treasure Island’ (reviewed here in April 2012) and more ‘The Lord of the Flies’ (reviewed here in June 2006). ‘Silver’ is a clever, thoughtful book but whereas Stevenson continually ratcheted up the levels of evil, Motion’s tale feels too safe to be truly scary or thrilling.
It was interesting reading Andrew Motion’s novel ‘Silver: Return to Treasure Island’ immediately after Robert Louis Stevenson’s original story. ‘Silver’, which I read as an unabridged audio book, narrated by David Tennant, tells the story of Jim Hawkins’ son and Long John Silver’s daughter returning to the infamous island to recover more of the treasure. Initially the story appears to follow a parallel path to ‘Treasure Island’ but with very little of the original’s menace. I think you can tell this is the work of a poet – beautifully written with every word carefully chosen – but it feels a bit slow and lacks the thrill and adventure of its predecessor. Once we arrive at the island the narrative twists in a new direction and becomes less predictable and much more interesting – less ‘Treasure Island’ (reviewed here in April 2012) and more ‘The Lord of the Flies’ (reviewed here in June 2006). ‘Silver’ is a clever, thoughtful book but whereas Stevenson continually ratcheted up the levels of evil, Motion’s tale feels too safe to be truly scary or thrilling.
'Wonderful Town' by Leonard Bernstein, Betty Comden and Adolph Green
2 May 2012
Since visiting New York last year (which I wrote about here in April 2011), I have become much more aware of quite how many films, books, plays and musicals are set in Manhattan – and much more interested in the geography of these narratives. So it was fascinating to discover Leonard Bernstein’s ‘Wonderful Town’ which forms the centrepiece of his trilogy of New York musicals and is, to some extent, the missing link between the more celebrated shows, ‘On The Town’ and ‘West Side Story’. The new production of ‘Wonderful Town’ – a collaboration between The Royal Exchange Theatre, The Hallé Concerts Society and The Lowry, directed by Braham Murray, which I saw at Milton Keynes Theatre – is a rare revival of a largely forgotten work. While the story is very slight and the songs didn’t escape to take on a life of their own, nevertheless it was a very enjoyable experience. And it was really interesting to spot little ideas and motifs that were recognisable precursors of ‘West Side Story’. The music was great – though I am sorry I didn’t have the opportunity to see the show at The Lowry in Salford where it was accompanied by the entire Hallé Orchestra, conducted by Sir Mark Elder: that must have been something to behold. I am glad I spent some time listening to recordings of the music beforehand so that it felt reasonably familiar. There were some wonderful big production numbers with great dancing, choreographed by Andrew Wright. For me, the showstopper was ‘Pass the football’ sung by Nic Greenshields as Wreck – an unusually structured chorus, “like nothing you have ever seen”. ‘Wonderful Town’ had a lot of similarities with ‘Guys and Dolls’ (reviewed here in February 2007) in its set, characters and score. But it was the hints of what was to come, not just in ‘West Side Story’ but also in ‘Candide’ that made it particularly compelling.
Since visiting New York last year (which I wrote about here in April 2011), I have become much more aware of quite how many films, books, plays and musicals are set in Manhattan – and much more interested in the geography of these narratives. So it was fascinating to discover Leonard Bernstein’s ‘Wonderful Town’ which forms the centrepiece of his trilogy of New York musicals and is, to some extent, the missing link between the more celebrated shows, ‘On The Town’ and ‘West Side Story’. The new production of ‘Wonderful Town’ – a collaboration between The Royal Exchange Theatre, The Hallé Concerts Society and The Lowry, directed by Braham Murray, which I saw at Milton Keynes Theatre – is a rare revival of a largely forgotten work. While the story is very slight and the songs didn’t escape to take on a life of their own, nevertheless it was a very enjoyable experience. And it was really interesting to spot little ideas and motifs that were recognisable precursors of ‘West Side Story’. The music was great – though I am sorry I didn’t have the opportunity to see the show at The Lowry in Salford where it was accompanied by the entire Hallé Orchestra, conducted by Sir Mark Elder: that must have been something to behold. I am glad I spent some time listening to recordings of the music beforehand so that it felt reasonably familiar. There were some wonderful big production numbers with great dancing, choreographed by Andrew Wright. For me, the showstopper was ‘Pass the football’ sung by Nic Greenshields as Wreck – an unusually structured chorus, “like nothing you have ever seen”. ‘Wonderful Town’ had a lot of similarities with ‘Guys and Dolls’ (reviewed here in February 2007) in its set, characters and score. But it was the hints of what was to come, not just in ‘West Side Story’ but also in ‘Candide’ that made it particularly compelling.
Friday, April 27, 2012
'The Tempest' by William Shakespeare
27 April 2012
On 25 June 1992 I made the mistake of going to see the Peter Greenaway film ‘Prospero’s Books’. With hindsight this was a mistake for two reasons: firstly, having never seen ‘The Tempest’ I found ‘Prospero’s Books’ incredibly difficult to follow and didn’t enjoy the experience at all; and secondly, it put me off seeing ‘The Tempest’. Last Saturday, nearly 20 years later, I braced myself finally to face a production of the play for the first time. Inevitably, I was very pleasantly surprised. We were at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon to see the Royal Shakespeare Company production of ‘The Tempest’ as part of the RSC’s shipwreck trilogy, ‘What country friends is this?’. It was particularly fascinating, so soon after seeing ‘Twelfth Night’ (reviewed here in March 2012), to see the identical cast and director (David Farr) tackling this later work. Even the set (by Jon Bausor) was recognisably the same, albeit playing a slightly different part – the wooden ‘wave’ of floorboards having evolved into a more decayed version of its earlier self and now housing the giant perspex cube that formed Prospero’s cell. I really enjoyed discovering the play, which was funnier and with more of a plot than I had expected from my experience of Peter Greenaway’s adaptation. It was a great production, with Jonathan Slinger a wonderful Prospero and Sandy Grierson also standing out as an extremely eerie and unsettling Ariel. These two characters looked remarkably alike and there was a great moment when we were watching Prospero’s back as he was sitting as his desk only for him simultaneously to appear on the other side of the stage – the seated figure briefly turning around to show us Ariel’s face. Having the brother of the King of Naples, Sebastian, played as a woman (by Kirsty Bushell) added a layer of intrigue to Sebastian’s alliance with Prospero’s brother Antonio (played by Jonathan McGuinness). The conspirators here clearly appeared to be lovers – especially as we remembered the actors as Orsino and Olivia in ‘Twelfth Night’. The water tank at the front of the stage – used to such great effect in ‘Twelfth Night’ had been emptied – emphasising the dry, dusty exile of this desert island – so there were no further dramatic entrances from the water. But Ariel’s plunge from the skies, wearing angel wings, was a similarly stunning moment.
On 25 June 1992 I made the mistake of going to see the Peter Greenaway film ‘Prospero’s Books’. With hindsight this was a mistake for two reasons: firstly, having never seen ‘The Tempest’ I found ‘Prospero’s Books’ incredibly difficult to follow and didn’t enjoy the experience at all; and secondly, it put me off seeing ‘The Tempest’. Last Saturday, nearly 20 years later, I braced myself finally to face a production of the play for the first time. Inevitably, I was very pleasantly surprised. We were at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon to see the Royal Shakespeare Company production of ‘The Tempest’ as part of the RSC’s shipwreck trilogy, ‘What country friends is this?’. It was particularly fascinating, so soon after seeing ‘Twelfth Night’ (reviewed here in March 2012), to see the identical cast and director (David Farr) tackling this later work. Even the set (by Jon Bausor) was recognisably the same, albeit playing a slightly different part – the wooden ‘wave’ of floorboards having evolved into a more decayed version of its earlier self and now housing the giant perspex cube that formed Prospero’s cell. I really enjoyed discovering the play, which was funnier and with more of a plot than I had expected from my experience of Peter Greenaway’s adaptation. It was a great production, with Jonathan Slinger a wonderful Prospero and Sandy Grierson also standing out as an extremely eerie and unsettling Ariel. These two characters looked remarkably alike and there was a great moment when we were watching Prospero’s back as he was sitting as his desk only for him simultaneously to appear on the other side of the stage – the seated figure briefly turning around to show us Ariel’s face. Having the brother of the King of Naples, Sebastian, played as a woman (by Kirsty Bushell) added a layer of intrigue to Sebastian’s alliance with Prospero’s brother Antonio (played by Jonathan McGuinness). The conspirators here clearly appeared to be lovers – especially as we remembered the actors as Orsino and Olivia in ‘Twelfth Night’. The water tank at the front of the stage – used to such great effect in ‘Twelfth Night’ had been emptied – emphasising the dry, dusty exile of this desert island – so there were no further dramatic entrances from the water. But Ariel’s plunge from the skies, wearing angel wings, was a similarly stunning moment.
Friday, April 20, 2012
'Freedom' by Jonathan Franzen
20 April 2012
As I have said here before, I think Jonathan Franzen’s 2001 book, ‘The Corrections’, is one of the best new novels I’ve read in recent years. It took Franzen nine years to complete his next novel, ‘Freedom’, which I have just finished reading. A worthy successor to a modern classic, ‘Freedom’ is a mammoth work that once again addresses the state of the nation (and the world) through the minutiae of family life. As in ‘The Corrections’, the reader is shown events, in turn, through the eyes of each of the main characters. But whereas the earlier book pulled off the trick of making you sympathise simultaneously with people who held completely opposing points of view, in ‘Freedom’ I found all the principal characters fairly unlikeable. This didn’t stop me appreciating and enjoying the book – though it has to be said it’s quite a depressing tale of the breakdown of relationships. It is wonderfully written: the very first chapter in particular is a masterpiece which swiftly sets the scene and introduces the Berglund family through the curious observation of their neighbours – who then don’t feature again in the story (apart from a brief cameo towards the end). This approach bookends the novel which concludes with the introduction of a new nosey neighbour to update us on where Walter Berglund has ended up. Having just read ‘Treasure Island’ which has a fantastic plot driving it forward, ‘Freedom’ did, at times, seem to lack any clear plot and takes a very long time to develop its characters and relationships. Then, all of a sudden, Jonathan Franzen throws in major shocking plot developments, often happening off stage or between chapters. His focus is clearly on the people, the ties that bind them and the behaviour that drives them apart. Amongst the pain and sadness there is humour – particularly when certain people get their deserved comeuppance – but I felt the lack of the great comic set-pieces of ‘The Corrections’. There is an obsession amongst some male American authors (and critics) about ‘the great American novel’ and ‘Freedom’ certainly seems to be aiming for this territory. It’s an impressive book but my suspicion is that it is Franzen’s earlier work that will truly stand the test of time.
As I have said here before, I think Jonathan Franzen’s 2001 book, ‘The Corrections’, is one of the best new novels I’ve read in recent years. It took Franzen nine years to complete his next novel, ‘Freedom’, which I have just finished reading. A worthy successor to a modern classic, ‘Freedom’ is a mammoth work that once again addresses the state of the nation (and the world) through the minutiae of family life. As in ‘The Corrections’, the reader is shown events, in turn, through the eyes of each of the main characters. But whereas the earlier book pulled off the trick of making you sympathise simultaneously with people who held completely opposing points of view, in ‘Freedom’ I found all the principal characters fairly unlikeable. This didn’t stop me appreciating and enjoying the book – though it has to be said it’s quite a depressing tale of the breakdown of relationships. It is wonderfully written: the very first chapter in particular is a masterpiece which swiftly sets the scene and introduces the Berglund family through the curious observation of their neighbours – who then don’t feature again in the story (apart from a brief cameo towards the end). This approach bookends the novel which concludes with the introduction of a new nosey neighbour to update us on where Walter Berglund has ended up. Having just read ‘Treasure Island’ which has a fantastic plot driving it forward, ‘Freedom’ did, at times, seem to lack any clear plot and takes a very long time to develop its characters and relationships. Then, all of a sudden, Jonathan Franzen throws in major shocking plot developments, often happening off stage or between chapters. His focus is clearly on the people, the ties that bind them and the behaviour that drives them apart. Amongst the pain and sadness there is humour – particularly when certain people get their deserved comeuppance – but I felt the lack of the great comic set-pieces of ‘The Corrections’. There is an obsession amongst some male American authors (and critics) about ‘the great American novel’ and ‘Freedom’ certainly seems to be aiming for this territory. It’s an impressive book but my suspicion is that it is Franzen’s earlier work that will truly stand the test of time.
Friday, April 13, 2012
'Treasure Island' by Robert Louis Stevenson
13 April 2012
In preparation for reading Andrew Motion’s ‘Silver: Return
to Treasure Island’ I have been reading Robert Louis Stevenson’s original novel
(as an unabridged audio book read by Michael Page). It’s always interesting to
go back to the original version of a story you think you know well. The first
thing that struck me was how short ‘Treasure Island’ is: the plot, particularly
in the first half of the book whips along at a frantic pace with all those
iconic moments (the black spot, the apple barrel, the discovery of Ben Gunn)
appearing to pass in the blink of an eye. It’s a gripping adventure which is
all the more exciting as we see it through the naïve eyes of the young Jim
Hawkins (though narrated in hindsight by in his adult voice). And Stevenson
very cleverly creates a mythic quality to his story by constantly suggesting
that the main events were those that happened before this novel begins (Captain
Flint acquiring and hiding the treasure and slaughtering his crew). George
Lucas did something similar in the first ‘Star Wars’ film, making you feel you
were coming in halfway through the story, but then made the mistake of trying
to tell us the backstory through the prequels. Stevenson also constructs a
magnificent set of colourful characters, building the excitement by continuously
trumping the level of evil: when Jim first encounters Billy Bones at the
Admiral Benbow he finds the old pirate terrifying, but the arrival of Black Dog
makes Billy Bones seem tame by comparison, and then the tap tap tapping of a
blind man’s cane heralds the arrival of an even scarier figure. All this is
before the appearance of the main villain, Long John Silver, and in a league
table of evil, the ghost of Flint seems to loom above them all. Silver is a
wonderful invention – the loveable rogue who is constantly swapping sides. For
Jim and his audience it is impossible to know whether to admire or revile his
guile and duplicity. Like Fagin, Silver is a despicable figure but one whom you
are pleased to see escape the gallows. Despite the thrilling plot and wonderful
characters, ‘Treasure Island’ is not a great work of literature. The
writing is difficult at times and the second half of the book seems to drag a
little. Like Mary Shelly’s ‘Frankenstein’ (reviewed here in May 2007),
Stevenson seems to have hit upon a great story but one that has really found
its best expression in some of its many later versions, adaptations and
continuations. I look forward to seeing what Andrew Motion has done with these
legendary events and characters.
Thursday, April 05, 2012
'1Q84' by Haruki Murakami
5 April 2012
Any author who references George Orwell in the title of their novel risks inviting unfavourable comparisons. But Haruki Murakami clearly knows exactly what he is doing in ‘1Q84’, his mammoth new 3-volume novel. This is the work of an author at the top of his game: not content with drawing analogies with ‘1984’ he goes on to cite Dickens, Chekov and others as well as providing expert analysis of the music of Janáček, Duke Ellington etc. Despite this complexity of cultural context there’s a deceptive simplicity to Murakami’s writing: it’s sometimes difficult to tell whether this is high literature or crowd-pleasing popular culture. There’s certainly a lot of sex in his books but all described, like everything else he writes about, in slow, careful, precise terms. There might be a degree of the emperor’s new clothes about all this but it feels to me that Murakami is in total control and that it is the reader rather than the author who risks being left naked. I’ve just finished reading ‘1Q84’ as an unabridged audio book translated by Philip Gabriel and Jay Rubin and read by Alison Hiroto, Marc Vietor and Mark Boyett. Each chapter is told, in the third person, from the point of view of one of the main characters so having alternating narrators really helped to emphasise this contrast. ‘1Q84’ is a very slow, painstakingly clear narrative but always felt gripping and compelling. Murakami’s trademark magical realism is used very sparingly and is all the more effective for appearing out of a very real and precisely drawn world. I enjoyed the book and it held my attention throughout but ultimately I felt a little disappointed by it. Despite its length the novel didn't seem to have the complexity, substance and humour of some of Murakami's best earlier works. I think my favourite is still ‘'Kafka on the Shore’ (reviewed here in October 2006).
Any author who references George Orwell in the title of their novel risks inviting unfavourable comparisons. But Haruki Murakami clearly knows exactly what he is doing in ‘1Q84’, his mammoth new 3-volume novel. This is the work of an author at the top of his game: not content with drawing analogies with ‘1984’ he goes on to cite Dickens, Chekov and others as well as providing expert analysis of the music of Janáček, Duke Ellington etc. Despite this complexity of cultural context there’s a deceptive simplicity to Murakami’s writing: it’s sometimes difficult to tell whether this is high literature or crowd-pleasing popular culture. There’s certainly a lot of sex in his books but all described, like everything else he writes about, in slow, careful, precise terms. There might be a degree of the emperor’s new clothes about all this but it feels to me that Murakami is in total control and that it is the reader rather than the author who risks being left naked. I’ve just finished reading ‘1Q84’ as an unabridged audio book translated by Philip Gabriel and Jay Rubin and read by Alison Hiroto, Marc Vietor and Mark Boyett. Each chapter is told, in the third person, from the point of view of one of the main characters so having alternating narrators really helped to emphasise this contrast. ‘1Q84’ is a very slow, painstakingly clear narrative but always felt gripping and compelling. Murakami’s trademark magical realism is used very sparingly and is all the more effective for appearing out of a very real and precisely drawn world. I enjoyed the book and it held my attention throughout but ultimately I felt a little disappointed by it. Despite its length the novel didn't seem to have the complexity, substance and humour of some of Murakami's best earlier works. I think my favourite is still ‘'Kafka on the Shore’ (reviewed here in October 2006).
'The Winter's Tale' by William Shakespeare
5 April 2012
The thing most people know about ‘The Winter’s Tale’ is that it’s the Shakespeare play that contains the infamous stage direction “Exit, pursued by a bear”. Last week we were at the splendid new Marlowe Theatre in Canterbury to see the Propeller production of the play, directed by Edward Hall. From the opening scene, when the infant prince enters in his pyjamas clutching a teddy bear, and the moment a little later when we see him draped in a bearskin rug, you can tell this is going to be a playful production, toying with our expectations. I really enjoyed Propeller’s ‘Henry V’ (reviewed here in December 2011) and ‘The Winter’s Tale’, which the company is touring with ‘Henry V’ and features the same cast, was even better. It’s very much a play of two halves and the contrast between the grim seriousness of the scenes in Sicilia in the first act and the comic slapstick of the rural scenes in Bohemia after the interval was emphasised in this production by the set, lighting and costumes. This contrast between the scenes at court and the pastoral setting reminded me of ‘As You Like It’. Propeller really take these two worlds to extremes: we feel the angst and pain driven by the jealousy of Leontes in the first half of the play but suddenly, in Bohemia, the sun is out and the mood is transformed by singing sheep (‘The Bleatles’), beatboxing shepherds and a wonderful pickpocketing scene (by Tony Bell as Autolycus). All the cast are strong but there was a particularly fine comic performance by Karl Davies as the Young Shepherd. It was a fantastic production.
The thing most people know about ‘The Winter’s Tale’ is that it’s the Shakespeare play that contains the infamous stage direction “Exit, pursued by a bear”. Last week we were at the splendid new Marlowe Theatre in Canterbury to see the Propeller production of the play, directed by Edward Hall. From the opening scene, when the infant prince enters in his pyjamas clutching a teddy bear, and the moment a little later when we see him draped in a bearskin rug, you can tell this is going to be a playful production, toying with our expectations. I really enjoyed Propeller’s ‘Henry V’ (reviewed here in December 2011) and ‘The Winter’s Tale’, which the company is touring with ‘Henry V’ and features the same cast, was even better. It’s very much a play of two halves and the contrast between the grim seriousness of the scenes in Sicilia in the first act and the comic slapstick of the rural scenes in Bohemia after the interval was emphasised in this production by the set, lighting and costumes. This contrast between the scenes at court and the pastoral setting reminded me of ‘As You Like It’. Propeller really take these two worlds to extremes: we feel the angst and pain driven by the jealousy of Leontes in the first half of the play but suddenly, in Bohemia, the sun is out and the mood is transformed by singing sheep (‘The Bleatles’), beatboxing shepherds and a wonderful pickpocketing scene (by Tony Bell as Autolycus). All the cast are strong but there was a particularly fine comic performance by Karl Davies as the Young Shepherd. It was a fantastic production.
Kent
5 April 2012
We certainly chose the right week for our holiday in Kent: the weather was glorious and we had a lovely time. We stayed in the village of Ringwould near Deal and did lots of walking: the coastal paths were great but we particularly enjoyed our inland walks around the pretty villages of Barham and Bishopsbourne and the Elham Valley. The castles at Deal, Walmer and Dover were impressive and interesting and we enjoyed visiting Canterbury, Broadstairs and Sandwich. I was delighted to discover that the village next to Sandwich is called Ham! And the new Turner Contemporary gallery in Margate is stunning and well worth a visit.
We certainly chose the right week for our holiday in Kent: the weather was glorious and we had a lovely time. We stayed in the village of Ringwould near Deal and did lots of walking: the coastal paths were great but we particularly enjoyed our inland walks around the pretty villages of Barham and Bishopsbourne and the Elham Valley. The castles at Deal, Walmer and Dover were impressive and interesting and we enjoyed visiting Canterbury, Broadstairs and Sandwich. I was delighted to discover that the village next to Sandwich is called Ham! And the new Turner Contemporary gallery in Margate is stunning and well worth a visit.
Friday, March 23, 2012
'Twelfth Night' by William Shakespeare
23 March 2012
To extend Chekhov’s maxim that if a gun appears in a story it has to be fired, surely any play in which the stage incorporates a large tank of water will inevitably involve someone falling into it. The Royal Shakespeare Company’s new production of ‘Twelfth Night’ has a huge pool of water embedded into the front of the stage and I don’t think it’s too much of a spoiler to reveal that someone does indeed take a tumble into it, completely soaking several members of the audience. (In the spirit of Douglas Adams I will preserve some element of mystery by not revealing which character this happens to!) But much more impressively, the play begins with Viola suddenly entering the water from beneath the stage and clambering coughing and spluttering onto the stage like a Houdini escape. It’s a stunning opening and sets the standard for a wonderful theatrical experience. David Farr’s production of ‘Twelfth Night’ at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon is part of ‘What country friends is this?’ – the RSC’s trilogy of Shakespeare’s shipwreck plays (with ‘The Comedy of Errors’ and ‘The Tempest’) and is the first RSC offering within the World Shakespeare Festival 2012. The last time I saw ‘Twelfth Night’ was Greg Doran’s 2009 RSC production (reviewed here in November 2009) which completely gripped me, despite my familiarity with the plot. Again this week, I wondered whether I had seen ‘Twelfth Night’ too many times to enjoy it afresh but, on the day that Doran was announced as Michael Boyd’s successor as Artistic Director of the RSC, David Farr’s staging completely bowled me over. The two female leads, Kirsty Bushell as Olivia and Emily Taaffe as Viola, were excellent. In the 2009 production, I thought James Fleet was the best Sir Andrew Aguecheek I had seen but this week Bruce Mackinnon proved equally worthy of the title. I enjoyed the songs of Feste, played by Kevin McMonagle as an ageing crooner carrying a tiny electronic keyboard held together by gaffer tape. And Jonathan Slinger (who I last saw as Macbeth in Michael Boyd’s theatre-opening production, reviewed here in April 2001) was hilarious as Malvolio – with wig and double-breasted suit, looking uncannily like Mark Williams in the “suits you, sir” sketches. The set by Jon Bausor was amazing, with all the components of a dilapidated hotel foyer set at eccentric angles. He created some lovely gimmicks but resisted the temptation to overuse them. It was an excellent show – five stars: do go to see it but don’t sit in the front row, because “the rain it raineth every day”.
To extend Chekhov’s maxim that if a gun appears in a story it has to be fired, surely any play in which the stage incorporates a large tank of water will inevitably involve someone falling into it. The Royal Shakespeare Company’s new production of ‘Twelfth Night’ has a huge pool of water embedded into the front of the stage and I don’t think it’s too much of a spoiler to reveal that someone does indeed take a tumble into it, completely soaking several members of the audience. (In the spirit of Douglas Adams I will preserve some element of mystery by not revealing which character this happens to!) But much more impressively, the play begins with Viola suddenly entering the water from beneath the stage and clambering coughing and spluttering onto the stage like a Houdini escape. It’s a stunning opening and sets the standard for a wonderful theatrical experience. David Farr’s production of ‘Twelfth Night’ at the Royal Shakespeare Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon is part of ‘What country friends is this?’ – the RSC’s trilogy of Shakespeare’s shipwreck plays (with ‘The Comedy of Errors’ and ‘The Tempest’) and is the first RSC offering within the World Shakespeare Festival 2012. The last time I saw ‘Twelfth Night’ was Greg Doran’s 2009 RSC production (reviewed here in November 2009) which completely gripped me, despite my familiarity with the plot. Again this week, I wondered whether I had seen ‘Twelfth Night’ too many times to enjoy it afresh but, on the day that Doran was announced as Michael Boyd’s successor as Artistic Director of the RSC, David Farr’s staging completely bowled me over. The two female leads, Kirsty Bushell as Olivia and Emily Taaffe as Viola, were excellent. In the 2009 production, I thought James Fleet was the best Sir Andrew Aguecheek I had seen but this week Bruce Mackinnon proved equally worthy of the title. I enjoyed the songs of Feste, played by Kevin McMonagle as an ageing crooner carrying a tiny electronic keyboard held together by gaffer tape. And Jonathan Slinger (who I last saw as Macbeth in Michael Boyd’s theatre-opening production, reviewed here in April 2001) was hilarious as Malvolio – with wig and double-breasted suit, looking uncannily like Mark Williams in the “suits you, sir” sketches. The set by Jon Bausor was amazing, with all the components of a dilapidated hotel foyer set at eccentric angles. He created some lovely gimmicks but resisted the temptation to overuse them. It was an excellent show – five stars: do go to see it but don’t sit in the front row, because “the rain it raineth every day”.
Reasons to be Cheerful’ by Paul Sirett
23 March 2012
We were back at the Watford Palace Theatre on Saturday to see ‘Reasons to be Cheerful’ – a play-come-musical written by Paul Sirett, featuring the music of Ian Dury and The Blockheads. This was the first time I had seen Graeae – the acclaimed theatre company that boldly places disabled artists centre stage. ‘Reasons to be Cheerful’ was directed by Graeae’s Artistic Director Jenny Sealey, who is Co-Artistic Director of the London 2012 Paralympic Games Opening Ceremony. The first impression was of a stage packed with people – the cast of disabled and non-disabled actors indistinguishable from an excellent Blockheads tribute band. The framing device was that we were in a pub in 1981 to watch a play about events in the summer of 1979, performed by the people whose story they told. (With some exceptions – I liked the fact that Vinnie’s obnoxious boss Dave was played by Vinnie’s friend Nick because Dave obviously wouldn’t have been invited to take part in this performance. Amid the rumbustious energy of the play there was a nice level of internal logical consistency.) The acting and the characterisation were great – with lots of clever little touches going on in the background across the crowded stage. I loved the enthusiasm of the Musical Director of the band – Robert Hyman – who was also Vinnie’s Uncle Harry. It took me some time to work out that Pickles (Wayne ‘Pickles’ Norman) who appeared to have wondered onto the stage from the audience, joining in the dancing but having no dialogue, playing no real part in the story and spending most of the evening speaking into a payphone in the corner of the pub, was actually doing the audio description for those audience members who couldn’t see the action. The signer, Jude Mahon, was very much part of the action, singing and dancing with the rest of the cast and occasionally acting a part (at which point someone else would seamlessly take over sign language duties). There was also inventive use of a large video screen – both to provide captioning for those who couldn’t hear the dialogue and to illustrate the colourfully surreal world of Ian Dury’s songs. Bring able to read Dury’s incredible lyrics as they whizzed past at high speed was a fantastic addition for all members of the audience. The songs were wonderful – delivered with massive energy and enthusiasm and truly getting the whole theatre rocking. John Kelly’s lead vocals were Ian Dury to a T – without descending into parody or impression. Alongside the music, the performances and the inventiveness of the production, the story seemed a bit weak and disappointingly light on the politics of 1979. But by the time we got to several encores the audience was on its feet and we left humming “Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll”.
We were back at the Watford Palace Theatre on Saturday to see ‘Reasons to be Cheerful’ – a play-come-musical written by Paul Sirett, featuring the music of Ian Dury and The Blockheads. This was the first time I had seen Graeae – the acclaimed theatre company that boldly places disabled artists centre stage. ‘Reasons to be Cheerful’ was directed by Graeae’s Artistic Director Jenny Sealey, who is Co-Artistic Director of the London 2012 Paralympic Games Opening Ceremony. The first impression was of a stage packed with people – the cast of disabled and non-disabled actors indistinguishable from an excellent Blockheads tribute band. The framing device was that we were in a pub in 1981 to watch a play about events in the summer of 1979, performed by the people whose story they told. (With some exceptions – I liked the fact that Vinnie’s obnoxious boss Dave was played by Vinnie’s friend Nick because Dave obviously wouldn’t have been invited to take part in this performance. Amid the rumbustious energy of the play there was a nice level of internal logical consistency.) The acting and the characterisation were great – with lots of clever little touches going on in the background across the crowded stage. I loved the enthusiasm of the Musical Director of the band – Robert Hyman – who was also Vinnie’s Uncle Harry. It took me some time to work out that Pickles (Wayne ‘Pickles’ Norman) who appeared to have wondered onto the stage from the audience, joining in the dancing but having no dialogue, playing no real part in the story and spending most of the evening speaking into a payphone in the corner of the pub, was actually doing the audio description for those audience members who couldn’t see the action. The signer, Jude Mahon, was very much part of the action, singing and dancing with the rest of the cast and occasionally acting a part (at which point someone else would seamlessly take over sign language duties). There was also inventive use of a large video screen – both to provide captioning for those who couldn’t hear the dialogue and to illustrate the colourfully surreal world of Ian Dury’s songs. Bring able to read Dury’s incredible lyrics as they whizzed past at high speed was a fantastic addition for all members of the audience. The songs were wonderful – delivered with massive energy and enthusiasm and truly getting the whole theatre rocking. John Kelly’s lead vocals were Ian Dury to a T – without descending into parody or impression. Alongside the music, the performances and the inventiveness of the production, the story seemed a bit weak and disappointingly light on the politics of 1979. But by the time we got to several encores the audience was on its feet and we left humming “Sex & Drugs & Rock & Roll”.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
'The Taming of The Shrew' by William Shakespeare
14 March 2012
On Saturday we were at Milton Keynes Theatre to see Lucy Bailey’s Royal Shakespeare Company production of ‘The Taming of the Shrew’. This was the first time I had seen a production designed for the thrust stage of the new Royal Shakespeare Theatre performed in a more conventional proscenium arch theatre. The set is a gigantic bed – the shape of the thrust stage reproduced as a padded sloping surface covered by an enormous sheet. It’s a striking sight and emphasises the framing device for this difficult play: it is always clear that the battle between Petruchio and Kate is taking place within Christopher Sly’s dream and should be viewed in that context. Christopher Sly spends most of the play lying beneath a corner of the giant sheet while the players perform upon it. This allows for some lovely comic moments between scenes where Sly is pursued across the stage under the bed-sheet like the bump under the carpet in a Tom and Jerry cartoon. It’s always hard to judge ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ against modern standards: having recently seen ‘The Comedy of Errors’ it struck me that both are early Shakespeare works and lack some of the sophistication of his best plays. They both provide opportunities for slapstick and broad comedy but don’t have the verbal dexterity and deeper meaning of the later works. The RSC production was excellently acted: David Caves and Lisa Dillon were very strong in the leading parts and I also particularly enjoyed the clowning of Gavin Fowler as Lucentio. But the play didn’t grab my attention as strongly as I had hoped and we felt a long way from the action compared to the intimacy of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre.
On Saturday we were at Milton Keynes Theatre to see Lucy Bailey’s Royal Shakespeare Company production of ‘The Taming of the Shrew’. This was the first time I had seen a production designed for the thrust stage of the new Royal Shakespeare Theatre performed in a more conventional proscenium arch theatre. The set is a gigantic bed – the shape of the thrust stage reproduced as a padded sloping surface covered by an enormous sheet. It’s a striking sight and emphasises the framing device for this difficult play: it is always clear that the battle between Petruchio and Kate is taking place within Christopher Sly’s dream and should be viewed in that context. Christopher Sly spends most of the play lying beneath a corner of the giant sheet while the players perform upon it. This allows for some lovely comic moments between scenes where Sly is pursued across the stage under the bed-sheet like the bump under the carpet in a Tom and Jerry cartoon. It’s always hard to judge ‘The Taming of the Shrew’ against modern standards: having recently seen ‘The Comedy of Errors’ it struck me that both are early Shakespeare works and lack some of the sophistication of his best plays. They both provide opportunities for slapstick and broad comedy but don’t have the verbal dexterity and deeper meaning of the later works. The RSC production was excellently acted: David Caves and Lisa Dillon were very strong in the leading parts and I also particularly enjoyed the clowning of Gavin Fowler as Lucentio. But the play didn’t grab my attention as strongly as I had hoped and we felt a long way from the action compared to the intimacy of the Royal Shakespeare Theatre.
'Neighbourhood Watch' by Alan Ayckbourn
14 March 2012
For some of us Matthew Cottle will always be the weedy ginger-haired one in the Andrew Davies sitcom ‘Game On’, but more recently he seems to have been specialising in the work of Alan Ayckbourn. When we saw Ayckbourn’s ‘Just Between Ourselves’ at the Royal Theatre Northampton in May 2009, I realised we had seen Cottle play the same part in a 2002 production of the play at the Theatre Royal in Bath. Last Saturday we were at the Palace Theatre in Watford to see the original Stephen Joseph Theatre Scarborough production of Alan Ayckbourn’s latest play ‘Neighbourhood Watch’ with Matthew Cottle as Martin. This is Ayckbourn’s 75th professionally produced full length play and a very good example of his work. As usual with Ayckbourn there is a simple, single set – a domestic setting that would be easy for an amateur theatre company to reproduce. The action takes place in a middle class home where new residents Martin and his sister Hilda help to establish a neighbourhood watch scheme. Initially this seems very similar to the Esmonde and Larbey sitcom ‘Ever Decreasing Circles’ but there is always a darker side to Ayckbourn’s comedy and soon the neighbourhood watch is taken to extremes that veer closer to martial law. It’s a very funny, poignant and nicely observed play. Ayckbourn’s characters are slightly cartoony versions of reality but eminently recognisable: not least amongst the play’s audience!
For some of us Matthew Cottle will always be the weedy ginger-haired one in the Andrew Davies sitcom ‘Game On’, but more recently he seems to have been specialising in the work of Alan Ayckbourn. When we saw Ayckbourn’s ‘Just Between Ourselves’ at the Royal Theatre Northampton in May 2009, I realised we had seen Cottle play the same part in a 2002 production of the play at the Theatre Royal in Bath. Last Saturday we were at the Palace Theatre in Watford to see the original Stephen Joseph Theatre Scarborough production of Alan Ayckbourn’s latest play ‘Neighbourhood Watch’ with Matthew Cottle as Martin. This is Ayckbourn’s 75th professionally produced full length play and a very good example of his work. As usual with Ayckbourn there is a simple, single set – a domestic setting that would be easy for an amateur theatre company to reproduce. The action takes place in a middle class home where new residents Martin and his sister Hilda help to establish a neighbourhood watch scheme. Initially this seems very similar to the Esmonde and Larbey sitcom ‘Ever Decreasing Circles’ but there is always a darker side to Ayckbourn’s comedy and soon the neighbourhood watch is taken to extremes that veer closer to martial law. It’s a very funny, poignant and nicely observed play. Ayckbourn’s characters are slightly cartoony versions of reality but eminently recognisable: not least amongst the play’s audience!
Thursday, March 08, 2012
Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert
8 March 2012
Rimsky Korsakov’s ‘Scheherezade’ is a lovely piece of music with some wonderful melodies but seems to me (particularly in the second movement) not to represent 1001 tales told by a single storyteller but a succession of storytellers presenting their own versions of the same story. This procession of soloists within the orchestra stepping into the limelight and taking their turn to outdo each other provides a great opportunity to show off the talented players in every section of the orchestra. And, in the Northampton Symphony Orchestra’s performance last Saturday, each of our home-grown soloists excelled. To be completely honest, and without any false modesty, the horn solos are much easier than most of the woodwind solos that precede them, but nonetheless I was glad that I managed to perform them fairly cleanly. Amid all this self-congratulation most praise must go to our leader, Trevor Dyson, who gave an excellent account of the violin cadenzas that hold the work together. These virtuoso challenges must be a terrifying prospect but Trevor gave a great performance. In the first half of the concert we tackled the ‘Four Sea Interludes’ from Benjamin Britten’s ‘Peter Grimes’. I hadn’t played these before and it took me a few weeks to get to grips with the music but I found it very rewarding. Each movement has a completely different style and feel. We also tackled the second Piano Concerto by Shostakovich with the pianist and composer Huw Watkins. This is a playful and relatively short concerto which is enjoyable but somewhat slight – until you get to the slow movement which is achingly beautiful and worth the price of admission on its own. It was a lovely programme and a great concert.
Rimsky Korsakov’s ‘Scheherezade’ is a lovely piece of music with some wonderful melodies but seems to me (particularly in the second movement) not to represent 1001 tales told by a single storyteller but a succession of storytellers presenting their own versions of the same story. This procession of soloists within the orchestra stepping into the limelight and taking their turn to outdo each other provides a great opportunity to show off the talented players in every section of the orchestra. And, in the Northampton Symphony Orchestra’s performance last Saturday, each of our home-grown soloists excelled. To be completely honest, and without any false modesty, the horn solos are much easier than most of the woodwind solos that precede them, but nonetheless I was glad that I managed to perform them fairly cleanly. Amid all this self-congratulation most praise must go to our leader, Trevor Dyson, who gave an excellent account of the violin cadenzas that hold the work together. These virtuoso challenges must be a terrifying prospect but Trevor gave a great performance. In the first half of the concert we tackled the ‘Four Sea Interludes’ from Benjamin Britten’s ‘Peter Grimes’. I hadn’t played these before and it took me a few weeks to get to grips with the music but I found it very rewarding. Each movement has a completely different style and feel. We also tackled the second Piano Concerto by Shostakovich with the pianist and composer Huw Watkins. This is a playful and relatively short concerto which is enjoyable but somewhat slight – until you get to the slow movement which is achingly beautiful and worth the price of admission on its own. It was a lovely programme and a great concert.
Friday, March 02, 2012
'Our Father' by Charlotte Keatley
2 March 2012
Anton Chekhov said that if a gun appears in a story it has to be fired: that’s the point of a story. So when the curtain opened on Charlotte Keatley’s new play ‘Our Father’ at the Palace Theatre in Watford last Saturday, to reveal a dam, high on a hill in the Peak District, there was an ever-present inevitability that this dam would burst. Adam Wiltshire’s amazing set was the star of the show and the flood was a real coup de théâtre. Charlotte Keatley is best known for her 1987 play ‘My Mother Said I Never Should’ – a clever and moving tale of four generations of women that fast became a modern classic. She is clearly an accomplished writer and ‘Our Father’, directed by Brigid Larmour who directed the original Contact Theatre production of ‘My Mother Said I Never Should’, was a well-acted, polished piece, but somehow it seemed to amount to slightly less than the sum of its parts. The device of a young woman in the present day hearing the voice of a young woman talking to her from centuries earlier in the same location reminded me of Tom Stoppard’s ‘Arcadia’. But, for me, the play failed to really come to life: there seemed to be a strong story bursting to get out but the narrative dam was possibly too securely built to allow it to flow.
Anton Chekhov said that if a gun appears in a story it has to be fired: that’s the point of a story. So when the curtain opened on Charlotte Keatley’s new play ‘Our Father’ at the Palace Theatre in Watford last Saturday, to reveal a dam, high on a hill in the Peak District, there was an ever-present inevitability that this dam would burst. Adam Wiltshire’s amazing set was the star of the show and the flood was a real coup de théâtre. Charlotte Keatley is best known for her 1987 play ‘My Mother Said I Never Should’ – a clever and moving tale of four generations of women that fast became a modern classic. She is clearly an accomplished writer and ‘Our Father’, directed by Brigid Larmour who directed the original Contact Theatre production of ‘My Mother Said I Never Should’, was a well-acted, polished piece, but somehow it seemed to amount to slightly less than the sum of its parts. The device of a young woman in the present day hearing the voice of a young woman talking to her from centuries earlier in the same location reminded me of Tom Stoppard’s ‘Arcadia’. But, for me, the play failed to really come to life: there seemed to be a strong story bursting to get out but the narrative dam was possibly too securely built to allow it to flow.
Monday, February 20, 2012
'Oedipussy' by Spymonkey
20 February 2012
One of the most difficult challenges for any artist is how to respond to a particularly bad review. Australian comedian Tim Minchin (reviewed here in November 2008) famously wrote a vitriolic song about the Guardian reviewer Phil Daoust ("occasional Guardian newspaper journal-oust"). Now physical theatre company Spymonkey’s response to a bad review by Joyce McMillan in The Scotsman (and particularly her reference to them as a “bunch of middle-aged actors”) is to create a gloriously silly rendering of ‘Oedipus Rex’ in the style of a 1970s James Bond film which plays on the theme of ageing. As they say at the beginning of ‘Oedipussy’ - “this one’s for you Joyce McMillan!”. We were at the Royal Theatre in Northampton on Saturday to see the last night of ‘Oedipussy’ – a Spymonkey production in association with the Royal & Derngate Northampton, written by Carl Grose and the cast and directed and adapted by Emma Rice. I had loved the visual humour and stagecraft of two previous Emma Rice productions – ‘A Matter of Life and Death’ at the National Theatre (reviewed here in May 2007) and ‘Brief Encounter’ which I also saw at the Royal Theatre, Northampton and this show (her first with Spymonkey) had a similarly inventive approach. Spymonkey are a wonderful quartet of physical actors and clowns who spend much of the show stepping out of character to complain about their aliments and moan about their colleagues. Their re-telling of ‘Oedipus Rex’ (I loved that Sophocles gets a biography in the programme which says he “has several projects in development including a rock opera of his ‘Philoctetes with Einsturzende Neubauten and a sitcom treatment for Baby Cow”) is chaotic and confused with the actors often arguing amongst themselves. This is a physical theatre version of The National Theatre of Brent. There were some great visual gags: why is there nothing so funny as someone trying to walk through a narrow space while wearing headgear that is too wide for the space?! And the show finishes with the most hilarious suicide by hanging that you are ever likely to see on stage! ‘Oedipussy’ was incredibly silly and I suspect most people would either love it or hate it but I was grinning throughout, except for when I was laughing raucously – and many of the audience ended the evening in unstoppable hysterics.
One of the most difficult challenges for any artist is how to respond to a particularly bad review. Australian comedian Tim Minchin (reviewed here in November 2008) famously wrote a vitriolic song about the Guardian reviewer Phil Daoust ("occasional Guardian newspaper journal-oust"). Now physical theatre company Spymonkey’s response to a bad review by Joyce McMillan in The Scotsman (and particularly her reference to them as a “bunch of middle-aged actors”) is to create a gloriously silly rendering of ‘Oedipus Rex’ in the style of a 1970s James Bond film which plays on the theme of ageing. As they say at the beginning of ‘Oedipussy’ - “this one’s for you Joyce McMillan!”. We were at the Royal Theatre in Northampton on Saturday to see the last night of ‘Oedipussy’ – a Spymonkey production in association with the Royal & Derngate Northampton, written by Carl Grose and the cast and directed and adapted by Emma Rice. I had loved the visual humour and stagecraft of two previous Emma Rice productions – ‘A Matter of Life and Death’ at the National Theatre (reviewed here in May 2007) and ‘Brief Encounter’ which I also saw at the Royal Theatre, Northampton and this show (her first with Spymonkey) had a similarly inventive approach. Spymonkey are a wonderful quartet of physical actors and clowns who spend much of the show stepping out of character to complain about their aliments and moan about their colleagues. Their re-telling of ‘Oedipus Rex’ (I loved that Sophocles gets a biography in the programme which says he “has several projects in development including a rock opera of his ‘Philoctetes with Einsturzende Neubauten and a sitcom treatment for Baby Cow”) is chaotic and confused with the actors often arguing amongst themselves. This is a physical theatre version of The National Theatre of Brent. There were some great visual gags: why is there nothing so funny as someone trying to walk through a narrow space while wearing headgear that is too wide for the space?! And the show finishes with the most hilarious suicide by hanging that you are ever likely to see on stage! ‘Oedipussy’ was incredibly silly and I suspect most people would either love it or hate it but I was grinning throughout, except for when I was laughing raucously – and many of the audience ended the evening in unstoppable hysterics.
Friday, February 17, 2012
'Our Version of Events' by Emeli Sandé
17 February 2012
Another week, another eagerly-anticipated debut album by a much-hyped young female singer songwriter. But it's not every week that the young woman in question is a former medical student from rural Aberdeenshire with English and Zambian parents. As you start to listen to 'Heaven', the opening track of Emeli Sandé's album 'Our Version of Events', it's easy to leap to the assumption, guided by the rapid background beats, that you're squarely in dance music territory. But the emergence of brass chords, leading to an epic orchestral backing, seems to take you into more of an R&B feel. And Sandé's voice is a powerful, soulful instrument. The further you travel into the album the less sure you are of where you would pigeon-hole this music. It's a clever and impressive collection of pop songs, ranging from the delicate simplicity of 'Where I Sleep', to the whispered vocals of 'Mountains' to the piano ballad 'Clown'. There's a particularly strong strand of sad but gorgeous songs such as 'Daddy' and 'Maybe'. 'Our Version of Events' is a cool, varied and sophisticated first album: it will be interesting to see what Emeli does next.
Another week, another eagerly-anticipated debut album by a much-hyped young female singer songwriter. But it's not every week that the young woman in question is a former medical student from rural Aberdeenshire with English and Zambian parents. As you start to listen to 'Heaven', the opening track of Emeli Sandé's album 'Our Version of Events', it's easy to leap to the assumption, guided by the rapid background beats, that you're squarely in dance music territory. But the emergence of brass chords, leading to an epic orchestral backing, seems to take you into more of an R&B feel. And Sandé's voice is a powerful, soulful instrument. The further you travel into the album the less sure you are of where you would pigeon-hole this music. It's a clever and impressive collection of pop songs, ranging from the delicate simplicity of 'Where I Sleep', to the whispered vocals of 'Mountains' to the piano ballad 'Clown'. There's a particularly strong strand of sad but gorgeous songs such as 'Daddy' and 'Maybe'. 'Our Version of Events' is a cool, varied and sophisticated first album: it will be interesting to see what Emeli does next.
Tuesday, February 07, 2012
'The Comedy of Errors' by William Shakespeare
7 February 2012
‘The Comedy of Errors’ is a very early Shakespeare play and not one of his best. Even within the parameters of silly farce, the plot doesn't entirely make sense and several of the characters you are meant to care about are less than sympathetic. But it still provides solid material for an enjoyable romp if handled well. Dominic Cooke’s new production for the National Theatre is a very modern take on the play. Set in a seedy, urban, contemporary world it makes good use of the massive stage in the Olivier Theatre, incorporating three-storey buildings which use the full height of the auditorium. I loved the way the passage of years was indicated by the changing sponsors’ names on Dromio’s Arsenal football shirt! The star attraction here is Lenny Henry who gives an impressively restrained performance as Antipholus of Syracuse, with the occasional hysterical outburst, wide eyed astonishment and manic energy all the funnier for their sparing use. Antipholus and Dromio are a classic simpleton double act along the lines of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza (though ‘Don Quixote’ was published more than 10 years after the first performance of ‘The Comedy of Errors’) and Lenny Henry and Lucian Msamati make a great team: it is fascinating to see Lenny Henry more often playing the straight man. As the farce begins to take off in the second act there are some great comic moments with crowds of actors pursuing each other around the set. Claudie Blakley and Michelle Terry deserve a particular mention for managing to negotiate the chase scenes in vertiginous high heels!
‘The Comedy of Errors’ is a very early Shakespeare play and not one of his best. Even within the parameters of silly farce, the plot doesn't entirely make sense and several of the characters you are meant to care about are less than sympathetic. But it still provides solid material for an enjoyable romp if handled well. Dominic Cooke’s new production for the National Theatre is a very modern take on the play. Set in a seedy, urban, contemporary world it makes good use of the massive stage in the Olivier Theatre, incorporating three-storey buildings which use the full height of the auditorium. I loved the way the passage of years was indicated by the changing sponsors’ names on Dromio’s Arsenal football shirt! The star attraction here is Lenny Henry who gives an impressively restrained performance as Antipholus of Syracuse, with the occasional hysterical outburst, wide eyed astonishment and manic energy all the funnier for their sparing use. Antipholus and Dromio are a classic simpleton double act along the lines of Don Quixote and Sancho Panza (though ‘Don Quixote’ was published more than 10 years after the first performance of ‘The Comedy of Errors’) and Lenny Henry and Lucian Msamati make a great team: it is fascinating to see Lenny Henry more often playing the straight man. As the farce begins to take off in the second act there are some great comic moments with crowds of actors pursuing each other around the set. Claudie Blakley and Michelle Terry deserve a particular mention for managing to negotiate the chase scenes in vertiginous high heels!
Friday, February 03, 2012
‘Born To Die’ by Lana Del Ray
3 February 2012
I’ve been listening to the most anticipated debut album of
recent years, ‘Born To Die’ by Lana Del Ray, which was released on Monday. I
haven’t really been following all the hype, which seemed to centre on outrage
in the media that Lana Del Ray turned out to be a character rather than a real
person – which doesn’t seem a terribly newsworthy scandal in the world of pop
music. I came to the music without much of the backstory and have been enjoying
the album on its own merits. This is incredibly catchy pop with a hint of dreamy
strangeness. It’s lusciously produced
with soaring strings, gentle piano chords, drums and electronic beats, plenty
of echo, some light rapping and Lana Del Ray’s haunting, very slightly slurred
vocals. It’s the tunes and their delivery that make ‘Born To Die’ addictive
pop. The lyrics don’t bear too much scrutiny but there are some great singalong
choruses. ‘Video Games’ is a wonderful song – slow, gentle, littered with harp
arpeggios and low, sultry vocals with a weirdly compelling melody that seems to
twist sinisterly in unexpected directions. ‘Diet Mountain Dew’ feels completely
different – trip hop meets cheerleader with a minor key feel that sounds a lot
like early Oi Va Voi. ‘National Anthem’ clearly borrows from ‘Bitter Sweet
Symphony’ by the Verve but takes us on into a memorable chorus. Cleverly
manufactured pop music.
Wednesday, January 25, 2012
‘Man with a Love Song’ by James Hill
25 January 2012
The humble ukulele has undergone a renaissance in recent years, with its notable appearances including ‘Bang Goes the Knighthood’ by The Divine Comedy (reviewed here in June 2010), the eclectic music of Beirut (reviewed here in November 2006 and October 2007), the phenomenal posthumous success of the late Hawaiian singer Israel Kamakawiwo’ole and the ubiquitous Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain (reviewed here in July 2010). James Hill is a Canadian singer, songwriter and ukulele player and his latest album ‘Man with a Love Song’ is a lovely, varied set of songs – laid-back, gentle and playful tunes. James Hill also plays banjo and piano and is joined by the cellist Anne Davison. He uses the ukulele thoughtfully and sparingly: there is little of the clichéd frantic strumming here. And the pick of the tracks, for me, is the haunting, moving ballad ‘High Demand’ – a beautiful song.
The humble ukulele has undergone a renaissance in recent years, with its notable appearances including ‘Bang Goes the Knighthood’ by The Divine Comedy (reviewed here in June 2010), the eclectic music of Beirut (reviewed here in November 2006 and October 2007), the phenomenal posthumous success of the late Hawaiian singer Israel Kamakawiwo’ole and the ubiquitous Ukulele Orchestra of Great Britain (reviewed here in July 2010). James Hill is a Canadian singer, songwriter and ukulele player and his latest album ‘Man with a Love Song’ is a lovely, varied set of songs – laid-back, gentle and playful tunes. James Hill also plays banjo and piano and is joined by the cellist Anne Davison. He uses the ukulele thoughtfully and sparingly: there is little of the clichéd frantic strumming here. And the pick of the tracks, for me, is the haunting, moving ballad ‘High Demand’ – a beautiful song.
Friday, January 20, 2012
'The Awakening'
20 January 2012
We made a rare trip to The Castle in Wellingborough last Saturday to see ‘The Awakening’, a British film that came out last November but had passed me by. It’s a ghost story, set just after the First World War at a boarding school in Cumbria where professional hoax exposer Florence Cathcart is called in to investigate the death of a boy who has apparently been scared to death. It’s a spooky tale, atmospherically filmed in a constantly gloomy light with muted colours, allowing half-seen images to lurk in the shadows. The most scary ghost films are those that don’t show too much but play upon the audience’s imagination. ‘The Awakening’ pulls off that classic trick of showing you a scene in which the heroine walks through a room without noticing anything unusual, while a ghostly figure appears very briefly in the background in a way that ensures all the audience see something but no-one is quite sure whether they really did. Rebecca Hall is great as Florence Cathcart, her rational determination gradually unwinding in the face of increasingly unexplainable happenings. And there is good support from Dominic West and Imelda Staunton. It’s a nicely made film that doesn’t outstay its welcome and confirms that there is nothing so scary as children!
We made a rare trip to The Castle in Wellingborough last Saturday to see ‘The Awakening’, a British film that came out last November but had passed me by. It’s a ghost story, set just after the First World War at a boarding school in Cumbria where professional hoax exposer Florence Cathcart is called in to investigate the death of a boy who has apparently been scared to death. It’s a spooky tale, atmospherically filmed in a constantly gloomy light with muted colours, allowing half-seen images to lurk in the shadows. The most scary ghost films are those that don’t show too much but play upon the audience’s imagination. ‘The Awakening’ pulls off that classic trick of showing you a scene in which the heroine walks through a room without noticing anything unusual, while a ghostly figure appears very briefly in the background in a way that ensures all the audience see something but no-one is quite sure whether they really did. Rebecca Hall is great as Florence Cathcart, her rational determination gradually unwinding in the face of increasingly unexplainable happenings. And there is good support from Dominic West and Imelda Staunton. It’s a nicely made film that doesn’t outstay its welcome and confirms that there is nothing so scary as children!
Friday, January 13, 2012
‘The House of Silk’ by Anthony Horowitz
13 January 2012
It’s been confusing, over the past couple of weeks, to be watching the excellent new series of ‘Sherlock’ by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss whilst I have also been reading ‘The House of Silk’ by Anthony Horowitz – the first new Sherlock Holmes novel to be officially approved by the Conan Doyle estate. Both are lovingly reverential to the original Sherlock Holmes stories and knowingly playful with the genre. In ‘The House of Silk’ (I read the unabridged audio version, read by Derek Jacobi) an elderly Dr Watson, living in a nursing home many years after Holmes himself has passed away, recounts one last case which he was unable to tell at the time it happened – and will be consigned to his solicitors' vaults for 100 years. All the familiar Holmesian elements are present – 221B Baker Street, Mrs Hudson, Inspector Lestrade, the pipe, the violin, the Baker Street Irregulars etc. There’s a wonderful laugh-out-loud encounter between Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes where they exchange a rapid series of elementary deductions about what they have each been up to since they last met – like an intellectual tennis match. The narrative style is faithful to Conan Doyle and Watson’s voice is completely recognisable. Watson himself comments on his tendency to preoccupy himself with plot and laments his inability to comment on the social conditions of Victorian London in the way Gissing or Dickens had. He then attempts the occasional foray into Dickensian description but Horowitz’s main focus is also on the puzzle of the case (or cases). It’s hard to know whether to criticise the occasional clumsiness of the writing or to attribute this to an accurate reproduction of Conan Doyle’s narrator but ‘The House of Silk’ works better as a thriller than a literary period piece. It’s a marvellously complex mystery: being much longer than Conan Doyle’s original stories allows the novel to weave an extensive web of plotlines, while the relentless pace of the adventure drives the confused reader continually onward. The trick of a Sherlock Holmes story is to leave the reader always slightly ahead of Watson but slightly behind Holmes – and Horowitz achieved this admirably as far as this reader was concerned. The novel builds to a truly thrilling conclusion – I was completely hooked.
It’s been confusing, over the past couple of weeks, to be watching the excellent new series of ‘Sherlock’ by Steven Moffat and Mark Gatiss whilst I have also been reading ‘The House of Silk’ by Anthony Horowitz – the first new Sherlock Holmes novel to be officially approved by the Conan Doyle estate. Both are lovingly reverential to the original Sherlock Holmes stories and knowingly playful with the genre. In ‘The House of Silk’ (I read the unabridged audio version, read by Derek Jacobi) an elderly Dr Watson, living in a nursing home many years after Holmes himself has passed away, recounts one last case which he was unable to tell at the time it happened – and will be consigned to his solicitors' vaults for 100 years. All the familiar Holmesian elements are present – 221B Baker Street, Mrs Hudson, Inspector Lestrade, the pipe, the violin, the Baker Street Irregulars etc. There’s a wonderful laugh-out-loud encounter between Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes where they exchange a rapid series of elementary deductions about what they have each been up to since they last met – like an intellectual tennis match. The narrative style is faithful to Conan Doyle and Watson’s voice is completely recognisable. Watson himself comments on his tendency to preoccupy himself with plot and laments his inability to comment on the social conditions of Victorian London in the way Gissing or Dickens had. He then attempts the occasional foray into Dickensian description but Horowitz’s main focus is also on the puzzle of the case (or cases). It’s hard to know whether to criticise the occasional clumsiness of the writing or to attribute this to an accurate reproduction of Conan Doyle’s narrator but ‘The House of Silk’ works better as a thriller than a literary period piece. It’s a marvellously complex mystery: being much longer than Conan Doyle’s original stories allows the novel to weave an extensive web of plotlines, while the relentless pace of the adventure drives the confused reader continually onward. The trick of a Sherlock Holmes story is to leave the reader always slightly ahead of Watson but slightly behind Holmes – and Horowitz achieved this admirably as far as this reader was concerned. The novel builds to a truly thrilling conclusion – I was completely hooked.
Thursday, January 05, 2012
‘You Can’t Take It With You’ by George S Kaufman and Moss Hart
5 January 2012
Last Friday we were at the Royal Exchange Theatre in Manchester to see ‘You Can’t Take It With You’ by George S Kaufman and Moss Hart. This production by the Royal Exchange Theatre and Told By An Idiot of the 1936 Broadway comedy, was extremely silly, incredibly funny and joyously life-affirming: I loved it! Kaufman wrote for the Marx Brothers (including the screenplays for ‘A Night at the Opera’ and ‘A Day at the Races’) and ‘You Can’t Take It With You’ displays a similar zany humour. Set in New York in the 1930s, Alice Sycamore (played here by Sarah Ridgeway) brings her new boyfriend home to meet her eccentric family. Here the two lovers are the only ‘normal’ characters with everyone else slightly larger than life – the mother (played by Joanne Howarth) who has spent eight years trying to write a play, purely because eight years ago someone mistakenly delivered her a typewriter, the father (Sam Parks) who spends his days in the attics inventing fireworks, the sister (Sophie Russell) who wants to be a dancer and dances almost continuously around the house, the house guest (Martin Hyder) who arrived six years ago to deliver ice and never left and the grandfather (Christopher Benjamin) who decided that spending six hours a day doing something he didn’t enjoy in order to spend one hour doing the things he liked made no sense and so he stopped going to work or paying income tax. It was a wonderfully silly show, directed by Paul Hunter and making good use of the theatre-in-the-round setting. Everyone left with a smile on their faces.
Last Friday we were at the Royal Exchange Theatre in Manchester to see ‘You Can’t Take It With You’ by George S Kaufman and Moss Hart. This production by the Royal Exchange Theatre and Told By An Idiot of the 1936 Broadway comedy, was extremely silly, incredibly funny and joyously life-affirming: I loved it! Kaufman wrote for the Marx Brothers (including the screenplays for ‘A Night at the Opera’ and ‘A Day at the Races’) and ‘You Can’t Take It With You’ displays a similar zany humour. Set in New York in the 1930s, Alice Sycamore (played here by Sarah Ridgeway) brings her new boyfriend home to meet her eccentric family. Here the two lovers are the only ‘normal’ characters with everyone else slightly larger than life – the mother (played by Joanne Howarth) who has spent eight years trying to write a play, purely because eight years ago someone mistakenly delivered her a typewriter, the father (Sam Parks) who spends his days in the attics inventing fireworks, the sister (Sophie Russell) who wants to be a dancer and dances almost continuously around the house, the house guest (Martin Hyder) who arrived six years ago to deliver ice and never left and the grandfather (Christopher Benjamin) who decided that spending six hours a day doing something he didn’t enjoy in order to spend one hour doing the things he liked made no sense and so he stopped going to work or paying income tax. It was a wonderfully silly show, directed by Paul Hunter and making good use of the theatre-in-the-round setting. Everyone left with a smile on their faces.
'The Ladykillers' by Graham Linehan
5 January 2012
Between Christmas and New Year we were at the Gielgud Theatre in London’s West End to see ‘The Ladykillers’ – a new stage version of the classic Ealing comedy, written by Graham Linehan and directed by Sean Foley. It was an all-star cast with Peter Capaldi, James Fleet, Ben Miller, Clive Rowe, Stephen Wight and the wonderful Marcia Warren as Mrs Wilberforce. But the clear star of the show was the amazing set by Michael Taylor. The whole inside of the house is laid out in exaggerated and eccentric angles and perspective – which reminded me of the Stephen Daldry version of ‘An Inspector Calls’ – and this is combined with a revolving stage to take us outside and show us the heist with a series of toy cars and a toy train. Graham Linehan says in the programme that he was influenced by Patrick Barlow’s stage adaptation of ‘The Thirty Nine Steps’ and this was certainly in a very similar style. There were some very funny moments – I loved the tableau of the six faces of the criminal gang crammed into a tiny cupboard – and it was a very enjoyable evening in the theatre but the performances were good rather than outstanding.
Between Christmas and New Year we were at the Gielgud Theatre in London’s West End to see ‘The Ladykillers’ – a new stage version of the classic Ealing comedy, written by Graham Linehan and directed by Sean Foley. It was an all-star cast with Peter Capaldi, James Fleet, Ben Miller, Clive Rowe, Stephen Wight and the wonderful Marcia Warren as Mrs Wilberforce. But the clear star of the show was the amazing set by Michael Taylor. The whole inside of the house is laid out in exaggerated and eccentric angles and perspective – which reminded me of the Stephen Daldry version of ‘An Inspector Calls’ – and this is combined with a revolving stage to take us outside and show us the heist with a series of toy cars and a toy train. Graham Linehan says in the programme that he was influenced by Patrick Barlow’s stage adaptation of ‘The Thirty Nine Steps’ and this was certainly in a very similar style. There were some very funny moments – I loved the tableau of the six faces of the criminal gang crammed into a tiny cupboard – and it was a very enjoyable evening in the theatre but the performances were good rather than outstanding.
'Measure for Measure' by William Shakespeare
5 January 2012
On Boxing Say we were at The Swan Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon to see the Royal Shakespeare Company production of ‘Measure for Measure’, directed by Roxana Silbert. I’ve seen the play before but this production held my attention better and I felt I properly appreciated it for the first time. Although technically one of Shakespeare’s ‘comedies’, ‘Measure for Measure’ is a dark play. It was good to see the comic moments brought out, without losing the seriousness of its themes. Raymond Coulthard was a mercurial Duke, with a twinkle in his eye, a tendency to break down the fourth wall and a fine line in conjuring tricks. Now that the new Royal Shakespeare Theatre echoes its thrust stage, the Swan, next door, feels very small. We were in the top gallery and could only see the stage by leaning uncomfortably forward. But the quality of the acting overcame these practical annoyances and it was an impressive production.
On Boxing Say we were at The Swan Theatre in Stratford-upon-Avon to see the Royal Shakespeare Company production of ‘Measure for Measure’, directed by Roxana Silbert. I’ve seen the play before but this production held my attention better and I felt I properly appreciated it for the first time. Although technically one of Shakespeare’s ‘comedies’, ‘Measure for Measure’ is a dark play. It was good to see the comic moments brought out, without losing the seriousness of its themes. Raymond Coulthard was a mercurial Duke, with a twinkle in his eye, a tendency to break down the fourth wall and a fine line in conjuring tricks. Now that the new Royal Shakespeare Theatre echoes its thrust stage, the Swan, next door, feels very small. We were in the top gallery and could only see the stage by leaning uncomfortably forward. But the quality of the acting overcame these practical annoyances and it was an impressive production.
‘The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha’ by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra
5 January 2012
I’ve just finished reading ‘The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha’ by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, as an unabridged audio book translated by John Ormsby, revised, updated and read by Roy McMillan. It’s a massive book – the audio version lasts 36 hours – and I’m afraid it did feel very long. Everyone knows about ‘Don Quixote’ but it was an interesting experience actually reading it. At first it is hard to know how to take it: on the surface Cervantes is clearly parodying a particular style of chivalrous tale of knights of old, but the stories being parodied are now unfamiliar, so the tales of Don Quixote’s mistaken skirmishes with windmills and the like appear to us a simple child-like slapstick. This cartoon narrative is funny but doesn’t seem sophisticated enough to hold your attention over such a long novel. But then you gradually begin to see something cleverer going on in the way the story is told and, in particular, the question of who is telling the story. We appear to be in the hands of an omniscient narrator who knows all that befell Don Quixote and his trusty squire Sancho Panza, even when there was clearly no-one else present. But then there are references to the different versions of Don Quixote’s story, suggesting that he has been written about by many authors and his exploits have become the stuff of legend. ‘Don Quixote’ was published by Cervantes in two volumes, in 1605 and 1615, and in the second part the knight and his squire frequently encounter people who have read the earlier volume and are familiar with their history. This must be one of the earliest examples of meta-fiction and Cervantes proceeds to have lots of fun with the premise: the author himself points out inconsistencies in earlier chapters where, for example, Sancho Panza’s ass is stolen in one scene but he is then described as riding it again in the next. We are told that the author of this account of the Don’s life wrote it in Arabic and that it was then translated into Spanish. The narrator then interjects with comments about the original Arabic author and also about the translator – so who is making these comments? This becomes a very clever, entertaining and rewarding exercise in narrative style. The other thing that Cervantes does very impressively is to construct two classic comic characters, whose influence can be seen to the present day. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are both deluded simpletons but with their own serious and consistent logic. I worried at first that we were simply being invited to laugh at Don Quixote’s mental illness as he mistakes an inn for a castle or windmills for giants, and even when these obvious mistakes are pointed out to him he excuses them by claiming he has been enchanted by evil forces. But there is much emphasis on the way in which Don Quixote is actually very sensible and logical on every topic except that of knights errant as he has been corrupted by reading too many chivalrous tales. And gradually you realise that Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are wonderfully drawn characters with their own internal logic – exaggerated cartoon creations placed in an otherwise real-world setting. Though set in a different continent at a different time, their picaresque adventures reminded me of the Coen Brothers film ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou’ – itself a loose version of Homer’s ‘The Odyssey’. Cleverly, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza can both see through many of each other’s delusions, while remaining blissfully unaware of their own shortcomings. These are comic simpletons with a serious approach to life – like Laurel and Hardy, Morecambe and Wise or Alan Partridge. I enjoyed reading ‘Don Quixote’: it is too long but you can see why it became so revered and how influential it has been and I will miss The Knight of the Rueful Countenance and his loyal companion with whom I have travelled so far.
I’ve just finished reading ‘The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha’ by Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, as an unabridged audio book translated by John Ormsby, revised, updated and read by Roy McMillan. It’s a massive book – the audio version lasts 36 hours – and I’m afraid it did feel very long. Everyone knows about ‘Don Quixote’ but it was an interesting experience actually reading it. At first it is hard to know how to take it: on the surface Cervantes is clearly parodying a particular style of chivalrous tale of knights of old, but the stories being parodied are now unfamiliar, so the tales of Don Quixote’s mistaken skirmishes with windmills and the like appear to us a simple child-like slapstick. This cartoon narrative is funny but doesn’t seem sophisticated enough to hold your attention over such a long novel. But then you gradually begin to see something cleverer going on in the way the story is told and, in particular, the question of who is telling the story. We appear to be in the hands of an omniscient narrator who knows all that befell Don Quixote and his trusty squire Sancho Panza, even when there was clearly no-one else present. But then there are references to the different versions of Don Quixote’s story, suggesting that he has been written about by many authors and his exploits have become the stuff of legend. ‘Don Quixote’ was published by Cervantes in two volumes, in 1605 and 1615, and in the second part the knight and his squire frequently encounter people who have read the earlier volume and are familiar with their history. This must be one of the earliest examples of meta-fiction and Cervantes proceeds to have lots of fun with the premise: the author himself points out inconsistencies in earlier chapters where, for example, Sancho Panza’s ass is stolen in one scene but he is then described as riding it again in the next. We are told that the author of this account of the Don’s life wrote it in Arabic and that it was then translated into Spanish. The narrator then interjects with comments about the original Arabic author and also about the translator – so who is making these comments? This becomes a very clever, entertaining and rewarding exercise in narrative style. The other thing that Cervantes does very impressively is to construct two classic comic characters, whose influence can be seen to the present day. Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are both deluded simpletons but with their own serious and consistent logic. I worried at first that we were simply being invited to laugh at Don Quixote’s mental illness as he mistakes an inn for a castle or windmills for giants, and even when these obvious mistakes are pointed out to him he excuses them by claiming he has been enchanted by evil forces. But there is much emphasis on the way in which Don Quixote is actually very sensible and logical on every topic except that of knights errant as he has been corrupted by reading too many chivalrous tales. And gradually you realise that Don Quixote and Sancho Panza are wonderfully drawn characters with their own internal logic – exaggerated cartoon creations placed in an otherwise real-world setting. Though set in a different continent at a different time, their picaresque adventures reminded me of the Coen Brothers film ‘O Brother, Where Art Thou’ – itself a loose version of Homer’s ‘The Odyssey’. Cleverly, Don Quixote and Sancho Panza can both see through many of each other’s delusions, while remaining blissfully unaware of their own shortcomings. These are comic simpletons with a serious approach to life – like Laurel and Hardy, Morecambe and Wise or Alan Partridge. I enjoyed reading ‘Don Quixote’: it is too long but you can see why it became so revered and how influential it has been and I will miss The Knight of the Rueful Countenance and his loyal companion with whom I have travelled so far.
Lea Singers Concert
5 January 2012
I can think of few better ways to start the Christmas break
than by attending the Lea Singers Charity Christmas Concert, ‘MerryLea’. On 22
December we were back at the Harpenden Public Halls to see this excellent
chamber choir entertain us with a festive programme ranging from medieval to
modern. Each of Poulenc’s beautiful ‘Four Christmas Motets’ were paired with settings
of the same words some 400 years earlier by Palestrina, Orlando Lassus and
William Byrd. I also very much enjoyed a modern South African Christmas Anthem by
Grant McLachlan, ‘Come Colours Rise’. It was great to see a packed audience helping
to raise funds for the Grove House hospice charity and singing the carols enthusiastically
and impressively.
Wednesday, December 14, 2011
Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert
14 December 2011
Another vital component for bringing on the festive mood is the annual Christmas Cracker concert by the Northampton Symphony Orchestra. On Sunday we were back at the Spinney Theatre in Northampton for an afternoon of carols and other Christmas music. I haven’t seen the 2004 animated film ‘The Polar Express’ but the music by Alan Silvestri (who also wrote the score for ‘Back to the Future’) is a brilliantly nostalgic evocation of Christmas. Somehow I have also missed seeing that perennial favourite ‘The Snowman’ so it was fun to discover the story for the first time by playing Howard Blake’s music with narration by our excellent compere Graham Padden and members of the Northamptonshire County Boys’ Choir singing ‘Walking in the Air’. We finished the concert with Tchaikovsky’s ‘Suite from the Ballet Nutcracker’ (including a stunning performance at the beginning of ‘The Waltz of the Flowers’ by harpist Federica Mossone) and, with the scent of mulled wine and mince pies heavy in the air, you could hardly get more Christmassy.
Another vital component for bringing on the festive mood is the annual Christmas Cracker concert by the Northampton Symphony Orchestra. On Sunday we were back at the Spinney Theatre in Northampton for an afternoon of carols and other Christmas music. I haven’t seen the 2004 animated film ‘The Polar Express’ but the music by Alan Silvestri (who also wrote the score for ‘Back to the Future’) is a brilliantly nostalgic evocation of Christmas. Somehow I have also missed seeing that perennial favourite ‘The Snowman’ so it was fun to discover the story for the first time by playing Howard Blake’s music with narration by our excellent compere Graham Padden and members of the Northamptonshire County Boys’ Choir singing ‘Walking in the Air’. We finished the concert with Tchaikovsky’s ‘Suite from the Ballet Nutcracker’ (including a stunning performance at the beginning of ‘The Waltz of the Flowers’ by harpist Federica Mossone) and, with the scent of mulled wine and mince pies heavy in the air, you could hardly get more Christmassy.
'Cinderella' by Sue Sachon
14 December 2011
Christmas is coming and there is no better way to start the festive period than with a visit to Toddington to see the excellent TADS pantomime. On Saturday were back at the tiny TADS theatre to see ‘Cinderella’ – a new version written by TADS member Sue Sachon. This was a very traditional pantomime, wonderfully delivered. Perhaps a little less inventive than last years’ ‘The Pirate Princess’ (reviewed here in December 2010) but great fun. ‘Cinderella’ featured a cast of fifteen actors, all of whom were strong. I think the highlight was Lea Pryer and Janet Bray as the comic crooks ‘Bob Down’ and ‘Sid Out’: their rendition of ‘Money Makes the World Go Round’ was a showstopper. But they only narrowly beat the performance of “U.G.L.Y. You ain't got no alibi, you're ugly!” by Cinderella’s Ugly Sisters and Stepmother. Very few of the cast were not playing the opposite gender, but amongst the usual comic drag performances, James Sygrove – as the wicked Stepmother, Cleptomania – took the whole thing to a different level (and not just because of the height of his heels!) with an impressive and disturbing portrayal that suggested he might have pursued a successful career as a female impersonator.
Christmas is coming and there is no better way to start the festive period than with a visit to Toddington to see the excellent TADS pantomime. On Saturday were back at the tiny TADS theatre to see ‘Cinderella’ – a new version written by TADS member Sue Sachon. This was a very traditional pantomime, wonderfully delivered. Perhaps a little less inventive than last years’ ‘The Pirate Princess’ (reviewed here in December 2010) but great fun. ‘Cinderella’ featured a cast of fifteen actors, all of whom were strong. I think the highlight was Lea Pryer and Janet Bray as the comic crooks ‘Bob Down’ and ‘Sid Out’: their rendition of ‘Money Makes the World Go Round’ was a showstopper. But they only narrowly beat the performance of “U.G.L.Y. You ain't got no alibi, you're ugly!” by Cinderella’s Ugly Sisters and Stepmother. Very few of the cast were not playing the opposite gender, but amongst the usual comic drag performances, James Sygrove – as the wicked Stepmother, Cleptomania – took the whole thing to a different level (and not just because of the height of his heels!) with an impressive and disturbing portrayal that suggested he might have pursued a successful career as a female impersonator.
Friday, December 09, 2011
'Henry V' by William Shakespeare
9 December 2011
On Saturday we were at Milton Keynes Theatre to see the Propeller production of Henry V. Propeller is an all-male Shakespeare company, led by Edward Hall. This was a very muscular account of this most masculine of Shakespeare’s plays which did its best to bring home the realities of war in a contemporary context. With members of the cast, in army fatigues and balaclavas, patrolling the auditorium before the start of the play, we felt very much part of the theatre of war. This was very deliberately an ensemble piece with no real stars but high quality acting throughout the cast. In this production The Chorus truly was a chorus, with its words passed between all the actors in turn. For me, the downside of this emphasis on the ensemble was that the King was not the strongest of the actors on the stage and was sometimes a little difficult to hear – particularly in the big set piece speeches where his admirable striving for realism rather than Olivier-style acting left his fast speaking occasionally drowned by music or sound effects. The music was impressive, with some fine singing by the cast and good use of (relatively recent) rock and pop to stress the contemporary setting. We were also treated to more songs in the foyer during the interval where some of the actors performed to raise funds for a respite care charity: they have collected more than £5,000 so far on their tour, which only started in November. I really enjoyed the show: Propeller made it an engaging and entertaining tale which kept my attention throughout. Henry V is not Shakespeare’s best plot (it’s mostly one battle after another with a few short pauses in between) but I was reminded of its crucial significance as a pivot between the other history plays. So many of the nuances are much more poignant if you are familiar with the two Henry IV plays. On the night before Agincourt, Henry V worries that he may be doomed to atone for his father’s sin in deposing Richard II. And this play finishes with The Chorus foretelling the failures of Henry VI and the onset of the Wars of the Roses.
On Saturday we were at Milton Keynes Theatre to see the Propeller production of Henry V. Propeller is an all-male Shakespeare company, led by Edward Hall. This was a very muscular account of this most masculine of Shakespeare’s plays which did its best to bring home the realities of war in a contemporary context. With members of the cast, in army fatigues and balaclavas, patrolling the auditorium before the start of the play, we felt very much part of the theatre of war. This was very deliberately an ensemble piece with no real stars but high quality acting throughout the cast. In this production The Chorus truly was a chorus, with its words passed between all the actors in turn. For me, the downside of this emphasis on the ensemble was that the King was not the strongest of the actors on the stage and was sometimes a little difficult to hear – particularly in the big set piece speeches where his admirable striving for realism rather than Olivier-style acting left his fast speaking occasionally drowned by music or sound effects. The music was impressive, with some fine singing by the cast and good use of (relatively recent) rock and pop to stress the contemporary setting. We were also treated to more songs in the foyer during the interval where some of the actors performed to raise funds for a respite care charity: they have collected more than £5,000 so far on their tour, which only started in November. I really enjoyed the show: Propeller made it an engaging and entertaining tale which kept my attention throughout. Henry V is not Shakespeare’s best plot (it’s mostly one battle after another with a few short pauses in between) but I was reminded of its crucial significance as a pivot between the other history plays. So many of the nuances are much more poignant if you are familiar with the two Henry IV plays. On the night before Agincourt, Henry V worries that he may be doomed to atone for his father’s sin in deposing Richard II. And this play finishes with The Chorus foretelling the failures of Henry VI and the onset of the Wars of the Roses.
Thursday, December 01, 2011
'The Killing (Forbrydelsen)' by Søren Sveistrup
1 December 2011
She's back! How wonderful to be back in Copenhagen with Sarah Lund for the second series of the Danish TV series 'The Killing' (Forbrydelsen). If you missed the amazing first series and are still wondering what all the fuss was about I would recommend leaping straight into 'The Killing II'. The new series is a completely separate story with an almost entirely new cast of characters and you really don't have to have watched the original to enjoy it. 'The Killing' is a police procedural thriller serial set in Copenhagen. What makes it special is the quality of the plot (written by Søren Sveistrup), the acting and the length of the story. The first series consisted of 20 hour-long episodes, each representing one day in the investigation of a single crime. The luxury of having 20 hours to explore the characters of the various suspects and their investigators allowed a depth you rarely see in TV detective dramas. (If 20 episodes seems a bit daunting, the second series is only 10 hours long!) And don't be put off by the fact that 'The Killing' is in Danish with English subtitles: like all the best foreign dramas it's so good that, afterwards, you will struggle to remember that it was subtitled. Although 'The Killing' shows us events from the viewpoints of all the main protagonists, it is always careful never to reveal anything to the viewer that the police don't know - so you have the same opportunity to work out what happened as those investigating. To make the plot last for so many episodes there are, inevitably, a series of red herrings. But each innocent suspect, for whom there appears to be compelling evidence of guilt, turns out to have an extremely plausible explanation for their suspicious behaviour. This is a very sobering lesson in how easy it is to convince yourself that someone must be the murderer on purely circumstantial evidence. Both series feature a strong political subplot and the power games between the politicians, the media and the police form a fascinating backdrop. But the heart of 'The Killing' is police officer Sarah Lund played by Sofie Gråbøl as a very believable human being. Lund's very gradual descent into instability, driven by her obsession with solving the murder of Nana Birk Larsen was so carefully portrayed that the disastrous consequences of her actions took us as much by surprise as they did her. Sarah Lund is a very cleverly drawn character: her colleagues (and us viewers) feel she is able to spot things that the other police miss - she seems to have an extra level of intuition. But she is a real, believable character, not an infallible Sherlock Holmes: she doesn't have special powers and her hunches often prove to be misguided. This creates a peculiar fascination in the viewer: you are rooting for Sarah and urging her colleagues to listen to her while simultaneously worrying that she might be going down completely the wrong path. It's brilliantly done. 'The Killing II' is on BBC4 on Saturday evenings but don't worry if you've missed the first few episodes: the whole series will also be available on BBC iPlayer until 24 December. (And I haven't even mentioned the jumpers!)
She's back! How wonderful to be back in Copenhagen with Sarah Lund for the second series of the Danish TV series 'The Killing' (Forbrydelsen). If you missed the amazing first series and are still wondering what all the fuss was about I would recommend leaping straight into 'The Killing II'. The new series is a completely separate story with an almost entirely new cast of characters and you really don't have to have watched the original to enjoy it. 'The Killing' is a police procedural thriller serial set in Copenhagen. What makes it special is the quality of the plot (written by Søren Sveistrup), the acting and the length of the story. The first series consisted of 20 hour-long episodes, each representing one day in the investigation of a single crime. The luxury of having 20 hours to explore the characters of the various suspects and their investigators allowed a depth you rarely see in TV detective dramas. (If 20 episodes seems a bit daunting, the second series is only 10 hours long!) And don't be put off by the fact that 'The Killing' is in Danish with English subtitles: like all the best foreign dramas it's so good that, afterwards, you will struggle to remember that it was subtitled. Although 'The Killing' shows us events from the viewpoints of all the main protagonists, it is always careful never to reveal anything to the viewer that the police don't know - so you have the same opportunity to work out what happened as those investigating. To make the plot last for so many episodes there are, inevitably, a series of red herrings. But each innocent suspect, for whom there appears to be compelling evidence of guilt, turns out to have an extremely plausible explanation for their suspicious behaviour. This is a very sobering lesson in how easy it is to convince yourself that someone must be the murderer on purely circumstantial evidence. Both series feature a strong political subplot and the power games between the politicians, the media and the police form a fascinating backdrop. But the heart of 'The Killing' is police officer Sarah Lund played by Sofie Gråbøl as a very believable human being. Lund's very gradual descent into instability, driven by her obsession with solving the murder of Nana Birk Larsen was so carefully portrayed that the disastrous consequences of her actions took us as much by surprise as they did her. Sarah Lund is a very cleverly drawn character: her colleagues (and us viewers) feel she is able to spot things that the other police miss - she seems to have an extra level of intuition. But she is a real, believable character, not an infallible Sherlock Holmes: she doesn't have special powers and her hunches often prove to be misguided. This creates a peculiar fascination in the viewer: you are rooting for Sarah and urging her colleagues to listen to her while simultaneously worrying that she might be going down completely the wrong path. It's brilliantly done. 'The Killing II' is on BBC4 on Saturday evenings but don't worry if you've missed the first few episodes: the whole series will also be available on BBC iPlayer until 24 December. (And I haven't even mentioned the jumpers!)
Friday, November 25, 2011
’50 Words for Snow’ by Kate Bush
25 November 2011
It’s hard to think of any other serious musician whose reputation could not only survive but appear to have been enhanced by an Elvis impression, a washing-machine fixation and a duet with Rolf Harris (all on her 2005 album, ‘Aerial’). Those of us who grew up fascinated by Kate Bush’s voice would probably be happy to listen to her reading the telephone directory. We get close to this on her new album but, unfortunately, it is Stephen Fry’s voice, rather than Kate Bush herself, that is given the task of reverentially intoning 50 (made-up) Words for Snow to Bush’s musical encouragement on the title track. ’50 Words for Snow’ is a quiet, contemplative collection of songs, mostly accompanied by gentle piano chords. It’s a beautiful work, despite continuing to sail mischievously close to self-parody (including a sexual encounter with a snowman!). Kate Bush’s celebrity pulling power seems stronger even than that of Ricky Gervais, with Elton John the guest vocalist on ‘Snowed in at Wheeler Street’. Much as I have been enjoying ‘Ceremonials’, the new album from Florence + The Machine, which sounds a lot like Kate Bush in rock-mode (I particularly like the opening track ‘Only If For A Night’ with its bell-ringing descending scales), it is no substitute for the real thing. More please!
It’s hard to think of any other serious musician whose reputation could not only survive but appear to have been enhanced by an Elvis impression, a washing-machine fixation and a duet with Rolf Harris (all on her 2005 album, ‘Aerial’). Those of us who grew up fascinated by Kate Bush’s voice would probably be happy to listen to her reading the telephone directory. We get close to this on her new album but, unfortunately, it is Stephen Fry’s voice, rather than Kate Bush herself, that is given the task of reverentially intoning 50 (made-up) Words for Snow to Bush’s musical encouragement on the title track. ’50 Words for Snow’ is a quiet, contemplative collection of songs, mostly accompanied by gentle piano chords. It’s a beautiful work, despite continuing to sail mischievously close to self-parody (including a sexual encounter with a snowman!). Kate Bush’s celebrity pulling power seems stronger even than that of Ricky Gervais, with Elton John the guest vocalist on ‘Snowed in at Wheeler Street’. Much as I have been enjoying ‘Ceremonials’, the new album from Florence + The Machine, which sounds a lot like Kate Bush in rock-mode (I particularly like the opening track ‘Only If For A Night’ with its bell-ringing descending scales), it is no substitute for the real thing. More please!
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert
15 November 2011
Having been practising Mahler’s 6th Symphony almost every day since early August, it feels very strange now that our performance has been and gone. In the last few days leading up to Saturday’s Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert I found myself increasingly paranoid that I was going to trip and bang my lip or fall prey to some other mishap that would prevent me from playing the 1st Horn part. In the event I made it to the concert intact and I think it all went incredibly well – though it’s very hard to judge when you are in the middle of it. I know there were no major disasters – we didn’t have to stop and start again and I don’t think I missed any of my solo passages. Having worked so hard on my stamina I was pleased to get through the 80 minutes of the symphony and still to be able to hit the high notes towards the end. But even though I had ensured I was physically capable of playing my part, it’s amazing what an effect nerves can have. As you approach a delicate solo you become more and more aware of how fleeting the opportunity is to get it right. You are thinking how many times you have played the phrase perfectly over the past few months and how awful it would be if something went wrong in the one brief chance you have to play it for real in the performance. These mind games are pernicious: even half-way through a solo there’s a danger that you think to yourself “actually this seems to be going okay”, only to distract yourself and fall apart. It’s an incredibly draining challenge of physical stamina, mental strength and concentration. I’m sure our performance was by no means perfect but Mahler 6 was a fantastically ambitious undertaking and I think we managed to present a very reasonable account of it, which included some truly exquisite moments. It was certainly incredibly loud, with an enlarged orchestra, including a massive brass section, creating a deafening climax. It was wonderful to have eight excellent horn players alongside me and I think we made quite an impressive section. The show was somewhat stolen, however, by the ‘Mahler box’ constructed specially for the occasion by Nick Bunker. The final movement of the symphony (which lasts a mammoth 30 minutes on its own) is punctuated by three massive hammer blows of fate. Mahler specified that these hammer blows should be "brief and mighty, but dull in resonance and with a non-metallic character (like the fall of an axe)”. For our performance Nick made a large wooden cube which was struck, by percussionist Keith Crompton, using a heavy log attached to a long broom handle. It created an amazing sound – and resulted in the violinists sitting immediately in front of it jumping several feet in the air each time it was struck! There is quite a good example of a similar realisation of the hammer blow at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UwljE3HsfSM and you can see our Mahler box at http://culturaloutlook.blogspot.com/2011/11/our-mahler-box.html. The first half of our concert saw an excellent performance of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto by Charlotte Skinner who was confident, assured and lyrical. As I wasn’t playing in the concerto, sitting at the back of the audience to watch it was a relaxing way to prepare for the daunting challenge of the symphony. By the end of the concert I was exhilarated, proud, relieved and totally shattered. I’ve really enjoyed the experience of playing Mahler 6 but I’m pleased it’s now over and I’m looking forward to playing something slightly less demanding next!
Having been practising Mahler’s 6th Symphony almost every day since early August, it feels very strange now that our performance has been and gone. In the last few days leading up to Saturday’s Northampton Symphony Orchestra concert I found myself increasingly paranoid that I was going to trip and bang my lip or fall prey to some other mishap that would prevent me from playing the 1st Horn part. In the event I made it to the concert intact and I think it all went incredibly well – though it’s very hard to judge when you are in the middle of it. I know there were no major disasters – we didn’t have to stop and start again and I don’t think I missed any of my solo passages. Having worked so hard on my stamina I was pleased to get through the 80 minutes of the symphony and still to be able to hit the high notes towards the end. But even though I had ensured I was physically capable of playing my part, it’s amazing what an effect nerves can have. As you approach a delicate solo you become more and more aware of how fleeting the opportunity is to get it right. You are thinking how many times you have played the phrase perfectly over the past few months and how awful it would be if something went wrong in the one brief chance you have to play it for real in the performance. These mind games are pernicious: even half-way through a solo there’s a danger that you think to yourself “actually this seems to be going okay”, only to distract yourself and fall apart. It’s an incredibly draining challenge of physical stamina, mental strength and concentration. I’m sure our performance was by no means perfect but Mahler 6 was a fantastically ambitious undertaking and I think we managed to present a very reasonable account of it, which included some truly exquisite moments. It was certainly incredibly loud, with an enlarged orchestra, including a massive brass section, creating a deafening climax. It was wonderful to have eight excellent horn players alongside me and I think we made quite an impressive section. The show was somewhat stolen, however, by the ‘Mahler box’ constructed specially for the occasion by Nick Bunker. The final movement of the symphony (which lasts a mammoth 30 minutes on its own) is punctuated by three massive hammer blows of fate. Mahler specified that these hammer blows should be "brief and mighty, but dull in resonance and with a non-metallic character (like the fall of an axe)”. For our performance Nick made a large wooden cube which was struck, by percussionist Keith Crompton, using a heavy log attached to a long broom handle. It created an amazing sound – and resulted in the violinists sitting immediately in front of it jumping several feet in the air each time it was struck! There is quite a good example of a similar realisation of the hammer blow at: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UwljE3HsfSM and you can see our Mahler box at http://culturaloutlook.blogspot.com/2011/11/our-mahler-box.html. The first half of our concert saw an excellent performance of the Mendelssohn Violin Concerto by Charlotte Skinner who was confident, assured and lyrical. As I wasn’t playing in the concerto, sitting at the back of the audience to watch it was a relaxing way to prepare for the daunting challenge of the symphony. By the end of the concert I was exhilarated, proud, relieved and totally shattered. I’ve really enjoyed the experience of playing Mahler 6 but I’m pleased it’s now over and I’m looking forward to playing something slightly less demanding next!
'La Bohème' by Giacomo Puccini
15 November 2011
We were at Milton Keynes Theatre last Friday to see the Glyndebourne on Tour production of La Bohème by Giacomo Puccini. This was the first Puccini opera I had seen and the music was wonderful – sumptuous, romantic, beautiful and, yes, sentimental – but none the worse for it. This revival of the 2000 Glyndebourne on Tour production, directed by David McVicar, is set in a grittily contemporary Paris, with an uncompromisingly urban set designed by Michael Vale. The grotty flat in which the four young men live looked strangely familiar – and when they are visited by their landlord in search of his rent I realised that we were watching an episode of ‘The Young Ones’, albeit with better singing! Writing in the programme, Nicholas Payne, suggested that ‘La Bohème’ is the perfect length. He says that “Puccini, and his librettists, Giuseppe Giacoso and Luigi Illica struggled for three years to find a coherent shape for their incidents chosen from Henri Murger’s novel ‘Scènes de la vie de bohème’” and that “with hindsight we can appreciate that it was Puccini’s pernicketiness which forged that unique mixture of the conversational and the lyrical that is the opera’s trademark”. I would agree that the opera does not overstay its welcome but it seemed to me that, by cherry-picking a number of incidents from the novel, the plot felt oddly unbalanced and disjointed. There are moments of great comedy that sit uneasily against the final angst and tragedy. And it seems a great shame to have constructed such a wonderful set-piece second act (in the Café Momus) which makes great use of a massive chorus and finishes with the show-stealing aria ‘Quando me’n vo’ soletta’ (gorgeously sung by Natasha Jouhl as Musetta in this production) only for the chorus to completely disappear as the opera moves to its bleak finale. Nevertheless the music was wonderful and the singing and playing (conducted by Jeremy Bines) was excellent.
We were at Milton Keynes Theatre last Friday to see the Glyndebourne on Tour production of La Bohème by Giacomo Puccini. This was the first Puccini opera I had seen and the music was wonderful – sumptuous, romantic, beautiful and, yes, sentimental – but none the worse for it. This revival of the 2000 Glyndebourne on Tour production, directed by David McVicar, is set in a grittily contemporary Paris, with an uncompromisingly urban set designed by Michael Vale. The grotty flat in which the four young men live looked strangely familiar – and when they are visited by their landlord in search of his rent I realised that we were watching an episode of ‘The Young Ones’, albeit with better singing! Writing in the programme, Nicholas Payne, suggested that ‘La Bohème’ is the perfect length. He says that “Puccini, and his librettists, Giuseppe Giacoso and Luigi Illica struggled for three years to find a coherent shape for their incidents chosen from Henri Murger’s novel ‘Scènes de la vie de bohème’” and that “with hindsight we can appreciate that it was Puccini’s pernicketiness which forged that unique mixture of the conversational and the lyrical that is the opera’s trademark”. I would agree that the opera does not overstay its welcome but it seemed to me that, by cherry-picking a number of incidents from the novel, the plot felt oddly unbalanced and disjointed. There are moments of great comedy that sit uneasily against the final angst and tragedy. And it seems a great shame to have constructed such a wonderful set-piece second act (in the Café Momus) which makes great use of a massive chorus and finishes with the show-stealing aria ‘Quando me’n vo’ soletta’ (gorgeously sung by Natasha Jouhl as Musetta in this production) only for the chorus to completely disappear as the opera moves to its bleak finale. Nevertheless the music was wonderful and the singing and playing (conducted by Jeremy Bines) was excellent.
Friday, November 11, 2011
'The Go-Between' by David Wood and Richard Taylor, based on the novel by L P Hartley
11 November 2011
"The past is a foreign country: they
do things differently there". I had heard of ‘The Go-Between’ by L P
Hartley but I haven’t read the book or seen the 1970 film adaptation by Harold
Pinter and, before going to see the new stage version at the Royal & Derngate
in Northampton last week, I didn’t really know what it was about. Published in
1953, the novel describes Leo Colston looking back, in 1950, to his childhood
experiences as the house guest of a wealthy family in Norfolk in the summer of
1900. His boyhood role as ‘postman’, passing messages between two illicit
lovers, leads to a devastating conclusion that affected him for the rest of his
life. The stage version, by David Wood with music by Richard Taylor, turns the
story into a serious musical, almost sung-through, reminding me of Sondheim and
not far from contemporary opera. The production, directed by Roger Haines, was a
collaboration between the Royal & Derngate, Derby Live and West Yorkshire
Playhouse and it was excellent. The cast were all strong and the singing was
very impressive but the show was stolen by the two local boys, Adam Bradbury as
Marcus and particularly William Miles as Leo who was on stage almost
constantly. The story was carefully and effectively told in a very theatrical
style which left much to the imagination. I particularly enjoyed James Staddon
as the older Leo, shadowing the actions of his younger self while watching from
the back of the stage. The music was provided by an onstage grand piano played
by Musical Director Jonathan Gill. It was an entertaining, moving and extremely
high-quality evening in the theatre.
Friday, November 04, 2011
'Symphony No 6' by Gustav Mahler
4 November 2011
Mahler’s 6th Symphony is a mammoth work: it lasts 80 minutes and requires an orchestra of nearly 100 players. Rather than the usual 4 French horns, there are 8 horns and the 1st horn part is fiendishly difficult. In most orchestral works, as a horn player you can expect to spend a fair amount of time counting the rests before you next come in but in Mahler 6 the 1st horn barely has more than a few seconds break in the whole piece. There are pages and pages of extremely high and loud notes, interspersed with plenty of delicate, exposed solos. When the Northampton Symphony Orchestra decided to take on the gargantuan challenge of performing the 6th Symphony it was in the knowledge that the daunting 1st horn part would be in the safe hands of our excellent principal horn player, David Lack. When it became clear that Dave was sadly going to miss the concert through illness, I was persuaded to step up to the challenge. Tackling this incredible work is a very exciting opportunity but one that I would much rather have had in different circumstances. The symphony has been dominating my life for the past 3 months. Since 7 August, apart from a week in Paris, a week in Northumberland and the occasional night away for work, I have played at least one movement of the work every day. Wary of the need to build my stamina, every Saturday and Sunday I have tried to play through all four movements without stopping. Finding 80 minutes to sit down and practice has been hard enough but the physical endurance necessary to play all the way through the symphony took some weeks to build up. Fortunately I won’t need to play every single note in the performance. It’s common practice in larger orchestral works to have an additional horn player ‘bumping’ the first horn part, ie doubling the first horn to allow the principal horn player to save himself for the solo passages, and I know I’m going to need this. I now know Mahler’s 6th Symphony intimately: it seems to be playing in my head most of the time at the moment. I like to practice by playing along with recordings and thanks to Spotify I’ve been working through heaps of different recordings (Sir Simon Rattle’s interpretation seems to be the slowest, Leonard Bernstein’s definitely the fastest, but I think my favourite is Claudio Abbado with the Berlin Philharmonic). At this Wednesday’s rehearsal we had all 9 horn players together for the first time – boy, it’s going to be loud! It’s an incredible work – passionate, playful, sentimental, brutal, triumphant and tragic, with lots of cowbells. If you are anywhere remotely within range of Northampton next Saturday, 12 November, please do join us for what promises to be an amazing concert – also including the lovely Mendelssohn Violin Concerto, played by Charlotte Skinner. Full details and tickets available from http://www.nso.org.uk/ – wish me luck!
Mahler’s 6th Symphony is a mammoth work: it lasts 80 minutes and requires an orchestra of nearly 100 players. Rather than the usual 4 French horns, there are 8 horns and the 1st horn part is fiendishly difficult. In most orchestral works, as a horn player you can expect to spend a fair amount of time counting the rests before you next come in but in Mahler 6 the 1st horn barely has more than a few seconds break in the whole piece. There are pages and pages of extremely high and loud notes, interspersed with plenty of delicate, exposed solos. When the Northampton Symphony Orchestra decided to take on the gargantuan challenge of performing the 6th Symphony it was in the knowledge that the daunting 1st horn part would be in the safe hands of our excellent principal horn player, David Lack. When it became clear that Dave was sadly going to miss the concert through illness, I was persuaded to step up to the challenge. Tackling this incredible work is a very exciting opportunity but one that I would much rather have had in different circumstances. The symphony has been dominating my life for the past 3 months. Since 7 August, apart from a week in Paris, a week in Northumberland and the occasional night away for work, I have played at least one movement of the work every day. Wary of the need to build my stamina, every Saturday and Sunday I have tried to play through all four movements without stopping. Finding 80 minutes to sit down and practice has been hard enough but the physical endurance necessary to play all the way through the symphony took some weeks to build up. Fortunately I won’t need to play every single note in the performance. It’s common practice in larger orchestral works to have an additional horn player ‘bumping’ the first horn part, ie doubling the first horn to allow the principal horn player to save himself for the solo passages, and I know I’m going to need this. I now know Mahler’s 6th Symphony intimately: it seems to be playing in my head most of the time at the moment. I like to practice by playing along with recordings and thanks to Spotify I’ve been working through heaps of different recordings (Sir Simon Rattle’s interpretation seems to be the slowest, Leonard Bernstein’s definitely the fastest, but I think my favourite is Claudio Abbado with the Berlin Philharmonic). At this Wednesday’s rehearsal we had all 9 horn players together for the first time – boy, it’s going to be loud! It’s an incredible work – passionate, playful, sentimental, brutal, triumphant and tragic, with lots of cowbells. If you are anywhere remotely within range of Northampton next Saturday, 12 November, please do join us for what promises to be an amazing concert – also including the lovely Mendelssohn Violin Concerto, played by Charlotte Skinner. Full details and tickets available from http://www.nso.org.uk/ – wish me luck!
Friday, October 28, 2011
‘Fatou’ by Fatoumata Diawara
28 October 2011
I first saw the young Malian singer Fatoumata Diawara providing backing vocals for the legendary Oumou Sangaré at the 2009 WOMAD Festival (reviewed here in July 2009). I saw her again at this year’s WOMAD Festival where she appeared on the BBC Radio 3 Stage with her own band to perform songs from her forthcoming debut album. That album, ‘Fatou’, was released in September and I’ve been listening to it this week. Fatoumata Diawara comes from Southern Mali and sings in the Wassalou style, familiar to me from Oumou Sangaré (reviewed here in March 2009) and that other great contemporary Malian singer Rokia Traoré (reviewed here in December 2008). Like Rokia Traoré, Fatoumata Diawara now lives in France and her music shows some European influences. Her voice is gentler than Oumou Sangaré and more laid-back than the breathy intensity of Rokia Traoré. And the songs on ‘Fatou’ are lovely – gentle, catchy, joyful, distinctively West African but easily accessible to European ears. Perhaps not as musically ambitious as Rokia Traoré or quite so concerned with political messages as Oumou Sangaré (though she does deal with some important social issues) Fatoumata Diawara has created an album which is sophisticated easy-listening.
I first saw the young Malian singer Fatoumata Diawara providing backing vocals for the legendary Oumou Sangaré at the 2009 WOMAD Festival (reviewed here in July 2009). I saw her again at this year’s WOMAD Festival where she appeared on the BBC Radio 3 Stage with her own band to perform songs from her forthcoming debut album. That album, ‘Fatou’, was released in September and I’ve been listening to it this week. Fatoumata Diawara comes from Southern Mali and sings in the Wassalou style, familiar to me from Oumou Sangaré (reviewed here in March 2009) and that other great contemporary Malian singer Rokia Traoré (reviewed here in December 2008). Like Rokia Traoré, Fatoumata Diawara now lives in France and her music shows some European influences. Her voice is gentler than Oumou Sangaré and more laid-back than the breathy intensity of Rokia Traoré. And the songs on ‘Fatou’ are lovely – gentle, catchy, joyful, distinctively West African but easily accessible to European ears. Perhaps not as musically ambitious as Rokia Traoré or quite so concerned with political messages as Oumou Sangaré (though she does deal with some important social issues) Fatoumata Diawara has created an album which is sophisticated easy-listening.
Friday, October 21, 2011
'South Pacific' by Richard Rodgers and Oscar Hammerstein II
21 October 2011
‘South Pacific’ by Rodgers and Hammerstein was the first musical I played for as a member of a pit band. It was a production by the excellent Westwood Musical Society at the Key Theatre in Peterborough in 1991. We did more than a week of performances, at the end of which I knew the score inside out and could recite huge chunks of the dialogue. But, being in the orchestra pit, I never actually saw the show and some aspects of the plot have never entirely made sense to me. Twenty years later I’ve finally got around to seeing ‘South Pacific’ for the first time. We were at Milton Keynes Theatre last Saturday to see the acclaimed production from the Lincoln Center, New York. It was a very straightforward revival which didn’t attempt anything particular innovative or revisionist but it was excellently done. In the same way as Shakespeare seems to have inserted lots of famous lines into ‘Hamlet’, Rodgers and Hammerstein seem to have stuck a load of very well known songs together to make a musical. It’s an impressive show that includes ‘Some Enchanted Evening’, ‘There is Nothin' Like a Dame’, ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair’, ‘A Wonderful Guy’ and ‘Happy Talk’. The music was wonderful and the cast were very strong, particularly Samantha Womack as Nellie Forbush and the operatic baritone Jason Howard as Emile de Becque. I enjoyed the choreography (by Joe Langworth) but I could have done with more. I’m always a little disappointed with a musical that doesn’t have a really big dance number. And though I now finally understand the story, ‘South Pacific’ is not the most impressive of plots. Nevertheless the music is so good it doesn’t need much assistance and I really enjoyed the show.
‘South Pacific’ by Rodgers and Hammerstein was the first musical I played for as a member of a pit band. It was a production by the excellent Westwood Musical Society at the Key Theatre in Peterborough in 1991. We did more than a week of performances, at the end of which I knew the score inside out and could recite huge chunks of the dialogue. But, being in the orchestra pit, I never actually saw the show and some aspects of the plot have never entirely made sense to me. Twenty years later I’ve finally got around to seeing ‘South Pacific’ for the first time. We were at Milton Keynes Theatre last Saturday to see the acclaimed production from the Lincoln Center, New York. It was a very straightforward revival which didn’t attempt anything particular innovative or revisionist but it was excellently done. In the same way as Shakespeare seems to have inserted lots of famous lines into ‘Hamlet’, Rodgers and Hammerstein seem to have stuck a load of very well known songs together to make a musical. It’s an impressive show that includes ‘Some Enchanted Evening’, ‘There is Nothin' Like a Dame’, ‘I’m Gonna Wash That Man Right Outa My Hair’, ‘A Wonderful Guy’ and ‘Happy Talk’. The music was wonderful and the cast were very strong, particularly Samantha Womack as Nellie Forbush and the operatic baritone Jason Howard as Emile de Becque. I enjoyed the choreography (by Joe Langworth) but I could have done with more. I’m always a little disappointed with a musical that doesn’t have a really big dance number. And though I now finally understand the story, ‘South Pacific’ is not the most impressive of plots. Nevertheless the music is so good it doesn’t need much assistance and I really enjoyed the show.
Friday, October 14, 2011
'Comedy Carpet' by Gordon Young
14 October 2011
It was great to have the opportunity to see Blackpool's new Comedy Carpet – an amazing artwork by Gordon Young featuring the catchphrases, jokes and names of more than 1,000 comedians which was unveiled by Ken Dodd at the foot of Blackpool Tower earlier this week. There has been massive worldwide interest in the Comedy Carpet: it was temporarily the most searched for term on Google. The ‘carpet’ is built from concrete and coloured granite and designed to withstand both the thousands of feet that will walk across it and the Blackpool weather. Encountering it for the first time is a compelling experience: the various catchphrases are all in different fonts, colours and sizes and face in different directions so you have to keep walking around to see the words that are initially upside down to you. This draws you in as you keep spotting another familiar phrase and trying to remember who said it. While there were plenty of old favourites I found quite a few lines I didn’t recognise and I kept smiling as I got the gist of another pun or witty aphorism for the first time. I suspect we will all have our favourites and I certainly found myself returning to the large words “I’m playing all the right notes – but not necessarily in the right order”. See: http://www.blackpoolgazette.co.uk/lifestyle/legend_unveils_comedy_carpet_1_3857375
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| Comedy Carpet, Blackpool |
It was great to have the opportunity to see Blackpool's new Comedy Carpet – an amazing artwork by Gordon Young featuring the catchphrases, jokes and names of more than 1,000 comedians which was unveiled by Ken Dodd at the foot of Blackpool Tower earlier this week. There has been massive worldwide interest in the Comedy Carpet: it was temporarily the most searched for term on Google. The ‘carpet’ is built from concrete and coloured granite and designed to withstand both the thousands of feet that will walk across it and the Blackpool weather. Encountering it for the first time is a compelling experience: the various catchphrases are all in different fonts, colours and sizes and face in different directions so you have to keep walking around to see the words that are initially upside down to you. This draws you in as you keep spotting another familiar phrase and trying to remember who said it. While there were plenty of old favourites I found quite a few lines I didn’t recognise and I kept smiling as I got the gist of another pun or witty aphorism for the first time. I suspect we will all have our favourites and I certainly found myself returning to the large words “I’m playing all the right notes – but not necessarily in the right order”. See: http://www.blackpoolgazette.co.uk/lifestyle/legend_unveils_comedy_carpet_1_3857375
Friday, October 07, 2011
'One Man, Two Guvnors' by Richard Bean
7 October 2011
On Saturday we made a first visit to the lovely Waterside Theatre in Aylesbury to see the National Theatre production of ‘One Man, Two Guvnors’ by Richard Bean. Based on Carlo Goldoni’s 1746 play ‘The Servant of Two Masters’, this production has been a big commercial hit for the National Theatre and a star vehicle for James Corden, reunited with the director Nicholas Hytner for the first time since ‘The History Boys’. Set in Brighton in 1963, ‘One Man, Two Guvnors’ is broad tongue-in-cheek comedy played for laughs but it’s very well done and extremely funny. The Waterside Theatre was completely sold out and much of the audiences was in stitches throughout. There was plenty of audience participation and ad-libbing, some great physical comedy and a wonderful cast. It is interesting to note that Goldoni was criticised for taking the usually completely improvised Commedia dell’Arte tradition and writing it down but, in doing so, he succeeded in preserving the style for centuries. The action of ‘One Man, Two Guvnors’ is supplemented by a four-piece Beatles-style band (playing original songs by Grant Olding) who spring from the orchestra pit to play in front of the curtains during each scene change. They are joined, in turn, by a series of members of the cast (including Corden on xylophone) who perform a variety of party-pieces. James Corden is very funny and clearly the star of the show but Oliver Chris also stood out as the public-school educated bully. It was an excellent, feel-good evening in the theatre.
On Saturday we made a first visit to the lovely Waterside Theatre in Aylesbury to see the National Theatre production of ‘One Man, Two Guvnors’ by Richard Bean. Based on Carlo Goldoni’s 1746 play ‘The Servant of Two Masters’, this production has been a big commercial hit for the National Theatre and a star vehicle for James Corden, reunited with the director Nicholas Hytner for the first time since ‘The History Boys’. Set in Brighton in 1963, ‘One Man, Two Guvnors’ is broad tongue-in-cheek comedy played for laughs but it’s very well done and extremely funny. The Waterside Theatre was completely sold out and much of the audiences was in stitches throughout. There was plenty of audience participation and ad-libbing, some great physical comedy and a wonderful cast. It is interesting to note that Goldoni was criticised for taking the usually completely improvised Commedia dell’Arte tradition and writing it down but, in doing so, he succeeded in preserving the style for centuries. The action of ‘One Man, Two Guvnors’ is supplemented by a four-piece Beatles-style band (playing original songs by Grant Olding) who spring from the orchestra pit to play in front of the curtains during each scene change. They are joined, in turn, by a series of members of the cast (including Corden on xylophone) who perform a variety of party-pieces. James Corden is very funny and clearly the star of the show but Oliver Chris also stood out as the public-school educated bully. It was an excellent, feel-good evening in the theatre.
'Fawlty Towers' by John Cleese and Connie Booth
7 October 2011
On Friday we returned to the tiny theatre in Toddington to see TADS take on ‘Fawlty Towers’. This was a straight presentation of two episodes of the much cherished 1970s sitcom by John Cleese and Connie Booth. I must admit I was dubious as to whether this would work on stage. ‘The Germans’ and ‘Basil the Rat’ are so familiar that most of the audience could probably have chanted along with the dialogue. And the characters of Basil Fawlty, Sybil, Manuel etc. have become so iconic there was a real danger that any attempt to act these parts again now would just seem like impersonations of John Cleese, Prunella Scales, Andrew Sachs et al. It was great testament to the skills of the TADS actors, excellently directed by James Sygrove, that they managed to create a believable set of characters that drew you into the plot and (almost) made you temporarily forget the originals. When Basil said “Don’t mention the war – I mentioned it once but I think I got away with it”, the line was perfectly in context (and therefore very funny) rather than sounding like the repetition of well-worn catchphrase. The Fawlty Towers scripts were very much of their time and some elements sounded a little uncomfortable to contemporary ears. But Fawlty Towers is excellent farce and the timing in the TADS production generated some hilarious moments (even though we knew they were coming). With a large cast crammed onto a small stage, it was some achievement to get the slapstick to work so well. Matt Flitton stood out as Basil Fawlty – a wonderful performance – but all the actors were impressive, particularly Susie Condor as Sybil Fawlty and David Sachon as The Major.
On Friday we returned to the tiny theatre in Toddington to see TADS take on ‘Fawlty Towers’. This was a straight presentation of two episodes of the much cherished 1970s sitcom by John Cleese and Connie Booth. I must admit I was dubious as to whether this would work on stage. ‘The Germans’ and ‘Basil the Rat’ are so familiar that most of the audience could probably have chanted along with the dialogue. And the characters of Basil Fawlty, Sybil, Manuel etc. have become so iconic there was a real danger that any attempt to act these parts again now would just seem like impersonations of John Cleese, Prunella Scales, Andrew Sachs et al. It was great testament to the skills of the TADS actors, excellently directed by James Sygrove, that they managed to create a believable set of characters that drew you into the plot and (almost) made you temporarily forget the originals. When Basil said “Don’t mention the war – I mentioned it once but I think I got away with it”, the line was perfectly in context (and therefore very funny) rather than sounding like the repetition of well-worn catchphrase. The Fawlty Towers scripts were very much of their time and some elements sounded a little uncomfortable to contemporary ears. But Fawlty Towers is excellent farce and the timing in the TADS production generated some hilarious moments (even though we knew they were coming). With a large cast crammed onto a small stage, it was some achievement to get the slapstick to work so well. Matt Flitton stood out as Basil Fawlty – a wonderful performance – but all the actors were impressive, particularly Susie Condor as Sybil Fawlty and David Sachon as The Major.
Friday, September 30, 2011
‘The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ’ by Philip Pullman
30 September 2011
With the ‘His Dark Materials’ trilogy of
children’s books Philip Pullman clearly decided to cock-a-snook at organised
religion. In ‘The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ’ he goes a step
further in attempting to retell the life of Christ. It’s an odd book: it seems
to be an attempt to present a believable account of ordinary events that could
have created myths that became the Gospels. Pullman suggests that Jesus had a
brother (how would we know what happened to Jesus in the wilderness or in the
Garden of Gethsemane unless there had been someone else there?) and even uses
this device to explain the resurrection. But the tone often veers from rational
explanation into the cheeky or facetious – which can be quite funny, depending
on your beliefs. Though his prose is modern (and often quite forthright) the book
is structured like a Gospel. It’s an interesting read but I found Pullman’s
lengthy Afterword, which discusses the narrative structure of the Gospels, much
more interesting. Here you realise that his real interest in writing the book
was not in exactly what happened two thousand years ago but in the way the
story was told.
‘Trumpet’ by Jackie Kay
30 September 2011
‘Trumpet’ is the first novel by the poet
Jackie Kay. It was published in 1998 and is an intriguing and moving work. The
death of a famous jazz trumpeter reveals a long-hidden secret which shocks those
who knew the musician. The novel shows us the reactions of a range of people
including family members, friends and those involved in the aftermath of the
death such as the undertaker, the registrar and the journalist who wants to
write an exposing biography. With each chapter allowing us to see things
through the eyes of a particular individual, the novel inhabits a variety of
voices, each believable and sympathetic. Their varying testimonies help to
piece together the jigsaw of a life but Jackie Kay impressively keeps the reader
hooked and eager for more without the assistance of any real forward narrative.
Even the memories of the trumpeter’s life don’t really build into a linear
story. It’s hard to describe but ‘Trumpet’ is a clever, beautifully written
portrait of a life that is both sad and uplifting.
Northumberland
30 September 2011
We had a lovely time in Northumberland last
week. We were staying in the tiny hamlet of Thorngrafton, just South of
Hadrian’s Wall – no far from the town of Haltwhistle, which claims to be the
Centre of Britain. We did some great walks along the Wall, in Allendale and on
the banks of Keilder Water. We visited the Housesteads and Vindolanda Roman
forts. Vindolanda was particularly interesting – lots to see and new
discoveries being made all the time. The collection of wooden tablets with
messages inscribed on them in Latin was fascinating – the banality of many of
the messages (an invitation to a party, a request to borrow something etc)
reminding us that people in Roman Britain were not that different to ourselves
(these tablets being the emails of their day!). I was also reminded that most
of the ‘Romans’ building and protecting Hadrian’s Wall were not from Rome: they
were mostly soldiers from conquered territories in Belgium and the Netherlands.
Young men from Britain were similarly pressed into service as Roman soldiers in
other corners of the Empire.
Friday, September 16, 2011
'Atonement' by Ian McEwan
16 September 2011
For some years I have felt like I was the only person in the world who hadn’t read Ian McEwan’s 2001 novel ‘Atonement’. I’ve just finished the unabridged audio version of the book (wonderfully read by Carole Boyd) and I can now see what all the fuss was about. ‘Atonement’ starts in 1935 and appears to be firmly in the tradition of the great country house novel: it reminded me at times of ‘Brideshead Revisted’ and 'The Moonstone' by Wilkie Collins (reviewed here in June 2009). The third-person narration alternates, with each chapter, between the viewpoints of the main characters, slipping back a little in time with each change of perspective to fill in more details on some of the same events. This iterative approach to the narrative creates a jigsaw image of what happened that only gradually reveals itself. Later in the book, the passages dealing with the Second World War, play the same game more slowly as we spend longer in the company of each of three principal protagonists. This process of gradual revelation allows the reader to spot most of the main plot twists in advance – only for the author to undermine our smug satisfaction by casually confirming the predicted surprise as if it was assumed that everyone would already know. ‘Atonement’ deals with the end of childhood, both literally and in relation to the onset of the horrors of war. It also focuses on the changing nature of the English class system before and after the Second World War, much like 'The Little Stranger’ by Sarah Waters (reviewed here in June 2010). In both books an outsider from a lower social class has become attached to the family of the country house and this allows for reflections on the momentous changes happening in society at this time. But ‘Atonement’ is really about writing, the nature of fiction and the development of the novel. McEwan plays a dazzling game of meta-fiction, presenting an apparently conventional novel, then introducing self-reflective literary criticism of that novel within the same plot and finally pulling back to reveal the truth behind the construction of the story we have been immersed in. As you approach the final pages you realise that you should have been thinking about who was writing the words you have been reading and why. It’s an impressive work, beautifully written and heart-breakingly sad. I’m glad I finally got around to reading it.
For some years I have felt like I was the only person in the world who hadn’t read Ian McEwan’s 2001 novel ‘Atonement’. I’ve just finished the unabridged audio version of the book (wonderfully read by Carole Boyd) and I can now see what all the fuss was about. ‘Atonement’ starts in 1935 and appears to be firmly in the tradition of the great country house novel: it reminded me at times of ‘Brideshead Revisted’ and 'The Moonstone' by Wilkie Collins (reviewed here in June 2009). The third-person narration alternates, with each chapter, between the viewpoints of the main characters, slipping back a little in time with each change of perspective to fill in more details on some of the same events. This iterative approach to the narrative creates a jigsaw image of what happened that only gradually reveals itself. Later in the book, the passages dealing with the Second World War, play the same game more slowly as we spend longer in the company of each of three principal protagonists. This process of gradual revelation allows the reader to spot most of the main plot twists in advance – only for the author to undermine our smug satisfaction by casually confirming the predicted surprise as if it was assumed that everyone would already know. ‘Atonement’ deals with the end of childhood, both literally and in relation to the onset of the horrors of war. It also focuses on the changing nature of the English class system before and after the Second World War, much like 'The Little Stranger’ by Sarah Waters (reviewed here in June 2010). In both books an outsider from a lower social class has become attached to the family of the country house and this allows for reflections on the momentous changes happening in society at this time. But ‘Atonement’ is really about writing, the nature of fiction and the development of the novel. McEwan plays a dazzling game of meta-fiction, presenting an apparently conventional novel, then introducing self-reflective literary criticism of that novel within the same plot and finally pulling back to reveal the truth behind the construction of the story we have been immersed in. As you approach the final pages you realise that you should have been thinking about who was writing the words you have been reading and why. It’s an impressive work, beautifully written and heart-breakingly sad. I’m glad I finally got around to reading it.
Friday, September 09, 2011
‘The Hare With Amber Eyes’ by Edmund de Waal
9 September 2011
Netsuke are the tiny carved fasteners that
were used to secure cords to traditional robes in 17th century
Japan. These intricately carved pieces of ivory, boxwood or metal are miniature
sculptures that became highly valued as works of art. ‘The Hare With Amber Eyes’
by Edmund de Waal is an unusual and enthralling family history which focuses on
a collection of netsuke bought in the late 19th century and handed
down through generations of the author’s family. The wealthy Jewish Ephrussi family,
originally from Russia, settled across Europe in the second half of the 19th
century and, much like their contemporaries the Rothschilds, established a
network of banks. The collection of netsuke are bought by Charles Ephrussi in
Paris in the 1870s. Charles was a patron of the arts who commissioned works by
many of the most famous impressionists – and appears as a figure in the
background of some well-known paintings. Indeed the whole Ephrussi family has a
Zelig-like ability to appear in the background of major historical events. Charles
passed the netsuke, as a wedding present, to his nephew Victor in turn of the
century Vienna where they go on to witness the trauma of two world wars. From
here the netsuke end up returning to Japan, with Edmund de Waal’s great uncle
Iggie, illuminating a fascinating account of post-war Japan. The book is like
an extended episode of ‘Who Do You Think You Are?’ and the story of the
Ephrussi family provides a compelling insight into European and Jewish history.
Edmund de Waal is a potter and the netsuke are more than a mere device for him:
he writes enthusiastically about the objects themselves and the artistry
involved in their creation. Throughout the book he focuses on works of art,
furniture and architecture as well as the personal and political history of his
family. For me, the early chapters on Paris in the 1870s felt a little slow because
of this fascination with the objects his ancestor commissioned and collected.
But once we reached Vienna and the First World War the narrative became truly
gripping. ‘The Hare with Amber Eyes’ is an amazing true story told in an
interesting and artistic way.
Friday, September 02, 2011
'The Hour' by Abi Morgan
2 September 2011
I wrote here in April 2006 that I think the TV serial is the most satisfying of drama formats, allowing much greater character development than a play or film. It’s indicative of the decline of the format that it’s taken more than 5 years for me to discover a new drama to challenge for a place in my ‘Desert Island TV serials’, but finally along came Abi Morgan’s ‘The Hour’ on BBC2. ‘The Hour’ felt like an old-fashioned serial (I mean that as a compliment), not just because of its 1956 setting. It’s an exploration of the development of TV news, the political saga of Suez, a spy thriller and a murder mystery. Over 6 hour-long episodes ‘The Hour’ creates a cast of believable and rounded characters you really care about. The dialogue is carefully crafted and often very funny. It repeatedly made me think of the work of Dennis Potter – with mysterious spooks in raincoats loitering in the background as in ‘The Singing Detective’ as well as showing the changing nature of the British establishment through the Suez crisis as in ‘Lipstick on Your Collar’. ‘The Hour’ was excellently cast, with great performances particularly from Romala Garai, Dominic West, Anton Lesser and Tim Pigott-Smith, but the star of the show was undoubtedly the fascinating Ben Wishaw as Freddie Lyon. ‘The Hour’ was a perfect example of the TV drama serial – long enough to explore the characters in depth, but with a rounded plot which built to a climax with a final twist. I just hope they are not tempted to make a sequel.
I wrote here in April 2006 that I think the TV serial is the most satisfying of drama formats, allowing much greater character development than a play or film. It’s indicative of the decline of the format that it’s taken more than 5 years for me to discover a new drama to challenge for a place in my ‘Desert Island TV serials’, but finally along came Abi Morgan’s ‘The Hour’ on BBC2. ‘The Hour’ felt like an old-fashioned serial (I mean that as a compliment), not just because of its 1956 setting. It’s an exploration of the development of TV news, the political saga of Suez, a spy thriller and a murder mystery. Over 6 hour-long episodes ‘The Hour’ creates a cast of believable and rounded characters you really care about. The dialogue is carefully crafted and often very funny. It repeatedly made me think of the work of Dennis Potter – with mysterious spooks in raincoats loitering in the background as in ‘The Singing Detective’ as well as showing the changing nature of the British establishment through the Suez crisis as in ‘Lipstick on Your Collar’. ‘The Hour’ was excellently cast, with great performances particularly from Romala Garai, Dominic West, Anton Lesser and Tim Pigott-Smith, but the star of the show was undoubtedly the fascinating Ben Wishaw as Freddie Lyon. ‘The Hour’ was a perfect example of the TV drama serial – long enough to explore the characters in depth, but with a rounded plot which built to a climax with a final twist. I just hope they are not tempted to make a sequel.
Thursday, September 01, 2011
'Super 8'
1 September 2011
If ‘Attack the Block’ (reviewed here in May
2011) was reminiscent of an old Children’s Film Foundation production (albeit
with considerably more swearing and violence), J J Abrams’ new film ‘Super 8’
is Children’s Film Foundation with swearing, violence and big production
values. The two films have plenty in common with a group of teenage boys (and
one female interloper) battling aliens and the human authorities in each case. ‘Super
8’ clearly had a much bigger budget at its disposal – it was produced by Steven
Spielberg and Abrams seems to have tried to create a homage to Spielberg with
clear references to ‘ET’, ‘Close Encounters of the Third Kind’ etc. ‘Super 8’
is set in 1979: a group of teenagers are shooting their own zombie movie using
a handheld Super 8 camera when they witness a spectacular train crash and
discover secrets they cannot reveal to anyone. As with ‘Attack the Block’, ‘Super
8’ has a very witty script with great interaction between the children. Both
films succeed because they manage to make the incredible (encounters with
extraterrestrial lifeforms) amazingly believable and realistic. ‘Super 8’ is
not quite as brutal as the British film – though there are some violent deaths,
you can mostly predict who is going to be safe. And the American kids are bit
more polite and wholesome than their British counterparts (who begin ‘Attack
the Block’ by mugging a nurse at knifepoint) but then this is rural small-town
America, not urban South London. ‘Super 8’ is funny and enjoyable but also
thrilling and genuinely scary. As it approaches its climax the film does become
a little predictable and somewhat sentimental but it’s lots of fun with some
wonderful performances, particularly from Joel Courtney as Joe and Elle Fanning
as Alice.
Paris
1 September 2011
We had a lovely few days in Paris last
week: I worked out that I hadn’t been there for 25 years so it felt like
visiting for the first time. We had glorious weather and made very good use of
open-top bus tours and boat trips on the Seine to explore all the main tourist
attractions. We went to Notre Dame, visited
the Louvre and saw the Mona Lisa, travelled down the Champs-Élysées from the
Place de la Concorde to the Arc de Triomphe and ended up at the Eiffel Tower,
though we opted not to join the massive queues to climb the tower. Instead we
travelled South to Montparnasse for the views from the top of the Tour
Montparnasse – an ugly skyscraper which has the advantage that its views
include the Eiffel Tower (and don’t include the Tour Montparnasse!). Paris is a
very beautiful city: unusually most of the architecture dates from the same
period – the 1860s when the whole central area was substantially rebuilt by
Baron Haussmann. This gives Paris a very uniform look and the skyline is very
flat, without the usual collection of skyscrapers, the highest of which tend to
signify the main ‘downtown’ area of most big cities. Although he was
responsible for the quintessential Parisian tree-lined boulevards, Haussmann
didn’t create many green open spaces. There are a few parks: we particularly
liked the Jardins du Luxembourg. We also travelled North to Montmartre and saw
the Moulin Rouge and Sacre Coeur. We loved the art deco Metro signs and the
masses of wrought iron railings lining each floor of buildings along the main
boulevards. We had a great time discovering Paris and certainly plan to return
well before another 25 years have elapsed.
'Sense and Sensibility' by Jane Austen, adapted by Laura Turner
1 September 2011
The summer doesn’t seem complete without
some open-air theatre, so it was a pleasure to return to the gardens of Woburn
Abbey to see Chapterhouse Theatre Company’s production of ‘Sense and
Sensibility’. We had very much enjoyed their ‘Pride and Prejudice’ last summer
(reviewed here in July 2010) and this was equally impressive. It was a
beautiful setting on a lovely evening and the acting was universally strong (we
could hear every word!) with Heather Mason as Marianne Dashwood and Nicky Diss
as her younger sister Margaret the stand-out performances.
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