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 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.
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