Piatti Quartet
Richmond Concert Society at St Mary’s Church, Twickenham, 7th February
Review by Eugene Broad
“Colour floods to the spot, dull purple…The heart shuts, the sea slides back, the mirrors are sheeted.” So ends Sylvia Plath’s final poem Contusion, completed only days before she took her own life. Inspired by Plath’s verse after the death of six friends, Mark-Anthony Turnage (b.1960) composed a piece for quartet, similarly entitled Contusion.
The Piatti Quartet (named after the 19th century cellist Alfredo Piatti), comprises first violinist Nathaniel Anderson-Frank, second violinist Michael Trainor, cellist Jessie Ann Richardson and, for this concert, viola player Tetsuumi Negata, who was substituting for David Wigram. The quartet was awarded the Sidney Griller Prize for the best performance of Contusion, adding to their joint 2nd prize in the 2015 Wigmore Hall International String Quarter Competition, winning the St-Martin-in-the-Fields Competition in 2010 as well as being Junior Fellows in String Quartet at Trinity Laban Conservatoire. They have since added Contusion to their repertoire, a bleak, depressive diamond in an otherwise more playful list of items.
First, however, the Piatti Quartet selected to play Ravel’s (1875 – 1937) String Quartet in F. Ravel composed the piece when only 28, submitting it for consideration at France’s most prestigious musical award, the Prix de Rome. Ravel came second in the competition, and requested help from his teacher and the dedicatee of the piece, Gabriel Fauré, who gave the following instruction: “I recommend you change every single note.” Not at all disheartened, Ravel received encouragement from Claude Debussy, who recommended he keep it “exactly as it was.” The Piatti Quartet gave the piece a lyricism and lucidity, allowing the melodic motifs (whether direct motifs or subtly modified) presented in the first movement to resurface gently in the III and IV movements. The overall effect of these movements (especially the first) was reminiscent of Ralph Vaughan Williams’ The Lark Ascending, in its melodic languidness and gentle close. The second movement is well known to popular culture, such as being used in Wes Anderson’s film The Royal Tenenbaums. This scherzo is particularly playful, evidenced immediately from its pizzicato opening, with both a rhythmic and contrasting “sung” melody. The Piatti Quartet really brought out the playfulness of this second movement, simply allowing the melody to flow from the violins, to the viola, to the cello. Importantly, the musicians appeared to all be having fun with the piece, including substitute Tetsuumi Negata on viola following David Wigram having a hand injury. Negata very adeptly worked with the passion and chemistry that had already been developed, having previous experience in the Eka Quartet and having substituted in the Benyounes Quartet also.
Similarly, Britten’s (1913 – 1976) 3 Divertimenti for String Quartet, was treated playfully by the Piatti Quartet giving justice to a piece which Britten considered “interesting and quite brilliant”, but which after being premiered to silence and laughter in 1936, wasn’t publicly played again until after Britten’s death in 1982.
Turnage’s Contusion however was the highlight of the programme, a single long continuous movement which had dense and complex counterpoint. Contusion as a piece was highly challenging and often appeared to be the melodic equivalent of hacking ones way through a bramble-patch, threatening to entangle and suffocate. Sudden jarring roughness rhythmically appeared from the viola and cello, disrupting the lyricism from the violins. Rather than confuse or disrupt the piece, the jarring effect felt as if the music itself was attempting to draw its last desperate breaths before asphyxiating (bringing to mind some of the organ work from the soundtrack of Interstellar, which was likewise supposed to evoke sudden respiration). Echoed at the coda but in a higher pitch, the feeling of asphyxiation drew more frantic until it felt as if the piece repeatedly convulsed and quietly collapsed, with an ethereal cello solo drawing the piece to a close, as if a soul softly departing from its physical vessel. The early inspiration on the piece from Plath’s work, as well as possibly even her method of suicide (asphyxiation by carbon monoxide poisoning, lining the doors of the house with wet towels so her sleeping children would not also be poisoned), seemed present throughout this piece. It felt as if the Piatti Quartet truly drew a unique and pristine interpretation of the piece, giving it an otherworldly feeling that made the initially jarring and disturbing nature turn transcendental and strangely life-affirming. I hope, and feel, that the interpretation of Contusion given by the Piatti Quartet will be the definitive one.
Eugene Broad
February 2017
Editor’s Note: Eugene Broad is currently reviewing in Paris, and a fuller version of this review will be posted soon.
French Opera
Opera Foundry at Ormond Road, Richmond, Saturday 28th January
Review by William Vine
One of the most exciting, but surprisingly unheralded, events in the recent musical calendar, French Opera, was a cornucopia brimful with operatic delights. From familiar favourite pieces to exciting discoveries, scenes from operas by late 19th Century French composers were beautifully presented, works embracing soft serenity and powerful passion.
Opera Foundry is described as a Surrey based opera company aiming to develop the talents of individual opera performers through coaching and performance opportunities – a somewhat prosaic statement which gives perhaps the misleading impression that we are here to support fledgling talent, whereas what we in fact had was an evening of mature performance of the highest calibre. All the artistes had indeed had a great range of experience, as the detailed and informative programme revealed.
The artistic and musical director Richard Cartmale is a versatile musician – former ENO tenor, conductor, coach and pianist with extensive experience in many fields. He also narrated the evening in an engaging manner, with appropriate synopses where required, though apologising for the technical hitch which deprived us of the intended surtitles. (But to my mind the emotional clarity of the singing rendered these unnecessary.)
The programme of familiar and lesser known excerpts, from the more frivolous and sentimental to the sombre and tragic, produced a spellbinding evening of bravura performances by mainly young artistes, who – although not (as yet) well-known – deserve to look forward to a glittering future at the top of their profession.
First mention should go to the prodigiously talented young pianist Sarah Quantrell, who accompanied almost every item (with occasional assistance from fellow pianist and organist Anthony Merryweather). In a demanding repertoire she succeeded in conveying on the keyboard the colour and texture of a full symphony orchestra, ranging from the gentlest gossamer-like accompaniment to the thunderous dynamic of brass and percussion. Although this must have been a very taxing undertaking, she took it all very much in her stride.
In the uplifting opening number – the church scene from Faust – Marguerite’s sweet soprano voice (Corinne Hart) soars heavenward in a spiritual conflict with the devil Mephistopheles, sung by the resonant bass of David Banbury, and his chorus of demons, comprising the remainder of the company, who emerged from the front row of the audience (a parable here?). Marguerite, who collapses insensible on the floor, perhaps did not look quite terrified enough, and we longed for the scene to continue to the sublime transcendent climax where the Marguerite’s soul ultimately finds salvation.
We were then treated by contrast to a joyous effervescent rendering of the flirtatious gavotte from Massenet’s Manon, performed with an impressive range of colour, dynamics and physical expression by the soprano Susanna MacRae, animating her performance with her sprightly sylph-like movements. With her thrilling high notes, clarity and freshness this was definitely one of the highlights of the evening.
Richard Johnson gave a very dignified performance of Des Grieux’s aria from the same opera. With his strong bright tenor voice he sang with feeling, a little restrained perhaps in movement but nonetheless very emotional.
Then came the well-known Card Trio from Carmen, performed with much glee and frivolity by Carmen’s two luckier companions as a counterpoint to her own tragic prophecy. The singers were Urszula Bock, Liezel McCulloch and Diana North.
There followed a series of remarkable solo performances.
Derek S Henderson is the deepest of bass baritones, singing a little known aria from Halévy’s La Juive, in the thrilling resonant rich tones which we associate with Russia, although he is in fact a Panamanian by birth. In this rather grim anti-Semitic story, Rachel, the Jewess of the title, is condemned to death by Count Brogni, who in this aria offers to spare her if her father Eléazar will accept Christianity. When he refuses, Rachel is thrown into a vat of boiling oil (a scene we were mercifully spared!). [It may be noted that the title, the Jewess, refers to Rachel and not Eléazar as the programme mistakenly tells us.]
The baritone Ian Helm and tenor Michael Connolly are two more artistes of astounding power and intensity. The lyrically passionate aria from Massenet’s little-known opera Hérodiade – his version of the Salome story – performed by Ian Helm, conveys in no uncertain terms Herod’s erotic lust for Salome, his wife’s daughter.
Meyerbeer’s rarely performed five-act epic L’Africaine deals with fictitious events in the life of the Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama, and as we were told has not much to do with Africa. In the tenor aria (performed with spine-chilling effect by Matthew Connolly) Da Gama speaks of his amazement at the wonders of the New World island which he claims for Portugal. For me perhaps a little declamatory rather than expressive of wonderment, but a bravura performance by a thrilling high tenor voice which provided another of the evening’s great highlights.
By contrast, in between these powerful set pieces was the duet, sung by Louise Herrington and Richard Johnson, from Spontini’s opera La Vestale, expressive of illicit love between a Vestal priestess Giulia and the war hero Licinio; a new discovery, I suspect, for most of the audience, and a chance to hear some more lovely music sung with deep emotion. (Despite his Italian name, the composer always lived in France and wrote French opera.) This was followed by the bel canto aria from Lalo’s Le Roi d’Ys, sung with such feeling by Giovanni Tagliarini.
The first half ended with an ensemble piece from Act 4 of Massenet’s Don Quichotte. In this scene the knight returns to Dulcinée a stolen necklace which he has retrieved from bandits, but when he offers her his hand he is cruelly repulsed, and is vigorously defended by the faithful Sancho Panza (David Banbury). All the seven singers acted and performed to great effect – Derek S Henderson singing so movingly as Don Quichotte and Annette Dumville a convincing and uncaring Dulcinée – and special mention must be made here of Dulcinée’s friends who make fun of the old man, who were acting so sneeringly in the background even when not singing.
The second half opened with the glorious trio from Offenbach’s Les Contes D’Hoffmann, with such exciting melodies and again so well acted and sung by Annette Dumville, Corinne Hart and Derek S Henderson.
One of the most delightful numbers was the charming flower duet from Lakmé by Delibes, sung here by Angela Voyajolu and Liezel McCulloch, in which the radiant ethereal voices seemed to hang, glistening like dew, in the still air: another wonderful highlight in this treasure trove of operatic pearls.
The solemn doom-laden aria from Berlioz’s Les Troyens, sung by Louise Herrington, was followed by the luscious tones of Bizet’s duet from Les Pêcheurs de Perles, in a vibrant rendering by Ian Helm and Richard Johnson.
And then came the grand climax of this generous programme , the entire third act of Massenet’s Werther, 40 minutes of searing emotional intensity which, in spite of length, held the audience mesmerised, and eager for more, till the very last note. Matthew Connolly as Werther sang and acted the love-struck young poet with passion and conviction. Urszula Bock was equally expressive as Charlotte, torn by the realisation of her love for Werther and respect for her husband Albert. Angela Voyajolu as Sophie and Ian Helm as Albert both added to the intense theatricality of this wonderful finale.
Opera Foundry is planning to present a full-length staged production of this opera sometime in the future, which will certainly be something to look forward to.
The singers throughout showed palpable enjoyment in communicating with the audience, and this was reflected in the interval when, instead of retiring to a “green room”, they mingled and chatted with the audience. As keen opera-goers my companion and I were both blown away by the beauty of these voices and the freshness and excitement which they brought to all their roles.
With performances like these on our doorstep why go to Covent Garden? The only things lacking being the orchestra – although the virtuosity of the pianist largely compensated for this – and of course the scenery. It is a shame that this extraordinary event had such a thin audience, which I can only ascribe to a lack of publicity. Indeed Opera Foundry has performed in Richmond before without my being aware of the company, although an avid concert-goer myself. They tell me that they have appeared to sell-out audiences in Guildford but Richmond for some reason has yet to get the message. Let us hope that this situation will be remedied for their next concert in this borough on 1st July, when they will be giving a programme of German opera. All local opera lovers should most definitely cancel all other engagements for that evening – with artistes of this quality they should have people queuing at the doors!
William Vine
January 2017
Girls Like That
by Evan Placey
Group 64’s Young Company at Putney Arts Theatre until 28th January
Review by Mark Aspen
The on-line world is a dangerous place. Perhaps that is a truism for those of us who get half-a dozen fraudulent e-mails every week, but what if more than our bank-accounts were at risk? What if the risk extends to our reputation, our friendships, our state-of-mind, our bodies, or even our lives? For young people today, their wide and continuing exposure to the on-line world may often be a perilous place.
Evan Placey’s play, Girls Like That, makes a hard and forthright examination of the psychological harm that can be caused by the misuse of on-line media by teenagers; misuse that is often sexual in nature, and usually by their own peers. Shockingly, in a 2012 survey, over half of the young people questioned reported being asked for a sexual image of themselves. Hence, the neologism, sexting, has entered the language.
Adolescence has always been a confusing place and coming to terms with burgeoning adulthood a minefield for boys and girls alike. The rapid development of technology in recent decades, in fields ranging as wide as from communications to birth control, and from photography to journalism, has not been accompanied by any development of a social or ethical code, and has in reality left the young unprotected.
Against this background, Girls Like That concerns a group of six teenage girls, friends “for life” … they believe. A series of flashbacks show how thorough their childhood their friendship has bonded them into the “Girls of St Helen’s School”, until the basis of their friendship is severely challenged when a naked picture of Scarlett, one of the friends, appears on-line and, through the ubiquity of portable devices, everyone immediately sees it.
The plot of the play has quite a complex structure, and sliced with the girls’ childhood flashbacks, scenes referencing the lives of the generations of women in Scarlett’s family, and a number of mini-allegories, but the cast of Group 64’s Young Company coped with this well and worked tightly together in what is largely an ensemble piece.
The opening scene, partially in silhouette, made a powerful immediate statement, the ensemble cataloguing the verbal abuse they had received, hussy, slapper, slut, slag. In fact, much of the earlier setting and characterisation was way of choreographed movement, carefully thought-out. However, in the more detailed dialogue, there was evidence of first-night excitement with lines too hastily delivered, but once the group settled down, the action was well paced and expressive.
One of the allegorical themes was that of flocks of chickens; and an early image was of pecking-order, a good metaphor for the standing of each girl in the group: bottom of the order was Scarlett. Lily Teeling expressed well the vulnerability and repressed sensitivity of Scarlett withdrawing from the taunts, responding with “sure” when we knew that she really meant that she was very unsure.
And so the girls themselves move as a threatening flock, and the chickens cackle around, pecking and drawing blood. The group’s emotions veer at each development and these emotions are infective across the members of the group. The girls are not really sure what emotions they should feel: disgust or fascination, anger or admiration, prudishness or prurience; but their overarching feeling is clearly of guilt, but again is it guilt about ostracising their erstwhile friend or guilt about secretly envying her? This sense of conflicting emotions and of an unease that dipped into their collective unconscious was actively portrayed by the five friends, played by Harri Compton, Francesca Kablean-Howard, Eloise Mace, Tilley Wood and Hannah Tier. Tellingly, we eventually see their collective unconscious evolve into a non-collective conscience, when in a flash-forward to their adulthoods, we learn of their distaste at the idea of a Girls of St Helen’s School reunion.
In the writing of the play, the boy characters are placed largely in the background, although crucial to the impetus of the plot. However, this did not preclude some accurate acting by Leo Blanning as Russell, awkwardly finding out about life whilst coping with being the girls’ imagined Adonis; and from Toby Ward Smith as Jay, the one redeeming character, who tries to make an ethical stand and refuses to look at Scarlett’s picture, but his moral defences come under very heavy siege.
The social history context of the “gender gap” is illustrated by the flashbacks to the 1920s, 1940s, 1960s and 1980s of earlier generations of Scarlett’s family. It is worth remarking that these women are only described by what they wear. The brother of The Girl in a Flapper Dress (Eloise Mace) tries to rescue her from the clutches of a party in which well-heeled Charleston dancers smoke … tobacco! The Girl with Aviator Helmet and Goggles, robustly played by Sophie Brown, wards off the sneering of her male comrades in arms to show the she is perfectly capable of flying planes on delivery to the various World War II RAF airfields. The Girl with Flowers in her Hair takes the Swinging Sixties’ view and rebuffs her boyfriend’s proposal of marriage when she becomes pregnant. Hannah Tier portrayed this character with great ironic insight, foreshadowing the remorse that she would late feel in having an abortion. The gamine Harri Compton played The Girl with Shoulder Pads with empowered glee as she repulsed the unwanted advances of the high-rise high-power boss. Prian Caseley, as the boss, took the putting-down in a long emotional journey in a very short time as he moves from cocky to crestfallen to crumpled.
In these flashbacks, costume was cut back to a hint of the period, which sat well in the black box stylised approach to the setting, which used (an otherwise redundant) pair of metal steps moved on castors to indicate time and place changes. The design relied mainly on the lighting by Martin Jessop to sculpt the environment, which was achieved by a series of projected and often silhouetted cyc projections.
Directors Olivia Ball and Nicola Sterry have told well an incisive story that takes a harrowing look at how, when misused, Twitter, Instagram, Facebook et al can, gnaw into the very personal and sensitive tissue of the personality. The play’s theme range wide across the nature of friendship, the lure of sexuality, the anxieties of adolescence, the changing roles of men and women, the dangers of peer-pressure and the power of guilt. It does not give an answer to how we should protect young people against unprecedented pressures, but as a parable for the changing role of girls in today’s society it paints a poignant picture depicting the fascination of fantasy, the fragility of friendships, and the failure of feminism.
Mark Aspen
January 2017
“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose, by any other name would smell as sweet”, said our poor hapless Juliet. But would a rose by another name smell as sweet? Probably: but would you want to smell it if it had a less attractive name, “old socks” for example?
Many of us who have lived locally for some time will remember the proper brewery at Mortlake. There had been a brewery here since the 1400’s, but then, in December before last, a Singaporean development company gulped it down in one go, without even a burp. Another historic site goes to build yet more luxury flats that probably won’t even be lived in. But in those days of yore, what was the all-pervading aroma in that area? For six hundred years it was of hops and yeast and wort. “Wort”, what an evocative word … aah!
So why, in the name of Bacchus, are the uppy flats being sold on the old sorting office site opposite Twickenham Station called Brewery Wharf ?! Even the greatest real ale aficionado would not want to live within the whiff of a half-created pint. Two million hard earned pounds for the smell of wort! In the early nineteenth century there was what we would now call a micro-brewery there, a family affair in the back of a pub. But there could never have been a wharf there: except when it is spate, you can paddle in the middle of the River Crane. A beer bottle might float there! O, those romantic estate agents, who call every group of houses a “village”.
What has this to do with a theatre thought, you may well ask. Well, it seems that we are getting a new Community Building in the spring on the Brewery Wharf site, a “landmark facility”, with “a theatre space” for an audience of “nearly” 320 people plus six studios. The idea has been fomenting for some time (or, in Brewery Warf, should it have been fermenting?), but a few days ago Richmond Council announced that it is to be run by St Mary’s University. It is mean to host “local arts, music and literature festival events, theatre performances, cinema showings, band nights, comedy nights, and conference and event hires”. Wow, all in one theatre space? And affordable to local groups? 320 seats fills a need, but can it be all things to all men … to all women … to all voluntary societies in the performing arts … and be a university facility at the same time. Remember the Live Room and the Hammond Theatre and watch this “space”.
So, a “space”, a rose by any other name and smelling sweet. And so, sweet Juliet, to the theatre. Now, “theatre”, there is a name. The origin is Greek (of course) Θεαωρεω, to behold. In our dictionaries we have: an action considered in its dramatic quality, writing and production of plays, a drama or spectacle, a company comprising actors etc, an audience, material suitable for dramatic effect. The building is not the primary meaning. So we have theatre-in-the-round, theatre of cruelty, and theatre of the absurd. We only call the building a theatre when we can think of no other name.
The three largest theatres in London are called The London Coliseum, The Royal Opera House, and The London Palladium. The main theatre in a city is normally called The Playhouse. So we have The Yorkshire Playhouse, the Liverpool Playhouse, and the Leeds Playhouse; and in Sheffield, Derby, Nottingham, Norwich, Oxford, Epsom, and even in Erith. It is the grand name for the pre-eminent theatre building. Why then did Hampton Hill lose its Playhouse?
In the middle of the summer before last, The Hampton Hill Playhouse, a state of the art and brilliantly managed theatre since 1998, suddenly became Hampton Hill Theatre, without reference to anyone, least of all the members of its resident company, Teddington Theatre Club. Apparently, there had been occasions when frazzled mummies, clearly mummies too frazzled to comprehend the English language, had mistaken it for somewhere to take their fractious offspring, something like a playground or a wendy-house, or Disney-fied concatenation of the two. What happens, we may ask when its present incarnation becomes mistaken for an operating theatre … or a theatre of war? The theatre of the absurd raises its befuddled head when we run out of names.
But then again, Juliet, the Elizabethans often named their playhouses the Rose. As Tudor groundlings stood on the floor of ash and hazelnut shells, liberally watered with beer, sweat, and urine, I wonder if they in turn wondered whether a rose, by any other name, would smell as sweet.
Mark Aspen
January 2017
Pinocchio, the Pantomime
by Doreen Moger
Edmundian Players at Cheray Hall, Whitton until 28th January
Review by Quentin Weiver
Run away to the circus. This stereotypical act of rebellion is what Pinocchio story is all about. Or is it? In the Italian original it is also a story of redemption told, as in the prodigal son parable, through the love of parent and child. Since that original, we have had many manifestations of Pinocchio’s adventures told as a children’s fairy story, in several films, and many stage productions. Edmundians’ winter show, however, took it a step further: as a pantomime! Oh yes, they did! Although the script did have some difficulty in shoehorning on the glass slipper of the panto genre, our Cinderella was found (cue Wrong Panto!), and the party begun. In their wonted way, Edmundians piled frippery, frolics and fantasy into nearly three hours worth of frenetic family fun.
Here is the value of teamwork: with a production crew of 22 and a cast of 28, the amount of man-, woman- and child-hours put into this production is slide-rule blowing. Nevertheless, Edmundians team off stage and ensemble on stage always makes big shows look seamless.
And talking of seams: multiple costumes for the cast of 28 soon add up to a lot of costumes. Jackie Howting and Marlene Bedell led the seamstresses who created these in their dozens. Imaginative and dazzling in their colour, they were set off by the vivid naïf-style sets, by Jessica Young and her team of artists, that framed the 14 scenes. Costume and scenic painting were cleverly coordinated into a harmonious colour scheme. The epitome of colour was the clown’s costumes, vibrant silky stripes, which complemented the backdrops. Make-up too was striking and the clown’s faces would have had even a mild coulrophobic screaming up the walls.
With his usual geniality and ebullience, Dave Young made a very sympathetic Geppetto, the toymaker, whom he played with touching pathos in his longing for a child, even one carved in wood. However, Geppetto’s wife Risotto, does not fully share this longing, being more pragmatic. Risotto was the dame role and Terry Bedell savoured the role, giving great energy to the part and playing the audience well as “she” flirted and fussed in frocks that became increasingly outrageous.
Their surrogate child, lovingly created by Geppetto, a puppet carved from wood and soon to be incarnated as the naughty boy, was played without a merest splinter of wooden acting by Hannah Nicolas, enjoying the contrariness, and clearly differentiating the flesh and blood Pinocchio and the bark and sap Pinocchio. Remarkably though, this role was undertaken cold for the opening performances by 13 year-old Mary McGrath, who stepped up from the chorus and rose remarkably to the part. This was a feat that would have had the most seasoned professional quaking at the thought.
This was very much a production in which ensembles of children and individual youngsters shone. The representative squires of good and evil, Kathryn Bedell as Fairy Light and Maddy Corke as Gremmy were prime examples. (Incidentally it is good to still see the panto convention of Good from stage right and Bad from stage left, which originated from the heaven and hell of the mediaeval mystery plays.). The child actors were under the wing of Jimminy Cricket, the comic lead played by Becky Halden with gleeful energy. Unfortunately she was let down by the script, which had her returning with the phrase “Can you hear me” ad nauseam, without any obvious function or meaning. Perhaps the writer meant it to be a “don’t touch the box” routine, except there was no box.
Slightly older were the principal boy and girl. Amelia Kirk had the breeches part of Tony, the hero, while Rachael Nicholas played, with a charming coyness, “his” love interest Marietta, the pretty ingénue. Rachel is a young actress to watch out for.
The glitz level was heightened by ballet mistress, Laura Deane and her three graceful and skilled ballerinas in a dance episode to accompany the beautifully sung When You Wish upon a Star.
Crossing the spectrum, the Technicolor episodes came on with the clowns, the multi-talented Jessica Young as Macaroni and her stooge, Spaghetti, played by Ellen Walker. Some nice moments of pathos contrasted with the full-on slapstick. The pair were whipped-in by Lara Parker’s authoritarian ringmaster, Stromboli.
Pantos usually have their special effects moments and Edmundians are FX specialists. This panto had a clever black-light sequence with invisible dancers manipulating fluorescent fishes that are gobbled up by a huge whale. The scene then transformed into the inside of the beast complete with Gepetto, Pinocchio and family incarcerated in the gastric grotto of the whale’s stomach, together with some pre-digested (but still quite lively) skeletons. Wow!
Seasoned panto director Jackie Howting gave us a cornucopia of colourful offerings with all one might expect from a panto, plus a bit more, so that its almost Wagnerian duration just whistled by, with my very young companion on the edge of her seat the whole time. With musical direction by the indomitable Roger Swift, it was a great ensemble piece epitomised by the grand finale, “Life’s a Happy Song”. Now here’s a circus to run away to!
Quentin Weiver
January 2017
Ensemble 96
Richmond Concert Society at St Mary’s Church, Twickenham, 17th January
Review by Mark Aspen
Arctic Cathedral … now there’s a concept to inspire awe! I used to work in Norway, and last night’s concert by the Norwegian choir, Ensemble 96, educed many connections with that country of grandeur and mystery. The Arctic “Cathedral” stands several hundred miles north of the Arctic Circle and is a wonderful modern building in concrete and aluminium that resembles an iceberg turning on edge. It is actually a parish church, whilst Tromsø Cathedral is a few miles away in the centre of the town. This is an elegant early eighteenth century building almost contemporaneous with the nave of Twickenham Parish Church, where our concert took place. Apart from the dedication to St Mary, which they share, both have long histories stretching back to mediaeval times.
With these thoughts in mind of comfortable blends of modern with traditional and of nature with spirituality, I approached a concert which billed Stockhausen and Cage with nine Norwegian composers also of the twentieth century, contemporary but with strong folk music roots. The choir has twenty-four singers, of a wide spread of ages and vocal ranges. They come many from the Oslo area, a long way from Tromsø, but this only served to underline the oneness of Norway as a country with the oneness of this outstanding ensemble. The other Norwegian trait that came across very strongly was the friendliness and openness of the group that brought the group immediately to the audience, who remained totally engaged throughout. The choir was conducted by the energetic Nina Therese Karlsen, and was joined on this occasion by violinist Mari Skeie Ljones. She normally plays the Hardingerfele, a folk fiddle with a short neck and sympathetic (ie resonating) strings. Classically trained Ljones prefers to call all her instruments fiddles, as a tribute to the folk inspiration of her style.
Ensemble 96 brought a freshness and scintillating clarity to singing that was as innovative and inspiring as it was intricate and interwoven.
Photograph by Anna-Julia Granberg
The choir assembled in a broad spacious arc and opened with … silence , then soft sustained notes, which revealed a vista that was mesmerizingly beautifully plaintive before developing into a more and more folksy dance style. This piece, Bysjan, Bysjan Lite Bån (Sleepy-byes, Sleepy-byes, Little Baby), a folk song by Frank Havrøy, set the style of intriguing works that were full of surprises. This was a lullaby and the general theme of the concert was love, but love painted with a broad brush to encompass love of children, romantic love and the love of God.
By contrast, in Per Nørgård’s Wiigen-Lied (Cradle Song) from Wie ein Kind (Like a Child) the reality of a child’s life is more apparent, as being told off or having nightmares also feature. The choir, interjected by the fiddle, started with a series of whoops and shouts, which merged into an almost lyrical middle section and faded gradually into phrasing with a nasal timbre. Did I detect a toy-drum and a bird in there somewhere? … intriguing.
American composer, John Cage once said “Music is an affirmation of life” and in his piece, Story, Ensemble 96 gave us just that, a life story that starts with “Once upon a time” in which time and the progression of a life are illustrated in an inventive piece that used a series of whistles, hisses and buzzes, in different inflections, to portray the tick-tocking of the clock of life.
Romantic love (and a more conventional approach) came to the fore in Torbjørn Dyrud’s Med en Bukett (With a Bouquet), which uses words from a poem by Henrik Wergeland. Sung in close harmony, the touching tranquillity of this piece reminded me in sentiment of Ralph Vaughan Williams’ Linden Lea. More romanticism surprisingly came from the pen of Karlheinz Stockhausen in a distinctly atypical early piece, Armer Junger Hirt (Poor Young Shepherd), which he had dedicated to his first wife. The bashful playfulness of this song comes across in the use of words such as äffen (make a gaff) and the choir made the most of this in devices such as hanging on to the word Küssen (kisses) with continuing echoes.
… And so to dance cheek-to-cheek with a waltz, Solistvals by Grete Pederson and Gjermund Larsen. Ljones fiddle led into soaring, joyful and rhythmic song, although the composers’ tempo would have made it rather difficult for most couples to dance their side-together-sides. Maybe that is why it is called Solo Waltz?
Innocent romanticism develops into sublimated eroticism with a poem by Arthur Rimbaud (of course), set to music by Frank Havrøy, Rêve pour l’hiver (Dream of Winter). The mood of this piece was subtly interpreted by the singers, “finding the beast”, the little kiss that had run across her neck like a “scared spider”. This sort of thing should properly lead to a wedding. Wedding marches are very popular with Norwegian composers, we were told, and Ensemble 96 gave us Bjorn Andor Drage’s exhilarating Wedding March from Sorfold, one that spoke of the north. Its initial feel was one of awakening, which blossomed into a fiddle-led Celtic-like theme, before expanding into the full blown march itself.
Romantic love as an allergy for spiritual love is epitomised in the Song of Solomon and this was the inspiration for two of the concert’s pieces. The first was from Jean-Yves Daniel-Lesur’s Le Cantique des Cantiques. Daniel-Lesur, who cut his teeth as a composer with organ pieces for the Benedictines in Paris, was director of L’Opera National de Paris until his death in 2002, and both these influences were clear in the passage that we heard, La Voix du Bien-aimé. This was a complex piece, delivered with passion. Ensemble 96 seemed to work together like an orchestra, with the different characteristics, timbres and vocal ranges complementing each other like different instruments. The piece wove itself like a rich tapestry of sound as it grew. Later, we were again treated to a passage from Daniel-Lesur’s Le Cantique des Cantiques, a contrasting piece, Dialogue, reverberant and hinting at plain-chant. Another interpretation of the Song of Solomon was Lovesong 2 by Torbjørn Dyrud, sung in Latin. Again, in the hands of Ensemble 96, this was a remarkable piece with a plangent opening, clear as a bell, or rather a carillon, as each singer worked as part of a whole. A sense of urgent beauty suffused the piece, and every mood was expressed perfectly. In “awake, O north wind, and come thou south, blow upon my garden” one could hear the breezes, gently aspirated by the singers.
Pure spirituality came with Knut Nystedt’s Peace I Leave with You, its warm and gentle harmonies richly developing through counterpointed rounds, and culminated with Martin Ødegaard’s Love Me. This is based on Thomas Tallis’ If Ye Love Me, Keep My Commandments, with the unlikely blending with folk music from the Norwegian and Laplander traditions. Solo soprano and alto interjection built on a balancing bass undercurrent to give a piece of affecting beauty. Its final development used an unusual throaty attack, which added a sense of melancholy within the gorgeous triumph of the piece.
By way of a coda, the lively work of Grete Pederson and Gjermund Larsen returned with Gropen (Hollows), a crescendo of wild fiddle and folksy singing that equalled fun writ large. A hugely enthusiastic audience would not let Ensemble 96 go that easily, and a bonus piece took the form of an interpretation of William Blake’s Songs of Innocence and Experience, by Torbjørn Dyrud, a wide canter through the choir’s virtuosity, whereas a second encore, a piece by Frank Havrøy, was another joyous Celtic romp of fiddle and song that left all the audience with a broad grin.
So what was the connection with Tromsøysund kirke, the Arctic “Cathedral”? This church is often called the opera house of Norway and indeed has a remarkable acoustic quality (probably enhanced by the cold air). We saw at St Mary’s Twickenham how well Ensemble 96 can work with the acoustics in ecclesiastical buildings. One had the impression that the building itself became the twenty-seventh member of the group. The Arctic “Cathedral”, like Ensemble 96 seems a little incongruous, but then one realises that both can induce a sense of oneness: spirituality with nature, invention with tradition, modernity with the past. On another plane, Ensemble 96’s warmth and joyousness made one feel that here was a place to come out of the cold: a great idea on a frosty January evening, even in Twickenham.
Mark Aspen
January 2017
The Nutcracker
by Pyotr Tchaikovsky and Marius Petipa
Choreography by Peter Wright
The Royal Ballet at The Royal Opera House, Covent Garden until 12th January
Reflections by critic, Mark Aspen
That incredibly growing and growing Christmas tree, the battle with the Mouse King, and of course the Sugar Plum Fairy. These are all wow moments, but how many wow moments still make one gasp after 32 years?
It was in 1984 that I took my daughter, then aged twelve, to see the very first performance of the choreography of The Nutcracker by the incomparable (now Sir) Peter Wright. As this year’s Christmas treat, I took my granddaughter, aged six, to see its 432nd performance. Both young girls were, in their time, totally transfixed … and, after nearly a third of a century, so was I. It had lost nothing of its freshness, vibrancy or excitement.
The Nutcracker is of course the epitome of the chocolate box ballet, sugar and spice and all things nice. Sir Peter Wright’s sugar probably owes more to the confectioner’s town of Nuremberg, the setting of Der Nussknacker und der Mausekönig , the story penned by Hoffmann exactly two centuries ago this Christmas, than it does to the St Petersburg of Tchaikovsky’s 1892 premiere, choreographed by Lev Ivanov. But for all its sweetness, The Nutcracker is a very demanding ballet, none more so than for the Sugar Plum Fairy, who is called at one point to perform no less than eighteen continuous pirouettes. Marianela Nuñez’s effortless and elegant energy is well up to this role. This year, his ninetieth(!), Sir Peter has upped the stakes in the Chinese Dance, one of the divertissements that make up most of the second act, with a particularly acrobatic contemporary interpretation. Calvin Richardson and newcomer Matthew Ball’s physicality in the new choreography is gasp-inducing.
The story of course revolves around Clara, goddaughter of the magician Drosselmeyer, whose nephew, Hans-Peter, has been transformed by the Queen of the Mice into a nutcracker toy. American ballerina, Meaghan Grace Hinkis, is now well established as Clara, but has lost none of the innocence that the part demands. Her contemporary at the Royal Ballet, Italian dancer Valentino Zucchetti, brings lithe artistry to the role of Hans-Peter and their pas de deux portrays an enchanting chemistry.
Particularly impressive is Tomas Mock as the Mouse King, a dancer of great power who has recently been promoted to First Dancer. The part of Drosselmeyer was taken by the Royal Ballet’s choreographer and Principal Character Dancer, Alastair Marriott, now in his twenty-eighth year with the company, who has unparalleled stage presence.
The dancers in the Christmas productions typically vary more from performance to performance than in most productions. The Royal Ballet has a strong connection locally with its junior school at White Lodge in Richmond Park, and students also take part in the Christmas productions, so they are good opportunities to see stars of the future. Graduating students making their debuts this season include Reece Clarke as the Prince and Isabella Gasparini as Clara. Watch out also for Francesca Hayward, fresh in the role of the Sugar Plum Fairy.
This year’s outing with my granddaughter was to a special Paul Hamlyn Christmas Treat performance, which was generously supported by Lady Helen Hamlyn as a memorial to her late husband. The matinee was preceded by a morning at the Royal Opera House with lots of opportunities for children to see the company at work. Amongst the exciting things that my granddaughter saw were a senior students’ Royal Ballet School class, a hair and make-up session (the delicate intricacies of preparing one of the twenty-four Snowflakes) and a demonstration by a theatrical armourer on preparing for the battle between the Toy Soldiers and the Mice.
Then on to the auditorium to see the wow moments burst forth that could span four decades, the sparkle and glamour of the classical ballet, and sheer magic that, for a great Christmas treat, makes this ballet a hard one to crack!
Mark Aspen
December 2016
Elf, The Musical JR
by Matthew Skylar and Chad Begeulin
Dramacube Productions, Hampton Hill Theatre, 15th to 17th December
Review by Viola Selby
A musical brimming with festive cheer, innocence and a huge pool of talent, this is a story of innocence abroad, depicted brilliantly through the innocence of the actors themselves: a simple tale well told through cleverly choreographed dance scenes, melodic musical numbers, scintillating scenery changes and fantastic facial expressions. Dramacube’s Elf The Musical is definitely the seasonal show that you will kick yourself if you missed.
From the very beginning, the audience were captivated by the high energy musical numbers, such as ‘Happy All The Time’ where we first meet Buddy, brilliantly portrayed by Ben Francis, and Santa Claus, played by the outstanding Amelie Shepherd. I must say, Amelie handled her huge beard very well, still ensuring that her voice was projected clearly for all to hear. Dance moves were excellently choreographed and met with a sleigh-full of enthusiasm, enthusiasm that remained constant throughout the show. I was definitely tapping my feet along with the rest of the audience to such songs as ‘Sparklejollytwinklejingley’ and ‘The Story of Buddy’ which beautifully highlighted the talents of the cast. I was also shedding a tear to the charming melodies of ‘I’ll Believe in You’, an angelic duet sung by Asher Paulo and Maya Dervis, who played Michael and Emily Hobbs, and feeling jazzy with the superb alto timbre of the voice of Izzy Shepherd as Jovie, during her solo,‘Never Fall in Love (With An Elf)’. Every single cast member truly shone with singing abilities beyond their years; especially when you take into account the need to cue to recorded music!
As well as being fine singers and dancers, the children showed that they were also all truly in command of the stage! Michael Wells made a superb and very funny Walter Hobbs, using many facial expressions to bring out the world weariness of the character, whilst Amber Westgate was terrifying as the lady in charge, Ms Greenway. In fact all adult characters were acted in a very mature and professional manner, with the actors perfectly portraying personalities, concerns and desires of individuals much older than themselves. Even those who played younger characters such as children in the shops interpreted their characters with such depth and realism, showing a wide range of emotions excellently exposed through facial expressions, body language and tone. The whole performance was phenomenally acted by all, with every character being represented in such depth and compassion.
Finally this musical was filled with many ‘wow’ moments that keep each audience member mesmerised, from Santa using an iPad, to the use of the house lights to enhance falling snow. The whole play progressed smoothly with simple yet beautiful sets used effectively to ensure that scene changes were done quickly and carefully. Background pieces, such as the New York backdrop, created stunning sets but that also allowed the imagination to create the detail. I especially enjoyed Santa’s broken down sleigh, smoking away. Set designer, Alan Bower really got the most out of a fairly minimal set. However, the icing on top of the already splendid Christmas cake had to be the white swagged drapes used to depict snowy mountains in the North Pole and that later fell away to reveal festive New York City lights.
Altogether an absolute festive treat for all the family! Director Stephen Leslie’s cast and crew have outdone themselves creating a Christmas masterpiece. With a vast array of musical talent, award-deserving acting and sets that will leave you spell-bound, this show was an absolute cracker!
Viola Selby
December 2016
Oh What a Lovely War
by Joan Littlewood’s Theatre Workshop
Richmond Shakespeare Society.
Mary Wallace Theatre, Twickenham. 10th to 17th December 2016
Review by Mary Stoakes
Joan Littlewood’s ‘Musical Entertainment’ was instrumental in the 1960s in informing many of the tragedy that was World War One with its unimaginable horrors and loss of life on both sides – all borne with resignation and great fortitude by the ordinary soldiers and the people at home. In 2016 we have, through television, books and film, a much greater knowledge of these times but the show still retains a shocking and emotional impact.
The scheme of the original production was for some of the events of WWI to be narrated through songs and documents in the form of a seaside Pierrot show. RSS director, Louise Stenson, chose a different setting for this series of sketches, dances and songs – a mix of music hall and circus with the dominating presence of Lisette Barlow as the MC-Ringmistress in charge. This format worked well with the depressing mood evoked by the back projected statistics (these could have shown for longer at the Mary Wallace for greater emphasis) contrasted and lightened by the irrepressible stoicism and good humour of the troops as demonstrated in their songs and sketches.
Photograph by Nicola Franklin, The Camera Girls Photography
‘One man (and woman!) in their time play many parts’ – Yes, this was a true ensemble piece with 10 actors all playing many roles with a variety of accents, a few props and small additions to their white boiler suits. From a company which specialises in drama, much of the singing was excellent, especially in the choruses and group numbers.
It is invidious to single out individuals in this polished and accomplished team but special mention must be made of Tom Nunan and Jennifer Packham, both newcomers to RSS, and Robin Legard, well known for his expertise in musicals with various local companies. Another highlight was the playing by Lisette Barlow and the cast in the famously incomprehensible drill routine scene.
The scenes with the Generals, detached from reality and more involved with their own careers, and the international business men ‘doing very nicely’ were less successful than those which commentated on life on the home front and in the trenches, underlined with musical numbers. Particularly poignant was the Christmas 1914 scene with the soldiers on both sides exchanging gifts and songs. The singing of Stille Nacht from the rear of the theatre was a magical and moving moment, made all the more so by the coarser and contrasting British response. The excellent grouping and lighting for this scene made it most memorable.
In Act II the grim realities of the war take hold, gunfire becomes more insistent and the lyrics more bitter and ironic. In the church service, with the versatile Lisette Barlow as the Vicar, the subversive rewriting of the hymns was beautifully put across.
‘They’ll never believe me’ the cast sang at the end of the show – but we did indeed, for we had been reminded once again of the horrors of the First World War in a very different way by this excellent and moving production.
Mary Stoakes
December 2016
Hinterland
talk by Chris Mullin
at Duke Street, Richmond, 23rd November
Review by Quentin Weiver
Was it “preposterous” or “a curious Molotov cocktail”? The press were thus divided in its opinions of A Very British Coup, the book by which Chris Mullin’s writing is best known. That was 34 years ago and flurries of books have followed, including a trilogy of his equally controversial diaries. Now, hot off of the press, comes his autobiography Hinterland– a Memoir.
The large and well-informed audience that came the talk, which formed the third of the offerings in the 2016 series Arts Richmond’s Books for our Time, a key part of the annual Richmond upon Thames Literature Festival, were a little less divided about Hinterland– a Memoir. Chris Mullin, former government Minister, who came into politics following his time as a reporter on the wars in south-east Asia in 1970’s, is now a novelist and broadcaster. His overview of his latest book was delivered with relaxed wit and an unconcealed impish glee as he warmed to the part of his subject area that covered Politics with a capital P.
Chris Mullin. Photograph by Elizabeth Wait
Mullin believes that a politician should have “done something first”, not just evolve from an Oxbridge PPE graduate who became a parliamentary researcher. An Essex boy, who seems to have progressed up the East coast, via his unloved and unloving boarding school to a more fulfilling time studying law at Hull, and eventually to sit for almost two decades as MP for Sunderland South, Mullin was indeed 40 years old before entering parliament.
In the meantime his views of world politics were honed by years spent in the hell of war-torn Vietnam, Laos and Cambodia. Here he learnt to be suspicious of the official reports of events, a view that he believes has stood him in good stead in his political life. Indeed, he comes across as being streetwise and astute. Nevertheless, he has retained an admiration for the people of the countries and spoke warmly of friends and indeed relatives in Vietnam, as his wife of some thirty years is Vietnamese.
Once characterised as a member of the loony left “more odious than Ken Livingstone” and described by his own party leader as a “certifiable lunatic”, he has clearly mellowed. From Bennite to Blairite, and now hinting a ideas that an avid Daily Mail reader would not blanch at, he clearly paints on a broad canvas. Perhaps he is even more believable as a political commentator by not being trammelled. After all, as a journalist Mullin has written not only for Tribune and the New Statesman but also for The Daily Telegraph and The Spectator.
Telling of his time as in government, his knowledge of the ways of the world of Whitehall and Westminster was only too evident as recounted with wry humour a Yes Minister –esque series of events when trying to bring in legislation to control the height of suburban Cupressus Leylandii . Maybe this set off his love of gardening, which is a great motivator for him post-parliament. Up in his respected “Deep North” he has rescued neglected acres and is creating a garden as varied and colourful as its creator.
The gardening sparked a question from our Duke Street audience concerning the current state of the economy. Would Mullin prune out dead wood or apply lots of Growmore? For a man whom you might think to be a Keynesian, he went for the first option, expanding on Brown’s 2008 economic crisis, and condemning the many politicians of all hues who have allowed house prices to be forced up above any realistic level. For anyone with young adults in the family, this point must resonate in Richmond.
Questioned on his once stated assertion that George Bush Jnr. was the worse President the United States had ever had and asked if would still apply after January, Mullin’s quite smile returned and he kept his silence. However, in a recent Speccie article, he quoted a US writer who said, “Trump is a smart man with a deep understanding of what stupid people want”.
Mullin answered many questions about the relative power of the politician and the journalist in forming opinions and about the role of the establishment in maintaining the status quo. When asked about the concept of conspiracy theories, perhaps alluding back to A Very British Coup, he said that he couldn’t believe in a Conspiracy Theory when, in government, he had seen the more effective reality of the Cock-Up Theory.
Chris Mullin comes across as a man who has seen much wrong in the world and passionately wants to put it right. Hinterland may be just the cocktail for the present time. Molotov or preposterous, take your pick. You will love the book or hate it, but you will not feel indifferent about it.
Quentin Weiver
November 2016
Mark Aspen 