Guys & Dolls (Church Hill Theatre, 9-13 Feb. ’16)

Posted in 4*, Church Hill Theatre, Musical Theatre, Rated: Nae Bad by Steve Griffin

Adam Makepeace as Nicely Nicely Johnson

“A feel-good romp of a show”

Guys & Dolls has a special place in my heart, as it was my first footlights show at university some ten years ago. I remember the hours I spent rehearsing the gruelling dance sequences and complex harmonies, so I was amazed at how well this cast of Edinburgh University students delivered on both counts. The scene in Havana was perhaps a bit ambitious choreographically and could have contained more progression and showpiece moments, but overall the chorus numbers were performed with great vim and pizazz.

The stars of show also delivered with aplomb. Ellie Millar as Sgt Sarah Brown had a voice that danced with the purity and clarity worthy of a leading lady, and her rendition of If I Were a Bell struck a fine balance between comedy and stunning vocal range. Oliver Barker oozed with masculinity and presence as Sky Masterson, while Tom Whiston brought a likeable naivety to Nathan Detroit. Mae Hearons was a delight as Miss Adelaide, and really came into her own in act two with a string of dazzling songs.

While the vocals across the board during the first half of the production were a little shaky (I’ll put it down to nerves in front of a packed house early in the run), the second half was littered with many a five-star moment, including Adelaide’s moving second lament, a Sinatra-esque Luck Be a Lady, and the precise and energetic Crapshooters Ballet. However, for me, the vocal performance of the night was by Adam Makepeace as Nicely Nicely Johnson, who delivered a rousing and extremely capable rendition of the tricky Sit Down You’re Rockin’ the Boat. A special mention also to Tilly Bartholomew as Arvide Abernathy, who was charming and note perfect in More I Cannot Wish You, and displayed great tenderness and well-placed comedy throughout the performance.

This show aimed to take the original musical back to its roots in the 1930s, and some nice touches in Grace Dickson’s choreography – particularly in Take Back Your Mink – felt very reminiscent of that golden era. Director Lucy Evans also cast some females in traditionally male roles as a nod to some of the period’s female gangsters, and, while a brave choice, I felt Evans could have gone one step further in allowing these characters to explore their femininity and interact with the male characters as women, rather than women pretending to be men. Still, Lila Pitcher was commanding as Chicago big-shot Big Jule in an interesting gender twist.

Yet for all the great work by the performers and band (who never faltered under Steven Segaud’s masterful musical direction), I was a little disappointed in the production values of the set and costumes. These elements were quite basic, and with a bit more attention could have added much more “wow factor” and style to be sympathetic to the show’s overall creative aims and chosen time period.

All-in-all, a feel-good romp of a show. Don’t gamble – buy a ticket.

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 10 February)

Go to the Edinburgh University Footlights

Visit the Church Hill Theatre archive.

8Feb2016

The James Plays (Festival Theatre: 3 – 13 Feb.’16)

Posted in 4*, Festival Theatre, Rated: Nae Bad, Theatre by Alan Brown

Steven Miller (James I) Photo Tommy Ga-Ken Wan

“‘On you go then, son. On you go. You can do it’.”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Nae Bad

‘Poisoned dresses are something out of children’s stories … if you want to kill her. Put a knife in her’, which would explain, right enough, why there is a whopping great sword on the boards. Still, The James Plays do imply – with a nod and a wink and a catchy dance step – that the Scots are one wicked antidote to the English. They also, with stirring ease, bring on guid strong women. Admire (or not) the toxic fortitude and murderous determinations of James I, II, and III but applaud Queens Joan, Mary and Margaret and give thanks for Annabella, Meg and Phemy.

There is no shortage of bloodletting in Rona Munro’s gutsy trilogy of how to keep head and crown together – in fact the ginormous sword runs with the red stuff – but actually the property of the piece is the kist in the bedroom. That’s ‘proper furniture’ [that chest], with a hundred uses’. You can hide a boy king in it for a start – and ‘drop it out of the window and brain any bastard climbing up the castle’. Munro’s writing is like that: hands-on, unhesitating and constructive.

Best, if you can, to see the plays in order – that’s from 1420 to 1488; and although they’re too inventive and complete to be Horrible Histories they do, in their savage and entertaining scenes, come pretty close: in James I, for instance, when Walter Stewart nails horseshoes to the hands and feet of one of his tenants, old Ada, for scolding him; or in James II when the young king peeks out of his kist to see his mother about to have sex with her ‘protector’ John Stewart. Too many Stewarts? Well, there’s always a Douglas on the make and by the time of the bi-sexual James III, there’s his lover, architect Cochrane, and fine wine and madrigals before all else, especially trying to rule Scotland.

Laurie Sansom’s convinced direction and Jon Bausor’s set design, with drawbridge, allow a febrile exchange between private and public space. The royal four-poster is closely guarded and/or spied upon, take your pick, and the king swings his sword on its canopy. When Parliament assembles it is alongside an audience on stage. The throne is up there too, occasionally occupied, but the space also doubles as a tower room where Isabella Stewart is held captive and spins out her prophetic misery.

Blythe Duff (Isabella Stewart) in James I & II Photo Tommy Ga-Ken Wan

That’s Blythe Duff as Isabella and as Annabella in James III and it is, again, a terrific performance. She reprises the roles from the original 2014 production with the same astringent glee and love. She’s there at the very end, dressing the new king with clothes and jewels and with an absolute definition of understatement: ‘On you go then, son. On you go. You can do it’.

And, yes, these dramatised chronicles do at times go on … and on. The squabbling lords might get to you, as they certainly did to James III, or it might just be that the set-piece addresses to the Three (male) Estates are too PC, too YES-NO referendum freighted for your taste, or that you find staged medieval football awkward, but then there’s the wheel of fortune to turn and it’s a mighty one to get going and even harder to brake. These are, after all, history plays and since when were they short and sweet?

Matthew Pidgeon (King James III) in James III
Photo Tommy Ga-Ken Wan

Go into the National Museum of Scotland, as I did in-between plays. You’ll find wolves on level 1, ‘Beginnings’, and they certainly belong in the nightmare sequences of James II, but search further and there ain’t too much in the Kingdom of the Scots: one small panel for each of ‘our’ Jamies and arrowheads from the walls of Threave Castle. More fun certainly, more knowledge possibly, is to be had watching Peter Forbes as gross, droll, Balvenie stacking up the Douglas lands; or see Dani Heron as Phemy, 15, assault a guard who’s presuming to search the queen’s rooms. Ballsy! And then there are the sovereign roles: Steven Miller as James I, the poet king, keyed up, commanding in the thick of it but who would have given everything to pen ‘Love, love me do’ in his time; rangy Andrew Rothney as James II, damaged and vulnerable, but who has that majesty thing ; and Matthew Pidgeon as James III, truth seeker, rascal man, outrageous king in black patent winklepickers , only matched by his virtuous Danish queen, Margaret, played by Swedish actress Malin Crepin, naturally.

I saw The James Plays in 2014, when I had been reviewing Fringe shows, and was disconcerted by the numbers on stage and by the sheer size of the venture. In review terms it was a stand-off. Now, second time around, I’d call it all audacious and vivid. Showstoppers with attitude.

Reviewer: Alan Brown (Seen 6 February)

Go to The James Plays at the Festival Theatre and to the National Theatre of Scotland

Visit Edinburgh49’s Festival Theatre archive.

11Jan2016

The Academy of Saint Martin In The Fields (Usher Hall: 10 January 2016)

Posted in 4*, Music, Rated: Nae Bad, Usher Hall by charlesstokes

Image: ASMF org.

“The quality of the playing was at a consistently high standard throughout.”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Nae Bad

A cold wet sleety January afternoon did not deter the hardy Edinburgh cognoscenti from gathering eagerly and loudly in the foyer of the Usher Hall on Sunday. The Hall’s Twitter feed had advised the 250 or so who had arranged to pick up their tickets from the box office to come early because of demand. To begin with this certainly stopped the ticket queue from standing in the rain, and one got the impression the queue wouldn’t have minded anyway, but by 2.45pm the line was well out of the doors.

The draw was, of course, The Academy of Saint Martin In The Fields, perhaps the finest chamber orchestra in the world, now undergoing a new lease of life under the directorship of player/conductor Joshua Bell, subway busker and near megastar. Bell was certainly a brilliant catch for this magnificent band after Sir Neville Marriner’s retirement four years ago.

The other huge name on the bill was cellist Steven Isserlis, again, world class in stature. The combined group are on a UK and European Tour, and it was Edinburgh’s turn to hear the magic.

The programme selection was both esoteric and matinee attractive. The concert was relatively short, at a total of less than an hour and a half’s playing time, but nobody left feeling they had been short changed. In art, as perhaps in matters of the heart, it is not so much the duration, but the intensity of the experience that provides the enduring memory.

The programme began with a snippet by Dvorak, “Silent Woods”, originally “Waldesruhe”, a piece for piano for four hands, later transcribed for cello, and ultimately for cello and orchestra, which was the version we heard. Quiet, gentle, soothing, with flavours, understandably, of Smetana’s Ma Vlast, one wondered whether this lullaby-like jewel, played with such beguiling ease, would send the postprandial audience to sleep.

If it did (and the enthusiastic applause suggested otherwise) the blast of Beethoven’s Eighth Symphony would have them wide awake in no time. This is not a great symphony, and apart from the lively Allegro vivace con brio, which the orchestra delivered in cracking form, the remaining three movements (a comment on the composition, not the playing), save for a spirited final Allegro vivace, plodded along a little.

After the interval we were treated to the second movement from Schumann’s posthumously published violin concerto, along with a tiny but fascinating codetta written by Benjamin Britten. Ten minutes of understated, beautiful playing, with Bell the absolute master of his art.

The concert ended with the “must have” item, the Brahms Double Concerto for Violin, Cello and Orchestra. What followed was secure, utterly capable ensemble playing with the two soloists interweaving with each other as warp and weft. There was none of the stodginess you sometimes get in Brahm’s full on orchestration with the band moving nimbly through the familiar passages in support of the soloists.

Overall, not only did this concert have eminent soloists and an interesting programme, the quality of the playing was at a consistently high standard throughout. At the time of their foundation 55 years ago, Sir Neville Marriner promised that the Academy would never go on stage unless thoroughly rehearsed. True today as it was then, what we got was not so much a concert as a performance, in the truest and fullest sense of the word.

Reviewer: Charles Stokes (Seen 10 January)

Go to the Academy of St Martin’s in the Field.

Visit the Usher Hall and archive.

11Dec2015

Tracks of the Winter Bear (Traverse: 9- 24 December ’15)

Posted in 4*, Rated: Nae Bad, Traverse by Alan Brown

Traverse Theatre

“Cool and works a treat”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Nae Bad

Now here’s a frosty cracker of a show in two acts: Act 1 written by Stephen Greenhorn and directed by Zinnie Harris; Act 2, written by Rona Munro and directed by Orla O’Loughlin. Each Act tells a different story with different characters but pull them apart and – with a muffled bang – you get a Christmas message and a novelty polar bear torch. There’s a ginormous bear as well, but that would explode the cracker idea way beyond belief.

As last year, with The Devil Masters, we’re close to home but it’s the sanctimonious New Town no more; no, it’s Craigmillar, Abbeyhill, and on the beach at Portobello. Act 1 opens up high, probably on the Crags, looking ‘down there’ on Edinburgh. Act 2, for the most part, is up a hillside but closes on a tenement stair. It is most definitely winter in both acts. You can almost hear the soft snow crunch beneath the boots – and it stays white n’ even – and there are bare trees suspended from the sky. Kai Fischer (Designer) and Simon Wilkinson (Lighting) make it blue and cold and pretty empty. But there’s keen writing, much humour, a lot of tenderness and a finely attuned soundscape from David Paul Jones. And the audience is close-in on both sides of a narrow traverse stage, behind scrim gauze, which is cool and works a treat.

Deborah Arnott and Karen Bartke
Photos: Mihaela Bodlovic

Act 1, Greenhorn’s work, is the love story of Shula (Deborah Arnott) and Avril (Karen Bartke). Shula went away after exams and came back to find Avril married to Craig, which both women find hard to take. ‘How to cope?’ falls somewhere between nostalgia and vodka, which makes it a slightly unsteady mix of the sad and the satisfying. The story is told in retrospective snatches of memory and loss. Arnott does forsaken and hurt very well; whilst Bartke has the gentler, healing role. Watch out too for the graveside wit of Mairi (Kathryn Howden) as she tends the memory of her Donald.

Act 2, Munro’s piece, is funnier, more outrageous. Jackie (Kathryn Howden again) has had enough of being Mrs Claus in a tacky Winter Wonderland but along comes her one big ‘wee adventure’ involving a killer polar bear with a bloodcurdling roar and a fantastic nose for shortbread. As Jackie mentioned Snowball cocktails, I thought Advocaat, and then of Dutch author Hans de Beer’s lovely Little Polar Bear stories; and indeed Munro’s bear (a magnificently swaddled Caroline Deyga) is a kind creature, once she has digested and expressed the men in her life, but I still wouldn’t bring susceptible children to this show.

Kathryn Howden and Caroline Deyga

‘Look at you!’ calls out a delighted Jackie as she passes under the Bridges. She is, naturally, on the back of a polar bear and having a whale of a time. No doubt the water is freezing but I still found the Tracks of the Winter Bear to be peculiarly heart-warming, which is always good at this time of year.

Reviewer: Alan Brown (Seen 9 December)

Go to Tracks of the Winter Bear

Visit the Traverse archive

28Nov2015

‘To Breathe’ (Summerhall: 24 – 28 Nov ’15)

Posted in 3*, Dance, Rated: Nae Bad, Summerhall, Theatre by Steve Griffin

Photography: Andrew Perry. Back line, l to r: Erin Whalley, Tiffany Soirat, Anna Elisabeth Thomsen. Front line, l to r, Adela Briansó, Lewis McDonald, Maddie Flint.

“Inventive and intriguing”

Editorial Rating: 3 Stars: Nae Bad

It’s not often you see student theatre groups perform original work with such a strong dance element, especially pieces on complex themes with so much thought behind them. They generally take hours upon hours to devise and rehearse, so one must give Theatre Paradok kudos for even getting to the startline of this show, and for packing Summerhall’s Demonstration Room to the rafters with an eager audience on a Thursday night.

Given the premise of To Breathe as a physical exploration of body and breath, to me it was a somewhat strange choice to develop it with a cast of performers with limited dance experience and training. The lack of finesse and technique on display in the more choreographed elements unfortunately detracted from what could have been a very powerful and moving (no pun intended) performance, and this was the lasting impression I took with me – a great concept, but perhaps slightly overreached.

As a theatrical spectacle, it was certainly very accomplished: it contained a lot of light and shade, tension and calm, with a good sense of progression and drive, and the performers’ ability to create changing moods seamlessly was very impressive. Early on the piece was very playful, and the performers raised several laughs in their innocent self-discovery, before moving onto more emotive storytelling. Rachel Stollery’s design really complemented the action, as did the subtle use of music, and with a healthy mix of ensemble and solo sections, structurally this show ticks all the boxes.

What the troupe may not have shown in dance technique or grace, they more than made up for in emotional intensity, concentration and sheer gumption. There was a great energy and spirit to the performance, with the whole company throwing themselves into it wholeheartedly. Maddie Flint in particular was utterly watchable throughout, with a very engaging and expressive face.

Lewis MacDonald and Tiffany Soirat

While choreographically it was a fairly safe piece (albeit with a few too many cliched motifs for my liking), there were moments of dramatic risk that were inventive and intriguing. In one of the duets (performed by Lewis McDonald and Tiffany Soirat) the dancers fought and tussled to cover each other in paint, in a sequence that was both passionate and very well controlled. There were some great lifts on show, and this section oozed with sexual chemistry. Later on, the dancers experimented with different movements with their hands in a pile of mud, which again showed great creativity, yet it was difficult to see the connection between this and the rest of the performance.

Overall, the heart and soul of this performance were absolutely in the right place – but I would have liked to have seen more focus on the dance elements to make it more complete.

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 26 November)

Go to Theatre Paradok

Visit the Summerhall archive.

21Nov2015

♫ Royal Scottish National Orchestra (Usher Hall: 20 Nov.’15)

Posted in 5*, Music, Rated: Nae Bad by charlesstokes

“Their playing under Jun Markl’s baton was fluent and enjoyable throughout”

Editorial Rating: 5 Stars: Nae Bad

Have you ever been to a concert hall, be it Royal Albert, Royal Festival, or, in this case, Usher, stared at the organ and pipes behind the choir stalls and wondered “Ooh, I wonder what that sounds like”? Well, tonight we got the opportunity to do precisely that – twice!

The RSNO put on a night of late romantic music from both the 1850s and 1930s. Their playing under Jun Markl’s baton was fluent and enjoyable throughout, and organist Thierry Escaich showed what a very fine artist he is on an equally splendid instrument.

Our appetiser was Liszt’s Les Preludes, the third of his thirteen symphonic poems and one of the earliest of its kind. There has been the usual debate about what the work was a prelude for, including being influenced by Lamartine or his disciple Joseph Autran. Ultimately Liszt himself appears to have settled the matter in a letter to cousin Eduard Liszt, asserting that Les Préludes represents the prelude to Liszt’s own path of composition. Maybe we shouldn’t attach too much importance to names.

The work itself is for a full orchestra and so warmed us up nicely for the major works to come. Liszt and Chopin are among the world’s greatest ever pianists, and it has always intrigued me how the former is much more skilled at orchestration than the latter. This was a mature work well played that seemed to tell a story. The flutes, that I felt held back slightly a couple of weeks ago in Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet Overture-Fantasy gave a beautifully clear account of themselves in the opening counter balance with the strings and then throughout. Rich, relaxing horns and warm string tones brought us to a happy conclusion.

We went forward in time some eighty years to hear Poulenc’s Concerto for Organ, Strings and Timpani. Commissioned by Princess Edmond de Polignac and premiered a full five years later in 1939 by no less than Maurice Durufle on organ, it is a work of contrasts, from shades of gothic horror to interludes of quiet reflection. Organ, strings and timpani interplayed seamlessly in a myriad odyssey of seven movements. A twenty minute treat, it is one of my favourite works for organ and orchestra and organist Thierry Escaich extracted every nuance from the solo part.

To conclude our evening there followed Liszt contemporary Camille Saint-Saens’s 3rd Symphony, more commonly known as the Organ Symphony, although the organ comes into its own only in the final movement. There is the danger of dismissing the remainder of the symphony as we wait for the great piped beast to come into its own, which is a pity, because the work as a whole is melodious, exciting and eminently listenable to. From the opening violins, pizzicato cello and woodwind to the resounding brass there are wonderful examples of orchestration to which the RSNO did more than justice, producing a seamless flow of glorious music that after the magnificent coda gave way to sustained applause.

Reviewer: Charles Stokes (Seen 20 November)

Go to RSNO

Visit the Usher Hall archive.

20Nov2015

The Addams Family (Pleasance: 17 – 21 Nov ’15)

Posted in 4*, Pleasance, Pleasance, Potterrow & Teviot, Rated: Nae Bad, Theatre by Jacob Close

Photos: Oliver Buchanan

“Funny to the point of tears…”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars Nae Bad

I hate The Addams Family theme song. It’s not that I think it’s bad, I think it’s too good. It’s every bit as iconic as it is catchy. No matter who you are or what you do, as soon as you hear that da da dadum *click click*, you’ll be reduced to a finger-snapping, grinning mess. Driving a car? Doesn’t matter. Operating heavy machinery? Tough luck nerd. You’re on a one way bus trip to Addams-town and there’s only one song playing on the radio.

And just as epochal is the tune’s creepy, kooky subject matter. The cemetery-dirt stained shoes of the Addams family are impossibly large ones to fill, and although EUSOG’s ambitious production fell an inch or two short of six feet under, it’s a performance so bouncy and entertaining that you’d hardly even notice.

It’s crisis in the Addams household: Wednesday (Ashleigh More) is growing up fast, and even worse, she’s fallen in love with a guy so normal he makes white bread look like a Harley Davidson. Now, his parents are coming to town, and the family needs to be on their best behaviour. It goes just about as well as it sounds like it might. It’s hardly a daring new direction in terms of plot cliché, but there are fine seeds growing in this well-trod ground.

From the outset, it’s very clear that this is a talented cast. Scott Meenan’s Gomez is an utter joy to watch, and an even greater one to listen to. His comic timing and twitchy crispness of movement enhanced an already impressively funny repertoire of gags. But even more impressive was his emotional range: it’s easy to tickle a funnybone, but less so to pull a heartstring.

And whilst Melani Carrie’s Morticia often lacked the steely, sultry smugness which forms the character’s backbone, it’s hard not to be blown away by her voice – not to mention her knack for latin footwork. She was very much the smoky family matriarch, but when next to Meenan, she seemed oddly muted. However, this never affected the performance to the point of becoming a significant problem, and all feelings of flatness were limited to the spoken portions of the show. When Carrie opens her mouth, it’s like being hit by a verbal sledgehammer.

Though perhaps more nuanced than the footwork was More’s Wednesday Addams. Although usually presented as a monotone proto-goth, I was pleasantly surprised by More’s characterization. She perfectly embodies the sense of being pulled in two directions, and manages to do so in such an entertaining and genuine way that it never falls into the usual trap of feeling hackneyed or trope-ish. This was an excellent performance in every sense – especially the oddly sweet chemistry between her and masochistic brother Pugsley (Holly Marsden).

Championing the side of “normalcy” is the impressive Nitai Levi; having traded his moody rocker persona a-la Rent for wonderfully dorky fianceé Lucas, he provided a great foil for More’s Wednesday, delicately dancing the line between nerdily sincere and annoying. And it seems like the talent runs in the family: Mother Alice (Esmee Cook) and Father Mal (Patrick Wilmott) inject ever more laughter into what is already a show bursting at the seams.

But if stealing a show was a jailable offence, Campbell Keith would be going away for a very long time. Acting as the show’s narrator, Keith’s Uncle Fester dominated the stage every time his weirdly pale head popped out of the wings. It’s hard to make a man who looks like Humpty Dumpty’s goth cousin charismatic, but I’ll be damned if he didn’t succeed.

But all the talent in the world, unfortunately, can’t control a tech setup. Whilst the swell of voices (especially thanks to the ghostly chorus of Ancestors) managed to rise above the band, the microphones were simply too quiet. I lost most of the lyrics in the first half, and the problem still persisted through some numbers in the second act. And the lights, whilst vibrant and interesting, sometimes felt oddly out of sync with the action on stage. In isolation, either of these issues may not matter. But eventually, grains of sand do become a heap.

And although the chorus should be applauded for their brilliance in terms of both movement and vocal work, the choreography sometimes felt cluttered. There were times I was genuinely afraid an overenthusiastic kick might KO the cellist. Having fewer objects and people on stage may have helped this production breathe easy.

However, I’m loathe to admit the above for a number of reasons. The first being that it would be a crying shame to lose any of the strong chorus, and the masterful musical section – the former never faltering even in the show’s faster and more energetic sections. And secondly, changing the stage would mean altering the breathtakingly Burton-esque set dreamed up by Lu Kocaurek. I’d feel more comfortable pushing over a henge.

Although blighted by a few blips, this was a show more than worthy of its pedigree. Funny to the point of tears and touching to very much the same end, EUSOG’s Addams Family is just as creepy and kooky as that damned theme song promises. Check this one out while you can: Kate Pasola and Rebecca Simmonds have conjured up a brilliant show indeed.

Reviewer: Jacob Close (Seen 17 November).

Go to EUSOG for The Addams Family & cast list.

Visit the Pleasance archive.

12Nov2015

Hector (Traverse: 11 -12 Nov’15. Touring.)

Posted in 4*, Rated: Nae Bad, Theatre, Traverse by Alan Brown

Images: Peter Dibdin & Paul Davies.

“Distinct, succinct, and valuable”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Nae Bad

Take two names of the same man, move him from Dingwall to Colombo, via Kandahar, Omdurman, and Bloemfontein, and you have an extraordinary life. It should be a history in an imperial sense – proud and impressive, monumentally worthy of respect – and in Scotland it surely is; but add sleazy allegations, the New York Herald, and a hotel bedroom in Paris and it’s all demeaned.

Born Eachann Gilleasbaig MacDhòmhnaill in Mulbuie on the Black Isle, Major General Sir Hector Archibald MacDonald shot himself in the head in the Hotel Regina on 25 March 1903. He was 50 years old. This distinct, succinct, and valuable play by David Gooderson, directed by Kate Nelson, would show how, in all likelihood, this came about.

There is a parade ground moment of wounding significance, there is a battle-field manoeuvre of astonishing derring-do, but actually it’s all set up in the mincing and treacherous line, ‘None of us would be called a fairy’, viciously twisted from ‘Three Little Maids from School Are We’. ‘Fighting Mac’, the crofter’s son from Ross-shire, had no defence against tittle-tattle and class prejudice. His face may have been on cigarette cards but the Governor’s wife cares only for (English) officers who can waltz.

Look at Hector MacDonald, courtesy of ebay, and see Steven Duffy – broad, ramrod straight, level gaze – but without sword, sash and medals. Actually, keeping uniform to plain khaki and the odd puttee is quietly effective, as is the Highland lilt to Hector’s voice. Fancy jackets, drawled vowels, a certain moneyed ease and a torpid morality are the property of the colonial administrators and the plantation owners. Valentine Hanson is especially conspicuous as the scheming Hugh Phipps and an excellent Kevin Lenon is the chaplain, possessed of a conscience certainly, but with not quite enough of it to do any good. The Governor (Stevie Hannon) and his frightful Lady (Gowan Calder) would curl their upper lips in disdain if they knew that Hector’s London home is in middle-class Dulwich. And Hector has another, much more precious secret that comes as a smart surprise early in the second half.

Ali MacLaurin’s serviceable set is out of a military transport: an unfussy assembly of crates, a desert-blown tarp across the back, boarding steps, and a larger, rectangular box that doubles as wardrobe and coffin. (Listen up for the time of Hector’s funeral. It’s both sad and scandalous.) There is a tantalising snatch of the pipes and drums, just possibly of ‘The Black Bear’, but the fuller, evocative sound is of strathspey and reel and of gaelic song, beautifully gathered at the close.

My one gripe is with Lord Roberts, supposedly Hector’s army mentor and ally. He bellows a final order that in fact does for Hector. I would have thought it would have been a kinder encounter along the lines of, “Now see here, Archie, this wretched business has to be faced down ….” However, what do I know? David Gooderson has had to work on what is known of MacDonald’s last years when it is clear that relevant letters and papers were ‘lost’ or destroyed. Fortunately, Raj Ghatak, who plays Roberts, also has the much more sympathetic part of the local bank manager, Vikram.

Poppy Day, introduced in 1919, came too late for Hector MacDonald, but for him (and for the Gordon Highlanders) here are the concluding sentences to the Government Commission’s report on his death:
‘…. We find that the late Sir Hector MacDonald has been cruelly assassinated by vile and slanderous tongues … we cannot but deplore the sad circumstances of the case that have fallen so disastrously on one whom we have found innocent of any crime attributed to him.’

Reviewer: Alan Brown (Seen 11 November)

Go to ‘Hector’ at Ed Littlewood Productions.

Visit the Traverse archive.

10Nov2015

Balladynas and Romances (Assembly Roxy: 9 -10 November ’15)

Posted in 3*, Assembly Roxy, Rated: Nae Bad, Theatre by Alan Brown

Aphrodite.
Photos from Teatr Pinokio, Lodz.

“The clucking immortality that is forever C-3PO.”

Editorial Rating: 3 Stars Nae Bad

My namesake, Alan, has had his own school of motoring in Edinburgh since 1979. He also advertises that a Polish instructor is available, Lekcje nauki jazdy w języku polskim. That would have been handy, off-road, for Balladynny i Romanse. But then in these fluent days the President of the European Council and former Prime Minister of Poland is a Donald, so what the hell …

… which brings me to the Roxy where – appropriate for an old church – heaven and hell congregate on earth in director Konrad Dworakowski’s immersive staging of the Ignacy Karpowicz novel. It is long at 135 minutes but is disciplined and expert. Go to the excellent Polish Book Institute for a useful synopsis of the book and be drawn to Karpowicz’s other work, not least ‘Uncool’ (2006); all still waiting for publication in English.

What we get in Balladynas and Romances on stage is, however, eminently translatable as it’s a classic ‘What If …?’ What if the gods drop in while we’re about our ordinary, sometimes tacky lives, in and out of Poundland (the cute Polish equivalent is Biedronka or ‘Ladybird’ ), in and out of each other – warning: puppets perform sex acts – and what if Athena, Aphrodite, Jesus, and the rest, are a bit cheap and maybe past their sell-by date? The answers are not hard to come by, as the gods are very visible and like talking about themselves, but it is tricky to see if Olga, Janek, Artur and Kama notice that their tawdry domesticity is being messed with. ‘A remote god [may] be a redundant one’ but it has long been our Fate – aka. the Occasional Narrator – not to realize that Eros or Lucifer happens to be in the front room.

The little mortals are puppets and the gods are dressed in primary black and white, in bathrobes and shades for example. It provides for effective contrast(s), not least when Nike, god of Victory, tenderly cradles the tiny body of a bomb blast victim. Olga, Catholic, fifty something and living alone, undresses and takes a bath and her credulous faith is somehow all the more touching for being manipulated into being. It is the showy gods, though, who demand attention, dwelling as they do on their genealogy – which is a nightmare for Gender theorists – and selfish loves. Eros and Lucifer stand apart, interestingly, each musing on their lot; whilst Osiris’ slender shrouded form and huge eyes recalled the clucking immortality that is forever C-3PO.

Smart lighting and electronic music often snapped the piece back from self-indulgent space and without those puppets the drama would have died, which may well have been the point.

I missed Poland. Eros ruefully mentioned his adopted country at the end of the first half and there were, I’m sure, far more references available than I understood. I googled one Erika Steinbach when I got home and grasped why Old Nick, from Lodz, is a fan. Clearly Balladyna is important but her literary profile receded as, languorous yet scheming, she acted out her bridging role as demi-god fixer and apologist for the ills of the world. At one point, in marvellous conversation with an opinionated Chinese Fortune Cookie, she convinced me that Pinocchio Theatre really know what they are about.

Director: Konrad Dworakowski
Set designer: Marika Wojciechowska
Music: Piotr Klimek
Choreographer: Jacek Owczarek
Lighting director: Bary

Cast: Hanna Matusiak, Ewa Wróblewska, Żaneta Małkowska, Małgorzata Krawczenko, Mariusz Olbiński, Łukasz Bzura, Łukasz Batko, Natalia Wieciech, Anna Makowska.

Reviewer: Alan Brown (Seen 9 November)

Go to ‘Balladynas and Romances’ at the Polish Cultural Institute & to Pinocchio Theatre, Lodz.

Visit the Assembly Roxy archive.

8Nov2015

♫ Royal Scottish National Orchestra (Usher Hall: 6 Nov ’15)

Posted in 4*, Music, Rated: Nae Bad, Usher Hall by charlesstokes

“the playing was of the highest calibre…….”

Photo: RSNO.

4 Stars: Nae Bad

“If music be the food of love, play on…” Yes, that’s from “Twelfth Night”, for love was the leitmotif of Friday evening’s RSNO concert at the Usher Hall, but the principal vehicle was that most famous love story of all, of Juliet and her Romeo.

While many others, from Gounod to Leonard Bernstein, have told this tale in musical form, there is no doubt that within the classical arena it is Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev who hold sway and these two were the chosen representatives for this part of the evening’s programme.

The concert opened with Tchaikovsky’s Romeo and Juliet Overture-Fantasy. Tchaikovsky abandoned plans for an opera, never mind a ballet, and yet this 20 minute work is like a short, single movement symphony. Not telling the story as such, it portrays its three main elements: the solemnity and compassion of the Friar, the passion of the young lovers, and the festering hostility between the Montagues and Capulets.

RSNO Music Director Peter Oundjian chose to interpret this magnificent work conservatively and thereby avoided the emotion and thrills one might expect from, say, a Russian orchestra. As a consequence one found oneself wanting more, particularly from the all important flutes. There were issues of balance among woodwind and brass, and a generally slow tempo. Perhaps, inevitably, the band was settling in.

In between the Tchaikovsky and Prokofiev came the brilliantly chosen Khachaturian Piano Concerto. The concerto, written some eighty years ago, was an ambitious attempt to blend Caucasian folk music influences within a bravura Liszt style masterwork. It arguably doesn’t quite bring it off, but is high on excitement, melody and romance, and is more akin to Prokofiev than the oft compared Tchaikovsky. A clever piece of transitional programming.

It was with a sense of joy (and a bit of relief) that here, as for the rest of the evening, the RSNO gave of their very best. The playing was taut, together, focussed. Brass and woodwind complementing each other perfectly, a warm bass clarinet providing rich undertones for the clear and bright strings.

Soloist Xiayin Wang gave an exciting, bravura and thoroughly comprehensive interpretation in her high octane premiere performance of the work. After the wake up call of the Allegro ma non troppo e maestoso we were soothed by the tender and melodic Andante con anima before the joyful resolution of the familiar third movement, appropriately designated as Allegro brilliante. Orchestral accompaniment was punctuated by two extensive solo interludes, if not quite cadenzas, which the soloist disposed of magnificently. As a result I got more from work than ever before, and now consider it as far more than just Prokofiev-lite, and had the privilege of telling the soloist so as she charmingly and modestly mingled with us in the interval, sipping from a bottle of mineral water and shimmering in her gown.

Following the interval we were treated to a suite of 20 excerpts from Prokofiev’s ballet Romeo and Juliet that included some of its most romantic, accessible passages, until thirty minutes in, the bleak, searing awfulness of Tybalt’s Death hit us right between the eyes. Again, perhaps a little more restrained than a Russian orchestra might portray it, nonetheless, the RSNO’s playing was of the highest calibre: rich, flowing cadences, a silvery sheen on the strings, well balanced, richly toned woodwind and brass, and in the background the tuba and timpani sounding like a death knell.

Taken as a whole this was a cleverly programmed and highly effective concert that showed the RSNO’s playing, when into its stride, as being of the very finest. Kicking off with the Tchaikovsky demands a leap of faith and perhaps a little less caution. Nonetheless we had a glorious, generously programmed evening. There was a real lift to my walk home across the Meadows.

Reviewer: Charles Stokes (Seen 6 November)

Go to RSNO here

Visit the Usher Hall archive.

Get Your Coats On

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Category Archives: Rated: Nae Bad

Guys & Dolls (Church Hill Theatre, 9-13 Feb. ’16)

“A feel-good romp of a show”

The James Plays (Festival Theatre: 3 – 13 Feb.’16)

“‘On you go then, son. On you go. You can do it’.”

The Academy of Saint Martin In The Fields (Usher Hall: 10 January 2016)

“The quality of the playing was at a consistently high standard throughout.”

Tracks of the Winter Bear (Traverse: 9- 24 December ’15)

“Cool and works a treat”

‘To Breathe’ (Summerhall: 24 – 28 Nov ’15)

“Inventive and intriguing”

♫ Royal Scottish National Orchestra (Usher Hall: 20 Nov.’15)

“Their playing under Jun Markl’s baton was fluent and enjoyable throughout”

The Addams Family (Pleasance: 17 – 21 Nov ’15)

“Funny to the point of tears…”

Hector (Traverse: 11 -12 Nov’15. Touring.)

“Distinct, succinct, and valuable”

Balladynas and Romances (Assembly Roxy: 9 -10 November ’15)

“The clucking immortality that is forever C-3PO.”

♫ Royal Scottish National Orchestra (Usher Hall: 6 Nov ’15)

“the playing was of the highest calibre…….”