RSNO: Leticia Moreno; Thomas Sondergard: Usher Hall: 6 May ’16

“They really went for it full on, you got everything you wanted and hoped to hear, but it was never over the top…..terrific playing…..quite something!”

Editorial Rating:  4 Stars:  Nae Bad

The RSNO’s Friday night Edinburgh concerts really set you up for the weekend, and last Friday’s cornucopia of delights was eagerly awaited: Bartok and Stravinsky, an orgy of brass, dissonance and full on orchestral razzmatazz. We were not disappointed.

There was much in the plots that drove the ballet suite parts of the programme that was descriptive writing of the louche – if not actually sordid – kind, not to mention the fecund. Robbers setting up a young girl as bait, consent to coition in order to effect the death of the punter, and Spring as the enduring symbol not just of birth, but of fertility, and finally the sacrifice of a virgin to appease, one suspects, not only the Gods but also senile and jealous Elders. No wonder the performances as ballets caused such a stir in the early part of the twentieth century.

First off was Bartok’s Suite from the ballet The Miraculous Mandarin. As for the story, Google it for all the gory details, but suffice it to say the premiere in Cologne in 1926 (conducted by none less than the composer Erno Dohnanyi) caused catcalls, whistles, boos, stamping and a walk out by the clergy present, with the work being banned in a number of cities. Nothing could do more to promote the piece. As for the music, well, exciting is not a strong enough word, and what impressed me is how the band got into the groove of this really quite demanding work straight away: dissonant, chaotic, resemblant of street life, some pointers to Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast. The lilting, seductive melodies supplanted by raucous, glorious trombones and brass in general, with the strings coming in at the end and taking us away like furies. Wow! A great start to the evening, twenty minutes of exquisite bombast.

There followed Stravinsky’s Violin Concerto played by Spanish violinist Leticia Moreno on a 1762 Gagliano. The Concerto as a musical form is often compared as either a contest or a love affair between soloist and orchestra, with early examples (e.g. Vivaldi) featuring the soloist as first among equals, and later composers taking the soloist more out front. This latter approach is inherently more difficult with instruments such as the violin and guitar that find it difficult through volume limitations to stand out as a piano or trumpet would, and this limitation is the more obvious in later, more heavily orchestrated works, of which the Stravinsky is certainly one. Only in the second and final movements did the soloist really come to the fore, with a lightly supported melody in the second, and a lively toccata in the fourth enabling her to do so. Elsewhere conductor Thomas Sondergard was doing what he could to restrain the orchestra without rendering them inaudible. This also resulted in too soft playing from the clarinet so unfortunately the performance as a whole of this underestimated, supposedly austere work never quite satisfied. The audience nonetheless delighted in it and sent the players off to the interval with enthusiastic applause ringing in their ears.

The last work of the evening was Stravinsky’s  The Rite of Spring, a brilliant choice of programming given the glorious Spring day that was now drawing to a close. The playing here was absolutely first class with spectacularly clear and well articulated woodwind – not at all outdone by the “heavier” brass – playing with real clean attack and verve; but by the time the work was over you knew that everyone in the 105 piece band had had their moment in the sun, from the ten timpani, three huge Wagner tubas, seven trumpets, eight horns, washboard, rattle, tam-tam etc. – get it? The strings soared gloriously and one was reminded that, as is so often the case, although this sounded like it was chaotic, it is in fact a highly structured, cleverly orchestrated work that raised the roof and actually caused a riot when it premiered in Paris in 1913. One hundred years on its excitement and sheer jaw-dropping daring nature does not pale and the RSNO gave the sort of performance a seasoned concertgoer loves. They really went for it full-on and you got everything you wanted and hoped to hear, but it was never over the top. Terrific playing with the structure and discipline that strong composition enables. Quite something!

 

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Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)

Reviewer: Charles Stokes (Seen 6 May)

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The Iliad (Lyceum: 20 April – 14 May ’16)

Ben Turner, downstage; Melody Grove, centre; & Emmanuella Cole, upstage.

Ben Turner, downstage; Melody Grove, centre; & Emmanuella Cole, upstage.

“This Iliad is forcefully staged and has the vehemence and colour of its core story.”

Editorial Rating:3 Stars Nae Bad

Mark Thomson’s last production as Artistic Director of the Lyceum for the past 13 years.

It is unsurprising that there’s plague about. There are no zips on the body bags on this beachhead and the Scamander River is full to overflowing with the dead. There’s Achilles’ refusal to dispose of Patroclus’s corpse until after he has killed Hector and then there’s the desecration of Hector’s body by lashing it to a chariot and dragging it through the dirt for twelve days, face down. No wonder – actually, yes, a lot of wonder is required – that Apollo took pity and ‘round him … wrapped the golden shield of storm so his skin would never rip’. Some say it was rose oil.

As epic tales go The Iliad is still the catchy, highly contagious one. It has tragic, raging action, love and sex, heroes and honour. There are no villains to speak of, just the ‘terrible beauty’ of Helen and the ‘smooth, full breasts’ of Aphrodite to sing of. Communicable? Certainly. Containable? Hardly.

Emmanuella Cole, left; Ben Dilloway centre; & Rueben Johnson, right, as Diomede.

Emmanuella Cole, left; Ben Dilloway centre; & Rueben Johnson, right, as Diomede.

Fearless Mark Thomson takes writer Chris Hannan’s evocative script and directs an intrepid cast of twelve. Karen Tennent’s imposing set has broken columns and half pediments left and right with plenty of space and height for gods to take it easy in and for the Trojan women to look out anxiously over the ramparts. A massive wall of corrugated ‘bronze’ curves around them and the dust sometimes hangs in the air around a leather cuirass and plumed, hollow eyed helmet. The lighting design by Simon Wilkinson is as careful and as atmospheric as his work in Bondagers.

But there are 15,693 hexameter lines in Homer’s Iliad and probably as many ‘brazen spear points’ and slamming shields. What to do with them all? Thomson – to make an attractive prosaic point – starts his theatrical shebang with a baby’s cry and a cobbler hitting nails into a boot. (Think the traditional 3 knocks that alert a French audience to the start of a performance). More formally, several scenes begin and end as characters are dressed for their part, accompanied by near liturgical chant. No need though for Zeus (Richard Conlan) to dress up. His boxers and loose robe are as much Mustique as Olympus. Hephaestus (Daniel Poyser) has his iPad on the beach. ‘White-armed’ Hera (Emmanuella Cole) drifts in straight off Ebony magazine’s style pages and tells all. This is one all-mighty queen god who seems to owe her name to having had it up-to-here with her philandering husband (and brother BTW). We’re with you there, sister.

I worship Thetis,  because of passionate playing from Melody Grove, but otherwise these gods are the diverting side-show and narrative markers to the centre stage profiling of Achilles (Ben Turner). He stands, blood streaked, against all-comers, starting with ‘wine-mouth’ Agamemnon (Ron Donachie). There is pathos in the fine scene between the moping and vengeful Achilles and the shade of his beloved Patroclus (Mark Holgate) and the song at his companion’s funeral of his ‘head like a poppy drooping’ is an unlikely hit,  but it’s Thetis’s son vs. Hector (Benjamin Dilloway) that exercises fight director Raymond Short to his utmost. As well it might when he’s up against Brad Pitt and CGI – and a younger audience. Perhaps pounding Hector’s brains out is beyond even a screenplay.

Amiera Darwish, left, as Briseis; Ben Turner, centre; & Mark Holgate, right, as Patroclus.

Amiera Darwish, left, as Briseis; Ben Turner, centre; & Mark Holgate, right, as Patroclus.

This Iliad is forcefully staged and has the vehemence and colour of its core story. It is fiercely directed and there is a heart and soul to every performance, mortal or immortal, but it is so down to earth that it puts gods into deckchairs on a flyblown lido and so the topless towers of Ilium are levelled. I think it’s Hecuba (Jennifer Black) who says, ‘You clutch at emotions like clutching at straws’. That’s the problem when you go head-to-head with Homer.

 

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Reviewer: Alan Brown (Seen 26 April)

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Scottish Chamber Orchestra: Ain Anger & Olari Elts

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“No musician could fail to admire, and secretly envy, the sheer bravura and chutzpah of this performance…

 Editorial Rating: 3 Stars Nae Bad

Thursday’s Scottish Chamber Orchestra concert at the Queen’s Hall was a fascinating melange of the contemporary, romantic and classical. As a result we experienced a variety of different musical experiences in an exciting evening’s musical entertainment.

I suspect the main draw must have been the evergreen Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony, but more of this later. The gig kicked off with Brett Dean’s “Testament”, a work some years in evolution that, to quote the composer “in some way related to Beethoven’s life and music”. I personally found it hard to trace this link back to the great man, notwithstanding the composer’s consultation with the string section of the Berlin Philharmonic and studying of the Heiligenstadt Testament. There were strong influences of Honegger, Adams and even Lutoslawski, as well as some clear 19th century style melodic lines in what was a mosaic of musical styles. It made for an entertaining and lively start to the evening and the orchestra dispatched it with enthusiasm and considerable skill.

By way of a contrast followed Mussorgsky’s Songs and Dances of Death. Mussorgsky had planned to set eight songs by the poet Arseny Golenishchev-Kutuzov, with whom he shared rooms. In the event he set only four of them and died before he got around to orchestrate them, which his eminent fans Rimsky-Korsakov and Shostakovich were happy to do, as has contemporary Australian composer James Ledger. This latter was the version chosen for us. Perhaps an unconventional choice in view of his illustrious forebears, the orchestration undoubtedly worked in an atmospheric and almost mysterious way, including an extraordinary clarinet glissando in the third song Trepak (described as “death dances with a drunk in the forest at night). Leading contemporary Wagnerian and Estonian born Bass Ain Anger gave a deep, clear and resonant account of this very Russian work in the folk idiom. The power of the magnificent, but I repeat pleasingly clear bass voice was enthusiastically supported, especially by the brass, as it drew to its sombre, striking conclusion.

And so on to the popular, oft played, recorded and interpreted Beethoven’s Fifth Symphony in C minor. One almost wonders what the point of performing this work is; how can one possibly bring anything new? Everyone, from Von Karajan, the wonderful Carlos Kleiber, and even the Bee Gees in Saturday Night Fever, has had a crack at this gloriously barmy work, and the only person who hasn’t heard it properly in the civilised world is probably Beethoven himself.

To their credit the SCO did pull a rabbit out of a hat. They went off at a cracking pace like the crews in the Boat Race, taut, together, on the money with every new passage and actually managed to convey the excitement of hearing the piece for the first time. A confident opening by the cellos in the Andante con moto made the most of the crescendo in the initial cadence and there were good dynamics and clarity even in the small supporting parts, in particular woodwind and pizzicato strings, and the more so of this latter in the subsequent Allegro. The final, fourth movement Allegro brought the work, and the evening, to a resounding conclusion.

So what to make of this interpretation of the well-known work? Full marks for enthusiasm as caution was thrown to the winds, not afraid of turning up the volume, raw, earthy, almost ‘street’, spirited and raucous. I am sure my school director of music would think that conductor Olari Elts was being a bit naughty with the work, and there were a number of bum notes and other flaws, particularly in the often exposed brass. However, no musician could fail to admire, and secretly envy, the sheer bravura and chutzpah of this performance. Roll over Beethoven!

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Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)

Reviewer: Charles Stokes (Seen 7 April)

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Uncanny Valley (Summerhall: 29 – 31 March) – part of Edinburgh International Science Festival

Photo:.Borderline Theatre

Photo:.Borderline Theatre

“Educational and entertaining, well-worth taking the kids to”

Editorial Rating: 3 Stars: Nae Bad

As a child I was never particularly into science. At school the lessons were boring and didn’t challenge me to think creatively or engage with it in real life situations. Uncanny Valley, however, does both, placing today’s children at the heart of a situation we may well find ourselves in 30 years’ time.

Essentially it’s a show about humans and robots, and the difference between the two. With the world becoming ever more robotic, the subject matter is engaging for audiences of all ages and I certainly learned a thing or two about artificial intelligence and the Turing Test during the performance. While I imagine 9-year-old me might have struggled with some of the concepts and sitting still through some of the longer “lesson” parts, many of the younger audience members seemed to grasp it fairly well and engage in the interactive elements.

As a children’s piece, one can forgive a certain amount of ridiculousness and be able to suspend disbelief to still be able to enjoy the action. Credit goes to the actors for keeping the performance engaging, with boundless energy creating big, bold characters that are instantly relatable. Kirsty Stuart in particular shines as the cut-throat Mayor who’ll stop at nothing to eliminate robots in her town.

I would have liked closer attention paid to the narrative to keep it seamless all the way through: there were quite a few unexplained jumps in time and location in the story, and I never quite believed Ada’s relationship with her adopted parents. In saying that, some of the theatrical elements are very well done: the Turing Test at the end of the show is funny and gripping; the open moral discussion about whether to swerve a car off road and kill a group of chickens to save yourself is very thought-provoking, and I was even able to feel emotional connection with the robot characters of OKAY and SARA, which adds a really nice dimension.

The beginning is a little confusing – I feel that Rob Drummond as facilitator perhaps tries too hard to convey a lot of factual information early on and doesn’t seem as comfortable in parts of audience interaction as I would expect from an experienced TIE professional. These are only small moments throughout the piece though, as on the whole it’s quite slick and professional.

Overall, Uncanny Valley is educational and entertaining, and well-worth taking the kids to, as long as you’re ready for a bit of thinking! Theatrically it is a bit rough around the edges but still full of heart.

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Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 31 March)

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Legally Blonde: The Musical (King’s: 16 – 19 March, ’16)

“Catchy songs, big dance numbers and laughs a-plenty”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Nae Bad

For those who know the film, the premise of the musical is almost exactly identical – blonde bombshell and fashionista Elle Woods from Malibu, California is determined to bag her man, so she buries her head in books and chases him to Harvard law school in the hope of impressing him. The accompanying score is very poppy and upbeat, and while not to my personal taste, even the sternest of faces can’t help but bop along with some of the numbers.

On the whole, local troupe the Bohemians Lyrics Opera Company handle this big production very well – with some impressive dance routines and real powerhouse vocals throughout. The mind boggles at some of the quick changes performed, especially those done on stage, so credit where credit’s due for the risk and professionalism to carry those off. At times, particularly in Whipped into Shape, the performance felt a little flat and a stretch too far for this amateur group – perhaps a bit of shakiness on opening night or not quite having the musical tempos nailed – but otherwise it’s very well rehearsed and full of personality.

Lydia Carrington gives it her all as leading legal lady Elle Woods, and shines with fantastic energy and likeability. Her spirit never falters throughout – impressive considering she is barely ever off stage – and she shows great range and versatility to reflect the changing mood in each scene. However, it’s Lyndsey McGhee as Paulette who raises the biggest cheer of the night with the very moving Ireland (watch out for that towards the end of Act 1). Her voice is deep, rich and she delivers a knockout performance. It’s a shame we don’t get to see more of her throughout the show.

While the leads very much hold their own throughout the performance, for me it is some of the cameo roles that make this production really enjoyable: Ross Stewart is eminently watchable as UPS guy Kyle, while Sam Eastop and Andrew Knox make a great comic pairing in Gay or European. And of course, there are dogs. Scene-stealing dogs. You have been warned…

Yes it’s cheesy, yes it’s American, and yes at times it’s a bit ridiculous, but it’s also a show full of catchy songs, big dance numbers and laughs a-plenty (my favourite line being “I see dead people” in relation to the rather bizarre inclusion of a Greek chorus). If you like the sound of all that then you’ll love this production.

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Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 16 March)

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THIS REVIEW HAS NOT BEEN SUBEDITED

The Crucible (The Lyceum 18 Feb – 19 March ’16)

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“Just as bleak and brilliant as Miller’s tragedy demands”

Editorial Rating:  4 Stars Nae Bad

Nothing says “a good night” like unchecked hysteria, unopened hearts and unnecessary hangings. That’s why I’m always excited to see a production of Arthur Miller’s “The Crucible”, and even moreso in the beautiful Lyceum theatre. But does Mark Thomson’s staging of Miller’s work deserve a standing ovation or a slipknot? The star rating above may be a small clue as to which is true: this was a beautiful, if flawed, production of a well beloved American classic.

Set in the year 1692, ‘The Crucible’ follows the path of destruction wreaked by mass hysteria, lust and shame in the town of Salem, Massachusetts. As rumours of witchcraft fly and secret affairs are uncovered, what begins as a simple dance in the woods becomes a matter of law, life and death. Lighthearted stuff.

As you might imagine, Miller’s classic demands atmosphere. From the outset, it’s clear that Thomson has a knack for choosing set designers. It’s not often I open with talk about the furniture, but I was extremely impressed with the quiet ingenuity of Crucible’s set. From the authentic, rustic comfort of the Proctor house to the cold rigidity of the courthouse, each setting hit all the marks in terms of visuals. But even further, it wasn’t just pretty – the use of space was downright clever. Each little quadrant of the stage was self-contained enough to render smaller scenes intimate, and yet interconnected enough to make group sections seem cavernously intimidating. And the use of trees for scenery and blocking lent what felt like meters of depth to a finite stage. For set alone, this show ticked all the boxes.

But luckily, the set isn’t all I’ve got to write happily about. As can be expected from the Lyceum, the acting talent on display is considerable – my personal MVP goes to David Beames as the most entertaining and human interpretation of Giles Corey I’ve seen yet. If I could pay him to narrate my life, you’d bet he’d never go hungry.

But aside from pure entertainment value, I was most impressed by Richard Conlon as Reverend John Hale. When I first read The Crucible, I disliked Hale. I thought he was two-dimensional and boring – but none of these problems so much as touch Conlon. No other portrayal of the character has been as compelling or realistic as his, and I’ve similarly never felt for Hale as much as I did in this production. The emotional depth, the body language, the subtle vocal tics; they all come together almost flawlessly. Fan-bloody-tastic.

Similarly, Philip Cairns shines as John Proctor, applying a great amount of force and raw emotion to the character’s more intense scenes. He moves from tenderness to scepticism to fury as if it were easy as breathing – though this is no doubt benefited from acting opposite the likes of Irene Allan as Elizabeth Proctor. The part of Elizabeth is by no means easy: showing an audience the culmination of years of insecurity and indecision without overacting is like slacklining drunk; that’s what I was so pleased to see how powerful the character was in Allan’s hands. Her final scene and famous closing lines gave me chills.

That same strength runs through the rest of the cast. Meghan Tyler as Abigail Williams is wonderfully duplicitous, mixing sensuousness with devious brutality in the same breath. The Putnams (Douglas Russell and Isabella Jarrett) are as abrasive as the narrative demands, and Greg Powrie’s Reverend Parris is pathetic is the best way possible. Even the young company capture the panic and vulnerability of young girls in the hard frontier of the American East.

So, with such a talented cast and clever design crew, why isn’t this a five star show? Predictably, there are always a few flies in the soup.

As a general note, whilst the accent work at play generally good, it was prone to slippage. Often, the cadence showed more sense than the characters by fleeing from Massachusetts to upstate New York – and, on occasion, Cairns’ Bostonian drawl threatened to slide into a strange mix of Henry Kissinger and Arnold Schwarzenegger. Whilst it won’t bother the average Brit theatregoer, those more familiar with the voices of the new world may find it slightly grating.

Furthermore, I had a huge problem with the sound design. Whilst at times it was a dramatically advantageous decision, at others (especially in the courtroom scenes) it was, at best, a distraction and at worst it utterly broke the tension and dramatic pacing of the scene. I found myself consciously wondering why on earth a scene of screaming hysterics and implied cold-blooded murder for the sake of sex was accompanied by a pleasant violin trill in a major key. In any other show this might not be such a large issue, but in one which is so dependent on atmosphere and audience absorption, it gets amplified.

And it’s in the hysteria that we find my biggest complaint with the production. Whilst certain scenes were certainly not lacking in gravitas, the play’s overall arc of tension was patchy. Some sections jump from being devoid of dread to bursting with it – instead of a steadily escalating fever pitch, it jumps from extreme to extreme.

Unfortunately, this also wasn’t helped by the fact that it felt strangely static at points, as if all the fear had been sucked out of the room. There’s a difference between strained silence and dull quiet, and sometimes this production seemed to confuse them.

Do I think these flaws ruined The Crucible? Far from it. Mark Thomson’s formidable cast rides out the few choppy waves this show presented, and Miller’s famous talent for dialogue is hardly diminished. There are definitely more strengths to this production than weaknesses, and the audience chatter at both the interval and end attest to that fact.

If you get the chance, definitely give The Crucible a look. It’s a production that never fails to entertain whether you’re a Miller virgin or a die-hard fan. Though perhaps a little clunky in the seams, the overall fabric of the show is just as bleak and brilliant as it Miller’s tragedy demands. You might not see Sarah Good with the devil, but you’ll definitely see a strong production.

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Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)

Reviewer: Jacob Close (Seen 20 February)

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THIS REVIEW HAS NOT BEEN SUBEDITED

Edinburgh Quartet (Queen’s Hall, 17th Feb. ’16)

Image result for edinburgh quartet pictures

 

“An interpretation of utter conviction, inspiration and stellar playing throughout”

Editorial Rating:  4 Stars: Nae Bad

The Edinburgh Quartet continued the second phase of their 2015/16 Season under the banner of “Storm and Stress”, derived from the loose translation of the German ‘Sturm und Drang’ movement of the eighteenth century. In this movement passionate expression was given free rein in literature, but also in music with works by Haydn and Mozart at the forefront. The Quartet performed a typical Sturm und Drang work by Haydn, Op 76 No 2 “The Fifths” alongside Bartók’s thrilling, dissonant but rewarding 3rd Quartet and Grieg”s surprisingly complex and at times  dark Quartet in G minor.

The Quartet got straight into their opening number with final tuning completed off stage. This, along with their precision and togetherness, immediately gave the audience confidence that they were in safe hands and in for a treat. So it proved.

The Haydn has (if you will forgive the pun) no hidin’ place (geddit?) in the transparency and openness of 18th century music, and chamber music in particular. The quartet were not found wanting. Clarity, accuracy, full on expression and commitment were the order of the day, and brought this 200-year-old work fully to life. At the end of the first movement I could not stop myself whispering “Wow” under my breath. By the third movement what impressed me most about this band was their sheer synergy. Disciplined, supportive pizzicato to Tristan Gurney’s lead violin, lightness of touch in the final movement with lead violin again doing most of the heavy lifting, as well as the dramatic opening fifths that told us this band meant business.

I have to say I had my heart in my mouth for the Bartok. A complex, austere work with brutal sul ponticello and col legno bowing, glissando fingering and a deep contrapuntal architecture, all grafted on to Hungarian folk song in a collage of different shades and expressions, at times highly dissonant, at others wistfully melodic. A hard act to pull off and a work after which the string quartet genre was never quite the same again. It has probably only been done justice by the Alban Berg Quartet, although the Takacs have given a creditable performance, and it was refreshing to hear the Edinburgh Quartet’s assured version of this piece that makes demands of players and audience alike.

I particularly enjoyed how the musicians let the music speak for itself – the various techniques demanded by the composer contributed to the overall musical experience rather than distracting through novelty or sensationalism. By this I mean the disconcerting col legno (basically bashing the bow up and down on the strings, even reversing the bow so the wood strikes them) was artistically justified!

We needed a breather after that and the interval proved welcome respite. We returned to the auditorium expecting some dreamy Grieg. Not so. This was more Peer Gynt than the Holberg Suite. A major, serious work full of contrasts, based on Spillemand, a Norwegian song from 1876, that gave us a strong, dramatic opening leading into a more lyrical style as it progressed. The quartet rewarded us with an interpretation of utter conviction, inspiration and stellar playing throughout. Special mention here has to be made to Cellist Mark Bailey laying down a melody of plaintive yearning, sensitively supported by ripieno violins and viola.

So, taken in the round, once again some really creative programming delivered with enthusiasm and élan. Putting Haydn and Bartok together before the interval took some courage, and it worked, albeit lacking just a touch of the transcendental magic shown in the Quartet’s previous outing. An engrossing, rewarding evening’s music. Bravo.

 

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Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)

Reviewer: Charles Stokes (Seen 17 February)

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THIS REVIEW HAS NOT BEEN SUBEDITED

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

Adam Makepeace as Nicely Nicely Johnson

Adam Makepeace as Nicely Nicely Johnson

“A feel-good romp of a show”

Editorial Rating: 4 Stars: Nae Bad

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.

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Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)Star (blue)

Reviewer: Steve Griffin (Seen 10 February)

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

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

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

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

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.

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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.

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

Image: ASMF org.

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.

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Reviewer: Charles Stokes (Seen 10 January)

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

Visit the Usher Hall and archive.