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Brighton Philharmonic Orchestra 11 February 2018 (Susan Elkin reviews)

There was a lot of lilting 3/4 time and enough tunes to set you humming all week in this enjoyable concert.

First came a slightly exaggerated – but none the worse for that – rendering of Schubert’s 8th Symphony – the Unfinished. Howard Shelley gave us a lingering horn, exciting sforzandi and lots of timp in the first movement, which he ended with a very measured, almost mannered, tempo. The second movement stressed the tip-toeing pizzicato and legato melody nicely. It was a very pleasing start to the concert which left me reflecting – for the thousandth time – that it’s an insult to Schubert’s genius to dub this his Unfinished symphony. I reckon he decided it was perfect just the way it is and he was right.

Howard Shelley is, as ever, fascinating to watch when he multi-tasks by conducting from the key board – iPad on the stand and blue toothed pedal to ‘turn’ the digital pages. On this occasion for Mendelssohn’s first piano concerto he had the lid off the piano – right off too – so that the sound was louder and more dominant than it would be for work by, say, Mozart or Beethoven. It’s a charming concerto and it’s a pity we don’t hear it more often. The sparkling dance quality of the third movement, for instance, was melodiously uplifting in this performance.

And so to Dvorak’s 6th Symphony with its delightful opening movement – 3/4 time again like the Schubert – in which Shelley even-handedly ensured that all the musical conversation is articulated as Dvorak sails on from melody to melody. In particular, I liked the trombone, flute and horn work here. Then came the lyrical beauty of the slow movement (how Dvorak loved lower strings!) which Shelley leaned on to good effect. The incisive string work taken at an impressive tempo in the third movement and the colourful, rousing finale rounded it off with panache.

All in all it was another fine Brighton Philharmonic concert. It was a pity, however, that the cold weather seemed to have led to more empty seats than usual. People who opted not to come missed a worthwhile afternoon of music.

First published by Lark Reviews: http://www.larkreviews.co.uk/?cat=3

“Now sits expectation in the air” as Shakespeare put it. Never in twenty years as a regular have I seen Mote Hall, Maidstone Leisure Centre as busily buzzy as it was when I arrived for this concert. I’d already queued for 20 minutes to drive into the car park. The hall was, unusually, full to capacity and there were far more under-20s present than Maidstone Symphony orchestra generally attracts. The reason for all this excitement? Sheku Kanneh-Mason.

Attractively ordinary with his white shirt, silk waistcoat and fluffy Afro hair the 2016 winner of BBC Young Musician played the Elgar Concerto for the first time. Now 18, and in his first year at the Royal , this charismatic young man, educated at a Nottingham comprehensive school, had me literally crouched on the edge of my seat for the entire concerto.  Seated in the third row, I could hear him breathing the music from the opening, dramatic, sombre E minor chords through to the pained, wistful melodies of the lento and adagio movements and the drama of the final allegro. Has anyone played this concerto with more passion and anguish since Du Pré? It was both riveting and humbling to watch and listen to – and a great privilege to be present at what, I’m sure, will come to be regarded as a historic moment for classical music: the first time Sheku played the greatest, arguably, post-Bach work in the cello repertoire.

Interesting to reflect too that Elgar was 62 when this concerto premiered in 1919. I find it fascinating that every generation can throw up at least one brilliant young musician who can, with stunning technical expertise, climb inside the tortured mind of an elderly gentleman whose beloved wife (she died five and a half months after the premiere) must already have been ill with lung cancer.

Well, the concert was definitely the glittering jewel in the crown of this concert but Maidstone Symphony Orchestra shone in the rest of the programme too. Berlioz’s King Lear overture doesn’t enjoy many outings but, engaging piece as it is, it sang out dramatically on this occasion. Brian Wright ensured that we appreciated the quasi melody Berlioz affords the timpanist (Keith Price) and David Montague’s accomplished oboe work which represents Cordelia – sweet and lyrical amidst all the discordance and busy playing – was a high spot.

After a very long interval – during which Sheku was, with great charm,  unhurriedly signing CDs, posing for photographs with admirers and generally making classical music “cool” – it was time for Dvorak’s New World Symphony. Brian Wright took the whole work at a nippy speed and I don’t think it was just because we were running late. It needs to move to come alive.

He is awfully good at allowing woodwind and brass detail to come through and of course, for irrepressibly exuberant Dvorak that’s even more important than for some other composers. So we got lovely dynamic contrasts in the opening movement, a beautifully played cor anglais (Jane Walker) theme in the largo against well balanced muted strings and a very lilting scherzo which danced along through all its mood swings and key changes. And as for the allegro con fuoco finale, there was certainly lots of pleasing, fiery “fuoco”. The brass section did exceptionally well here and the very fast “folksy” string passages were admirably incisive.

First published by Lark reviews: http://www.larkreviews.co.uk/?cat=3

Monologues, as Chickenshed’s Artistic Director Lou Stein, remarks in the programme, are having a bit of an innings. This programme presents work by Alan Bennett, Diane Samuels followed by two out of eight shorter pieces by emerging writers. What you get exactly depends on which performance you attend.

On the night I was there the first half belonged to Belinda McGuirk. She plays Lesley, an actress in Alan Bennett’s Talking Heads and then Diane Samuels recalling her childhood youth and upbringing – McGuirk alternates this latter role with a much younger actress which, I gather, completely changes the style and message of the piece.

As Lesley, McGuirk is wistful, self absorbed, earnest and totally unable to see herself as others do. She also plays it with a slight whine in the voice which makes it clear just how irritating she would have been to the porn film makers she has unknowingly involved herself with. Most chilling of all is that Bennett wrote this piece in 1988 and we laugh at the number of men Lesley finds herself in bed with before finishing up with the director. That’s how it was. Bennett is as truthful as he is acerbic – always. Hearing this 30 years later, in the hands of a strong actor, and you think of Weinstein and others and it’s horrifying rather than amusing.

As Diane Samuel, McGuirk hands out mini banners to the audience. Each bears a title relating to some aspect of Samuel’s autobiographical fragments upon which this piece is based. We are then invited to hold them up and she picks them one by one – thus the exact progress of the monologue is, to an extent, audience controlled. We hear about how the young Samuel had to load the dishwasher, the inspiring English teacher who enjoyed reading her work, public demotion from a position of responsibility at school, the time the family thought about emigrating to Australia and much more. McGuirk is warm, thoughtful and very convincing in this role. The whole of the first half is very adeptly directed by Lou Stein.

Then came Walls Like Paper by Rachel Yates. Directed by Ashley Driver Ingrid Cannon, dressed in a scarlet dressing gown, presents an elderly lady more or less confined to her East End flat with only the shipping forecast for company. Once she rebelled and we hear how. It’s moving and totally believable

Finally, on the night I attended, we ended the evening with Cerys Lambert as a new mother in Barbara Bakhurst’s The Creature in the Dark. Searingly powerful writing and highly naturalistic acting made post natal despair real. I well remember that feeling that things are never going to get any better and that you will never be able to cope. And yet you do … eventually. Directed by Rachel Yates, Lambert is fragile but strong, warm but angry. It’s a very delicate performance.

Monolog (the American spelling in the title is a reference to Lou Stein’s nationality) is an engaging and intelligent evening’s theatre.
 First published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Chickenshed-Monolog&reviewsID=3099

This pared-down, scaled-down Othello is a 75-minute reworking of Shakespeare’s play. It uses modern English (translated from Belgian playwright Ignace Cornelissen’s original by Unicorn’s outgoing artistic director Purni Morell), modern dress and a cast of five. Broadly speaking it tells Shakespeare’s story but there are departures from it to make the simplified plot sit coherently.

For example, we start with Othello (Okorie Chukwu) choosing Ronald Nsubuga’s Cassio as his lieutenant over Lawrence Walker’s Iago to make it clear from the outset why the scheming Iago is hell bent on bringing Othello down.

Ayoola Smart is excellent as Desdemona. She cultivates a modern way of speaking to both Othello and her father as if she doesn’t intend to be anyone’s chattel. It is impressively naturalistic acting especially when she simply can’t understand why Othello is making such a fuss about a handkerchief and when she common sensibly takes Cassio into her tent to talk to him simply because it’s a cold night.

Chukwu brings alternating gravitas and humour to Othello and handles his eventual anger and undoing with appropriate dignity. Walker gives Iago suitably ferret-like, sinister determination and Ricky Fearon is convincing as Desdemona’s father. As Cassio Nsubuga seems young and easily (mis)led which works.

James Button’s fine set uses the whole of Unicorn’s large playing area so that there’s a sense of frightening emptiness around the action as, for example, Othello and Desdemona retreat to their lit tent at the end and earlier in the play when moveable blocks variously become a sideboard, war office and other things.

There are problems with this production, however. I hankered for a bit of Shakespeare’s language. It’s well written and entertaining but it felt to me as if there were a gaping hole at its heart.

Second, this show was billed as having an “all black cast”. Well I’m usually all for colour blind casting but this isn’t a colour blind play. It’s about racism (among other things) – graphically so. Yes, each actor is a “person of colour” but in order to make the text coherent the actors playing Desdemona and Iago are so light skinned that they are effectively white. Isn’t that, in a sense, cheating? And why is Brabantio, a black man himself, so incensed about his daughter marrying a black man? And why, here, do we have an actor whose ancestry is clearly African, reinventing Othello as an Indian? Mess about with the original play’s intentions at your peril because you risk of ending up with something which simply doesn’t make sense.

 
First published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-West%20End%20&%20Fringe-Othello&reviewsID=3096
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
There’s a lot of Priscilla about. This is the third one I’ve seen in less than a year. And no wonder – it’s a glitteringly life-affirming show underpinned by a very strong book (Stephan Elliott and Allan Scott) and lots of powerful music. If you then hand it over to ArtsEd’s talented, well-trained students it fizzes with energy and you’re in for a jolly, enjoyable two and a half hours of theatre.

Ben Tyler finds real depth in the troubled Tick, whose past life in Alice Springs is what triggers this unlikely quest story of three drag queens crossing the Australian desert in a camper-bus in search of his (her) personal form of happiness. Tyler is wistful, practical, reasonable, anxious kind and a sweet voiced singer among other things. The scenes at the end when he finally meets and makes friends with his son Jamie (nice role/performance alternated by James Rich and Declan Miele Howell from ArtsEd Day School) are tearfully moving. It’s fine work.

Toby Miles’s take on the histrionic, brittly unhappy Adam – spitefully camp and childish but in desperate need of real love and care – is nicely judged especially after the homophobic beating. He too sings with clarity and verve.

I was less comfortable with Adam George-Smith’s Bernadette. It’s arguably the most interesting role of all – the ageing transsexual seeking a man to love and frightened that her career is all behind her. George-Smith is elegant and appropriately cutting when Bernadette needs to put down Miles’s character but the aching and anguish aren’t developed enough. In her everyday clothes she looks strangely frumpy too which is probably an attempt to make George-Smith look older but it doesn’t quite come off. And although he does well in the drag scenes George-Smith’s singing when he’s simply being Bernadette is a bit dull.

Priscilla Queen of the Desert is an excellent show for students because it’s full of cameos for individuals to excel in. Jessica Lee, for example, is a fabulous Cynthia with a deliciously rude Asian ping pong ball dance in the night club. Charlotte Jaconelli gives us an excellent opera diva turn and what fun to see Matt Bartlett singing his cheerful hoe down sing and playing the fiddle himself.

The whole show features exceptionally fine choreography (Anthony Whiteman) slickly danced by an accomplished cast. And it’s good to see actors who aren’t yet professionals really making every line and every joke count. I admired the imaginative use of projected images too. Congratulations ArtsEd, director Shaun Kerrison and everyone involved in this production.

First published by Sardines: http://www.sardinesmagazine.co.uk/reviews/review.php?REVIEW-Arts%20Educational%20Schools%20London%20-%20ArtsEd%20(student%20productions)-Priscilla%20Queen%20of%20the%20Desert&reviewsID=3095

I’m often thanked for my “kind words” in reviews. Well, it’s nice that people are pleased but actually I never write kind words. I simply describe and respond to what I see and hear as truthfully as I can, using my years of experience and accrued knowledge.

I’m mindful too that, like all critics (and other human beings), I have personal tastes which are bound to affect my response although – like any half decent professional – I do my utmost to be fair. I am well aware, for example, that however weak a show is (or however much I dislike it) a number of people have worked very hard on it. Bear that in mind and think long and hard before you rubbish someone’s work – is the advice I give wannabe reviewers if I’m asked to talk to them.

Nonetheless if a producer invites in the critics then he or she – and the company – has to take on the chin what the critics say. That’s how it works. Unfortunately this is not always understood. Of course most theatre creators understand but a tiresome few do not.

A few years ago I wrote a favourable review of a show whose needy director then contacted me to take me to task for not mentioning her name in the copy. “I need it for my CV” she said. What? It isn’t my job  to provide soundbites for CVs and other advertising. I’m there to critique the show. In this particular case every word I wrote was an implicit credit to her and she was referenced in the side panel anyway. Of course I refused point blank to ask my editor to alter it.

Then there are people who whine because I’ve suggested that some aspect of their show was substandard. I’ve even, once or twice, been accused of being too stupid to understand what the show was about. Let me put it plainly: If the meaning/message of the show is not clear to me then the director, cast and company have failed to communicate. And I shall say so publicly. End of.

And some people think it’s OK to contact me and make a fuss if I make a point they disagree with or – worse – mention, say, sexual orientation or race in a way that they don’t like. These people are what I call “red flag” readers. They simply see that their pet issue has been referred to so all the lights flash and reason goes out of the window. Typically, they don’t even read what I’ve actually said before accusing me of homophobia, racism or whatever.

This is the deal. I will alter copy – or ask whichever editor it is to do so –  if it’s a factual error such as a misspelt name. Otherwise, I stand by everything I write in any review and will not make changes just because someone’s feelings may be a bit bruised. In fact I’m not prepared even to discuss it. We’re all grown up. If you invite a critic then criticism is what you’ll get. Accept it with grace.

The government – which, just occasionally, does something useful –  has announced a proposal to change the eligibility criteria for the Blue Badge Scheme to include people with non-physical conditions. They mean people like My Loved One, who has to drag Ms Alzheimer’s with him wherever he goes, along with autism spectrum folk and other groups. It would give us access to disability parking.

The Blue Badge scheme, which has been running since 1970, has a framework set by central government but local authorities are responsible for its administration and enforcement. And there’s the rub. Their interpretation of the rules varies so whether or not you get a Blue Badge can be a postcode lottery.

Of course, you can see why some councils are reluctant to issue too many badges because the scheme is open to abuse, given how little parking there is everywhere for everyone these days.

Parking, moreover, is an income stream for councils. They’re already supposed to recognise non-physical conditions but many LAs employ “mobility assessors” who are concerned only with whether or not the applicant can walk. And I shall probably be shot down in flames for suggesting that if the Councils were to offer incentives to their assessors for finding most applicants ineligible then it would keep help to sustain the level of parking revenues –  but that won’t stop me mentioning it.

Well soon, maybe, it will all be better. Jesse Norman, Parliamentary Under Secretary of State for Transport declares in her preface to the consultation document that “The Government believes that the Blue Badge Scheme should not discriminate in principle between physical and non-physical conditions”. Consultation runs until 18 March. Fingers crossed that we get the proposed changes and that Local Authorities don’t scupper it.

So why would a Blue Badge help MLO? He can still walk reasonably well, after all, although he’s slower than he was and inclined to shuffle in crowds and confined spaces because he’s frightened of falling or being pushed over. He’s also very nervous and cautious on staircases. Otherwise mobility isn’t really an issue.

Alzheimer’s is a complex, ill-understood, disease and – as these blogs often observe – does unaccountable things to brain function and that, obviously, affects the whole body because the brain is the body’s central computer.  Here’s one odd but highly inconvenient thing: By the time MLO’s addled brain tells him he needs the loo there isn’t a lot of time to get to one.

If I drive him into say a large motor service station and have to park a long way from the building it can be – err – rather difficult for him to trudge the distance when “urgency” is biting. If, to make it easier for him I drop him at the door, by the time I’ve parked and walked across to find him he could will be wandering round the service station puzzling about where I am. And that’s tricky, especially at busy times when these places are crowded, because we both get panicky which probably isn’t good for either of us. If I could park in a disabled space near the door none of this would arise.

It would be easier in some town centre car parks too. Take the very large, busy one beside Chichester Festival Theatre. MLO, who sometimes comes with me, usually needs to get into the building quickly when we arrive at the end of our 70 mile journey but the only parking space I can find is typically 500 yards away. We don’t often take the car to a supermarket (deliveries are a great thing!)  these days but when we do he’d be much better offloading himself as close to the entrance as possible.

The Blue Badge “belongs” to a person not to a vehicle so MLO would be able to take the facility with him if he was in someone else’s car – with either of our sons, for instance – when all the same potential problems are present.

Would I be tempted to abuse the system by using it when MLO is safe at home and I’m out by myself? Definitely not. Let me assure the London Borough of Lewisham – which would, if the changes go through, be responsible for assessing MLO for eligibility – that after a long time in the car I actually welcome a walk across a car park to stretch my legs. I am neither lazy nor any sort of cheat. I’m also lucky enough to be firing healthily on all cylinders. So if MLO were chez nous, so would the Blue Badge be.

Now let’s see some humane, common sensible changes in the assignment of Blue Badges. Soon please.

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I spend a lot of time and energy talking to theatre pros of one sort and another. Most are so passionate about the power of theatre that they want to share it as widely as possible – or so they say. Conversations with directors, dramaturgs, facilitators, outreach managers, education managers and so on are studded with words such as “accessibility”, “inclusivity” and “diversity” especially when we’re discussing young people.

So how on earth do greedy producers justify their obscene top ticket prices? Last week we heard that the best tickets for Hamilton are now £250 each. OK, so I know you can sit elsewhere in the theatre with poorer views for less but NO theatre seat is worth a quarter of a million pounds.  It is sheer unadulterated greed. And it conveys all the wrong elitist messages to ordinary people who can’t possibly pay these sorts of prices – the very ones the industry claims to be trying to attract.

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Of course there are excellent schemes to make theatre affordable to all – Travelex at the National, for example or the Globe’s excellent Playing Shakespeare With Deutsche Bank which, each March, gives free tickets to thousands of London and Birmingham secondary school students. Mousetrap Theatre Projects takes lots of families to the theatre too. And, obviously there are others.

But the greed is widespread. A few years ago we wanted to take two granddaughters to see Billy Elliot at half term. There was a deal for two adults and two children – brilliant, I thought, until I realised that the offer didn’t apply during half term week, the one time that families could make extensive use of it. How can any producer who does that possibly pretend to care about making theatre accessible? In the end the afternoon’s treat cost me over £300. The girls loved the show and still talk about how special that afternoon was. I resented the cost but forked out. What about families who simply can’t?   In effect they are precluded from most top west end shows, the ones they’ve read most about and desperately want to see?

It’s high time some producers climbed off their hypocritical high horses. They need to recognise that if they really want, as most of them claim, to make theatre accessible to all because the arts matter, then they must stop exploiting the public. Healthy profit is one thing. Using the “market forces” argument as an excuse to inflate prices to a bloated level is another. I used to define “hypocrisy” for my students as saying one thing and doing another. QED.