Photo credit: Euishin Kim / Det Norske Kammerorkester
(4 / 5)
Another piece I’m finally getting the chance to hear live. Patricia Kopatchinskaja is a multi-talented singer and violinist who both held the reins and let loose in a furious hour of weird music making.
Whilst I’d think most in the audience wanted to near Pierrot Lunaire by Arnold Schoenberg, we are treated to huge journeys with CPE Bach, Berio, Milhaud and more experiments. Personally, I like the piece to be played on their own and not during Lunaire. I was loving it all though, Patricia dressed as if the sad clown of Italian opera. Her Dada like happenings also added well to the broth. Her singing was furious and unwavering, more sing-talk as the composer intended. Her little improvisations on violin, were quirky, her comic timing also a thing of beauty. The stage is covered in newspapers, hanging coat tails, abstract paintings, and a metallic kettle.
Lunaire is a truly absurd piece. Even for early Schoenberg, the outrageous expression of each song bursts out, so many elements make it overwhelming. The verse by Albert Giraud paints surreal visions and appalling digressions. The band of musicians, with white make up (though more subtle on them then Patricia), also bought manic passions and a commanding presence. I imagine this is a nightmare to play and sing. I cannot begin to grasp it…
I love the extra elements of making this more accessible, also extra important today. Though I do wonder if this is the right piece for the job. The crazy, angular form of Lunaire and the floating, blasting words make it heavy load for most ears. Having said that, this was a fun hour which I will recall most fondly.
Photo credit: Royal Academy of Arts, London/David Parry
(5 / 5) Marina Abramović has now been in London for some months. This performance artist who brought the form to the mainstream, has been collaborating with some of the city’s big institutions: English National Opera, Southbank Centre and more. Her fascinating exhibition at the Royal Academy of Art has gotten loads of attendees. It was her birthday a not long ago and even one of her photos at Phillips Auctions sold for over £58,000. There is much going on…
From 2002 comes The House with the Ocean View a durational piece where Marina lived in the gallery for 12 full days. Only allowed water, no food or talking or writing, people flocked to her as if for guidance. Let’s not forget this was in the aftermath of 9/11. After loving the show in London there were three chances to catch this piece, with three separate artists, all of which taught under the Abramović method. Firstly, it was Elke Luyten and now it was the time of Kira O’Reilly..
I wanted to spend as much time in the space as possible. I arrived around 10:30ish briskly past the masses in the exhibition to make my way to the end of the gallery. The space for The House, had one man who appeared to be meditating, I sat near him upon the wooden benches, with huge crystals both sides. Security kept up their demand of no photos. Kira, who appeared to be sleeping on her wooden bed, with a crystal slab as a pillow, similar to what he could try earlier in the exhibit. It was a quiet air within the space. For one unforgettable moment, Kira turned her head very slowly and gazed upon myself and the other gentlemen. This was the start of her last day in the gallery.
Gradually she rose, filled up a glass of water from her personal tap to the brim and carefully walked around the space so there would be no spillage. This almost Zen feel to the room was incredibly calming, just what I needed. Kira would often gently scan the room and share moments with the visitors. Through it all, it was her smile I’ll remember most fondly. It was a lovely sharing moment. She played with her hair, the wooden comb one of a few generous offerings. She moved about, altering the tempo of a metronome, one of the lone sounds in the space. My worry was its clacks would haunt me, yet this marker of time felt right and sombre in the space. Humour and horror would also be present thanks to the amazing ladders going up to the house which featured knives as its steps.
During I was in need of lunch, after going around the full show trying out all the hands-on crystal formations. Prior to leaving I saw Kira had placed her table and chair in at an angle in the space, as if hung from the air. We see all this, even in her platform rooms above us. Curiously the one thing absent from Mariana’s instructions for the piece is the telescope which featured in the original duration. I feel it would have added little and was perhaps cut with good intentions.
After being at the Southbank Centre I vowed I would make it just to see the end of Kira’s final half hour in the space. Wading through Xmas shoppers, I made it thanks to the gracious staff at the RA. I was let in, the room now stuffed with people. I sat and within minutes, who would turn up but Marina herself. I was metres away. She got up toward Kira still in her performance state standing and smiling. Marina, overcome, began to cry and then let it all out. It was incredibly touching. I wanted to comfort her. The idea of someone else trying this demanding piece would touch Marina and others. The security said they were closing, and we all gave Kira huge applause for such a feat. It was great to see her again at the end, she looked at me as if to say, ‘You’re back!’
An incredibly invasive film crew disrupted the good vibes, mucking about between artist and Marina. I found it didn’t matter.
Amanda Coogan performs The House with the Ocean at the Royal Academy of Art from 6 to the 17 December 2023.
The full Marina Abramović exhibition continues at the Royal Academy of Art till 1 Jan 2024.
For an evening, Imogen Cooper brought a fascinating programme to the Southbank. Her serious, yet resounding presence rings out. Starting with Bartók’s 14 Bagatelles, Cooper demonstrated the bizarre nature of the selection. They are sarcastic and iconic, touches of Satie and Chopin linger. The odd finger work against the keys is also noteworthy, as the momentum goes. A short adventure with Liszt and his Bagatelle without tonality went straight on to Beethoven’s 15 Variations and Fugue on an original theme. Here things dragged a bit, the concert going into a slow show. Cooper makes Beethoven shine, and her effortless form is what really stands out.
The second half would prove much more interesting. Two Bach Chorale-preludes were a treat, brief and had a synergy with composer and pianist. Curious for the lights to dim as we hear John Dowland’s In darkness let me dwell, a recording for voice and lute from Anne Sofie von Otter and Jakob Lindberg. Why this? As lovely as this departure was, it was justification for the next work: Darkness visible by Thomas Adès. I recall the wonderful performance Robin Green gave of his at last year’s Vale of Glamorgan Festival. It’s key smacking and trills aside trills, still keep aspects of the Dowland. It’s still very pretty, even my plus one couldn’t believe her luck. It is a fascinating miniature. It never fails.
Another Beethoven, this time the Sonata in A flat ended thing, much more alluring than before. The drama of the whole piece was the bouts of anxiety, romance beyond romance and furious rebellions. Cooper became impassioned at the end, her hair rocking out. Aside from this vision, she appeared very calm and collected for the whole night. An encore of Bartók was given. With the genuine tiredness seen upon her face, we left it at that.
Wigmore Hall would be packed for the Russian pianist Pavel Kolesnikov, as the bitter chill of London winter called round. I recall his time doing a dance version if Bach’s Goldberg Variations at Sadler’s Wells. I’m intrigued with him.
He is complex to watch when playing. This programme is also hand picked by him and it can’t shake away an eccentric air. Starting with Górecki’s late work: For Anna, the deceptively simple tissue of the piece could omly ever be this stunning Polish composer. The right hands leads the end of the lines with a two-note pattern, swaying softly then a more harsh terrain raids. It’s a piece which demands more listens. More on that later.
Pavel played with grace and fortitude. The following Beethoven Sonataa No. 17, is dubbed ‘Tempest’ and its easy to see why. The control he has over these piece is highly compelling, his Beethoven seemed to whip up a great frenzy and also time for retrospection. His white shirt and jacked gave a light sight in the hall, the lights dimmed and a lot of dark colours abound. La colombe or The Dove from Messiaen led after this, a buttery little prelude mimicking the flutter of the birds wings as apposed to the later bird song the composer would faithfully notate. Performed with a loving sweet and impressionistic scope.
Mozart’s Piano Sonata in A fittingly followed (this was Messiaen favourite composer). The marvellous hopscotch nature of the cheeky piece, Pavel brought insight and charm. He can’t help himself. Often mouthing along with the music, more mime and not Glenn Gould. Naturally, the famous Turkish March ended the sonata in rousing form leading to a well needed break for him, after over an hour of playing.
The Górecki piece was an apparition that did not want to leave the space, Pavel making the choice to have it played twice is daring. It was even more dark and sombre second time round, I think the audience listend even more attentively. The wrap up was Schubert’s Piano Sonata in A minor. Moments of joy are messhed with terror in this off kilter composition. Pavel reaching even newer heights. His seroius style crossed with fun music making. Schubert’s often emotional weight was ever present, some rousing, searching psychology made Pavel perform beautfully.
This arrangement of a piano programme is odd. He might have just gotten away with it.
It was smiling all round with Sir William White at Wigmore Hall. Joined by the full-bodied force of Eugene Asti as accompanist, things went down very smoothly.
Sir Willard recounted, with the first song when he was in school and the promise of a young singer. Noticed by a teacher with a good ear, him singing Schubert’s and Silvia would catch anyone off guard, his wonderous bass-baritone voice is so satisfying. Roger Quilter and his Come Away Death followed keeping with a sombre tone. More thrills with Samuel Barber with a stellar Sure on this Shining Night and Promiscuity. The latter was so much of Charles Ives, brief, funny, weird and more. Some Vaughan Williams and his Songs of Travel highlights also stood out. The English air shining through, folk like charms ever present.
The Old American Songs from Aaron Copland, saw a selection of thrills. The Dodger sees a busker touting for cash, Simple Gifts (a Copland favourite) never fails in its loveliness. The infectious melody had weight, Copland recycling it for Appalachian Spring, one of his ballets. Being told the next song was “silly”, I bought me a cat is also a laugh and Willard never one to listen to nonsense, was glad to see we enjoyed this nursery-rhyme like ditty. Bernstein’s rare outing of his early musical Peter Pan saw two songs: Who am I? and My House. I’ve given less love to these songs in the past, though Willard’s ringing, warm voice makes them worthwhile.
Choices from South Pacific and Carousel continued the musical theatre theme. Some Enchanted Evening stood out for its beefy delivery and pleasing melodic structure. The festive side of things came with a selection of spirituals Deep River in an arrangement by Carl Davis as one fine example. Proud Jamaican and Brit, Willard must have sung these innumerable times, I saw teary eyes in one of them. They took away some of the stuffy nature of the concert hall and brought much cheer. An encore of Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas has now official brought me into the holiday season. I best get shopping…
On their last leg of their Welsh tour, Swansea City Opera have made a personal and sweet show about the older men in our country. Inspired by the Mens Shed craze, which started in Australia and now is world-wide, it has seen men in the community overcome barriers and have a go at wood work. Though the craft element is the pulling force to join, many friendships have been made and its looks like men are opening up about their traumas and hangups.
This collaboration with the opera company saw a piece inspired by these stories, of men coming out of their shell after grief and turmoil. It’s a slight story one which, might not have needed an intermission. Brendan Wheatley as director and librettist, also gave a pre-show talk breaking down his role and the opera itself. He likes puns and rhyming, aside many Welsh tics and mannerisms. Lenny Sayers score was accessible for those new to opera, holding up as a spritely, pseudo Jazzy and Blues fair. A surprise and a delight to see a vibraphone and a saxophone in with the musicians. The former I imagine eventful when touring around Wales. A Gnome aria held up as an absurd highlight, only ever a good time. The inclusion of both the Llysfaen Singers choral bouts and the Lisvane Mens Shed for bouts of wooden chorus slamming felt right, proving the true community side of things.
We follow times spent with Ioan, Dai, Rhys and Charlie. Gwen, daughter of Rhys, drags him along to the shed to get him out of the house and to find a vocation. Popping along, he is warmly welcomed and comes out of his shell. The rest of the opera is the other three guys at the shed and what they have gone through, their reasons to join. This did feel like one big advert for the sheds, though if it does get extra members I can only see that as a positive.
The quartet of male singers: Robyn Lyn Evans, Dyfed Wyn Evans, Aled Hall and Wyn Pencarreg have tuned the show after said tour and previous stagings. Their humour, light and hearty singing is the bulk of the show, their histories of anguish and pain bubbling up. BBC Cardiff Singer finalist Jessica Robinson was a fine Gwen, she address the audience through speech and sung with a firm clarity.
I’ll applaud the show for giving opera to those who never thought they would go and also for its support for a mightily important endeavour. You know…I might just pop over to my own shed after all.
I’ve always loved to hear what other people’s dreams are. Most might retreat from the idea, yet you can learn a lot from their weird symbolism. But…what if. Imagine this. One man keeps appearing in a lot of people’s dream? You’re gobsmacked.
In keeping with Nicholas Cage’s delightful and whacky recent film choices, Dream Scenario harks back to his more subtle days. He plays Prof. Paul Matthews an expect on ant behaviour. Out of the blue, he begins to appear in dreams of the people around him, family, friends, even his students. What starts off as local celebrity and good natured fun, quickly turns sinister, as the dreams see him enage in acts of violence and sexual abuse. He is swiftly cancelled and the scraps of fame are eaten up, as everything falls apart around him.
Cage is perfect here. He takes on the serious pedagogue extremely well, not arrogant, more awkward and set in his ways. It is a royal offering. His wife, Janet is a angular Julianne Nicholson, who does passive aggressiveness masterfully, many moments stood out. Child actors as their children’s fair well: Molly and Sophie from Dylan Gelula and Lily Bird perform the delight, then digest over the whole experience. Michael Cera who is back on top form as Trent, typical word salad spewing, new-age PR sort. Even Cosuin Greg from Succession, Nicholas Braun gets a cameo as Brian Berg, smug inventor of a dream device not to dissimilar from an idea seen in Futurama.
It was fun, you go along with the journey like Cage. The inevitability of the story could only end in cancel culture, as things often do today. Some stylised editing is of note, aggressive flashes and jumps are seen throughout. The dream sequences themselves are noteworthy, for their vividness and surrealness. There is something to say about how things are today. There is even more to say about representation and ownership, amongst other meaty themes. It ended in an odd way, though not to its detriment. We don’t quite know just how Paul got out of this pickle and the final scene is a play on his wifes quirky sexual fantasy.
I took it in my stride that I had the ending of this film spoiled by ladies who had seen an earlier screening. Turns out The Eternal Daughter was secretly filmed during lockdown, another A24 flutter, they seem to be getting bigger and bigger.
Tilda Swinton is Julie Hart and her mother Rosalind, who arrive to an estate in North Wales, the former seeking script ideas, the latter to remember past trips to the place. As their holiday goes by, things are not what it seems for anyone involved, the hotel filled with mystery and secrets. Julie struggles with writer’s block during her stay and her mother recounts several deeply sad stories of her previous time there. Julie finds herself recording many conversations, desperate for ideas.
Hogg has honoured the tradition of the classic gothic, ghost story and has kept a lot of its trappings in the big, gloomy estate. It is more atmosphere, less spooks, with green lights, branchs scraping upon windows and eerie late night scuffling. The decent score features a flute heavy air, later revelled as a diagetic sound, related to a minor character in the film. The use of Bartók is effective, recounting The Shining in the chill factor. The beautiful spaniel in the film easily upstaged Tilda in either role, often crying and spread across the fine furnishings. Carly-Sophia Davies, who also introduced the film, plays a fed up receptionist, getting great bouts of attitude problems.
Some strange continuity errors appear baked into the film, Julie and Rosalind will be in their beds in one scene, only to be seen the next shot in the bed of the other. This, I can only assume ties into the reveal at the end. This film was spoilt for me, and I dont want to give it away. Knowing this plot twist made me focus more on aspects of The Eternal Daughter I wouldn’t have done, if not knowing. Aside from the strange continuity, you don’t pick up much in what the twist might be.
Having said this, I throughly enjoyed it’s humour, character development and brief run time.
The Eternal Daughter is out now on limited release.
Anatomy of a Fall, Dir: Justine Triet. Certificate 15, 152mins
After much buzz at winning the Palme d’Or, Justine Triet and her Alpine whodunnit could just be an Oscar contender for next year. I’m still thinking of last year’s winner: The Triangle of Sadness and it’s safe to say I much prefer that oddity over this.
Out of the few cinema encounters I’ve had his year, The Anatomy of a Fall is my least favourite. There are several things I struggled with. Our lead character Sandra, and her son Daniel are grieving the loss of husband and father, Samuel. This fall in question is from their chalet, as pounding steel drum RnB is heard throughout, Sandra unable to continue with an interview recording at the same time. She becomes suspect number one and the entirety of the film is her striving for innocence, aside the doubts and experiments of her blind son Daniel. We along with the law, discover the fraught relationship between Sandra and Samuel, the latter having contributed to the blinding of their son. Can Sandra come away from the accusations? Or is she or Daniel involved in something more sinister?
The performances fair well, Sandra Hüller as Sandra is highly appealing, stoic in many moments, impassioned in others. This is a highly convincing role. Milo Machado Graner as Daniel, impressing as a child performer with acting chops I think any child aspiring in the industry would envy. Sandra’s defendant is Swann Arlaud as Vincent, an elegant and subtle role. Samuel Theis as Samuel (I am wondering why some actors are playing their namesake in character), is seen through flashbacks, though mostly through his voice memos. One blazing scene between the couple, later played in court goes into their furious deterioration and I’d say, is the best scene in the film.
It was a bit on the long side in length. My major gripe is some strange camera ideas and supporting actors not quite fitting the roles within the court. I’m no expert, but the way some of proceedings for the trail were executed had some odd, fast and loose qualities. Being mostly in French, the film takes some typical swipes at the English language, Sandra being German spoke it with French partner Samuel as it was easier for her. The court insist she speak French, even though a translator is present. Bizarrely, Jehnny Beth as Marge, is Daniel’s guardian issued by the court, has a near identical haircut to him. The flippant remark about Sandra being being bisexual, might have led into an interesting fling with Marge. This was not explored. I just cannot get over the ludicrous dramatic zoom in upon the judges face, right after the fight recording is played. Something which really brought me out if the film.
We never really find out what exactly happened to Samuel, there was talk of suicide, Sandra getting off scot free, even with the frayed relationship with her son. If I am spending this much time in a film, I do insist on at least some form of closure.
The Let Freedom Ring season with the Philharmonia has seen a wide burst of music from the United States. The question still prevails: what is the American sound? What is the American sound today?
The discovery of this night goes to the opening slot from Wynton Marsalis and his Violin Concerto. Born in 1961, Marsalis offered up this piece in 2015 and it establishes a lot of the American sound that he personally knows and loves. It was quite lovely, the use of jazz, blues and country music breaks down barriers like prevoius composers before him. A solid 40 minutes, it never dragged, its merriment often pulling you into its delightful world. I could not resist the fun with some head nodding of my own. Rampant rhythm changes and a rich, orchestral pallete stoodout as highlights. Nicola Benedetti was the guiding spirit of the work, really tucking into the eccentric aspects and delighting in novel musical genres that phased through. Nicola’ passage from centre stage to the side, saw a telling duet with Matt French on drum kit, one of many thrills. Listen to this on BBC Sounds, you might just be surprised.
Leading into more light music with Duke Ellington and his Three Black Kings. This puntasic tribute to The Maji, Solomon and Martin Luther King, is pleasent enough. This large orchestra feeling on the heavy side for what I dare say passes as elevator music. Its was pretty and had some clever melodies yet I wasn’t wowed by it at all. I found more to get out of Gershwin’s Porgy and Bess: A Symphonic Picture, though that took a while to take off. I guess you wait for the famous songs out of this flawed and problematic opera. Though when Summertime, I Got Plenty O’ Nuttin’ and It Ain’t Necessarily So arrive, it does pay off. The Storm scene with additional bell sounds is evokative and quite scary. Here the orchestra let loose once more and thrill in these finely written songs in orchestral form. This remains the best way to listen to Porgy and Bess, as the full opera is pretty dull.
Creating opportunities for a diverse range of people to experience and respond to sport, arts, culture and live events. / Lleisiau amrywiol o Gymru yn ymateb i'r celfyddydau a digwyddiadau byw
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