2026 marks the tenth anniversary of Gŵyl y Llais, the Festival of Voice, an international arts festival based at the Wales Millennium Centre. This year, Cwmwl Tystion headlined the Saturday show, the highlight of the Gŵyl y Llais festival. Cardiff Bay is, historically, a heart of British jazz. Cwmwl Tystion headlining the Saturday show is a nod to that jazz heritage. And, fittingly, Cwmwl Tystion was a poignant nod to the heritage of Welsh jazz. But has Cwmwl Tystion become a victim of its own success?
“I wanted to do something that reflected the Welsh experience”, explained trumpeter and composer Tomos Williams– and you don’t need a pre-existing knowledge of Wales to appreciate or enjoy “Cwmwl Tystion III”.
This show carried an additional weight: the fact it was a rare and one-off performance by the collective. The show served two purposes: a launch for their most recent album, Cwmwl Tystion III: Empathy, but to finish the larger project overall. For just over an hour on-stage, the group performed their latest work in its entirety.
Cwmwl Tystion III: Empathy marks the final suite of music created by Tomos. The first album, Witness, saw the group tour Wales, while the second album explored Wales’ rich history of direct action and protest, featuring contributions from the spoken word artist and jazz musician Soweto Kinch. Two themes emerge within the work of Cwmwl Tystion: one, of documenting the Welsh experience, and two, a commitment to exploring those experiences through jazz.
On stage in the Weston Studio were Welsh vocalists Nia Lynn and Eadyth Crawford, bass giant Melvin Gibbs, Irish guitarist Chris Guilfoyle and Mark O’Connor on drums. The group played an evocative and beautiful set of pieces that felt more like a live-art installation rather than a concert , which were beautifully complimented by the live visuals from Simon Proffitt. Tracks like “Welsh Not”, and the stirring “Streic y Glowyr 1984/ Miners Strike 1984” confronted historical struggles head-on, featuring archival footage of struggle from the Miners Strike. “Beth yw Maddau? / What is Forgiveness? ”, however, led by Nia Lynn was a highlight of the event “Paul Robeson yn Aberpennar/ Paul Robeson in Mountain Ash”, “Mynydd Epynt ”. The show ended with a soaring performance of “Cyrmu Cenedl Noddfa/ Wales: A Nation of Sanctuary”: a song that is becoming more and more relevant within Welsh society.
October 2026, alongside Gwyl y Llais, marks the Cardiff Music City Festival. As Cardiff’s heritage of live music is used to promote the city: how is it that jazz collectives like Cwmwl Tystion are retired on indefinite hiatus, and what does this say about the health of Welsh jazz overall? We need more Welsh jazz in society: Cwmwl Tystion is one of the most original and best critically acclaimed groups to emerge from Wales in recent decades.
‘Blue/Glas’ consists of two pieces – Ordinary Courage and then Untamed. Each piece is danced by six dancers – three women and three men. Ordinary Courage, choreographed by Theo Clinkard and originally created in 2012, lasts about fifty minutes. Untamed, choreographed by Alesandra Seutin, lasts about twenty minutes.
The programme informs us that Ordinary Courage was created following the death of Theo Clinkard’s mother, so it is rooted in grief. I’m not sure that this is entirely relevant. I’m a long way away from being any kind of expert on dance but I think contemporary dance as an art form is quite abstract. Up to a point it allows you to make out of a performance what you want, to take away what you see and experience. Ordinary Courage is sensitively detailed and impassioned and it covers a wide range of moods, but I wouldn’t have associated it with grief or bereavement if I hadn’t read the programme notes. It’s so very lively that it made me think of a primary school children’s playground at playtime, without the shrill sound of voices.
The performers in Ordinary Courage are casually dressed in the kind of almost washed-out clothing that is ‘comfortable’ for workshop activity, with tops in pastel colours. It’s an almost gender seamless group, in the sense that little of the performers’ movements demonstrate their sexuality. The piece could be danced by either an all-female or an all-male company. The dancers form up in lines and groups, linking arms and holding hands in memorable visual images before separating off to perform striking solos and duets. The music for the piece is sometimes by Scarlatti, sometimes by Bach and although a lot of the movement is energetic, it suggests gentleness, friendship and curiosity. There are moments of pathos and struggle and collapse, but these are elegiac rather than tragic. Overall, it’s absorbing and moving.
The only thing I thought might be expanded was the brief appearance of a bear halfway through. The bear materialises as a powerful dramatic image and it stirs up a lot of associations. I assumed the choreographer didn’t want it to become too dominant, and I guessed it was meant to represent the intrusion of something larger and more powerful than the society of human dancers, but it wasn’t unnecessarily aggressive. Its behaviour was so interesting, its entrance was so surprising and the costume was so well made that more use could have been made of it. Otherwise, I was very impressed by everything that took place.
Untamed is a huge contrast in mood. This completes the audience’s experience on the night. Whereas Ordinary Courage gains its impact through a quiet assertion, Untamed comes at you like a train. The soundtrack is loud and mechanistic. The postures and the movements of the dancers are strained, awkward and unnatural. They grimace and make strange noises. This time I didn’t look at the programme beforehand and I didn’t quite connect its theme with the choreographer’s intention. So I felt it was about competition – particularly the torturous routines athletes and other sportspeople put themselves through to win competitions and medals – a reflection possibly triggered by reading recently about Keely Hodgkinson’s training routines, which can result in her vomiting. The dancers also wear sports-themed costumes with numbers, and trainers.
But the issue of whether the audience needs to connect to exactly what a choreographer had in mind was included is complex. Artists often achieve an impact that is not what they consciously intended. The creative process is never precise. The important thing is that something meaningful is put across and Untamed definitely managed that. You feel you want to look away but, simultaneously, you also don’t want to miss a moment, as if you are watching insects at war or bizarre sea creatures hunting. Everything builds towards a climax which is extraordinary in its intensity, making you wonder how long the dancers will be able to sustain what they are doing before they are released by a black out.
You couldn’t say one piece was better than the other. They work together very well in a demonstration of what can be achieved through contemporary dance, a form which is unfortunately a little too niche. An evening of dance is likely to be shorter than watching a full-length play, or even two short plays, but it achieves a similar level of impact, so it’s a pity the audiences are never huge.
An additional issue relating to a choreographer’s intention occurred to me when I looked at the audience at Theatr Clwyd for the show. Those sitting watching, like me, were nearly all middle-aged. It was inevitable that, over and above our emotional response, confronted by the impossibly agile flexibility of the members of the National Dance Company Wales, we would think back to the time when we ourselves could jump for joy, dance all night, run marathons and touch our toes without difficulty.
‘Blue/Glas’ is on tour at venues in England and Wales until the end of November. Get tickets if you can.
The Donald Gordon Theatre at Wales Millennium Centre was alive with rhythm, dancing and sheer joy as Orchestra Baobab and Buena Vista All Stars took to the stage at Llais 2026. Bringing together the sounds of Senegal and Cuba, the two bands offered an evening that celebrated music’s ability to cross borders, connect cultures and bring people together.
Founded in Dakar in 1970 as the house band of the Baobab Club, Orchestra Baobab is one of the great names in African music. Its distinctive sound grew out of the Afro-Cuban influences that swept across West Africa, blending Senegalese traditions with Latin rhythms, jazz and blues.
You could feel the excitement as the eight-piece ensemble took to the stage. There was an immediate warmth in the room, and before long the audience was singing, clapping and dancing along.
The set bubbled with joy and a real love of performing. It was wonderful to see such a rich musical legacy brought to life with so much energy, with tradition and youthful spirit sitting effortlessly alongside one another. One of the loveliest moments came when the audience joined in to sing Happy Birthday to the saxophone player. It was a simple gesture, but one that captured the warmth and togetherness of the evening.
Orchestra Baobab’s playing was spellbinding. Interweaving guitars, soulful vocals and the seductive tones of the saxophone, the musicians created a sound that was both smooth and richly layered. Hypnotic Afro-Cuban grooves gave way to irresistible dance rhythms, then eased into slower, more atmospheric passages coloured by jazz and blues. The playing was beautifully in tune, with each musician adding something to the whole.
That was part of the band’s magic: the music could be sophisticated and soulful without ever losing its sense of fun. The energy never felt forced. It flowed naturally between the musicians and out into the audience, until the whole theatre seemed to be caught up in it.
It was a joy to witness a band with such an extraordinary history still sounding so alive. Their performance was a reminder that musical traditions aren’t simply preserved; they keep growing every time they’re played, shared and passed on.
Buena Vista All Stars: Havana comes to Cardiff
If Orchestra Baobab brought Senegalese soul and hypnotic grooves to the theatre, Buena Vista All Stars followed with a glorious helping of Cuban warmth, rhythm and colour.
Led by Buena Vista Social Club original members Barbarito Torres and Demetrio Muñiz, alongside an exceptional line-up of Cuban musicians, the ensemble brought together traditional rhythms and contemporary sounds in a powerful, immersive performance. They transported the audience straight to the heart of Havana.
Among the performers was Cuban trumpeter Manuel Machado, whose playing was a real highlight of the evening. His performance of Machado Blues was full of feeling, with a warm, soulful sound and a lovely blend of jazz and Cuban rhythms. It was a memorable performance that brought the music to life.
A standout moment for me was their Cuban-inspired take on Coldplay’s Clocks. Amanda Gaviria’s vocals and Luis Guerra’s piano playing brought a fresh, salsa-infused energy to the song, transforming a familiar melody into something wonderfully rhythmic and unexpected.
This was far more than a nostalgic trip down memory lane. The music felt fresh, spirited, and full of character. The pleasure the musicians took in playing together was clear in their smiles, exchanges, and easy rapport. Their musicianship was impressive but never showy; the emphasis was on the music and the enjoyment of sharing it. Rolling bass lines, sparkling strings, bright trumpet flourishes and rich vocals conjured the unmistakable sound of Cuban son.
There was a lovely generosity to the performance. These songs carry a remarkable history, yet they never felt stuck in the past. They came alive in the hands of the musicians on stage, their rhythms inviting movement and their melodies drawing the audience in. Sitting still was simply not an option.
Whooping, clapping, shouting, and dancing filled the theatre as the audience responded to the energy pouring from the stage. It was uplifting and gloriously joyful. Whatever our backgrounds or the languages we speak, the instinct to move to a great rhythm is something we can all share.
Two bands, one unforgettable evening
Bringing Orchestra Baobab and Buena Vista All Stars together on the same evening was a real treat. Although each band has its own distinctive sound, the connections between them ran deep. African musical traditions helped shape Cuban music, while Cuban rhythms later travelled back across the Atlantic, influencing musicians in Senegal and other parts of West Africa. Together, the bands created a wonderful musical conversation across continents and generations.
You could feel that connection throughout the evening. Orchestra Baobab drew us in with its smooth, soulful sounds and hypnotic grooves, while Buena Vista All Stars brought a glorious burst of Cuban rhythm, melody and celebration. Each had its own identity, but both shared that wonderful ability to get under your skin and make you feel part of something bigger.
By the end of the evening, the Donald Gordon Theatre had become a place of shared celebration. Both bands showed how music can carry its history while remaining vibrant, evolving, and full of life.
What a pleasure to be there. Llais 2026 gave us a night filled with jazz, blues, soul, rhythm, dancing, and genuine connection. Sometimes the best live music doesn’t need to be explained. You feel it in the room, see it in the faces around you, and find yourself swept along with everyone else. It’s a reminder of the extraordinary things that happen when music brings us together.
Established in 2016, this year marks the 10th anniversary of Cardiff’s premier international arts festival: Gwyl y Llais. This week-long festival spans storytelling, music and performance with an extra-special focus on voice. We had the pleasure of sitting down with trumpeter Tomos Williams. Interestingly, each year, the Wales Millennium Centre programmes jazz shows: and this year is no different.
This year, the Cwmwl Tystion collective has been booked to play the Wales Millennium Centre, Cwmwl Tystion is a ground-breaking jazz collective led by Welsh trumpeter Tomos Williams.With three albums created over the past 7 years, Cwmwl Tystion is an imaginative, pioneering and ambitious jazz project. A hallmark of jazz has been its relationship to struggle, identity, and experience: something Tomos has embedded in this work. Cwmwl Tystion has explored the Cardiff 1919 race riots, Aberfan, the Blue Books, Paul Robeson, and other historical significant events spanning Epynt, and Mahmood Mattan. Each iteration of Cwmwl Tystion explores a theme. The first explored witnesses, and the second explored riots. The last and final iteration of Cwmwl Tystion is on empathy. In a bright cafe in central West Cardiff, trumpeter Tomos explains that he wanted to “go out with a bang”. Cwmwl Tystion is some of the most exciting jazz to come out of Wales in decades. We had the pleasure of sitting down with Tomos ahead of Cwmwl Tystion’s last gig to ask him more about the project, and the health of Welsh jazz.
Tomos Willaims
Yasmin: If I recall correctly, the term Cwmwl Tystion is used in a Waldo Williams poem, but originally it’s a Biblical term. What’s the provenance of this terminology and why have you used it for your work?
Tomos: Yeah, so for me that initially came from, Cornel West, the African-American philosopher. I saw a clip of him talking about something and he was talking about a cloud of witnesses. And, yeah, it’s that idea of using the term cloud of witnesses, that idea of bearing witness. That’s one of Cornel’s big things, bearing witness to the African-American experience. It is a biblical phrase, but I also liked how Cornel used it . The use of it from Waldo’s poem. “Pa’ beth yw dyn?” meaning “What is man?” It’s an existential poem,. He deals with what nationalism is in one bit of it, but he also deals in the big issues of humanity, existential questions. He asks’ What is nationalism? To build a house in a cloud of witnesses’ It was mirroring how Cornel used it as a sort of bearing witness to one’s experience. I wanted it to have that kind of dual meaning, in a sense. And I really liked the fact that it was being used by Waldo, because Waldo was a pacifist and a nationalist. And Cornel has been a big influence on me since I was in college, I liked the idea that the phrase Cwmwl Tystion ‘cloud of witnesses’ could be bearing witness to both the African American experience and the Welsh experience. I wanted this to be a project that sort of brought “the Welsh experience” into light.
Cornel West and Waldo Williams
I’d also been listening to two amazing projects, one by a trumpeter called Wadada Leo Smith. He has an album called Ten Freedom Summers, which just basically follows the African-American experience from slavery right through to the present day. It’s phenomenal, it’s incredible, it’s massively inspiring. And, you know, it’s like, “Wow, this is what music can do, eh?
And then there’s an artist called Matana Roberts. They play the alto sax, and, they’ve got a series of albums called ‘Coin Coin’ It’s a very personal project, almost a kind of psycho-geography following the path of their ancestors all the way back to the Middle Passage, and then arriving in the US, dealing with trauma, rape, memory.
I mean, it’s incredibly heavy, but it’s an amazing project. And they change the band every album, and I liked that idea. When I started this, it was like, well, I’ll do one project. And after the first one, I then had the idea, hang on, that was good, I could do it again. That’s where Matana Roberts’ influence was in the idea,you could have an overarching project and change the line-up each time. So, that’s more of the musical side, but yeah philosophically, , the idea was, using Cwmwl Tystion as a title because of Waldo’s poem, using that term while referring to nationalism, the existentialism inherent in that poem, and then of Cornel West’s influence, too.
Yasmin: Thank you for explaining this. It’s fascinating to hear more about the project, and its inspiration. Cornel West was a contemporary of Glenn Jordan, whose teacher, St Clair Drake, did his PhD on the topic of Cardiff Bay! Everything always links back to Wales. . If this is the last gig, does this mean that this is the culmination of Cwmwl Tystion?
Tomos: Yeah, yeah, yeah. I’ve decided in my head that it’s going to be a three-volume series. It’s not going to carry on forever. I decided that once I knew that the third one was happening, “I was like, OK, that’ll be the end. Just because it went from being a Welsh-only project to including UK musicians and then the last one was international with Melvin Gibbs and Nguyên Lê : I liked that idea. They’re all different sounding. I think the first one has a bit more strings. (It’s a bit more avant-garde, if you like. The second one is a bit more groovy with Soweto Kinch and Orphy Robinson and the rap. And then the last one is what I call a power trio, which is very heavy guitar, rock-based rather than pure jazz in that sense. I found I’d covered a lot of ground and was like, well, what else am I going to say? So, I felt the trilogy feels good. It will be the end unless we are invited to play somewhere else. So this performance at Llais will be our last one.
Yasmin: What are you working on next then, if this is the end of Cwmwl Tystiom?
Tomos: Well, there are plenty of other projects. I’ve got a band called Burum , It’s our 20-year anniversary next year. I’m putting a tour together of Wales and that’s a Welsh jazz/folk band. We play jazz arrangements of Welsh folk tunes. I’ve also got a new band featutring Edyth Crawford on vocals. Again, we perform jazz arrangements of Welsh folk tunes, but with different players. So, I’ve got Huw Warren on piano, Paula Gardner on bass. They’re kind of my mentors, in a sense, so I’m very excited about this band.
Yasmin: What do you think of what’s going on with Welsh jazz at the moment as a phenomenon? I worry perhaps within Wales we have less jazz than other areas in the UK.
Tomos: It’s certainly pretty hard at the moment . There was the Sandringham Hotel on St Mary’s Street. The Café Jazz used to be there. That was the jazz place when I first came to Cardiff over twenty years ago by now. But that closed just before COVID,I think. The whole thing around live music is in decline , isn’t it? Jazz in particular because it’s a subculture. It’s really hard. But I think Welsh jazz is in a good place because there’s lots of people playing it. There’s just not a lot of places to play it. I and a few other in the Welsh jazz scene have been setting up a new body which is applying now for charitable status called Jazz Explorers Cymru where we aim to promote and increase education of jazz in schools and things. That’s a positive step. We’ll try to make that happen and keep bringing jazz to the people of Wales!
Cwmwl Tystion’s last show is this weekend at Gwyl y Llais at the Wales Millennium Centre. Book your tickets here now.
A study of historical events surrounding the Tudor reign, particularly Henry VIII and his wives, rarely focuses on the inevitable human story surrounding monarchs and hierarchies. A Man for all Seasons strips away the pomp and circumstance of the kingly court and focuses instead on the fallout for individuals who dared to disagree with this ‘monstrous baby,’ as playwright Bolt describes the Mighty Harry in the introduction to his play.
This is emphasised to perfection by the inclusion of ‘The Common Man’ who narrates the story and provides the connection between King and his people. The commentary adds humour and humanises the narrative to great effect. The Brechtian approach to this character is very well executed with him pulling a chest of clothes and transforming from More’s servant, Matthew, to boatman, to jailer and even, eventually to executioner.
Set and costume are beautifully period. The set is dynamic and shifts with ease to create the key areas of the action. The dark panelling and flickering fireplace immediately conjure the essence of the 1500s. The design honestly looks like something of out a painting and provides the perfect backdrop without being distracting.
The cast are really exceptional. Martin Shaw revisits the role he first took on in 2006 delivers a truly exceptional performance, full of nuance and gravitas; a beautifully human interpretation of a man grappling with his own conscience in light of a choice from the King that he simply cannot agree with. His relationship with both family and friends, and friends turned enemies is wonderful and entirely believable.
It is, without exception, a wonderful cast, but special mention to Paul Kemp’s truly endearing Common Man, Sam Phillips as the truly menacing Thomas Cromwell and Orlando James as the ‘monstrous baby’ himself, Henry VIII. Orlando particularly, gets very little stage time but is the epitome of stealing the scene with the time he is given.
One small issue is that some of the lines do get missed, which is a shame as this is a piece which is truly reliant on its words, those spoken and unspoken. This does, however, lend to an intimate feeling to the performance, with the audience leaning forward to ensure not a single word is unheard. This is a masterclass of performance from all involved from an historical piece which is still entirely relevant today, its very human story resonating even 500 years later.
Most of my time in Bristol sees me creating new video and live performance, aside engaging with the city’s cultural scene. It has been forever since I last went to the Bristol Beacon, it was so long ago it had the previously lamentable name of Colston Hall. Naturally, so much has happened in the city since the pandemic in the years after, we see the venue with its fetching new name: Bristol Beacon.
Inside the hall, the renovation is sensible and the acoustic remains powerful. I often have to remind myself that Cardiff has been bereft of St. David’s Hall for a few years and I get annoyed thinking just how much longer it will take to become a venue again. Though travelling to Bristol is always swift from the Welsh capital, the pull of the Beacon is strong. The Bournemouth Symphony Orchestra shall be frequenting the space considerably. Their big plans see an extensive programme of all of Beethoven’s symphonies over a two-year season.
Upon hearing Beethoven’s First Symphony, we are taken to the starting ground for the young composer. This remains highly classical in nature, Haydn smiles here, his teaching of Beethoven may have been turbulent, but the influence is profound. Mark Wigglesworth on the podium brought the scooping energy required. This huge journey has now commenced, leading to the several hours of this symphonic canon. I’d say the composer certainly went on to better and more vital writing; the later symphonies remain justifiably popular. Whilst I can’t say I’ll be in Bristol for all of these symphonies, I admire the BSO for the bold endeavour.
Coming back from Bayreuth in Germany often leaves you fatigued, yet always hungry for more Wagner (I plan to go back). Whilst I skipped their Ring Cycle this year (which was notoriously booed for its AI imagery), a chance to hear highlights or the “bleeding chunks” should never be missed. In an arrangement by Henk de Vlieger, The Ring: An Orchestral Adventure gives you the best bits from the full fifteen hours. Even with these seventy minutes you won’t hear all the good stuff, The Entry of the Gods into Valhalla and Wotan’s Farewell are tragically absent. Wagner has naturally been credited with a vast influence upon fantasy film scores, his use of leitmotifs, the bold, chromatic and loud demands can deter some away from him (amongst other justifiable reasonings).
Wagner’s music is often enthralling, and these extracts are no different. Spanning across these vast operas, we see a small army of percussion, four patient harps, considerable brass and even his own invention: the Wagner tuba (played by the French horns). The Bournemouth Symphony got a tight grasp around the music, delivering it with an invigorated prowess that remains rather stirring. The complimentary programme didn’t list the players of the BSO, yet Principal Horn player Eleanor Blakeney had a few smirking horn solos off stage, evoking the ego of the hero Siegfried.
It’s the Ring’s innumerable phases of terror, joy, ecstasy, wrath and redemption that stay with you.
A chilling start to spooky season at Newport’s Riverfront Theatre
Inspired by Bram Stoker’s genre-defining vampire novel of 1897, Dracula’s Guest shines a light on a relatively minor character in the Dracula canon; one who is often overshadowed by flashier, more bombastic figures like Van Helsing and the Count. That character is R.M. Renfield: Dracula’s bug-eating mortal servant/familiar who, in exchange for the promise of eternal life, assists his diabolical plans to set up a new vampiric feeding ground in England. While the book never reveals Renfield’s backstory, Dracula’s Guest seeks to answer this tantalising ‘what if?’ – with a few terrifying twists and turns along the way.
The play is directed, adapted and produced by James Hyland, who also stars as Dracula opposite Ashton Spear as Renfield. Premiering in 2021, Dracula’s Guest won the Dracula Society’s Hamilton Deane Award and an Offcomm Commendation at the Off West End Awards, both in 2022. This taut two-hander begins with Renfield alone, trembling at a table set for two. On the menu tonight: a glass of brandy and a rotting pig’s head. The second chair is empty – but it won’t be for long. In sweeps the Count, and the Gothic feast begins.
Over the course of a tense and often gruesome hour, we watch the pair engage in a psychological game of cat and mouse. Hyland’s passion for the source text is clear, and he does well to weave in many key motifs from Stoker’s work while striking a few bold, original notes of his own.
One of these is to hone in on Dracula as a figure of compulsion. His Count is a sadistic manipulator, a toxic narcissist, and a staunch believer in his own myth. He embodies some of the new ‘vampires’ of our own age: manipulative and coercive men in positions of power, who use tools like negging and gaslighting to dominate and control. In the novel, he is an old warlord trapped in a new age, waxing lyrical about his gory glory days. This is a sense that Hyland does well to capture in his performance, giving the impression that Dracula was thirsty for blood long before he acquired the dark gift.
His Count is still very much at war, but it is also a stage that he craves: part shogun, part showman. Hyland’s performance leans into the theatrical bombast of Hammer Horror and even further back in film history, to the Expressionistic silent movies which still influence our cultural image of the vampire today. There’s even something of the feral balletics of Gary Oldman’s Kabuki-inspired performance in Hyland’s unsettling physicality and bursts of animalistic rage. Hyland, who I had the pleasure of interviewing earlier this week, clearly has a feel for the Gothic and would surely have brought that to past productions of Jekyll and Hyde and A Christmas Carol that he has created and starred in under his production company, Brother Wolf.
Spear, in contrast, grounds us in a truly empathetic humanity. In a novel so preoccupied with the often-fine line between sanity and madness, Renfield sits at the intersection between truth and delusion. His and Hyland’s interactions play like a dance (at times literally), with moments of dark comedy intercut with sequences of bug-eating grossness that aren’t for the faint of heart. And the psychosexual undertones within Stoker’s novel are present here, too, with Dracula seeking to persuade his captive to ‘join’ with him in perhaps more ways than one.
The play is all the more unsettling because Renfield is not Dracula’s only Guest: the audience, too, has been invited into his hallowed halls, and may likewise be looking for the exit, especially during some of the grislier bits! A testament, I’m sure, to the skilful sense of tension and unease that has been crafted, both by the two actors onstage along with Chris Warner’s spine-chilling score. It’s a taut and unsettling two-hander that will have you sleeping with the light on long after the lights go down.
Vampires are creatures of the past who also represent our present. Through them we might reflect on our own heritage and histories, what haunts us in our waking lives, and what we refuse to let die. While the script could be tighter in parts, the play builds to a genuinely shocking climax that will have you asking yourself what happens next. Dracula’s Guest may well have the answer, but the question remains: would you invite them in?
Dracula’s Guest, which performs at Newport’s Riverfront Theatre this Friday (2nd October), promises to be a bold new take on Bram Stoker blood-curdling Count. In the original novel, we meet the character of Renfield in an asylum, eating insects and raving about his ‘Master’ (Dracula), who has promised him eternal life. But in Dracula’s Guest, we get the chance to meet him as the man he once was – indeed, at his fateful first meeting with Dracula himself. Get the Chance’s Barbara Hughes-Moore sat down with James Hyland, who directed, produced, adapted, and stars in the play, to talk about re-envisionioning this most (in)famous of vampires.
Dracula is one of the most adapted characters in literature. What is your favourite version of the character, and why? What impact did it have on your depiction of the Count?
I think one’s first introduction to the Count often has the most impact. For me, it was Christopher Lee’s portrayal in Jimmy Sangster’s film adaptation for Hammer, directed by the legendary Terence Fisher. Christopher Lee, of course, was an incredibly versatile actor; he could play anything, really, and his extraordinary performance as Dracula has certainly stood the test of time. I adore his command of the screen without saying a single word; beautifully economical and sharply focused. There are many other impactful examples, including that of fellow South Londoner Gary Oldman, whose exquisite portrayal in James V. Hart’s adaptation for the screen, directed by the great Francis Ford Coppola, was one of the very first to grapple with Dracula’s lost humanity. Oldman brought incredible gravitas to the role as well as a delicious rawness.
The short story ‘Dracula’s Guest’ is often regarded as a deleted scene from the novel. What aspects of the original did you want to retain for this play?
I used only the title of the short story, as it perfectly encapsulates the themes of my adaptation. While based primarily on Bram Stoker’s novel, my interpretation also draws from his other works.
What other works of Gothic or horror fiction were you influenced by in crafting the play?
I adore anything related to Dracula or vampires, so my love for the Horror genre with regards to those characters has always been an artistic influence–ever since childhood really. To be honest, it wasn’t my plan to create an adaptation as I was hard at work researching a war story at the time, and I felt that Bram Stoker’s novel had already been successfully explored to “the nth degree”. I believed I had nothing new to add to the long list of stage and film adaptations–until a singular question popped into my head during the pandemic which absolutely thrilled me: “What if…?” That question gave rise to a flurry of notes that continued for the better part of a year. The research was an absolute joy because I was taking another deep dive into one of my favourite genres, having previously adapted Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde for the stage which, incidentally, is also still on tour in the UK.
What is especially compelling about the central relationship between Dracula and Renfield?
I remain particularly interested in what brought Renfield to his degraded status as portrayed in the novel, specifically regarding his prior interactions with Dracula. As this had not been previously explored on stage, giving both characters a voice here presented a unique opportunity to write about unfamiliar aspects of their personalities and experiences.
What role does the audience play: are we innocent spectators, or are we complicit in Dracula’s mind games?
That would be telling. No spoilers here.
The Gothic is a genre which is deeply connected to the senses: to memory, psychology, and feeling. When the curtain falls, what do you want the audience to feel?
I rarely talk about what I want the audience to “feel” prior to seeing the play because theatre often operates in a realm beyond words and as a process of discovery. That’s a conversation I’m more likely to have after an audience has watched the performance as I’m always interested in the uniqueness of each person’s response. There are, of course, a multitude of moments that have been carefully constructed to elicit specific responses from the audience in order to accentuate the various themes of the play and its overall objective as a piece of drama. Above all, though, I wanted to create something that was very human, albeit with dark, fantastical leanings.
Nina Auerbach once wrote that ‘every age embraces the vampire it needs’. Why, in 2026, do we still need Dracula – and how does your version reflect the age we inhabit now?
As with all of my plays, I have sought to create a drama that mirrors the human experience and reflects many aspects of our nature, both good and evil. Thus, I have attempted to make the piece as relevant as possible to our most recent collective experiences, but through the prism of the twisted and the grotesque–as Horror is often the perfect genre for the exploration of the unspoken. What those experiences are, I shall let you discover.
Dracula’s Guest is performed at The Riverfront, Newport, on Friday 2nd October. More information on the show and how to book tickets here.
A strong double-bill of Bartók’s Bluebeard’s Castle and Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex opens the new season of the Welsh National Orchestra.
The WNO’s Bluebeard’s Castle is impeccable with excellent performances and a superb orchestra. Christina Rice stands out as Judith, Bluebeard’s new wife who asks incessantly to open every door, reveal all secrets, and bring light to the dark castle. Nathan Berg, as Bluebeard, counters Judith’s insistence with his dark tones. The orchestra, conducted by Lidiya Yankovskaya, is in perfect balance with the performances.
The production borrows from the ENO’s production of Bluebeard’s Castle with minimal staging. Mundane objects take on symbolic significance. Thus, the wine becomes blood, sparkling confetti shine like gold in the light. Nevertheless, the light design was disapointing as it did not convey the circular move from darkness to light and then again to darkness of the opera. The addition of music from Hildegard Von Bingen at the opening of the piece, whilst beautifully executed, stood in contrast with Bartók’s music.
Stravinsky’s piece, often and perhaps more appropriately performed as an oratorio, is not on a par with Bartók’s Bluebeard. The performances were strong. Tenor Peter Hoare is a fearful Oedipus who is overwhelmed by fate. The power of fate comes through in the powerful voice of Stephen Richardson as Messenger and Creon. Christine Rice is a self-assured Jocasta who realises that the oracle was right and she married her own son. Nathan Berg is the prophet Tiresias, at first mocked but later proven right. There is no escape from fate.
Stephen Richardson (Creon & Messenger) and Peter Hoare (Oedipus) in Oedipus Rex. Photograph: Dafydd Owen.
On a superficial level, both one-act operas share themes of male sexuality, death, and self-destruction. According to the director Joe Hills-Gibbins, ‘it’s a sort of psychosexual nightmare double bill.’ However, this seems to read Stravinsky’s Oedipus through Freud’s influence in late 20th century Western culture. The psychological interpretation provides a tenuous link between the two operas.
Musically, Bartók’s Bluebeard’s Castle and Stravinsky’s Oedipus Rex are worlds apart. Bartók’s emotional charge and polytonal motifs build an internal world of trauma, which contrasts with Stravinsky’s neoclassicism and irony. The staging of Oedipus Rex departs from Stravinsky’s conception that saw it as detached and static. It stresses the caricatural nature of the characters of Oedipus, Jocasta, and Creon by having them strut on the stage. It is less effective than Bluebeard, yet the WNO offers a good opening of the new slimmed down season.
It’s rare to see anyone make it to one hundred years old. Even for composers, this is such a non-occurrence, other than Elliot Carter and Leo Ornstien (who amazingly lived through three centuries) that it should always be cause for celebration. György Kurtág, the Romanian composer can now be added to this short list, as he turned a century old back this February.
Perhaps best known for his Játékok, or ‘Games’, this is spiralling catalogue of mostly piano music spanning over fifty years. Consisting of over four hundred movements, Kurtág was adding to its mass as near as 2021. What I do remember fondly is the full, mesmerising performance done at the Royal Academy of Music in London in 2024, Joanna MacGregor played with twenty piano students. This was an all-day affair and roughly the music of Játékok lasted six and a half hours.
What has felt more exhausting was the three concerts at Wigmore Hall this weekend, spread out over a near twelve-hour period. Pierre-Laurent Aimard, who was a pupil of Oliver Messiaen, has chosen his selection from this epic piano saga, with musical choices of Bach, Beethoven and Schumann at each step, or as billed here: ’Breath’. Arriving on stage for the morning concert, he appeared aloof, as if not wanting to be there. This was, of course, the starting section with ‘Bored’, where it is notated to walk down the keys and play what is seemingly a random set of descending notes and then back.
It is the humour that shines through in these first few ‘Books’, Pierre is joined by the striking Lorenzo Soulès, who joined in the boredom and then duos on one piano, famously from Kurtág often played live with his now late wife Márta. A ‘Quarrel’ movement saw them pushing the same repeated keys, cleverly matching a vocal argument of ‘always having the last word’. Of note are the many Bach transcriptions, we sadly did not hear some of my personal favourites though ‘Gott, durch deine Güte’ held the atmosphere of serenity for a few minutes. Most of this first hour saw thumping tone clusters, humour abound between both players and a highly irregular, distilled sound world unfurling out of the piano.
We heard many numerous parts of this gigantic work, and the little slivers of performance are always a delight. It’s such a shame these die down as the books go on. In the second set at 5pm, Pierre returned solo (same for the third) and had further violent tendencies in their noise and impact. Birthday greetings and a homage to Janáček are present, as the Beethoven Bagatelles often cleansed the pallet after the angular abstractions. Pierre remains a fascinating pianist, in whatever he plays. His power over the keys remains masterful, the graceful consideration for every note with his own eyebrow raising, mouth chewing is for every bar. The Beethoven here is also really strong, I didn’t think this would work with the rest, but they actually did.
By the 9pm concert, a profound fatigue had set in. The addition of an upright piano on stage, Kurtág’s admiration for the instrument is proven with lovingly sombre writing for it. His use of the middle peddle creates a serene and soft palette, pianissimo indeed. The Schumann here is exquisite, especially the well regarded ‘Im ruhigen Tempo’ from Gesänge Der Frühe. This is some of Schumann’s finest writing and is just so touching on an upright. Little to no ‘performance’ in these later ‘books’, though some warfare still prevails, the reconciliation and memories are the names of movements, aside continuing dedications and poetry.
Had these concerts been played slightly nearer each other, I may have had the stamina for them, even after hearing the whole work back two years ago. I was not the only one who struggled, as some chose to contribute their own ‘snore games’ during this last concert.
Fine playing as ever and a stellar reminder of one of the great living composers.
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
(5 / 5)
(4 / 5)
