What is striking about Welsh play Imrie is its richness. Rich in language. Rich in description. Rich in lighting. Rich in characterisation. This coming-of-age story is like a rainbow bursting into life, pouring its colour out on stage with a vibrancy that reverberates throughout the whole production. Each element resembles a charged particle which, in collision, drives forward a powerful narrative about identity and belonging. It is a tour-de-force in aesthetics, as well as telling of its message.
Credit: Mark Douet
Elan Davies and Rebecca Wilson take on the roles of Josie and Laura in this two-part drama. They are half-sisters seeking to fit in in their own ways. It begins with Laura dragging Josie along to a party on the beach, she wanting to become one of the ‘in’ crowd while her sibling would rather be elsewhere. So while the former attempts to act ‘normal’, the latter runs off, after being made fun of, and finds herself alone with only the sea for company. And when from the water she hears a voice calling, a journey into an otherworldly tale takes place. This ethereal experience is captured brilliantly by the lighting that shimmers and shapeshifts across the three walls of the enclosed set. But it is also the flexibility and freedom of Davies’ physicality that produces beautifully an event which exists between the real and the imaginary.
There are parallels with Caryl Lewis’ recent novel Drift, particularly in relation to the female protagonist. Along with Disney’s Turning Red and The Little Mermaid, it is fair to say that writer Nia Morais has tapped into something bigger with Imrie. Certainly, that desire to break free from the expectations of family and (patriarchal) society burns strong here. To tie it in with the theme and symbol of water gives it a weight that bears down on the scale of contemporary classic. Its relevance is shored up by its exploration of sexual and racial identity. In particular, the conversation between the two characters at the end is thought-provoking, challenging and inspiring in its interaction with intersectionality. This is a further facet to the richness of Imrie, whose immersive soundtrack wraps the audience in its atmospheric tones which, along with the Welsh language, contributes to a mythic quality. Its basis in Cymraeg also adds a poetic lyricism to the dialogue which, though stereotypical, actually strengthens its value as a cultural expression of (self-)acceptance.
Credit: Mark Douet
Most definitely driven by Frân Wen’s passion for young people, when coupled with the Sherman’s support for innovative new Welsh writing, Imrie becomes a bold piece of theatre. Its message may be common but at its heart is an imagination that beats with such originality that it feels fresh. Celebratory of life, even as it depicts its struggles, Imrie reveals something of how identity blossoms, arising out from the depths to become all that we are, rich in colour. A play to be enjoyed whatever age you are.
The musical nebula has now taken a plunge to the briny deep of Bikini Bottom. Yet, can a live stage show of a beloved animation from Nickelodeon work? This could be the first musical for a lot of young ones, so there is that…
Easily a live show mostly for children, I’m still getting my head round the roster of newly written songs for the show. We see the likes of Cyndi Lauper, Steven Tyler/Joe Perry, The Flaming Lips, John Legend and Panic! At the Disco all making offerings here, as well as other artists. If the dizzying amount of work which went into the music had gone into the story, this would be an all round success. Kyle Jarrow with the book, took his shot, though its not quite right. I guess I’m a veteran of the original show, who saw it when it first came out when I was in high school, the mass of memes and gifs is tantamount to its staying power today. The late creator Stephen Hillenberg is now dearly missed, his TV show remains as a cherished creation.
We start off with typical pirates and the mock impersonation of deep sea explorer Jacques Cousteau (who co-invented scuba gear, no less) and we are catapulted into the bottom of the ocean. The characters here appear to make use of the vast litter which humans have dumped into the ocean. The show embraces the upcycled aspect of the premise and goes into over drive. We see bottles, cups, marigolds and more grabbed for the show, quite clever in some ways.
The sound also needs a lot of work. Many times the singers when talking were drowned out by the band or mics being not high up enough. This lead to some jokes not landing, past some clunkiness of the script. The story is very slight, a volcano threatens the town when Spongebob and friends try to save the day. The villian Plankton, conjures up another evil scheme with Karen the Computer, the only real subplot which doesn’t go anywhere aside little pay off (they just sort of get away with their wickedness). The songs though by a vast array of musicians, never feel too jarring and are quite fun in many respects. Pop, country, rock, gospel and rap all feature proudly. Most songs do gave that musical sheen you’d expect.
The cast demonstrate some great to average impersonations of the cartoon characters they take on. As Squidward, Gareth Gates does the nasal, though could even do more. He gets a tab sequence for the four legs and feet as said squid and I was glad there were moments with his clarinet, which the character is seen with in the show. Richard J Hunt as Mr Krabs attempts the pseudo-Scottish brogue of the miser crab fella, an odd role is more about the jokes than the songs. Divina De Campo as Plankton is great casting, though working with this script the role doesn’t reach much more than fun and not funny enough. Davina’s rap sequence vs Spongebob remained a highlight.
Photo credit: Mark Senior
As the title character, Lewis Cornay is near perfect. The whine, the laugh, the gait…everything. Nice pipes proves his talents and a sharp sense of comic timing is also there. Irfan Damani captures the splubby nature of Patrick Starfish, the less intelligent one. Tangled up in a cult of sardines, his humour comes from softly spoken insights and a few classic quotes from the show. Sandy the Squirel is from a delightful Chrissie Bhima, the outsider part who adds a whip of Texas to the show, I was expecting more country music! Perhaps the best vocals belong to Sarah Freer as the whale daughter of Mr Kraps, Pearl. Though her clothes made her look more like an octopus, she clomps around and stunned with a piercing voice I’d love to hear in other things. Hannah Lowther as Karen the Computer works with a very limited character, who only really serves Plankton, in their love hate relationship.
Minor roles also evoke the connecting fibre in playing in these recognisable parts. This is thanks to the marvellous costumes of Sarah Mercadé which are worth seeing just for admission.
The Spongebob Musical runs at the Wales Millennium Centre till 10th June 2023, then on tour.
I’ve seen much less of our BBC National Orchestra this year, I’ll admit that. Though what I have seen has been dazzling, I’m thinking back to the Charles Ives and John Adams a few weeks ago as a highlight. Our bright, American conductor Ryan Bancroft as Principle is choosing much more stimulating music than usual.
First we begin in Wales with Grace William’s and her Concert Overture. On a sad day, Grace chose to destroy manuscripts of several of her pieces, this overture being one of them. Other copies from previous performances had been salvaged and the piece is saved from being lost. It’s a jumpy, jolting few minutes. Grace’s vibrancy for orchestration is proven in this early work, I’ve never understood why she doesn’t get more love outside of Wales? The strings got a lot of attention from the composer and you can feel a unburdening anticipation to it all.
Next, a fashionable performance of Mozart’s 39th Symphony. Ryan made it breezily cool and light. The only discrepancy was a rogue phone from the audience going off between movements, holting Ryan in setting off into the rest of the symphony. I think we had some new concert attendees who didn’t quite grasp phone etiquette, especially when we are live on national radio. You don’t see Mozart symphonies as much with BBC NOW and I’d be down for more. You can feel the passion and the genius, thanks to our loving conductor who really cares about this music.
For this finale concert for the season, we had a rarity: Richard Strauss’ Don Quixote, a strange tone poem, which is also a cello concerto. Taking Cervantes’ famous epic of the mad Spanish knight, this made for one of the finer discoveries for this year. Lead cellist of the orchestra Alice Neary wowed here, were so used to seeing her in the thick of the other players, all eyes on her here. Not an easy piece to play, she delighted in the odd nature of the beast. The ironic waltzes, loved up romance and the acidic modernism that could only ever be R. Strauss. The discordant bars when Quixote famously mistakes windmills for giants are piercing, no doubt triggering a few audience members. On viola, Rebecca Jones adds to the joy as Quixote’s man servant Sancho Panza, not really a soloist though some curious playing for the much mocked viola is appealing.
Cardiff audiences would love to see BBC NOW players get more soloists roles not just for budgetary reasons. A chance to get to know who we’ve had all along in this marvellous orchestra. I only ever get more proud of BBC NOW.
Listen to this concert on BBC Sounds till 1st July 2023.
Steeltown Murders may be yet another Welsh drama in the ever-popular crime genre, but it is very well done on the whole. Telling the true story of how DNA was used in a pioneering way to solve a cold case in Port Talbot, it flits between the 1973 setting of the murders of three girls and the early 2000s with ease. Starring Philip Glenister, whose accent was nicely perfected through immersion into his Welsh roots, alongside Steffan Rhodri, who play the chief investigating officers, it is a drama that is understated, and effective as a result. Verisimilitude permeates its presentation, and is its greatest strength.
The aesthetic is beige and brown, particularly in its 1970s scenes. The “present” day has a drop more colour but remains blunted by a noirish sensibility. It suits the story and the location well, the unsolved murders hanging over the families and wider community like the smoke from the factories. When music is used, it is in a typically melodramatic way, especially over highly emotional scenes and end-of-episode montages featuring the various characters that come into play. The cast is large, a result of spanning over two timelines partly, but even when each is considered separately, Steeltown Murders feels like an ensemble rather than a two-man show. Glenister’s DCI Paul Bethall is well-drawn – strong-willed, single-minded, haunted by the past – as is Rhodri’s DC Phil Bach – dry-humoured, attentive, poised. But even bit-part characters such as Seb, played by Matthew Gravelle, husband to Sita (Natasha Vasandani), who was two of the girls’ friend, is complete enough to add real weight to the narrative, particularly in its final episode. Whether this is down to its basis in real events, and therefore people, is open to question but, even in spite of this, every actor appears to embody their character with respective heart and attentiveness.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ksSbb9AfqSs
There is the slight criticism towards exposition, and explanation of the forensic and scientific methods that sound plainly for the audience’s benefit. This takes away slightly from its realism which is nevertheless strengthened by the localised accents on show and a bilingualism which, though under-used, was still welcome insofar as representation is concerned. Never for a moment can Glenister be thought of as merely a star signing, his commitment to the role and the overall drama depicted as much in Bethall’s seriousness as his relationship with Steffan Rhodri. The two make a great pairing, sparring off one another with an ease and respect that lightens the dark tone of the narrative. They never dominate the screen however, meaning that the case itself always takes centre-stage even when their part in it is pivotal.
This four-part drama may not be ground-breaking in-and-of itself but Steeltown Murders does tell a ground-breaking story of how DNA technology was used to catch a killer. As such, it is simple but effective; good at what it does, without breaking any new ground.
What does it mean for a writer to be great? Is it measured by the amount of work they produce, or its quality? The way they are perceived by others, or how they see themselves? Perhaps ‘greatness’ is just the lie of venerating a ‘chosen’ few; a lie which inch by inch lifts that glass ceiling ever higher.
One of the few pictures that survive of Dorothy Edwards
By these metrics, a voice as brilliant as that of Dorothy Edwards (1902-1934) is lost in the maelstrom of literary machismo. The black sheep of the Bloomsbury Set, she was raised by firebrand radicals in South Wales and yet somehow dislocated from her working-class roots (she attended Howell’s private school, if on a scholarship, and later studied Greek and Philosophy at Cardiff University). In the London scene of literary greats like Virginia Woolf and E.M. Forster, she was the ‘Welsh Cinderella’, raised from the pits of the Valleys into dazzling notoriety in her own lifetime – but after her death, her books went out of print and her suicide note became her most cited work.
Angharad Matthews in A Beautiful Rhythm of Life and Death. Image credit: Noel Dacey (@noeley2510)
It is this complicated legacy that Gary Raymond’s new play sensitively examines. Directed by Chris Durnall, ‘A Beautiful Rhythm of Life and Death’ starts at the end of Dorothy Edwards’ life and moves backwards through twin storylines: in the past, Dorothy (Angharad Matthews) is inducted into London’s writing elite by David Garnett (Jâms Thomas); in the present, actors Meg and Byron, also played by Matthews and Thomas, debate how best to bring her story to life.
Writer Gary Raymond (left) and director Chris Durnall (right)
The play’s title – taken from a line in Winter Sonata (1928), her only novel – is an apt description of the drama, which toys with musical and emotional tempos. Matthews and Thomas are captivating, playing a convivial game of cat and mouse in which you are never quite sure who is hunting who. Thomas is equal parts charming and chilling as the Svengali-esque Garnett, who always seems to place himself physically higher in the space than his ‘ingenue’. While he might have benefitted from the same costume flourishes given to Dorothy (e.g., adding braces and a waistcoat for extra texture), Thomas’ performance is nothing short of transformative.
Angharad Matthews and in A Beautiful Rhythm of Life and Death. Image credit: Noel Dacey (@noeley2510)
Matthews is radiant as Dorothy, a flame who refused to dim her glow. There is a quiet defiance to her performance that embodies the stoic passion of Edwards’ heroines; women who were pushed to the margins in the interwar period. She was an outsider even among the bohemians of Bloomsbury, whom another famous Dorothy (in this case, Parker) said ‘lived in squares… and loved in triangles’. Dorothy’s affair with a married cellist, her engagement to her Philosophy Professor, working as live-in carer for Garnett’s son: all of these relationships blur boundaries; triangles on triangles, like the sonata form which underscores Dorothy’s work. Even the stage – a square room with its triangle of wooden decking – plays with geometric shapes. The fact that it is designed by Matthews means that we are watching two hidden architects at work.
Angharad Matthews in A Beautiful Rhythm of Life and Death. Image credit: Noel Dacey (@noeley2510)
And she pulls the strings from the very start. The live score by the luminous Stacey Blythe manifests Dorothy’s melodious thought processes: but as Matthews descends the steps for the first time, she slams down on the keys. This is her story, after all – at some points, she strides out in front of the audience and stares us down, as if daring us to forget it. Raymond’s soulful script, and Matthews’ lyrical performance, convey Dorothy’s abiding love for words: their codes and cadences, the way that just 12 notes and 26 letters can capture all the beauty and chaos of the world.
Angharad Matthews in A Beautiful Rhythm of Life and Death. Image credit: Noel Dacey (@noeley2510)
Durnall’s direction is a live if invisible thing: kinetic and coy, like the current that pulls a river. David and Dorothy circle each other, dynamics shifting, power crystallising. The sense that she was always thinking, always writing, with pen in hand or not, is ever-present, especially in the vibrant second act. Writing is her pole star: while people flit in and out of her life, that love never leaves her. Company of Sirens have worked their magic once more, and never is this clearer than in the exquisite closing scene, in which Dorothy finds true synthesis with another Welsh wordsmith (Glyn Thomas, author of The Dragon Has Two Tongues). It is an effortless coda that leaves Dorothy at a moment of pure synthesis. It is a slip of linen on the breeze; a single sustained note, that carries on even when darkness falls.
A Beautiful Rhythm of Life and Death is produced by Company of Sirens in collaboration with Chapter and Arts Council Wales, and performs at Chapter through 3 June. There are BSL-interpreted and audio described performances, and one matinee: more information and how to book tickets here.
Whether it’s Benedict Cumberbatch and Martin Freeman, Robert Downey Jr. and Jude Law, or even Basil and Dawson from The Great Mouse Detective, everyone has their own definitive ‘Holmes and Watson’. And I can safely say that, after watching Blackeyed Theatre’s interpretation of the dynamic duo, theirs has become mine.
Luke Barton in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
After his first appearance in 1886, Holmes quickly became a household name. 56 short stories, four novels and countless film, radio and television adaptations later, Arthur Conan Doyle’s iconic consulting detective has become one of the most successful fictional characters ever – so popular that he was resurrected from the dead by public demand!
Luke Barton and Joseph Derrington in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
So who better to tackle one of Holmes’ thornier adventures than Blackeyed Theatre, the Berkshire-based company behind innovative reimaginings of Frankenstein and Jekyll and Hyde – not to mention previous Holmes adventures? Writer Nick Lane (who also directs) navigates smoothly through The Valley of Fear – no mean feat, as it spans twenty years, two cases, and both sides of the Atlantic. Vicky Spearing’s set – a fragmenting skeleton of exposed beams and William Morris-wallpaper, cleverly shifts from fin-de-siècle study to dusty saloon with the help of Oliver Welsh’s clever lighting and Naomi Gibbs’ convincing costumes.
Luke Barton and Joseph Derrington in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
Luke Barton and Joseph Derrington reprise their roles as Holmes and Watson, having first collaborated on Blackeyed’s The Sign of Four in 2018 (For more insight on how Luke and Joseph developed their fantastic rapport, check out our interview here). And what a dynamic duo! Barton is a zesty and mercurial Holmes who positively dances across the stage (at times, quite literally – in one of the show’s most delightful moments, he punctuates his re-enactment of the scuffle by pitching himself across the boards. It’s a ten from me, Luke!) He brings a heroic quality to the role without sanding off Holmes’ rough edges, and his declaration to Watson – “There is no me without you” – is a moment of genuine poignancy.
Joseph Derrington, Alice Osmanski and Luke Barton in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
And it rings true, because Joseph Derrington as Watson really is the perfect counter to Holmes: as steadfast and warm as Holmes is volatile and brash. Watson isn’t a slapstick sidekick here: he’s a partner in (almost) every meaning of the term (and Derrington’s own medical background lends a real authenticity to the good Doctor). Derrington is effortlessly affable as Holmes’ chronicler and companion, and their camaraderie feels authentic and lived-in; there’s a cosiness to the cattiness that reveals genuine affection between them. If, as the characters say, this is their final adventure, then they go out on a high – but I do hope we get to see them together one last time. I dare you to find a better Holmes and Watson after seeing this show.
Alice Osmanksi in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
Meanwhile, Alice Osmanski, Blake Kubena and Gavin Molloy, round out this super-skilled ensemble. Their versatility truly knows no bounds, with Osmanski especially impressive as everyone from a hard-of-hearing housekeeper to a sharp-shootin’ Pinkerton.
Blake Kubena in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
Kubena, who thrilled and chilled the New Theatre as the titular Jekyll and Hyde last year, continues to be a captivating stage presence, while Gavin Molloy brings genuine menace as coal-field crime boss McGinty and as Holmes’ most formidable foe (if you know, you know): their confrontation in an art gallery, while brief, is one of the most intense moments of theatre I have yet to experience.
Gavin Molloy in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
The show has everything you could want from a Sherlock Holmes adventure: packed with twists and turns, it brings the audience in on solving the mystery right along with the characters and keeps you guessing right until the final problem. Whether you’re a die-hard Sherlockian or an amateur sleuth, this is the show for you. Sherlock comes Holmes to roost in Cardiff this week in the last stop of its acclaimed UK Tour, and with only four performances left, it’s an absolute must-see. A whip-smart script and a supremely talented cast make this an adventure for the ages – the game is well and truly afoot!
As Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear comes to Cardiff this week in the last stop of its acclaimed UK Tour, Community Critic Barbara Hughes-Moore spoke with stars Luke Barton and Joseph Derrington (aka Holmes and Watson). Adapted and directed by Nick Lane, The Valley of Fear follows two cases across two sides of the Atlantic and finds Holmes and Watson at a crossroads in their friendship.
This interview has been edited for clarity.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FImpGT8J2aI
So Luke, you and Joseph first played Holmes and Watson in Blackeyed Theatre’s The Sign of Four a few years ago. You’re now reprising your roles in the UK Tour of The Valley of Fear, Arthur Conan Doyle’s final novel. Where do we find Holmes and Watson when the play starts?
Luke Barton (LB): Things have changed for Holmes and Watson, because at the end of The Sign of Four, Watson gets married to Mary Morstan! In the short stories that occur between [this book] and The Valley of Fear, we learn that Watson has moved out of Bakers Street. He’s set up his own doctors’ practice, and lives with Mary – but he does always seem to return to Baker Street. There’s something about the mysteries they go on that just keeps attracting Watson back to Holmes and Baker Street. So we find Holmes and Watson on New Year’s Day 1895: Watson has come home for Christmas –
Joseph Derrington (JD): And he’s not gone back!
LB: He’s chosen to stay with Holmes instead! Then a mysterious coded message arrives in the post warning them of some harm about to happen to a country squire down in Sussex. From there, they embark on this mystery, and very quickly they go back to what they know best: being a crime-fighting, mystery-solving duo.
Joseph Derrington and Luke Barton in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
I guess a coded mystery message is the best present you could get Holmes and Watson!
LB: Holmes loves it! I imagine Christmas is very boring and sentimental for him but a mystery is like [a gift].
JD: Better than socks!
Joseph, these are two of the most iconic characters in literature. How do you go about crafting that sort of relationship, especially given that you’ve both played the characters before?
JD: I found it quite an easy process. When we first started rehearsals for The Sign of Four back in 2018, there was a lot of discussion about how the relationship between Holmes and Watson should be. Watson was a lot of the time portrayed as a buffoonish character. He’s obviously not as intelligent as Holmes but he’s still intelligent: he’s a medical man, a doctor. We wanted to try and push this relationship where one person is incredibly intelligent but needs one person to channel it. Watson is that person. And when The Valley of Fear came along, we just slipped back into it. What works quite well is that we still speak to each other when we’re not performing in shows! It helps that we like each other.
Joseph Derrington, Gavin Molloy and Luke Barton in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
Do you draw anything from any particular adaptations, or do you leave that behind when focusing on this? How do they play into your process?
JD: I obviously draw off the looks of Jude Law (!) I’d never actually seen a lot of Holmes adaptations, which is probably quite bad! I focused on the discussions I had with Nick [Lane, the writer-director]. I tried to lead in more from the text than from how the character had been played before.
LB: I think for me and a lot of people our age, I was very excited by the BBC adaptation. It was after that version that I went on to read the stories. I think our performance and our production is very much rooted in the original stories and the world of Conan Doyle, and [like] the BBC adaption is done with great reverence to the books. The Victorian world that Conan Doyle creates is quite key to our production, and that was my inspiration as well. There’s something so quintessentially Victorian about Holmes: he is both very much a part of that world but also completely strange within it; he’s very un-Victorian in lots of ways.
Luke Barton and Alice Osmanski in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
Is it important to you to you make him ‘sympathetic’?
LB: Holmes doesn’t care what other people think. But in the job he’s doing, I think he finds [that] emotions and feelings just aren’t helpful, and that’s why he’s described as this unemotional machine. But he is a human being: he just has an incredible capacity to filter stuff out, and that’s intriguing because most of us care what other people think. As actors, we spend every night standing in front of people getting judged by them. You’re always under the spotlight. It’s really refreshing to have a character that can switch that off.
Joseph Derrington, Blake Kubena and Luke Barton in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
Why is this story so suited to the stage?
LB: There’s something about the larger than life events of these stories, particularly The Valley of Fear, that lend themselves to the theatre. Audiences expect more: we have to go on a bigger imaginative leap. The uniqueness of theatre is that as actors, we sit down with an audience and say: ‘we’re going to pretend we’re these people and you’re going to pretend we are as well’. When you throw in these big characters, like the gangsters and murderers we get in The Valley of Fear, it’s really exciting for an audience. It just allows the imagination to run wild.
JD: I think it also adds to the murder mystery, too: it’s more claustrophobic when you’ve got a mystery and there’s hundreds of people watching you and [anticipating] what’s going to happen in the next hour and a half. Some of the venues we’ve been to in the past, you can see the audience in the front row. We had a floor rolled out and when they’re on the edge of the stage, it does add to the pressure of trying to solve a mystery. No matter how many times we do it, it’s still exciting.
LB: They’re trying to solve it with us: Holmes and Watson are solving the mystery at the same time as the audience. That’s what makes it exciting: you have to figure it out as we do.
Blake Kubena and Alice Osmanski in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
Do you find different audiences react in different ways?
LB: That’s the great thing about touring! Like Joe said, we’ve done over 160 shows now, and every night the audience is different: every town, every city, connects and responds to different things. They even root for different characters! And that’s one of the joys of theatre, especially of touring theatre: you go to so many different places, and each one has a different energy.
JD: And while it’s not a comedy, there are funny bits! Nick has tried to keep it very true to the story itself, and it’s nice to see proper Sherlock Holmesians – is there a word for them?
LB: ‘Sherlockians’.
JD: Like Beliebers?
LB: Yeah!
JD: So these Sherlockians are enjoying it even if they know how it ends, because it stays true to the book. It was nerve-wracking to start, [wondering] how Holmes fans would respond. It’s always tricky trying to please everyone – but I think we’ve done it! I’m pleased with it.
Joseph Derrington and Blake Kubena in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
The Sherlockians take it really seriously, then?
LB: You’ll not see me in a Deer stalker in this production, but you will see people in the audience wearing one! Plus the full cape, the magnifying glass…
JD: And a lot of moustaches! I’ve seen a fair few – maybe they’re back in…
LB: You know, in the Victorian era, the bushier your beard, the manlier you were.
JD: So I’m semi-masculine, then?
LB: You’ll get there.
Joseph Derrington in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
Watson is Insta-ready.
LB: You should see him tending that face.
JD: I can’t wait to try and twiddle it.
Only when you’re solving a mystery or being nefarious.
JD: It’s my thinking moustache…
Do you feel you’ve been able to relax into the roles this time around? Or is there something about bringing it back – the moustache, and everything else – that surprised or challenged you?
LB: I did relax a lot more this time around! Like Joe was saying, that feeling the first time around of stepping into the shoes of such brilliant actors, and bringing to life characters people really love, was overwhelming. This time it wasn’t quite as bad. I think what’s been interesting is that Nick really wanted to explore the limits of their friendship: how tricky it must be for Watson to be friends with [Holmes] and what that must be like. What happens if their friendship is tested? That’s been interesting to explore.
JD: For me, the only thing I found tricky was fitting back into the costume after lockdown!
LB: We all did!
Luke Barton and Joseph Derrington in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
I wonder how Holmes and Watson would have coped in lockdown.
JD: They probably would have killed each other!
LB: Holmes would have gone mad. [Luke and Joseph produced a ‘Holmes in Lockdown’ short as a prelude to The Valley of Fear. You can watch the full video here.]
JD: Would Holmes have gone into a Baker Street bubble, or a Mary Morstan bubble?
LB: Definitely Baker Street.
JD: Yeah. That’s awkward!
Joseph Derrington and Luke Barton in Sherlock Holmes: The Valley of Fear. Image credit: Alex Harvey-Brown.
Why do you feel that Holmes and Watson are still so close to our hearts?
LB: They’re basically the first superheroes! You’ve got a dynamic duo with individual ‘powers’ that complement each other, and they use those powers to serve good: they’re superheroes that are also best friends. But there’s just something about their relationship [that] is so interesting. They understand each other even though they’re complete opposites and shouldn’t like each other. We all have that person we can’t be without – and that’s who they are to each other. The intrigue is the cherry on top.
JD: It’s human nature, isn’t it, to build connections with people? To ask for help when you need it; to communicate, and Holmes and Watson do communicate even when it’s one-sided. It’s the humanistic aspect we come back to.
Have you performed in Cardiff before?
LB: We didn’t take the The Sign of Four to Cardiff, though we did perform it in Llandudno – we’re really excited to come to Cardiff! After 8 months, we’re concluding our tour here so Cardiff is getting our last few performances: as of Friday we’re done.
JD: I’ve been brushing up on my Welsh.
Da iawn!
JD: Bless you.
We can’t wait to welcome you to Cardiff. The game is afoot!
Opened in 2005, DangerPoint is an education centre which aims to inform the next generation about all things safety- from road safety, staying safe online, hazards to look out for in the home and much more!
An independent charity located in Talacre on the beautiful North Wales coast, DangerPoint has something to offer everyone, from educational tours for schools and organised groups to fantastic family days out, with a chance to take part in the Danger Detective Quest and Treasure Hunt or get artsy and crafty with CraftPoint- an opportunity to create and take home your very own masterpiece- from painting to pottery and beyond.
The centre is unique- providing an inclusive experience which immerses children and young people in real life situations thanks to its creative set-up…the centre is designed like a film set! Visitors venture from a living room to the kitchen, from the countryside to the beach, with many more stops along the way! Throughout their journey they are faced with varying safety scenarios and potential hazards as well as being presented with lots of hands-on activities to broaden their knowledge whilst having lots of fun!
Visitors will also get the chance to meet DangerPoint’s very own mascot, K-os. K-os is from another planet and doesn’t understand the dangers he could face on Earth! During a tour, visitors can talk to K-os and share with him any safety hints and tips they already know or any they’ve learnt throughout their visit. If you’re looking for somewhere to gain life skills in a totally immersive and interactive environment, then look no further!
I’ve not seen a classical concert so hectic at St David’s for years. The Hallé made the call and Cardiff answered with an impressive audience. Sat in Tier 5 I finally got to see the conductor’s face, that of an emboldened Dalia Stasevska. She turned and gave time to all the players, though I could hear her scoffing quite loudly doing dramatic moments. I love her though, she makes for a fascinating maestro to watch and seeing here near head on made for a highlight.
Sibelius would being and end the night, Karelia Suite open with a typically Finnish, folksy fashion. It remained delightful, the last movement partially jolly within it’s ringtone nodding vibe. To be nearer the woodwind I could hear them much clearer and they ring out in a work like this if only for moments. One of the composer’s more accessible works, the symphony which follows might also be applied in that category.
Sad to say Beethoven’s Triple Concerto for Violin, Cello and Piano left me mostly unmoved. With Nicola Benedetti having to cancel, Hyeyoon Park was up for the violin solo, aside cellist Sheku Kanneh-Mason and pianist Benjamin Grosvenor. This busy concerto has little going for it, though the three soloists made it more attractive then it really is. With so many soloists, little time is given to really get into the nitty gritty of a concerto proper. Some earth moments you’d expect from Beethoven are here and the usually rollicking passages were here. Hyeyoon and Sheku shared thematic elements due to their instrument being in the same family. Benjamin did some noodley piano from old Ludvig van, though little if anything took flight. Having said that seeing these three young talents on the Cardiff stage was quite touching.
A surprise form Sweden and Andrea Tarrodi with her Paradisfåglar II (Birds of Paradise). With the first piece being just for string orchestra, here the second imagining is a lush and livid depiction of the jungle and the birds who frequent it. Inspired by Planet Earth from the BBC, Andrea was taken aback by the beauty of the Birds of Paradise, a subset of endangered birds who seem to have drag plumage and delightful dance moves. Wonderful glissandi evoke the shrill songs of these birds (though which specific bird of paradise is unclear), Fien orchestration sees a tam-tam struck very gently a few times and the string still shining in most of the piece.
Dalia wasted no time and went straight into the next Sibelius: his Seventh Symphony. Surprisingly slight around 20 odd minutes, it lost momentum a few times and a musical storm did feel like it was coming. Dalia dazzled here, in the brief affair, the breeze and fire of the composer lived. The ending was full of promised and went off well, a finale which develops in the under current for such a brief piece. Brass and percussion here were devastating. I’ll have to listen to this again.
The short second half, left wanting more though still remained an evening full of bold and memorable music making.
Imrie ydy’r sioe ddiweddaraf i’w ddathlu 50 mlynedd o Theatr y Sherman. A chymaint o sioe yw e! Ysgrifennwyd gan Nia Morais (Awdur Preswyl y Sherman) a chyfarwyddwyd gan Gethin Evans, mae Imrie yw cyd-cynhyrchiad gyda Theatr Frân Wen sy’n teithio i fewn i byd arallfydol o dan y mor – a mae’n anhygoel i brofiadu.
Rebecca Wilson a Elan Davies yn Imrie. Lluniau gan Mark Douet
Mae’r stori’n dilyn dwy hanner-chwiorydd: Laura (Elan Davies), sy’n mwyn fitio i fewn gyda’r merched arall yn ysgol; a Josie (Rebecca Wilson), sy’n dawel ac yn difrifol, ac sy’n darganfod ochr arall i’i hun. Nes i’r ddechrau y stori, dysgodd Josie celwydd teuluol a diflannodd hi mewn deyrnas hudolus o dan y donnau. Yna, ffeindiodd hi ferch arall, o’r enw Imrie Sallow, a newidiodd ei bywyd am byth.
Rebecca Wilson yn Imrie. Lluniau gan Mark Douet
Roedd Elan Davies a Rebecca Wilson yn anhygoel. Dalion nhw sylw y cynulleidfa trwy’r stori, a chreuon nhw awyrgylch ddoniol ac emosiynol. Mae’r ddau chwiorydd yn trio darganfod ble mae nhw’n perthyn yn y byd, a phwy ydyn nhw; pwy basen nhw’n hoffi fod. Perthynas y chwiorydd yn prydferth ac yn cymhleth, a roedd yr actorion wedi datblygu cydberthynas cryf gyda’n gilydd.
Rebecca Wilson a Elan Davies yn Imrie. Lluniau gan Mark Douet
Doedd y sioe ddim yn troi i bant o bwnciau bwysig fel hiliaeth a rhywioldeb – ond sgript Nia Morais yn teithio trwy rhain yn haws ac yn hardd. Mae’r ddau cymeriad yn trawsnewid a tyfu fyny o’r ur amser: siwrnai anodd yw e, troi i fewn i berson chi ddim yn adnabod. Mae Laura yn ymrafael i fod ei hun ar y tir, tra mae Josie yn ffeindio ei gwir hunaniaeth yn y mor. Y ffordd mae’n nhw’n dangos deyrnas morol yw trawiadol iawn, yn enwedig gyda miwsig awyrgylchol gan Eädyth Crawford (sy wedi neud y cerddoriaeth i ‘A Midsummer Night’s Dream’ llynedd).
Elan Davies yn Imrie. Lluniau gan Mark Douet
Mae Nia Morais wedi consurio byd sy’n realistig ac yn hud: cydbwysedd annodd, ond mae Imrie yn llwyddiannu. Roedd y tim creadigol wedi neud rhywbeth arbennig yma. Dyma sioe am cynulleidfeydd o bob oedran: a gyda chapsiynau Saesneg ym mhob perfformiad, gall siaradwyr newydd a rhai di-Gymraeg mwynhau’r sioe. Imrie ydy antur hudolus ac emosiynol gan cast a chriw dalentog iawn. Mae o amdan sut deallrwydd, cariad a chysylltiad yw’r pethau mwyaf hudolus o bopeth.
Rebecca Wilson a Elan Davies yn Imrie. Lluniau gan Mark Douet
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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