There are few things more magical than L. Frank Baum’s tales of Dorothy, Toto and company, and Orbit Theatre’s new version of The Wonderful Wizard of Oz is sure to enchant audiences when it lands in Cardiff later this month.
Dorothy Gale and her little dog, Toto, are swept away from Kansas and into the technicolour utopia of Oz, a land of lions and tigers and bears – oh my! Her flying house falls on and kills the Wicked Witch of the East, which makes Dorothy a reluctant saviour to the good people of Munchkinland – but all she wants to do is go home, which is a wish only the great and powerful Wizard of Oz can grant. With the Wicked Witch of the West hot on her ruby heels, Dorothy and her new friends – a scarecrow, a tin man and a cowardly lion – race to see the Wizard before it’s too late.
As Wales’ number one amateur theatre company, Orbit has been delighting Cardiff audiences for over twenty-five years. It’s one of the few outlets in Cardiff that gives non-professionals the chance to get involved in professional theatre, meaning that Orbit is not only living the dream, but making dreams come true.
Follow Dorothy and friends down the yellow brick road to the New Theatre this month and you might just find what you’re looking for over the rainbow.
A return to London, a return to dance. I could not ignore the allure of Sadler’s Wells and the newest offering from English National Ballet. With choreography and stage design by William Forsythe, this was very much his evening. The showing off of his dance work bled into every moment of the night. The soundtrack over the brief night would randomly feature James Blake, Barry White and a variety of other musical taste. I pondered throughout, does it work?
The dancing on display cannot be underestimated. Yet, the music didn’t always necessarily ground the pieces and we had a choice of various petite performances of blinks and you’d miss them proportions. I want to say it felt more like strident ballet sequences fitted with pop and peculiar musical choices, having a certain charm but just not really making much momentum. The second part of the night entitled Playlist had a more club anthem feel, the audience clearly swept away with it’s frantic mania. This remained a curious take on ballet both old and new, more so of the later. There was an angular, almost cubist approach to movement, the men and women getting stirring duets or flourishing ensemble motifs. You almost want to recreate some of the poses at home.
It was the short nature of the entire night which made for a pleasant variation, two short parts with plenty of insight and intrigue. Like on this press night, this should please a lot of people, the choice of music should help break down some barriers and make ballet per se more accessible. The choreographer appears to be making waves in dance and work like this can only continue his. passions. A night like this can only define the talents of some spectacular dancers with builds that could leave most of us reeling.
Spend a night at the Fosythe Evening. It is a guaranteed success.
The Forsythe Evening runs at Sadler’s Wells till 10 April 2022
Book by Jessie Nelson, based on the motion picture written by Adrienne Shelly
Directed by Diane Paulus
Produced by Barry and Fran Weissler, David Ian for Crossroads Live UK
(4 / 5)
Waitress – was this afternoon tea with champagne at the Ritz or a slow morning at Sloppy Joe’s café?
Diane Paulus’ feel-good optimistic musical kept me engaged for the whole evening being consummately acted with excellent choreography and set design. The leads, Jenna (Chelsea Halfpenny), Becky (Wendy Mae Brown) and Dawn (Evelyn Hoskins) had great chemistry and while they all sang well, Wendy Mae Brown’s was the stand out, powerful voice. The score added plenty of phase and change to proceedings and the seamless transition from one set to another with well-timed choreography was dizzyingly effective.
Waitress has music and lyrics by American singer-songwriter Sara Bareilles and a book by Jessie Nelson based on the film of the same name by Adrienne Shelly. choreographer Lorin Latarro and multi-Tony Award-winning director Diane Paulus, Royal Derngate Theatre, UK ,2022, Credit: Johan Persson
When the play was first produced on Broadway in 2016, it had, most unusually, an all-female creative team and the nature of the story has an agenda to suit. It tells the story of Jenna, a waitress who is a talented pie maker. She is trapped in small-town America in an abusive relationship with little prospect for betterment. She becomes pregnant and is seemingly destined to experience the perpetuation of the line of chauvinistic, misogynistic relationships that have oppressed women down through the ages. Like mother, like daughter. Then she meets her gynaecologist (David Hunter) and is able to sample what life could have been but she is caught in a tryst that can only bring danger to her and the baby in the future.
Waitress has music and lyrics by American singer-songwriter Sara Bareilles and a book by Jessie Nelson based on the film of the same name by Adrienne Shelly. choreographer Lorin Latarro and multi-Tony Award-winning director Diane Paulus, Royal Derngate Theatre, UK ,2022, Credit: Johan Persson
Her saving grace is the supportive network in her place of work, in particular her best friends, Becky and Dawn and the owner of the diner, Joe. In viewing the friendship of the three women we are invited to view that sometimes hidden expression of femininity including their sexuality, compassion and ambition. They may live in an oppressive society, but they can experience fullness of life despite their circumstance.
The male figures do not come out of this play covered in glory. Some are thoughtful and considerate but they are more often self-indulgent and unappreciative of their partner. Is it wrong to feel sorry for Earl, the husband of Jenna? No, not really. Any abusive, coercive person deserves our condemnation, but he too is a victim of this oppressive society, losing a dead-end job with no hope of change and yet possessive in his love for his wife who then walks out on him on the birth of their first child. From her perspective he deserves this but he also needs a much better way in life. If society is to change for the better, it should educate and improve all people.
Waitress has music and lyrics by American singer-songwriter Sara Bareilles and a book by Jessie Nelson based on the film of the same name by Adrienne Shelly. choreographer Lorin Latarro and multi-Tony Award-winning director Diane Paulus, Royal Derngate Theatre, UK ,2022, Credit: Johan Persson
Does this setting have much relevance to Britain today? I believe it does. We have had nearly 50 years of equal opportunities legislation and it is clear that there is more opportunity for women than there has been in the past. However, it is also evident that gender bias is still deep rooted and profound and there is much work to be done to give equality of opportunity.
Waitress has music and lyrics by American singer-songwriter Sara Bareilles and a book by Jessie Nelson based on the film of the same name by Adrienne Shelly. choreographer Lorin Latarro and multi-Tony Award-winning director Diane Paulus, Royal Derngate Theatre, UK ,2022, Credit: Johan Persson
While this is a fun night out with plenty to satisfy those that love this story, this is a layered play giving much food for thought. There was evidence in the audience of the cult following this story attracts which is highly understandable as there is much to identify with in both the play and the characters within. Maybe this is not champagne tea at the Ritz and it is definitely not a slow morning at Sloppy Joe’s. It is more like a good night out at your local.
French music filled the Royal Welsh over the past few days. In a concert entitled ‘Beauty in Darkness’ has at it’s focus the Quartet for the End of time by Olivier Messiaen, written whilst at a POW camp in Poland during WWII. The surreal nature of the piece stems from biblical protheses of the end of all things. Whilst the first part of the night had an unclear focus on composers effected by the Holocaust, these were unlisted pieces, which had a laid back and cheery feel to them.
The Messiaen quartet has such a strangeness about it, it’s hard not to be taken along. The oddball mix of instruments (violin, cello, clarinet and piano) proves the oddness though the effect on an audience since it’s first airing in the actual camp, can’t be underestimated. A devout Catholic, Messiaen saw hope through the darkness of his circumstances. A sparseness fills the work as the clarinet gets a resounding solo filled with bird song and staggering breath work. The cello has an unbearable and moving movement in the middle, the violin at the end reaching a similar sadness. The piano throughout is pounding, ethereal. It’s easy to underestimate the quartet but when sat there listening you feel the true power of Messiaen as a composer.
Violinist Bartosz Woroch has had the honour of performing once again, this piece where it first premiered. Here he leads, his love of the work always present. Fine musicianship. On piano, Ayaka Shigeno battles the outrageous nature of her role, almost being the back bone of the work in a fierce display. I’ve heard Robert Plane play this piece with his clarinet a few times, he was replacing another ill musician. If anyone can truly do this part, it’s Plane who always dazzles. The rapt silence which fills his solo, the shrieks and sweet harmonies in other parts. WNO’s Rosie Bliss on cello makes her instrument weep more than usual, in an offering of such touching beauty. Few pieces in chamber music are truly as touching as this.
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Composer Hélène de Montgeroult is a new discovery for me. With recent campaigns from Clare Hammond, new ears will get to hear more of a woman who lead a stimulating life. An aristocrat who fled France during The Great Terror, she would later be nearly executed were it not for her rousing variations on the French anthem. I’d like to think that story is true, you can already see the feature film on her life. With an army of students from the college, an array of her Etudes graced a small but eager afternoon audience. How utterly charming these pieces were. Somewhere between Mozart, Brahms and early other romantics with her own voice ringing through. There was a spiralling technique, with moments of humble resignation and a confidence in its music making.
The students did an impressive job of bringing these fluttery etudes to life. There may have been a misstep here and there, but the whole concert remained a delight. Looking back, I’d say the Etude no. 28 in E major stayed in the mind. The left hand notation for Etude no. 99 in E flat major for two pianos was another highlight. With the amount of musicians on stage, it went along swimmingly with the occasional adjustment to the piano stool as brief rest bites. Promising young musicians played in this and we all hope their time at the college is fruitful.
The real question remains why she has been forgotten to time? Is it sexism or politics? This remains an unjust crime which is in need of swift rectification. Consider me a proud convert.
Clare Hammond’s recording of Montgerolut’s Etudes with BIS Records is due for release in autumn 2022.
Thomas Vaccaro’s De Cineribus: From the Ashes was a book I honestly wasn’t sure I’d like. I like Thomas’s YouTube videos a lot (their channel name being Unicorn of War), as I am certainly a sucker for a good video essay to absorb over a plate of food (my favourites being their RWBY reviews and rewrites, and their Taylor Swift song discussions), but I’d realised with YouTuber books they were often – well, bad. Or at least, would quickly fade from the limelight or fall from grace in a record speed. I was worried, at first, that this book would be similar; a money grab, rather than a labour of love.
I was wrong, and pleasantly so.
One of Thomas Vaccaro’s strengths, I think, is their ability to think far ahead with their plots. Admittedly, I found their channel because I was actively looking for content about RWBY that would prove its awful writing, terrible production, and overall bad reception, and what I found was someone who was lovingly taken the broken, beaten show, and making it into something of their own. RWBY is its own show, yes, but I admired Thomas Vaccaro’s way of reshaping the information we (RWBY’s audience) have, and turning the plot into something both actually palatable and genuinely fun. This was a quality I was sure would shine through in their book, even while I still quietly worried about the production quality of it. Despite that, at the very least, I knew the story was in perfectly capable hands.
And it was.
De Cineribus mainly follows Felix, a young adult about to enter the college scene, heading off to a college for those with magic powers. He finds friends, enemies, suffers his wins and his definite losses. A few other perspectives are followed throughout the story but this, I realised, does not take from Felix’s perspective as sometimes multiple POV stories can do. Rather I found the jumps in perspective enlightening, and definitely enriching of the wider plot as new characters would pose new questions to me (what’s happening here? How does it relate back and affect Felix? How much do they know? Whose side are they on?).
As I said, I admire Vaccaro’s dedication to writing and storytelling. It’s most definitely a skill of theirs, and clearly shows through the books. First of all, the book is just over 500 pages long, so you can tell that’s dedication to a story for one! But mainly it comes in the depth and complexity of their characters (and there’s a good number of them!) but while the cast of characters is big, it is not overwhelming. There are not so many that I can’t keep track, or I can’t remember whose skill is what, or who matters to who. This is something I was incredibly relieved to find out as often college/magical fantasy stories often have casts as far as the eye can see. This is something RWBY is completely guilty of, and I found myself noticing Vaccaro’s particular points about RWBY being contested in their own work. Characters in De Cineribus are fleshed out, have their own skills and limits, motivations, and broad personalities. I liked being able to not expect what a character would be like based on their skills. Healers who aren’t friendly, teachers who are cranky, teachers who are jovial, etc. I liked, especially, that while Felix was for the most part sweet and caring and loyal, he also had a very clear dark underbelly to his character; one that was angry, determined to the point of obsessive, and sometimes a bit scary. It was nice to see a main character with real faults, and real regrets when those faults caught a hold of him too strongly.
The writing is strong and done with precision (although I’ll admit I found a few typos – but to err is human. And even so, I can’t even remember where they were or what they were!), Vaccaro’s skill and dedication really shine through the way the dialogue is youthful but not cringey, and the way their descriptions are alluring but not droning. The prose itself was enjoyable, turns of phrase appearing that I wouldn’t have expected, I think I was most fond of “bust a gut” to describe laughter, since this isn’t an image I usually come across, and it definitely elevated the youth of the characters and the depth of their emotions.
The book is, as I said, just over 500 pages – so, not a quick read, but a fun, entangling one.I trust Thomas to make a strong series based on their passion and unwavering dedication. Since this is called book one, and I’m excited to see where the rest of the story may go. Especially since the books ends in a very apt spot for a sequel to take over.I admire their dedication to their craft and in particular, to their audience.
I appreciate aspects I’ve otherwise never seen in literature such as their comprehensive list of trigger warnings at the beginning of the book, and good sized chapters – long enough to engage, short enough that I don’t get bored.
I was initially worried about boring fantasy tropes showing their head throughout this text, as most fantasy books fall victim to at least a few. And while I’m sure a few did seep in there, I was pleasantly surprised when things didn’t turn out that way and I actually couldn’t guess where the story would go as it progressed, which was definitely a breath of fresh air for me.
Overall, the book was a fun, immersive read. Especially for fans of things such as Harry Potter but have outgrown it or do not wish to support its author. It’s a fun, youthful take on the “wizard school” idea, one ripe for a new generation and a new presence in literature.
There really is a lack of basic, physical theatre performances these days. It is encompassed with narrative, but this is usually to explain the physicality, when the physicality is what should be bringing the story across.
With, You Heard Me, we have returned back to the basics and effectiveness with this.
You Heard Me is the true story, by artist Luca Rutherford, as a survivor of sexual assault. On a run, during the day, Rutherford was attacked and if it wasn’t for her lack of silence and fight within her alerting to a passerby, her story may have ended very differently.
The performance is a multi-media performance, expressed through a combination of physical theatre and soundscapes. As previously said, this was interesting as it is rare that artists embark on a purely physical theatre production to express their story. Rutherford almost exhausts herself with her energy and rhythm throughout the piece, showing her fight and her struggle under the physical prowess of her attacker.
However, while there were commentary, changes in lights and adjustments to the stage, it felt very one note and I felt I was waiting for the change, for the WOW moment, for that theatrical power.
By no means do I want to tread on what is a true, emotional and sensitive piece and what I found so brilliant about this was that this was not with an ending we realised. She survived, she got away, but this could have been a lot worse, a lot more like the, unfortunate, tales we often hear. And this made what she expressed powerful to all those female identifiers, or in fact anyone who unfortunately may find themselves in a similar situation.
You Heard Me had a clear message: to fight, to be loud, to not be quiet or ladylike or everything that is impressed upon us, especially in these fight or flight moments. But I did feel that perhaps some different levels to the piece would add to its power as a theatrical performance.
*Trigger warning: the play contains discriminatory slurs directed towards the GRT community, and some distressing scenes*
Stone the Crows has had a fascinating journey to Chapter’s Seligman Theatre. Written by acclaimed playwright Tim Rhys, it debuted as a film starring Terence Stamp and Nick Moran and has now finally made its way to the medium for which it was conceived, in a breathlessly bold new production by Winterlight in association with Company of Sirens.
Boo Golding. Image credit: Noel Dacey.
Tucker (Oliver Morgan-Thomas) is a jaded urbanite who longs to escape the choking grip of city life, so he snaps up a ramshackle farm on the suburbs. While Tucker clings to the dream of peace, what he really wants is uncontested dominance – but this brash new king has a challenger to the throne: Crow (Boo Golding), a mysterious loner who worships the forest and is prepared to do whatever it takes to defend it.
Boo Golding and Oliver Morgan-Thomas. Image credit: Noel Dacey.
Directed with kinetic intensity by Chris Durnall, Stone the Crows is the transcendent culmination of everything Company of Sirens has worked to achieve. This is a play about borders: between people, between identities, between the urban and the rural, and between those who respect the land and those who gut it for profit. Even its setting transcends categories or definitions: Rhys terms it a ‘social jungle’, a liminal space in which the tangible and the psychological blur together.
Boo Golding. Image credit: Noel Dacey.
And Golding’s Crow is a character who embodies liminality. They exist free of binaries, expectations, demands. They adore the forest with an anchorite’s zeal, and spend the play’s first few minutes meticulously constructing a skeletal altar from twigs and branches in the manner of an ancient ritual. While Golding is mercurial as the wind, Morgan-Thomas is all iron and grit, hard as the city that built him; there’s a simmering machismo to his performance which suggests that rage, fed and informed by white supremacy, is never far from the surface.
Oliver Morgan-Thomas and Chris Durnall. Image credit: Noel Dacey.
Tucker’s particular evil can be seen in the awful, racialized abuse he directs at the Travellers who live and work on ‘his’ land. The title itself evokes a racial slur against Roma people (specifically the Romani communities of Eastern Europe). While it’s unclear to what extent GRT people were consulted in the making of the play, the creative team’s intentions are firmly in solidarity with these marginalised communities (and very firmly against despotic legislation currently making its way through Parliament), and Rhys and Golding depict the main character with empathy, nuance and complexity.
Boo Golding. Image credit: Noel Dacey
The visceral connection between its two central performers is the axis on which the story turns. While Golding shifts effortlessly between Puck-like trickster and vengeful spirit, Morgan Thomas’ laddish certitude grows increasingly sinister as the action unfurls. They mimic, complete, and predict each other; there’s a dynamism to their exchanges that, even when they don’t interact directly, renders their connection immediate and undeniable. It also means that when their characters do finally ‘meet’, it’s breathtaking.
Boo Golding and Oliver Morgan-Thomas. Image credit: Noel Dacey
Nature, though, is the master here, captured by Eren Anderson’s exquisite music. His soundscape beautifully weaves the gently unspooling song of the forest. He plays, at first, only when we are in Crow’s perspective, as if the primal music of the spheres flows only through them, and not Tucker. All we hear when Tucker speaks is the snap of a twig underfoot and the susurrus of rustling leaves. But then, when allegiances and sympathies start to shift, their melodies intertwine like roots.
Hypnotic and engrossing, Stone the Crows is a masterpiece of gorgeous brutality. The play leaves us at a threshold, and you must decide whether to turn back or to cross into the unknown.
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It Ends With Us by Colleen Hoover is one of those books I heard about over and over and over again and kept skirting the edges of to get away from. With her skyrocket into popularity, I found myself jumping through hoops to avoid her work, for no other reason than: I had a weird feeling I’d like it, and because I know she has so many books published, I simply didn’t have the time or money to fall into her work and out the other side, changed.
Then I got paid.
It Ends With Us was the kind of book floating all over booktok, appearing and disappearing in book group posts I would skim read; it was popular, easy to read, and seemingly either incredibly well-liked, or vehemently hated. I wanted to know why. Even when I was actively avoiding it, I wanted to know what it was that was happening to people that their reviews were becoming so mixed.
I thought, when I was reading it, that it would be down to its “chicklit” factor. The book itself being pink, and Hoover being notably a romance writer, I thought people were detesting it because it was a gooey, lovey dovey easy read, and not an absolute draining challenge of some such classic literature you’d find on a university reading list that I’m sure I would hate after half of the first page. I found myself believing this at one point, questioning if something that had so clearly rocketed into pop culture, wouldn’t it be too easy for me?
And then I decided I didn’t care. I’d been paid. My New Year’s Resolution was to read twenty books this here and here was a book I was interested in; I had to take the opportunity before it skirted me, the same way I had been skirting It Ends With Us. I bought it one day after work, snatching it from the shelf before I had a chance to think about it too long, rushing myself through the till before I had the chance to turn around and put it back.
Besides, if I didn’t like it, there is a cute phone-box-library right by my house, and I’m sure someone, somewhere, would like it more than me.
I kept it. I’m keeping it forever, tucked nicely into the pink section of my bookshelf. Because I liked it. As I, ironically, knew that I would.
It Ends With Us is a fun book at first. A real page turner as one relationship blossoms right before the reader’s eyes and the other notable relationship come sneaking out of the shadows, piece by piece. I admit, I’m no high class literature snob (except for when I want to be), so when the blurb said something much more wordy than simply “Man A meets Man B and which one will it be at the end?” I had two main thoughts: I’m too good for this and this is going to be a great read for me. I got over myself quick when I found I was six chapters in the same day I’d started reading, and had the feeling that by that time tomorrow, the book would be finished.
I had heard a lot of different opinions on Colleen Hoover’s writing style, and I had initially been worried that I wouldn’t like it. But admittedly, the writing style is easy and quick. Not plain, exactly, but simple. Easy to follow and, as I found out, easy to get lost in. The book is fast paced with short to mid length chapters (which I certainly appreciate, I always felt like short chapters feel more like the book is moving, rather than longer ones), and with its page-turner ability, I found the book was over far sooner than I’d expected.
The story progresses as (no spoilers): Lily meets Ryle and they hit it off. It’s great, until. And also in the mix is an old friend of Lily’s she was once in love with.I know it sounds very chicklit-y. It is. But that’s honestly what made it fun for me. I’m excited for the sequel to be released and seeing what happened to the cast of characters next.
There are a few things I have noticed in my last few reads, and this one, that have pulled me from my escapism of reading and placed me squarely back in real life. I’m not sure if it’s a trope in and of itself, but I’ve noticed a prevalent “rich best friend” character appearing; funding or enabling the main characters lifestyle, existing for exuberant gifts, there for not much more of a purpose than “be rich” and “be convenient”, which is a shame. I get the feeling that it’s easy, that Rich Best Friend nullifies a lot of typical people-problems, but I find this also voids a certain aspect of relatability to the cast of characters. But honestly, that was the only flaw I saw in the book – everything else about it was compelling and emotional, intriguing and fun!
Fiji is a black comedy framed as a living room, this play is full of laughs and quirky moments from the off. The concept of Fiji is Sam (Pedro Leandro) and Nick (Eddie Loodmer-Elliott) met online only a short while ago, during the weekend they finally meet in person where it all spirals out as fast as lightening.
Sam’s destroyed his devices & told everyone he’s bought a one-way ticket to Fiji but instead he’s with Nick. The two feel that they have a deeply special relationship and plan to spend the rest of their lives together. However, for Sam that life will be very brief, he has asked Nick to kill and eat him, with a strong belief that Nick ingesting Sam will be the ultimate exchange of love, making their bond inseparable.
From mundanity of cheap Spanish wine, an enormous lemon & sarcasm – their humour contrasts like an avalanche with what they have planned ahead. As individuals their human vulnerability and tenderness grips the audiences attention whilst grasping onto the concept of cannibalism. Coming together for this horrific purpose, both intensely relate on how internet dating can be poisonous within the fanatical world of perverse relationships.
As the true reason for the weekend becomes clear, you can’t but help become transfixed on how this weekend will end. Their frequent questions & answers sparks conversation by a tense countdown, which we directly visit during the final moments of the abrupt murder. These questions offer deep & reflective considerations about what has led to this shocking decision: does it stem from maternal issues, as scientific research, what will Nick’s ‘experiment’ disclose? And all the while the two men reassure each other that they want this to happen, each for their own personal reasons.
This play is based on a real life incident in Germany. It interrogates what the rules would be in a situation like this: who gets to decide how it plays out, and what responsibilities are involved, both between participants and in their wider social circle? The discussion is remarkably balanced, as the characters reconcile the issues within their own instances, arguing the case for personal choice, whilst acknowledging there is a world outside where these actions are known to be wrong.
This is a well articulated production offering romance and laughter alongside repulsive horror, there’s really deep, dark & deadly thinking in the midsts that invite you into the world of the unknown.
It’s all go for St David’s Hall and their International Concert Series. Though what surprised me the most for this concert was the surprising gaps of empty seats in the auditorium for the London Mozart Players. The rugby was of course on, it seems.
In a finely crafted concert, the focus was mainly in the first half of the 19th century, with a touch of the early 20th century to boot. In Prokofiev’s 1st Symphony (dubbed the ‘Classical’) we see the ground work for the early days of the composer, one who would go on to effect the musical landscape for years. It is rigid in style, even with some charming elements. Written the year of his countries shattering revolution, one must also consider the music later which would delight and disgust in equal measure. You’d never think listening to this symphony that a prickly, angular vision would form from the composer. No doubt, this is a rare sighting of a Russian work of music right now for obvious reasons.
The treat of the night came from Isata Kanneh-Mason for Clara Schumann’s Piano Concerto. I’ve spoken in the past how beguiling Robert Schumann’s music is, yet his wife has for the longest time remained in his shadow. Very much a power couple with a turbulent relationship, the Schumann’s remain some of the finest artist of their era. Clara’s Piano Concerto has a live, chattering quality hard not to love. From a renowned family of musicians, Isata has all the grace and standing the piece demands, even with some wonderful, clamouring moments. This was a testament to the underrated beauty of this female composer and only proves just how much we need her music. Time for Clara to shine…
A cheeky return after the intermission with Rossini and his overture to The Italian Girl in Algiers. Amazing how funny an overture can be, the timpani standing out in it’s blasts. The choppy, whimsy Rossini is well known for is heard as well as an undercurrent of malice. Ending with Mendelssohn’s 4th Symphony made for a familiar and effective finale. Known as the ‘Italian’, named so as he wrote the piece on tour, it shines with a breezy pace, never giving up its style or panache. Bulgarian conductor Delyana Lazarova all night, slashed away at each score, an intense scope on the music never let up, formulated by the players. The spritely musicians offered us an intimate evening, something which this Cardiff audience would love to see again.
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
(3 / 5)
(4 / 5)
