Model of an ongoing story
Lyceum Theatre JJJJ
There was a time when director Milo Rau called his theatre company an “institute of political murder” and although the name has gone from this latest production, there is still a profound sense of political pain and sorrow in Rau’s gentle but relentless dissection of the circumstances surrounding the death of Ihsane Jarfi, a young gay man who disappeared from outside a Liege nightclub in 2012, and was found in nearby woodland ten days later, savagely beaten to death.
Set in the depressed landscape of post-industrial Liege, Rau’s 100-minute show begins with the auditioning of some Liege-based actors for roles in the tragedy, and as fragments of the city’s broken history emerge from their personal stories, the show also begins a powerful inquiry into what theatre can do to give true expression to a story of a dispossessed community, and the victims of its profound alienation and bruised macho culture.
Using live video fluently and sometimes with searing intensity through a five-act structure introduced before each chapter by eloquent monochrome images, La Reprise features some of the most thoughtful and profoundly responsible performances you are likely to see in European theatre today, from a company of actors who have all been deeply involved in the development of the work, and who all seem deeply committed to Rau’s “Ghent Manifesto” values, promising theatre that tries to change the world.
Liege actors Tom Adjibi, Suzy Cocco and Fabian Leenders deliver outstandingly intimate and deeplyunderstood performances as Ihsane, his mother, and one of his killers. And Rau’s production gathers itself to a conclusion full of profound pity and sorrow.
It also embraces a meditation on theatrical tragedy itself, inspired by both by the continuing global struggle against the scourge of homophobia, and by the specific accumulated pain of a city that has “lost its job”, as relevant here in Scotland as it is the post-industrial towns of Belgium and northern France.
Ends today
exposed to some truly phenomenal dancing.
Blackburn’s choreography is a perfect example of the wonderful alchemy produced when classical ballet is placed in a contemporary setting.
The music of Beethoven and the ‘small hidden defects’ in her dancers’ bodies were Blackburn’s inspiration, adding yet more ingredients to an already busy pudding. Snatches of music come and go, and thought-provoking dialogue about life with a hearing impairment accompanies the film.
Taking off his hearing aid at the start of the show and replacing it at the end, dancer Cai Glover feels very much at the centre of 9. His actions, and the video soundbites, form a commendable introduction to young people unaware of the challenges faced by those who can’t hear.
Until tomorrow Usher Hall JJJ
It takes enormous mental stamina and unswerving musical conviction to journey successfully through the spiritual transformation, technical minefield and often treacherous offload terrain of Mahler’s gloriously transformative Second Symphony, the “Resurrection”.
Such were the hopes and expectations of a hushed Usher Hall as Gustavo Dudamel took centre stage to conduct the expansive forces of the LA Philharmonic, Edinburgh Festival Chorus and soloists Miah Persson and Anna Larsson in an expansive symphonic expedition that was to prove exhilarating, enlightening, inspired, wild and beautiful, but not without some wilderness moments en route.
Dudamel instilled incisive purpose from the outset: snarling definition from the lower strings as they announced their angry presence; the powerful sweep of a long first movement harnessed by grim solidity, enlivened by agonising rhetoric and electrifying tension, but just occasionally weakened by solo lines wanting in finesse.
The ensuing two movements, a wistful Ländlerfilled country scape countered immediately by the sardonic seduction and bucolic awakening of the scherzo, were filled with the irresistible glow of humanity.
It was beyond this point that concentration seemed to waver. As the transformative music of Ulricht emerged, Dudamel’s firm hold slackened. The opening of the Finale was thankfully the only major casualty. Here, an unexpected nervousness infected the orchestra: a mishit offstage trumpet entry, faulty intonation from onstage solos, and a general sense of unease in negotiating potential pitfalls.
When it all came right again, signalled by the magically hushed “a cappella” entrance of the Festival Chorus and the golden purity of soprano Miah Persson, a rediscovered zeal took this performance to its ecstatic conclusion.
JOYCE MCMILLAN
KELLY APTER
KEN WALTON