MARILLION

All One Tonight (Live At The Royal Albert Hall) EARMUSIC Fine film of 2017’s Albert Hall exultation.

Steve Hogarth looks euphoric and moved, but not as much as the audience. Rarely in its storied past can the Albert Hall have hosted such an enthusiastic, partisan crowd, many of whom, one strongly suspects, are Prog readers. This emotional concert film, from Marillion’s sold‑out debut at the venue last October, feels like vindication for the band. After decades of post‑Fish rebuilding, then consolidation and expansion outside of fashion, they find themselves exactly where they deserve to be: playing, consummately, to scenes of acclaim and adoration.

EXACTLY WHERE THEY DESERVE TO BE, PLAYING TO SCENES OF ADORATION.

The thing with Marillion is they earn it. Stick a pin in their setlist and you’d find a track that would be most bands’ show‑stopping epic finale. Every song here is lovingly wrought, embroidered and, even when a lengthy suite, honed for maximum melodramatic impact. There’s not a single nod to the pre‑Hogarth‑era material, which is some indication of the way their fans have travelled with them. This reviewer, always more sentimentally attached to Misplaced Childhood and Clutching At Straws, was belatedly converted by this undeniable triumph.

The show is split into two sections. The first sees the band play their FEAR album in full, and it seems to grow in grandeur on the night. For the second half they’re joined by In Praise Of Folly, a string quartet with flute and French horn, and adapt some of their best‑loved numbers accordingly: Afraid Of Sunlight, The Great Escape, Neverland. Which is not to suggest they strip things down. Marillion are very adept at light and shade, make no mistake, but even their relatively subdued, reflective moments conjure up images of near‑apocalyptic, epoch‑rattling events. As filmed by director Tim Sidwell, the lights, lasers and films are splendidly judged, laying back when appropriate, going large when most hoped for. What the visuals convey best, however, is the tangible atmosphere in the room as the stream of standing ovations appear to take place in a magical, underwater fairy grotto.

Hogarth comes across well, a likeable blend of mild nerves, humour and bonhomie early on who grows into the role of spotlit frontman, acting out lines in a jitter of theatrical hand movements, which only accomplished focal points can pull off. And as Prog readers, you hardly need us to enlighten you as to how adept and expressive the musicians are.

The dynamics, the drama, the cult that refused to die: this classily produced document is obviously essential for Marillion diehards but powerful enough to pummel sceptics into happy submission too.