REVIEWS
Music Scottish Ensemble Wellington Church, Glasgow Keith Bruce *****
THE flickering light of the church candles augmented by the glow of their foot-switch operated tablet computer music stands, and the shimmering bling of guest guitarist Sean Shibe’s Christmas shirt, Jonathan Morton’s Scottish Ensemble are on their annual pilgrimage to reinvent the seasonal concert.
The 15 instrumentalists are playing some music composed for the season, but rather more appropriated for this programme. A first half of baroque works included a Vivaldi Concerto For Lute with Shibe, Bach played by a string quartet (plus bassist Diane Clark for the closing bars) with the rest of the instrumentalists becoming a 10-voice chorale, and a five-movement Christmas Concerto by Arcangelo Corelli that confirms the case put forward by Robert Philip in his recently-published The Classical Music Lover’s Companion To Orchestral Music that orchestration begins with the Italian violinist’s
Opus 6 Concerti Grossi.
After the interval, a carefully constructed journey through music of the 20th century – and later – included Shibe’s second appearance with the ensemble, for Malcolm Arnold’s Serenade For Guitar And Strings. The filmic Pastoral/action Sequence/pastoral structure of that piece not only echoed the tempo shifts in the early music, but also appropriately followed the newer work, Sally Beamish’s Under The Wing Of The Rock, with Jane
Atkins the viola soloist in what is a picturesque pocket concerto. That its Celtic strains have not been deployed on recent films and TV programmes about Scottish royals and clan history is a remarkable oversight.
Atkins had been introduced to her solo role with the third movement Intermezzo from Holst’s St Paul’s Suite, and the whole second half was bracketed by the first and final movements of the work that gave the whole evening its title, Musica Adventus. There is little especially
Yule about Latvian composer Peteris Vasks’s arrangement for string orchestra of his String Quartet No. 3, but his contemporary atmospherics had a great deal to say about the special atmosphere of this concert. Touring to St Machar’s Cathedral, Aberdeen, Thursday December 6; Inverness Cathedral December 7; St John’s Kirk, Perth December 8; and Crichton Church, Dumfries December 9.
BBC Sso/feddeck City Halls, Glasgow Keith Bruce ****
PRIZE-WINNING young American conductor James Feddeck has appeared with some of the top orchestras of the world, including the RSNO last year, but I am sure as many of the very full house on Thursday evening were there to hear soloist James Ehnes, who had been a regular visitor to Scotland since he charmed Orkney’s St Magnus Festival many years ago now.
From the point of view of Scotland’s experience of him, this was a fascinating concert during which he was on imperious form for the Britten Violin Concerto, which the composer tinkered with throughout his life after its New York premiere in 1940.
It was preceded by Samuel Barber’s contemporaneous Second Essay For Orchestra – and Ehnes memorably performed Barber’s Violin Concerto with the Scottish Chamber Orchestra over a decade ago.
The two works are interesting companion pieces, for the debt both owe to Russian composers earlier in the 20th century, and in the idiosyncratic use of certain instruments, particularly brass and clarinets in the Barber and tuba and piccolos in the Britten. It was also a treat to hear the unmistakable tone of Stella Mccracken’s oboe in the concerto.
The box office success of the programme, however, was surely down to the presence of Gustav Holst’s Planets suite in the second half, and the orchestra’s guests stole the show there as well. Chorus-master Andrew Nunn’s Royal Scottish Conservatoire-derived Les Sirenes provided the off-stage chorus of the mystical Neptune at the conclusion of the work from the first floor foyer, fading out as if they were strolling off down Candleriggs, and were rightly cheered to the rafters for their contribution.
It is the final detail in a work full that is also full of captivating orchestral detail, which Feddeck brought out with fine attention. As in the Britten, however, his tempi sometimes seemed a little laboured in the effort. Old age comes more quickly than Saturn did here – and, to paraphrase G K Chesterton, perhaps Nunn’s angels can fly because they take themselves lightly.
Pantomime Beauty And The Beast King’s Edinburgh Mary Brennan ***
SO HERE we are in Auchtereekie, where the villagers sing and dance in upbeat fashion and – yikes! – a monstrous ugly Beast is lord of the manor. Small children will probably know this story because of the Disney animation, the subsequent musical and recent film.
None of these, however, had a Mrs May Potty (Allan Stewart) or a ridiculous lech called Flash Boaby (Grant Stott). Phwoar, folks! The “boaby” references that come thick and fast certainly have the adults chortling, but frankly become wearisome in what is meant to be a family show.
But without Andy Gray’s usual input – he has been “no very well” – there’s no lovable numpty for us to latch onto, no doolally fall guy to act the foil to Stewart’s Dame, who instead has to keep slagging off Stott, not as his on-stage character but as himself.
Both Stewart and Stott square up to their respective tasks with tremendous aplomb. The leather-clad Stott swaggers with silly shades of oily, leery ego while knowing that even his name, Flash Boaby, is another joke at his expense.
Stewart, in his time-honoured guise of Aunty May, juggles the double entendres with knowing ease. Inbetween-times, the storyline puts in an appearance.
Gillian Parkhouse’s Belle is a delightful strong point, here.
Sparky and smart, she cuts through Boaby’s chat-ups, recognises the inner truth of the Beast (Chris Cowley,) while standing up to his growly behaviour. She has a brother, Dougal (Daniel Cullen) who is little more than a plot twist to get Belle into the castle, while The Enchantress (Jacqueline Hughes) has a singing voice that justifies her frequent re-appearing to update us on time running out for the Beast she cursed.
In terms of appearances, this is a seriously glitzy production, but, as Belle reminds us, appearances aren’t everything and there’s something shabby, slightly off-colour, about this show. Keep getting better, Andy – and come back soon.
Theatre Mouthpiece Traverse Theatre, Edinburgh Neil Cooper ****
IF GENIUS steals, how do you split up the loot? That’s just one of the questions Kieran Hurley pins to the wall in his new play for the Traverse, which dissects both the culture and class wars alongside the eternal contradictions of both.
Under-achieving Edinburgh writer Libby is about to make the ultimate dramatic gesture when she is saved by Declan, a teenage boy from the housing schemes with a raw artistic talent that enables Libby to get her mojo back. Everything, alas, is material, especially Declan’s life.
The psycho-sexual tug of love that follows makes for the perfect final gift from the Traverse’s outgoing artistic director Orla O’loughlin. Her production takes a daring leap through the fourth wall of Kai Fischer’s framed black-box set to question who exactly owns the stories that shape us. Stage-directions are projected on to this interior, both from Hurley’s actual play as well as Libby’s soon-tobe-devastating work-in-progress.
Lorn Macdonald and Neve Mcintosh bring enough dynamic light and shade to Declan and Libby’s increasingly ferocious sparring, so things never feel heavy-handed in what initially looks like a gender-swapped Pygmalion or Educating Rita. Driven by Kim Moore’s burbling electronic score, Hurley takes things further, so the play becomes a wrestling match for the soul of a divided society in which art imitates life imitating art in a safe space where everyone likes a bit of rough.
While there are moments you wonder what any of this means outside the theatre world’s concerned but cosy bubble that those both making and watching the show exist inside, this is at least part of the play’s point. If a real-life Declan gate-crashed a real-life Libby’s moment of triumph as he does here, chances are he would be out on his ear within seconds. Such are the terminally unresolved challenges Hurley raises in a show where every person in the room becomes complicit in using Declan and Libby’s stories for our own thrill-seeking ends.