Marlowe Theatre Canterbury

Well this is Matthew Bourne so you arrive expecting nothing remotely conventional or “traditional” (whatever that means) and you’re right. This riveting show is a ravishing dance piece with the plot of Romeo and Juliet so radically and freely reworked that I doubt Shakespeare himself would recognise it. And it matters not a jot. It’s fresh, original and utterly compelling.

We’re in the Verona Institute in the near future – some sort of care facility for people with mental health problems maybe but more like a prison with officers, bars, keys and locks. Residents (inmates?) are dressed in simple white clothes and of course there isn’t an en pointe shoe or a pair of tights in sight. There are no pointless leaps just because one/some of the male dancers can do spectacular ones either. Instead we get a great deal of muscular ensemble dancing either bare foot or in plimsoll-like footwear. I have no idea how Bourne thinks of these visually vibrant, but often quite simple choral/corps de ballet movements (such as shifting forwards in relentless rhythm) and makes them feel completely fresh.

The other hero of this show is Prokofiev’s score – unusually for Bourne it’s played live in the pit with passion and panache by a nineteen piece band conducted from piano and harmonium by Dan Jackson. It’s extraordinary music. Every single note packs a powerful narrative and Bourne matches it with action so perfectly that within two minutes of curtain up you’ve forgotten that this ballet has ever been done in any other way. It will be a long time before I forget the death of Tybalt (a thuggish guard: Dan Wright) presented here as an act of group throttling, the strap tightened with each of Prokofiev’s dramatic fortissimo minor chords. It’s drama at its spikiest.

Of course every dancer in this company is good. They wouldn’t have been cast in this production if they weren’t. Paris Fitzpatrick and Cordelia Braithwaite as the titular pair of star crossed lovers earn a special mention however. As individuals, often troubled, anxious or cross, they present believable characters, As a pair, in what is effectively their marriage consummation pas-de-deux, they roll over each other and use a series of very ingenious wrap round movements which fit the music perfectly. It’s a skilfully enacted symbolic representation of their physical union and I found it deeply moving.

Susan Elkin

Few things are musically more uplifting than hearing a fine foreign orchestra playing its own national heritage. The Czech Philharmonic plays with an exceptionally incisive string sound and the technique with which they played Smetana’s The Bartered Bride overture and three dances was stunning: all those delicious rhythms caught with glittering, percussive precision particularly in the third dance. Semyon Bychkov, who beats time quite simply and has his orchestra traditionally seated, certainly knows how to make Czech music sing. It made a delightful concert opener.

It was an inspired programming idea then to change the mood completely with the intensity of the letter scene from Eugene Onegin in the concerto slot. The orchestra played with well balanced operatic excitement from the first note and Russian soprano, Elena Stikhina sang this gloriously melodic scene with rich clarity and plenty of warmth and passion.

After the interval the mood became much more sombre. Shostokovitch’s 65 minute eighth symphony is bleak and emotionally raw and it’s not surprising that it doesn’t get as many outings as say, the fifth or the ninth. I can’t think of any other symphony which has a 30 minute first movement either but it was evocatively played here particularly when it reached the long, plaintive cor anglais solo. I also admired, among other strengths, the quality of the trumpet solo in the third movement and some vibrant viola work along with the strange gurgling flute sound the score requires. For me, though, the hero of the evening was the piccolo player who more than earned his money with prominent – and beautifully played work – in each of the three pieces.

Susan Elkin

Royal Albert Hall, 3 September 2019

Bernard Haitink’s final London concert was characterised by warmth, dignity and charisma. Many years ago I was at one of Otto Klemperer’s last concerts and, two generations later, it was moving to see Haitink, now similarly slow on his feet and using a stick, helped onto the platform by soloist Emmanuel Ax for Beethoven’s fourth piano concerto.

Once on the podium in front of the inimitable Vienna Philharmonic, however, all frailty disappeared. He conducted with unshowy, veteran authority using the conductor’s stool only part of the time.

He and Ax gave us a tender, measured performance with lots of gentle vibrato in the first movement’s long cadenza as it shifts from grandioso to cantabile. I have rarely heard the andante so sensitively controlled and I admired the attractive lightness in the third movement.

Ax then gave us Schubert’s Impromptu Op 1 No 42 – an old friend – as his encore, really leaning on the contrast between the two moods it includes.

After the interval the VPO doubled its numbers (maybe six women in total) as extra brass and percussion players swarmed up the tiers for Bruckner’s Seventh. This colourful marathon is a lovely thing to hear the Vienna Phil play because from stridency to the most delicate filigree lyricism, it really gives every section the chance to strut its stuff – those trombone descending scales in the opening allegro for instance. And, given the size and length of the piece it seemed all the more remarkable that Haitink at 90 is still, apparently effortlessly, able to ensure that the dramatic dynamics are exactly that. And he conducted this work without opening the score.

Other high spots included languorous string playing in the adagio, sparky trumpet solos in the scherzo and I loved the way the woodwind interjections were led to shine through in the finale.

The Royal Albert Hall was as full and busy as I’ve ever seen it for what was effectively a pretty atmospheric farewell party. Bernard Haitink’s respectful standing ovation at the end was a richly deserved tribute.

Susan Elkin

Royal Albert Hall, Thursday 29^th August, 2019

An evening of English music under the direction of Sir Andrew Davis could not fail – and it didn’t. His rapport with the BBC forces has been long in gestation and their response to his subtle control is exemplary.

Vaughan Williams’ Fantasia on a Theme of Thomas Tallis may be very familiar but we don’t often hear it live or within the ambience of the RAH which allows the whispers of sound to disappear and emerge with consummate ease. Only the odd cough disturbed the genuine hush of the score which flowed as if created for the first time.

After the interval came Elgar’s The Music Makers. Andrew Davis seemed to highlight the intense melancholy which underpins the score and while there are bombastic moments it was the darker side welling up which lingered in the memory. It was a pleasure to welcome Dame Sarah Connolly as the soloist after her absence earlier in the season. Her passionate rendition of the text was always firmly under control and beautifully balanced. As with the earlier Vaughan Williams, it was the quieter moments that made the most impact, with the choirs almost imperceptible at times. Set alongside the other oratorios, The Music Makers gets far fewer outings though in our present troubled times it seemed all the more apt.

Between these works we heard Hugh Wood’s Scenes from Comus with a text lifted from Milton. Though it uses soprano and tenor soloists they are not specific characters and the text they sing often seems to float between an individual voice and a narrator. The listener is encouraged to go with the flow rather than try to make logical sense of the narrative. This works well for much of the time and the central ecstatic dance is particularly impressive. However there are longer sections when the sense of stasis takes over and it is unclear quite where the score is heading.

Andrew Davis is an enthusiastic supporter of Hugh Wood and one can assume what we heard was very much what the composer would wish – and he was present in the hall, receiving a wildly enthusiastic reception at the end.

Soprano Stacey Tappan and tenor Anthony Gregory dealt admirably with the high-lying setting but often the text vanished within the ample spaces of the hall.

Throughout, the BBCSO had produced a warmth and sensitivity which never failed.

Royal Albert Hall

This production of Mozart’s last opera Die Zauberflote is characterised by fine orchestral work, much impeccable singing –  and a great deal of directorial gimmickry.

We all know that this is a surreal piece rooted in the mysteries of eighteenth century freemasonry but I have no idea at all why Andre Barbe saw fit, apparently, to set it in the kitchens at Downton Abbey in which servants wear light up head dresses, calves are butchered and puppetry rules the day. And why does the Second Lady have a jelly mould on her head? Your guess is, I suspect, as good as mine.

Semi staging (by Donna Stirrup) usually works well at the Proms but on this occasion, frankly, I’d have preferred simply to listen to some of the best music in the Mozart oeuvre sung straight as a concert – although the snake/dragon made of giant tea plates, at the very beginning, puppeted by a line of performers as in a Chinese street party was rather good.

Bjorn Burger delights as the mercurial baritone Papageno. He acts beautifully, is lithely funny and sings each of his famous numbers arrestingly. His final “clinch” with Papagena (Alison Rose – good) is gratuitously groteseque, however.

David Portillo, tenor, brings warmth and conviction to Tamino and soprano Sofia Fomina sings Pamina well enough (some nice lyrical singing) although her frumpy manner and outfit failed to convince me that he would have fallen for her quite so determinedly.

Caroline Wettergreen as Queen of the Night presents a suitably witchy figure in plum velvet and stops the show – as usual – with her glittering act two aria.

And behind all this is Ryan Wigglesworth expertly managing this very large production (the chorus is often lined up behind the Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment and characters frequently appear at the very edge of the upper playing space on mini balconies) without score. I was especially impressed with the care he took to support the three boys (Daniel Todd, Simeon Wren and Felix Barry-Casademunt) mouthing every word and turning to look at them. I liked the original instruments brass sound too.

It was an enjoyable evening but, given the visual nonsense on stage, I half wished I’d stayed at home and listened to it on the radio.

Susan Elkin

Royal Albert Hall    23^rd August 2019

This Prom highlighted various musical connections between Bruckner and the organ. Not only was he a keen organist but he specifically gave recitals at both the Royal Albert Hall and the Gewandhaus. The music of Bach was very important to him.

The first section of the programme was given over to a short Bach recital performed by the current Gewandhaus organist, Michael Schonheit. The opening Fantasia in G minor was a stirring introduction to the evening. A transcription of Cantata No 147, popularly known as  Jesu, joy of man’s desiring, followed. Although undoubtedly well-received by a large number of people in the hall some listeners may have detected some unevenness in this performance, compared to the clean and controlled opening Fantasia. The remainder of this recital was taken up by a magisterial rendition of Prelude & Fugue in E flat major (St Anne). Michael Schonheit here chose to insert the chorale prelude, Wachet auf, ruft uns die Stimme in between the two movements, reflecting the layout of Bach’s publication. I would have preferred a slightly slower tempo for this, but that is just personal taste.

The selection of these familiar pieces provided a good overview of Bach’s organ writing, with contrasting styles and registration. I spoke to a number of people in the interval who had really enjoyed the programme.

The bulk of the evening was given over to Bruckner’s own revised version of Symphony 8 in C minor. This gargantuan piece has four movements. Everything is on a grand scale and the piece lasts around 80 minutes. From the outset the Gewandhaus Orchestra gave a totally committed performance, whether playing furiously at full volume or producing the most focused delicate timbres. Andris Nelsons has placed an emphasis on Bruckner’s music since taking up his role with the orchestra and it was clear that he was totally in command.

The reasoning behind this evening’s programme was very interesting but I can’t help feeling some disappointment that the opportunity wasn’t taken to include a work for the combined forces of this excellent organist and orchestra.

Stephen Page

Well, it’s a very pretty piano: a fine example of high Victorian bling. It’s just a pity that Queen Victoria’s piano, on its first ever foray from Buckingham Palace, doesn’t sound as good as it looks. Stephen Hough really had to work very hard in Mendelssohn’s Piano Concerto No 1 to make this salon instrument ring out appropriately across the vastness of the packed Royal Albert Hall. The tinniness, moreover, was even more obvious in the presto by which time the pitch had begun to slip.  It’s a great credit to the ever reliable, versatile Hough that he managed to coax as much good music out of the much hyped, “star” instrument as he did – his Chopin encore was enjoyable too.  Of course, Erard’s “gilded piano” has been played very little in its 160 year history and that doesn’t help.

It sounded very much better after an interval re-tune, when Hough accompanied Alessandro Fisher, a very accomplished tenor, in five charming songs by Prince Albert. Chamber music is what, presumably, this instrument was intended for and the five songs are well crafted and appealing although no one would describe them as great.

The concert – certainly an imaginative concept – was designed to mark the 200^th anniversary of Queen Victoria’s birth (24 May, 1819). So we began with an unusual, late Arthur Sullivan piece:  a suite from an 1897 ballet Victoria and Merrie England.  After a bit of initial raggedness, The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment played it with panache and it’s a treat to hear unfamiliar Sullivan being given serious treatment. The piece is full of Sullivan trademarks such as a cheeky melody, a mock-grandiose Proms-appropriate reference to Rule Britannia and then a stirring hymn.

And so to Mendelssohn’s third symphony which concluded the programme and was played stonkingly well from the nicely coloured first movement all the way to the decisive but spritely maestoso at the end. I especially liked the tightly controlled feathery strings in the vivace and the way in which Fischer made the sumptuous melody in the adagio sing out warmly without ever wallowing in it. Fischer is a warm and cheerful conductor to watch and his pleasure in the music, the performers and the event was palpable. I was fascinated too by his unusual habit of occasionally grasping his baton in both hands and stirring a bit like a two-handed backhand in tennis. It works though. Players were clearly very responsive which is why this symphony sounded so attractively fresh.

Susan Elkin

Well, it’s a very pretty piano: a fine example of high Victorian bling. It’s just a pity that Queen Victoria’s piano, on its first ever foray from Buckingham Palace, doesn’t sound as good as it looks. Stephen Hough really had to work very hard in Mendelssohn’s Piano Concerto No 1 to make this salon instrument ring out appropriately across the vastness of the packed Royal Albert Hall. The tinniness, moreover, was even more obvious in the presto by which time the pitch had begun to slip.  It’s a great credit to the ever reliable, versatile Hough that he managed to coax as much good music out of the much hyped, “star” instrument as he did – his Chopin encore was enjoyable too.  Of course, Erard’s “gilded piano” has been played very little in its 160 year history and that doesn’t help.

It sounded very much better after an interval re-tune, when Hough accompanied Alessandro Fisher, a very accomplished tenor, in five charming songs by Prince Albert. Chamber music is what, presumably, this instrument was intended for and the five songs are well crafted and appealing although no one would describe them as great.

The concert – certainly an imaginative concept – was designed to mark the 200^th anniversary of Queen Victoria’s birth (24 May, 1819). So we began with an unusual, late Arthur Sullivan piece:  a suite from an 1897 ballet Victoria and Merrie England.  After a bit of initial raggedness, The Orchestra of the Age of Enlightenment played it with panache and it’s a treat to hear unfamiliar Sullivan being given serious treatment. The piece is full of Sullivan trademarks such as a cheeky melody, a mock-grandiose Proms-appropriate reference to Rule Britannia and then a stirring hymn.

And so to Mendelssohn’s third symphony which concluded the programme and was played stonkingly well from the nicely coloured first movement all the way to the decisive but spritely maestoso at the end. I especially liked the tightly controlled feathery strings in the vivace and the way in which Fischer made the sumptuous melody in the adagio sing out warmly without ever wallowing in it. Fischer is a warm and cheerful conductor to watch and his pleasure in the music, the performers and the event was palpable. I was fascinated too by his unusual habit of occasionally grasping his baton in both hands and stirring a bit like a two-handed backhand in tennis. It works though. Players were clearly very responsive which is why this symphony sounded so attractively fresh.

Susan Elkin

Unexpectedly, the high spot in this initially populist concert was the Lutoslawski concerto for orchestra (1954) with which it ended. Full of Polish folk and folksy melodies with spikily original orchestration, it came off magnificently in the hands of the always exciting West-Eastern Divan orchestra under co-founder Daniel Barenboim who made the piece sound fresh and dynamic. That striking passage which opens the third movement with pianissimo pizzicato from bases soon ethereally joined by piano and then cor anglais was a special moment.

There is, of course, always a buzz when this orchestra appears at the Proms or anywhere else because everyone present (and the hall was packed tight) understands, and by implication approves of, what it stands for: a bridge, now twenty years old, across the divide in the Middle East. It is warmly uplifting to see and hear these talented musicians from Israel, Palestine, Turkey, Iran and Spain working together.

The first half of the evening gave us Schubert’s Unfinished – an unusual choice of opener but it made this concert rather good value for money. Barenboim opted for a measured tempo in the first movement which exploited every nuance of the Royal Albert Hall acoustic. Positioning second violins to his right, he coaxed and stroked the music into existence rather than indulging in a lot of stick waving.

There was plenty of Schubertian colour and lyricism in both movements with every line and part made loving clear, not least because the orchestra was quite sharply tiered which made for a good sound balance. The timp work at the end was a delight.

And so to the star turn which preceded the interval: Martha Argerich playing Tchaikovsky’s first piano concerto. World famous and respected virtuoso that she is, Argerich carries charisma in bucketsful and was clearly a crowd pleaser. Her life-long friendship and rapport with Barenboim (they were both born in Buenos Aires) was evident both visually and aurally. Nonetheless I’m not convinced that this in-your-face, warhorse of a concerto allowed her to play with the subtlety of which we all know she is pre-eminently capable. Given too that she is now 78 and slightly shaky on her feet, I’ll pretend I didn’t notice the rather large number of wrong notes. Instead let’s focus on the engaging sight of her rhythmically rocking from side to side with pleasure at the opening 3|4 middle movement and the light insouciance with which she delivered the 6|8 section.

Susan Elkin