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

Hever Castle Theatre, Thursday 8 August 2019

One of the benefits of the relative lack of regular G&S these days is that a sudden encounter can reawaken not only old memories but also new delights in the splendid impact of the works when performed with musical integrity as well as real wit. Charles Court Opera gives us both, updating the setting and going all out for comedic effect while never undermining Gilbert’s craft or the genuine musical qualities of Sullivan’s score.

Orchestration was never one of Sullivan’s strengths so having the evening accompanied by David Eaton from the keyboard was perfectly acceptable, particularly when it allowed voices to carry so well. There is no chorus but Alys Roberts and Meriel Cummingham more than made up for this as two very knowing professional bridesmaids, with Amy J Payne’s frighteningly efficient Dame Hannah supporting them.

Joanna Marie Skillett has the vocal charms for Rose Maybud, torn between Matthew Kellett’s gently effective Robin and Philip Lee’s extrovert Dick Dauntless – a sailor very obviously related to Dick Deadeye. At the heart of the comedy lie Despard Murgatroyd and Mad Margaret and I can’t recall having seen them better that last night with Simon Butteriss and Catrine Kirkman. Simon Butteriss was also doubling Roderick, and it was a pity that the production meant that he had to sing The Ghosts High Noon as a disembodied head peering through the back wall. That he did so well was a tribute to his unfailing musicianship. But as Despard (reformed) he was brilliant and an absolute foil for Catrine Kirkman’s Margaret. There was a desperate intensity about her which was captivating and intensely funny – think Joyce Grenfell on acid. Whether verging on insanity or under the control of Basingstoke it was a masterpiece of comic acting.

Simon Masterton-Smith was Adam but also provided all the essential bass-lines where required.

The weather smiled on us – not always the case at Hever – as did the whole evening. The theatre is not easy to get to but on occasions like this it is worth every inch of the narrow roads.