Friday 6 December 2013

Innovation Both Exciting and Moving

Once again, I am late-late-LATE in posting a review!  Life gets hectic at times.  But anyway, harking back almost 2 weeks, here are my thoughts on the National Ballet of Canada's Innovation mixed programme.

For me, this was the most consistently rewarding Innovation programme yet.  Three of the four works were strongly influenced by classical ballet traditions and styles, yet each one found an individual voice. 

Jose Navas led off the show with Watershed, a work strongly influenced by the colours, moods, and dynamics of water, and set to the Four Sea Interludes from the opera Peter Grimes by Benjamin Britten.  A very appropriate tribute so close to the 100th anniversary of Britten's birth!  As suggested by the title, the choreography here was for the most part very fluid until the final Storm movement when the dance became evocative in a much harder-edged style.  I could appreciate the value of having some of the men wearing tutus for the benefit of filling the space on the stage (as water spreads to fill space), but I still found it arbitrary and intrusive.

The second work was Being and Nothingness (Part 1), a gripping solo created on Greta Hodgkinson by Guillaume Cote, using for music a piano work by Philip Glass.  Cote said that this work was inspired by the idea of nothingness as propounded by Sartre, and the connection was obvious.  A bare stage, a single bare hanging light bulb, the woman anonymously dressed, and the abrupt, brittle, even violent movements contrasted effectively with the monotonous flow of the music.  That light, indeed, became a second character in the piece as it flashed and flickered from time to time.  For me, both choreography and the light evoked Picasso's renowned painting Guernica, with its primal-scream quality and the glaring eye of his sun were reflected in the staging and in Hodgkinson's edgy performance.

Robert Binet's Unearth was set to an original score by Owen Pallett.  This to me was the least successful piece, for a couple of reasons.  One was the music, which was the least satisfactory as music, consisting of rather aimless doodling about.  Binet's choreography showed much promise, and he will undoubtedly develop into a major talent to be reckoned with.  The great weakness of Unearth was the underlying idea.  Binet wanted to show a state of inertia and a gradual emergence from that state into a dynamic of growth and development.  This would be an incredibly difficult idea for even the world's greatest choreographers to convey through dance!  The result was a sameness of movement across the whole piece which worked against the creative idea.  The only real clue to the breakthrough from inertia came when the large, monolithic backdrop suddenly split apart and its pieces moved in different directions. 

The final work was the strongest and most moving and involving of the quartet: ...black night's bright day... by James Kudelka.  The music was the entire Stabat Mater of Pergolesi, and the ballet explored the human needs of coping with death and grief and loss in a large, general way.  From the first notes, you had the sense of the firm control and gentle touch of a master hand.  This just might be the finest ballet Kudelka has ever produced (certainly the finest work of his that I have ever seen).  Music, dance, and ideas flowed together in virtual symbiosis.  Pergolesi's famous cantata is made up of a number of movements in contrasting styles, and Kudelka effectively varied the mood and texture of the dance to match -- large ensemble pieces alternating with solos and duets.  Some moments were almost hilarious, and if you've ever seen a person go into giddy hysterics in bereavement, you'll understand why.  Others were filled with the real heartache and sense of loss that characterise our efforts to come to terms with death.  As Kudelka said, "Sometimes we have to make difficult subjects beautiful in order to be able to look at them."  This ballet did exactly that, in spades.

The music added a not-inconsiderable bonus.  The orchestra pit was raised somewhat to enable better spread of the sound into the auditorium, and every word came across clearly.  The National Ballet was fortunate in being able to call on the services of two of the world's leading singers of Renaissance and Baroque music, British soprano Dame Emma Kirkby, and Canadian counter-tenor Daniel Taylor.  Accompanied by an appropriately small ensemble drawn from the orchestra, their two magnificent voices alternated and intertwined in a radiant performance that plainly captivated both dancers and audience.  At the end of the show, Kirkby and Taylor received the loudest cheers and swell of applause of the entire performance, a testament to the integrity and musicality of their work.

All in all, a memorable afternoon of new dance work.  If I had to pick one piece to be restaged in a few years, though, it would have to be the Kudelka's.  I have rarely become so deeply involved and engaged by a ballet performance, much as I love and enjoy the art. 

Wednesday 27 November 2013

Off Guard From Laughing Hard!

It's been a while since I posted a review based on a video of a live performance, but since I've just watched this one for about the 15th time in a little over a year I think it's time to let you in on the fun!

It's interesting that the world's audiences for classical music, opera, and ballet are all so damn serious about their favourite performances, and those performances are also notably serious in the manner they are presented.  But in each of these wonderful art forms, there are also definite islands of comic relief. 

Think classical music generally and you immediately think of the musical comedians: Victor Borge, Anna Russell, Peter Schickele a.k.a. P. D. Q. Bach, and Canada's own Mary Lou Fallis.  In the world of opera, you get such delightful operatic comedies as Die Fledermaus, Die Lustigen Weiber von Windsor, or Martha (the last two have been previously reviewed in my companion blog, Off the Beaten Staff). 

But ballet?  Is there even such a thing as comedy in ballet?  The answer, of course, is "Yes" -- although it can sometimes seem like a rarity.  But there is one sparkling gem of comic dance that I want to review tonight -- La Fille Mal Gardee ("The Badly-Guarded Girl").  Originally staged in France in the eighteenth century, the story has frequently been restaged with a potpourri of music by many different hands attached to it during those many productions. 

The version which has achieved such wide popularity in the twentieth century is the one made by Sir Frederick Ashton for the Royal Ballet in 1960.  The score is adapted from Ferdinand Herold's music written in 1828 for the ballet, with additions, and the light-hearted adaptation and orchestration is by John Lanchbery.  The same version, with identical sets, costumes, and choreography, is a recurring favourite in the repertoire of the National Ballet of Canada, and of many other companies as well.

In Ashton's version, the story of the love of the young girl Lise for the farmer Colas is developed with consistent humour and good high spirits through both music and dance (and some very entertaining mime and acting too!).  The ballet begins exactly as it means to go on, with a comical dance of a rooster and 4 hens immediately followed by a morning scene in which Lise's mother, the much-put-upon widow Simone, throws vegetables to drive Colas out of her farmyard. 

Widow Simone, by the by, is a famous travesti role for a male character dancer, and is very much inspired by the "dames" of British traditional pantomimes.  The other nutty comic role is that of the slightly dull, but very wealthy, young Alain who is Simone's choice for a husband for Lise.  This role is a tour de force of clumsiness raised to an art form in ways too numerous to describe.  I would guess that it's almost as big a challenge for an expert ballet dancer to dance clumsily as it is for an expert singer to deliberately sing off-key!

The leading roles of Lise and Colas are very fine roles in the highest classical tradition, and their dances together and separately are the most traditional parts of the show.  But even they have some fine comedic moments.

It's also really impressive to see how frequent, and how varied, are the dance numbers given to the corps de ballet.  Ashton's work here manages to keep the dancers busy throughout the show, with multiple numbers for the corps in all 3 acts, which certainly isn't true of some famous ballets!  The men in particular get a great chance to show off in the traditional Morris dance of Act III.  This lively number, with the men wielding sticks with great aplomb, is one of the three significant importations of a traditional dance form into the ballet.  Another is the joyous Maypole dance in Act II

The third, earlier in Act II, is the comic crown jewel of the piece: the Widow Simone's clog dance.  First she plays up a moment of feigned reluctance, then she eagerly dons the clogs and starts out.  She's quickly joined by four ballerinas of the corps who actually dance on pointe in their wooden clogs -- a sight you have to see to believe, and even funnier when Simone (who is a actually a man) tries to join them.  Throughout this 4-minute number the choreography remains a traditional clog dance, but it's laced with all kinds of comic business and pratfalls.  I almost always replay it before going on!

So, the video I have is a live performance at the Royal Opera House filmed in 2000.  The splendid cast stars Marianela Nunez as Lise, Carlos Acosta as Colas, William Tuckett as the Widow Simone, and Jonathan Howells as Alain.  The orchestra is beautifully conducted by Anthony Twiner.  The camera work is mostly very effective, with a nice mix of long shots and close-ups, although some detail inevitably gets missed in some of the busier scenes.  It's one of a series of very fine video productions from the Royal Ballet on Opus Arte video.

Sunday 17 November 2013

Meanwhile, Back In The Harem!

Shamefully, scandalously late -- here at last are my thoughts on Mozart's Abduction From the Seraglio which I saw at Opera Atelier in Toronto three weeks ago!  Better late than never....

The Abduction was Mozart's first really big success as an opera composer, and remained the audience favourite among his operas for the rest of his life.  No wonder!  Mozart adapted the well-known traditional situation and stock characters of the Italian commedia dell'arte to a fashionably exotic setting in Turkey, and then skilfully clothed the whole with some of his most genial music.

The Abduction was a relatively informal singspiel, not a stiff-necked full opera for the Italian theatre.  As such it included much spoken dialogue between numbers.  In presenting such a piece to a Toronto audience, Opera Atelier very sensibly decided on the hybrid course of singing the music in the original German, while presenting the dialogue in English.  Okay, so it's not purist, but really, is a typically raunchy, subversive commedia dell' arte the place to start fussing about artistic purity?

For my money, not!

This was the first opera I ever saw Opera Atelier stage, and that was five years ago.  I've been a determined attender ever since, and I have realized that this inventive company's productions often tread the line between comic insanity and artistic purity.  Sometimes this does not serve the work in hand too well, but in this case the method suits Mozart's sparkling comedy right down to the ground.

The six principals were all excellent in their roles, but three in particular stood out for me.  First was Adam Fisher, making his Opera Atelier debut as Pedrillo, the comic servant.  His on-stage shenanigans were so energetic that they were causing me to feel breathless, just from watching, but Fisher had no trouble at all keeping his singing pure and clear throughout, with a fine light tenor made to order for this role.  Carla Huhtanen is a perennial favourite of mine, and of Opera Atelier and its audiences alike, for her sparkling voice and pinpoint-accurate comic timing.  These, combined with a face that often assumes a sassy smirk, are just the thing for Pedrillo's girlfriend Blonde, the maid who wraps everyone around her little finger in the cutest, funniest way.

The prize of all goes to Gustav Andreassen as Osmin, the harem master.  His mobile face is made to order for comedy work, and his flexibility and strength of voice did full justice to Osmin's sizable and challenging musical role.  One of his funniest moments was his repeated mime of how he would make his tormentor Pedrillo's neck loosen and twist with a hangman's noose around it as he described the same in his Act I aria.

This is not to say that the other three were no good!  Pity Ambur Braid, for instance, faced with the formidable vocal challenge of Constanze's infamous Martern aller arten!  But she, Curtis Sullivan (the Pasha Selim) and Lawrence Wiliford (Belmonte) all gave fine accounts of their music. 

Margaret Lamb's costumes were particularly good for this production.  Bright notes of colour were everywhere, as suited a light-hearted comedy.  Colour-coordinated outfits in red (for the noble couple) and blue and yellow (for the servant couple) were a great touch, as was the use of commedia-styled diamond patterning in the costumes of Blonde and Pedrillo.  Gerard Gauci's sets created an impression both sumptuous and exotic, an ideal combination.

It seems almost superfluous to mention the predicable excellence of the Atelier Ballet, the chorus, and the Tafelmusik Orchestra, or of the conducting of David Fallis which, securely as always, held the production together on its merry way.

A delightful, entertaining afternoon of music theatre, and one in which the entire production and staging was in perfect accord with the world revealed by the story, dialogue, and music. 

Saturday 16 November 2013

Swan Lake: The Power of Tragedy

This is either the fourth or fifth time I have seen the National Ballet of Canada in James Kudelka's dark and powerful version of Swan Lake since it was first presented in the late 1990s.  Since it is a Kudelka ballet, it's no surprise that I keep seeing and registering more and more on each viewing.  His stagings are complex and multi-layered, so that you simply can not get it all in one viewing.

Tchaikovsky's music for Swan Lake (the first of his three great ballets) is world-famous -- and especially the beautiful and haunting "swan" melodies entrusted to the oboe.  So is the basic outline of the story, which is essentially a tragedy where the other two (Sleeping Beauty and Nutcracker) are happily-ever-after fairy tales.  Even in the older versions, the ballet is full of dark possibilities and tragic premonitions.  In Kudelka's version, that darkness is brought very much to the fore in a way that makes a happily-ever-after ending unthinkable and impossible.

Like the National's predecessor version by Erik Bruhn, Kudelka's compresses the ballet into two acts (by fusing Act I with Act II, and Act III with Act IV), and manages the considerable feat of changing the sets on the fly without interrupting the action or resorting to closed curtains or blackouts.  There's even a brief Prologue staged behind a scrim during the overture.  All five sets make use of images relating to death and sadness: autumnal colours, dried reeds, and leafless trees in the hunting camp and lakeside scenes, a rotted boat on the scrim of the Prologue, dark blacks, blues and purples dominating the castle hall.  Indeed, almost the only notes of colour in the entire production are the maroon costume worn by Prince Siegfried's friend Benno in Act I, and the brilliant capes and clothes of the ambassadors and princesses in Act III.

The action envisaged by Kudelka has its darker qualities too: the Prince's companions abusing and assaulting a wench in Act I, the "meat-market" display of the four Princesses in Act III, and the entire "black scene" atmosphere of Act IV, where only Odette (the Swan Queen) remains in pristine white.  The sorcerer Rothbart emerges in Kudelka's vision as a demonic manipulator of human destinies, which is an interesting reversion to Tchaikovsky's original scenario -- the character was described in that as "the evil genius, disguised as Rothbart" (in other words, Satan).

Whereas Swan Lake has traditionally been dominated by the women, Kudelka's version creates incredibly challenging choreography for the men as well, so much so that only a few moments rely on mime to carry the story and character development.  This shows right at the outset, when the first steps danced are one of several tricky numbers for the Fool.  This was strongly presented by Robert Stephen (Conflict of Interest Alert -- my nephew!).  The entire Act I is dominated by the men of the corps de ballet, who have much intricate choreography and carried it off with plenty of dash and fire.

Prince Siegfried was danced with passion and energy by McGee Maddox, marking his first encounter with this signature role.  On the whole, he was very impressive.  In a few places he seemed a bit tentative, and I look forward to seeing him do it again a few years down the road when he has more time to grow into the part.  His friend Benno was danced by Nan Wang, and there was a haunting eloquence to the duet in which he tries to entice Siegfried to snap out of his melancholy and try some new activity -- a concept expressed entirely through dance.  Apart from the Wench, the only women in the scene are the Queen and her ladies-in-waiting, who appear briefly, just long enough for her to tell the Prince that he must choose a bride on the morrow.  That done, they quickly leave.

The first appearance of Rothbart after the Prologue is in Act II, and he begins as he will go on -- in a pas de trois with Siegfried and Odile.  After this unconventional opening, the ballet segues readily into the classic white-scene choreography by Lev Ivanov so beloved by generations of ballet lovers and so beautifully performed by the corps de ballet and Xiao Nan Yu as Odette.  It's not hard to see why no one really wants to tinker with it.  After watching the crisp yet playful execution of the Dance of the Little Swans by four members of the corps, you realize that there's no point trying to improve on perfection.

The centrepiece of Act III, the bride-choosing, is the four character dances.  Instead of becoming a divertissement or entertainment, these are integrated into the story by Kudelka as the attempts of the four Princesses and the four Ambassadors to interest Siegfried and/or his mother.  Dominant here was Jenna Savella as the fire-eating Spanish princess.

And then comes the shock to the system as Rothbart arrives with the Black Swan.  Here's where the female lead role becomes a really daunting challenge.  It is of course two completely different characters, who share a common vocabulary of gestures and movements.  Xiao Nan Yu was one of the best Swan Queens I can ever remember, coming across equally clearly as the graceful, gentle, melancholy Odette and the hard, malicious, glittering Odile.  This act again reverts to tradition with the famous Black Swan Pas de Deux, which (few people even realize nowadays) includes music not written by Tchaikovsky.  Don't get me started!  But there again, why give up a good thing?  Both Xiao Nan Yu and McGee Maddox were spot-on in the endless series of fouettes which complete the pas de deux.

The third act ends with a catastrophic flood destroying the castle and drowning everyone except Siegfried.  Act IV tops that in the only way possible.  As the ruined castle sinks slowly at the back, the swans dance lakeside again, but all in black now.  Siegfried and Rothbart appear and engage in a ferocious struggle over Odette, a demonic pas de trois like nothing else in classical ballet -- this is one of Kudelka's most amazing inspirations.  Etienne Lavigne as Rothbart reached the peak of his performance at this point, as he must.  Another storm erupts, Siegfried is killed, Rothbart vanishes, and the sublime harp epilogue -- originally accompanying the ascent of the dead lovers to heaven -- becomes instead a requiem as Odette mourns over Siegfried.  This is the tragic culmination of Kudelka's dark vision, and Yu's dancing was more than equal to capturing the enormity of Odette's grief.

As always, I look forward to another year and another staging, when I'm sure I will realize yet more of James Kudelka's complex version of this classic ballet.  It's not your grandmother's Swan Lake by a long shot, but in many ways it is a much more satisfying, more human version of the tale, even if the darkness lowers oppressively.



Sunday 27 October 2013

See, the Conquering Hero Comes!

It was a long day, but a delightful one, in spite of the cold, windy, rainy weather.  You are setting yourself up for a long day when you head out to attend the complete comic trilogy, The Norman Conquests by Alan Ayckbourn, currently on stage at Soulpepper Theatre in Toronto.

Now, the mere fact that the complete trilogy is on stage is a rarity in itself.  I haven't heard of any Toronto staging of the whole shooting match since the original tour way back in the 1970s when it was brand-new.  And I'm pretty sure that you had to attend then on three separate nights to get the whole thing.  Since each play is only about 2 hours long, including intermissions, Soulpepper has ingeniously scheduled them to play at 1:00, 4:30 and 8:00 every Saturday of the run, allowing for the marathon feat of taking in the entire Norman Conquests in one day.  So I did that.

(If you are already familiar with the hysterical comedic scenario which Ayckbourn has compounded, you can skip the next couple of paragraphs.)

This is a trilogy like no other.  It's really almost the same play, seen from three different points of view.  The frame of the action (in each case) is the same single weekend, and the scenes take place (in each case) at roughly the same time.  The setting is the same English country house for each play.  Round and Round the Garden takes place in "guess where", Table Manners is set in the dining room, and Living Together in the lounge (or living room, as we might say in Canada).  Ayckbourn has framed the plays so the same six characters appear in each one, often disappearing into the wings during Table Manners  at the exact moment when the same character comes onstage during Living Together, or whatever the case may be. 

Ayckbourn has stated that he wrote the plays horizontally, by writing all the opening scenes first, then all the second scenes, and so on.  I'd have to say that this is probably the only way it could be done, and marks a feat of theatrical coordination which even exceeds the complexities of Act II of Noises Off.  As if that were not enough, he has also written these three as stand-alone plays, so that you could take in any one of the three by itself, or take in the whole lot in any order, without doing violence to your understanding of what is going on.

What nobody ever seems to mention is that there are two additional characters, nameless, invisible, but nonetheless powerful controllers of the action: the unnamed cat up a tree, and the invalid "Mother" asleep in her bed upstairs.  Through helpful hints dropped in all three plays, we learn a great deal about how much the lives of the six characters onstage are shaped by the two offstage.

And then, of course, the ultimate irony in the overall title of The Norman Conquests:  none of the seductions Norman attempts actually come off, placing him in the same category of onstage failure as Mozart's Don Giovanni!

So it's easy to see what a mammoth challenge Soulpepper has taken on.  There can be only six actors (for obvious reasons), each one has to master three full-length plays, and they have to perform all three in one day every Saturday!  And these are high energy roles -- very physically demanding, and everyone has moments of shouting and screaming because this is a very dysfunctional family.  I'm pleased to report that the cast appeared just as full of zip and energy after the end of the marathon as they did at the outset -- no signs of fatigue or "thank goodness we're done" at the final curtain call. 

All six of the cast did sterling work.  Derek Boyes as Reg had a delightful snickering laugh that sounded just like an animal snorting, used on all occasions to good effect.  Fiona Reid as Sarah, Reg's wife, was a masterly portrait of a compulsive tidier and organizer, filled with understated but clearly visible tics and twitches (as required by the script).  Her scene of organizing the seating at the dinner table was a particular highlight.

Sarah Mennell was crisp, clear, and totally businesslike as Reg's sister, Ruth.  Indeed, she was so crisp that it was actually shocking to see her façade crack and some human emotions come peeping through, which was exactly what Ayckbourn intended.  Albert Schultz did a great job with all the little insinuations and wheedlings and manipulations which make up Norman, Ruth's husband.  Indeed, he was Norman to the life -- seedy, slovenly, lazy, but completely single-minded in pursuit of his own pleasures and to hell with anyone else.

Oliver Dennis had the difficult task of bringing Tom to life.  Tom, the middle-aged vet, is as close to a non-character as Ayckbourn could possibly write the part.  Dennis was a picture of bewilderment every time he put his foot in it (which was often), and his voice and shambling gait were fully in tune with the kind of man who can freely talk to the animals (or about them) but is intolerably shy and indecisive when faced with a real human being.

Pride of place, in my mind, goes to Laura Condlin as Annie, the younger sister of Ruth and Reg and the much put-upon housekeeper and caregiver for "Mother" and "Cat" (in one scene, Annie says that this is what she calls the animal: just "Cat").  In some ways, Laura is the most complex character of the six.  She has allowed "Mother" to walk all over her, and lets her relationship with Tom remain stalled as a mere chrysalis, an unfulfilled what-might-have-been.  She has allowed her dress and her hair to become messier and more habitual since the last family get-together at Christmas.  Yet, as played by Condlin, it's apparent right from the get-go that Annie still has more than a spark of feeling and energy about her, and is ready to go head to head with anyone else who tries to take advantage of her.  The wide range of emotional states also makes Annie the most human character of the lot, and Condlin clearly evokes the real interior life of this woman as much as the frustrated and frustrating external life.

Ted Dykstra, director, has placed the three plays in a theatre-in-the-round setting (rectangular, actually, but you know what I mean) exactly as in the original premiere in England.  Simple sets, with simple, evocative floor treatments are more than sufficient.  If I had one complaint, it was that the sofa and armchair in Living Together looked a bit too neat and spruce for what was supposed to be a somewhat run-down old country house.  Minor detail.  Louise Guinand's lighting plot involved appealing window gobos at scene openings, but otherwise simply and clearly lit the action without blinding the audience at all.  Costumes were simple and effective, clearly in line with the script, and effectively coloured to evoke the characters. 

If you only have time for one play, I feel sorry for you -- but if thus it must be, make it Living Together, since the scene with Reg's game was hands-down winner as the funniest moment of the entire day.  But I do urge you to see the whole trilogy (even if it is on separate dates) because every play is full of marvellous moments, each play helps to illuminate the other two, and it's highly unlikely the complete Norman Conquests will be staged in Toronto again for many years to come!

Light-hearted, silly, ingenious, and with it all easy to relate to because we have all met people like these in our own lives, and as with any really good play we see elements of ourselves on the stage before us.  Laughing heartily at the foibles of others, we also catch ourselves laughing with rueful recognition at our own follies writ large.

Run, don't walk, down to the Young Centre for these wonderful shows, and book your seats early because all three shows yesterday were sold out!

Sunday 6 October 2013

Stratford Festival 2013 # 5: A Fantasia on History

My last Stratford show this season was also the one I most eagerly anticipated: Friedrich Schiller's Mary Stuart in the recently-new translation by Peter Oswald.  It's gotten excellent reviews (so I am told -- I try to avoid reading reviews before attending any event!).  Even more to the point, the show has consistently sold out, leading to no less than four extensions of the performance schedule, a feat I can never remember any Stratford show achieving before.

There are many factors contributing to this success, and some of them may be extraneous to the production at hand.  It's a play about a very well-known corner of British history, probably better-known to most Canadians than the home turf of any of Shakespeare's histories.  Unlike the Shakespeare histories, this one has several major parts (including the two leads) for women.  It's not a very commonly staged play in Canada, either.

More to the point, this production was directed by the Festival's new Artistic Director, Antoni Cimolino, a fact which weighed heavily with me as I am a confirmed admirer of his work as a director.  Furthermore, the show stars two of the current leading ladies of the Stratford company, Lucy Peacock as Mary Queen of Scots, and Seana McKenna as Elizabeth I.

Maybe my anticipation was built up too high.  I felt less excited after the show than before it.  My playwright's sixth sense was inclined to attribute this to the script, and that raises another issue.  If that is indeed the difficulty, was it the fault of the original author (Schiller) or of the translator?  Since I am not overly-fluent in German, I doubt if I will ever know for sure.  I just felt that some of the scenes in the latter part of the play became overly-repetitive and needed tightening.

The concept is fascinating: the author creating a scenario which brings about a face-to-face meeting of the two queens, a meeting that never took place in real life.  This meeting happens in the third of five acts, and since there was to be only one intermission I couldn't for the life of me guess if the break would be before or after that third confrontational act.  The eventual answer was "neither".  The intermission came as a literal interruption, a sudden freeze and blackout at the exact moment when Mary turned around to face her cousin and royal captor, Elizabeth.  Was this the express intention of the translator/adaptor?  Perhaps -- it's certainly a very modern, film-inspired conception.  The strobe flash and sound effect of drawn daggers which accompanied that moment was theatricality raised to the nth degree, and for me was chillingly effective.  I would only suggest that it is unnecessary to go back and repeat the 45 seconds or so of preceding action after the intermission.  Top-flight actors are quite capable of taking it again from the exact moment after a freeze-frame effect like this.

Other events in the play also tinker with or elide together actual historic happenings and people, and this statement is probably true of every historic play ever staged, and every historic movie ever filmed. That's why I describe it as "a fantasia on history".

As Mary, Lucy Peacock gave a very subtle reading of a woman who had lost much, but not all, of what gave her greatness.  It was very clear from the outset that this Mary had lost none of her indomitable will and spirit, however much they might disappear under her surface preoccupations from time to time.  Dressed in the plainest of clothes she was still every inch a queen.  The very rare times when her will temporarily cracked were among Peacock's most telling moments.

Seana McKenna had perhaps the harder task.  As depicted in the script, Elizabeth is as changeable as the wind -- first coy and flirtatious, then merry and ironic, suddenly freezing into a human iceberg, and as suddenly erupting in a volcanic rage.  McKenna's great achievement lay in making all these sudden transformations both believable and appealingly human.  This queen was driven above all by the uncertainty underlying her every action, an uncertainty that truly reflected her uneasy and tenuous hold on the English crown.  In an age where uncertainty is the nature of life for so many people, this was an Elizabeth of very direct emotional appeal -- an appeal grounded in our recognition of her as a reflection of some essential part of ourselves.

Among the other characters, Brian Dennehy displayed a range of subtlety which I had never seen from him before as the Earl of Shrewsbury, the last courtier to walk away from Elizabeth at the play's end.  James Blendick made the most of several key moments as Mary's jailor, Sir Amias Paulet.  Patricia Collins was the very picture of Mary's devoted, grieving servant and confidant as Hanna Kennedy (the real servant's name was Jane, but this was presumably rendered to Hanne in German and not switched back again in the adaptation).  And Ian Lake was magnificent as the fictitious Mortimer, handling the complexities of his dual-personality role with finesse and sliding perfectly into terrified determination in his suicide scene.

My only complaint in the casting was that Dylan Trowbridge went too far over the top playing William Davison's scene with Elizabeth where he tries to get clear instruction about what to do with the signed death warrant, instructions which Elizabeth is determined not to give him.  Trowbridge was simply too fussy-fidgety for the situation, whining in agitation like a fearful schoolboy.

Lighting designer Steven Hawkins came up with a splendid light-and-shadow maze which appeared on the floor during two scene changes, and which was carefully negotiated (including wrong turns) by Mary's serving women as they cleared away her furniture to make room for the next scene -- a powerful and inspired metaphor indeed.

Antoni Cimolino's directorial vision welded the show into a firm and coherent whole, pulsing with life and energy from start to finish.  If it came across as a bit less than the transcendent experience I was anticipating, it was still a gripping and effective night of theatre at the highest level, and I am very glad I got to experience it!

Friday 27 September 2013

Stratford Festival 2013 # 4: Hypocrisy and Deception in Full Measure

The current production of Shakespeare's Measure for Measure at Stratford is a splendid piece of work, even if it is by no means the last word on this multi-sided and puzzling script.

Director Martha Henry was famed for her portrayal of the central female figure, Isabella, in Robin Phillips' legendary production of 1975 and 1976.  I was curious to see how this front-rank actor and director, herself now a legend in Canadian theatre, would approach the challenge of staging the play without falling back on memories of that earlier outing.

(It intrigued me because I have seen other directors revisit work for which they previously directed or performed specially famed readings.  As an example, Michael Langham's last Love's Labour's Lost for Stratford resembled in many particulars the accounts I have read of his iconic first Stratford production of 1961.)

Martha Henry took the bull by the horns in her note for the programme, asserting that whenever she found anything looking or sounding too comfortable her instinct was rather to get as far away from it as possible.  To give it in her own words: "...one day you realize that you could not repeat what was done before even if you wanted to -- it's not physically possible."

The floor of the Tom Patterson stage carried an effective pattern of indoor wood merging with outdoor stonework.  The gates at the back, in the form of a steel cage, appeared at first to lock the world away but later clearly could be felt as a cage locking the characters in.

In this so-called "comedy", there are undeniably funny moments (as in all Shakespeare plays) but the general tone is dark indeed.  I suspect one reason why the play is not as popular as some is that the playwright has all too accurately held up the mirror in which we see ourselves, our hypocrisy, our moral flexibility, reflected with brutal clarity.  Martha Henry's production supported this mirror better than any other I have seen by the sheer ordinariness of the people in the play, in dress and manner.  The decision to set the play in 1949 effectively brought it into the lifetimes of at least the older members of the audience, and the visual effect of the piece was plainly modern without being aggressively so. 

The modernity of expression and movement matched the look, and was most in evidence in the two central characters of the play's main plotline -- Isabella and Angelo.  As Angelo, Tom Rooney appeared so ordinary that the Duke's decision to settle all power in Vienna in his hands appeared almost as wilful and pointless as Lear's division of his kingdom.  It was by slow degrees that the curtain was edged aside to show the depravity within, and Rooney's special achievement was to clearly show us how the good and evil in him contended for mastery, with the evil winning out.  Much more true to life than simply having him as a man of pure evil.

In the key female role of Isabella, Carmen Grant convincingly portrayed a young woman made naïve by an excess of overt goodness.  Here, the evolution was the gradual awakening of her conscious mind to the depths of immorality surrounding her.  In a sense, though, Grant was perhaps miscast for a person enmeshed in such troubles.  I can't recall seeing her perform before, but she appears to have one of those faces whose basic expression when at rest is a cheery smile.  It was a little disconcerting to see her approach Angelo with this happy face when her mission was to answer his most unwelcome amorous proposals.

I felt that Geraint Wyn Davies as Duke Vincentio was the (relatively) weak link among the three principal roles.  During the scenes where the Duke appears disguised as a friar, his playing could have incorporated less of the comic mannerisms he's used in more clownish roles.  For instance, his voice kept turning into the voice of the drunken Stephano in The Tempest from a few years back -- a disconcerting reminder of a very different role in a very different play!  His appearances as the Duke at the opening and final scenes of the play were much the most effective part of the performance.

Among the various supporting roles, I have to single out two.  Stephen Russell, a long-time Stratford veteran, for making a very good thing indeed out of the role of the Provost.  In clarity of delivery he outshone a number of the other actors, and lent much strength to the show on each of his appearances.  Brian Tree provided a hilarious performance as the officious policeman Elbow, saluting repeatedly with exact mechanical precision and marching in and out (and speaking!) in a delicious caricature of a pompous British colonial soldier.

The general arc of the play moved briskly and convincingly without either slowing down or overspeeding, and variation in pace was deployed sensitively and effectively among all the cast.

If this wasn't precisely a Measure for Measure for the ages, it was definitely a good strong take on a play loaded with more than its fair share of traps for the unwary -- and for that, I give a full share of the credit to Martha Henry's overarching vision.  Definitely a Measure for our time.

Friday 13 September 2013

Stratford Festival 2013 # 3: Rarely Comest Thou, Spirit of Delight!

Two posts on two days in a row because I was shamefully late in posting my remarks about Taking Shakespeare but am now right on time with my thoughts about Blithe Spirit, Noel Coward's evergreen comedy classic, which I saw this afternoon.

Of the Noel Coward plays which I have seen, I would rate this as the best.  To be sure, the script is overly wordy in places, but that matters less than the excellence of the surprises which Coward unveils one by one.  I had the privilege of attending this show (a very old and dear friend of mine) with three people who had never seen it and so had no idea what to expect.  All three agreed that the surprising and totally unpredictable twists and turns held their interest from start to finish.  All the comic business didn't do any harm either! 

That was a good reminder for me that, like any good murder mystery, this really is (at one level) a classic whodunit reflected in a comic mirror.  The social satire in this play deals with the universal arena of marital relations, and that helps give it a timeless appeal.  Since the playwright quickly disposes of the idea that Madame Arcati (the medium) is nothing but a fraud, we readily accept the reality driving the piece, which is that a ghostly spirit world does exist, and can spill over into our everyday lives in ways we might not appreciate.

It was a real joy to see a comic play staged in a way that invited us fully into the reality of the story, instead of putting us off by having actors who signal the audience when to laugh with various gestures and grimaces.  Director Brian Bedford did a splendid job of harnessing his cast to prevent this kind of lapse, so much so that it's almost frightening to remember how much telegraphing-for-laughs he indulged in a few years ago when he played Lady Bracknell!

The set, created by designer Simon Higlett, evoked the comfortable upper middle class life of the Condomines beautifully, and gave ample room to move when the action got increasingly frantic as the play moved along.  The set also made a splendid contribution to the final moments in several unusual and very eye-catching ways.

Once again, Stratford indulged in Cadillac casting, a sure sign of the strength that now exists at all levels of this company.  Ben Carlson played Charles Condomine more naturally, and freer from affectation, than any other actor I have ever seen in the role.  I particularly appreciated his crisp diction, as every line travelled clearly to the back of the theatre where I was seated.

Sara Topham was splendid as Ruth, Charles's wife.  Her finest moment was the icy self-control which she exhibited during the famous breakfast scene, one of the politest arguments ever staged in any theatre anywhere.  It's a tough role.  You can't imagine any person keeping much self-control when confronted with the situation Ruth experiences, but if the actor in the role goes too far too fast then she has nowhere left to go as the situation continues to escalate.  Topham handled this challenge well, and although I felt she had gone a bit too far in Act 1 she still had ample reserves for Acts 2 and 3!

Michelle Giroux underplayed the ghostly Elvira beautifully.  She struck all the right notes without ever over-playing her hand, and that made her collapse at the end of Act 2 all the more gripping and startling. 

Madame Arcati must be one of the most daunting roles in the English-speaking comic theatre.  It's almost like the female comic counterpart of Hamlet, since it seems as if every great comic leading lady you can think of has "had a go" at one time or another!  So, this brings us to Seana McKenna, definitely a leading lady of the Stratford company.  Her Madame Arcati was distinctive -- rough-edged, almost masculine in tone, very emphatic in her movements.  Certainly I've never seen the part played that way before, and she made out a good case for it.  It didn't entirely win me over, but you know that this is just one person's opinion.  And she certainly played the hypnotism scene very quietly and intensely -- likewise, the final scene of the play.

James Blendick (a long-serving Stratford veteran) and Wendy Thatcher (a Stratford newcomer) did all they could with the ungrateful roles of Dr. and Mrs. Bradman.  Thatcher, in her second scene, created almost the only stereotype of the entire show -- a giddy "dumb blonde" if ever there was one.  But since the role is written that way, it's hard to avoid and she did keep the character likable.

Susie Burnett was very effective as the maid, Edith.  She handled the comic business of running and too obviously not-running with aplomb.  I was most impressed at the distinct change that came over her, the note of malicious mischief that came into her voice, in the hypnosis scene.  I've never heard or seen anything so strong made of it, but the hint is unmistakably there in the script and she certainly made it work, in spades!

In sum: this was probably the strongest stage production of Blithe Spirit that I have ever seen, and I was gratified to notice that it still makes me laugh just as hard as the very first time I stepped into the Condomines' home way back in the 1970s.  A lot of other comedies have worn thin on me during that time, but this one is a perennial delight and Stratford's production deserves all the generous accolades it has won.

Thursday 12 September 2013

Stratford Festival 2013 # 2: A Two-er de Force

To me, there is no test of an actor's skill quite so revealing as a role in what theatre folk refer to as a "two-hander" -- a play for two performers.  That's because, with rare exceptions, each actor is on for the full length of the piece without respite.  And, unlike a one-hander, the actor must continually function in relation to another person who is there on stage with her or him.

Stratford Festival this year has mounted a very intriguing two-hander entitled Taking Shakespeare, written by one of the senior and most respected Canadian playwrights, John Murrell.  With what can only be termed luxury casting, this performance is helmed by one of the finest directors ever to work at Stratford (in my humble opinion), Diana Leblanc, and stars Martha Henry and Luke Humphrey.  Martha Henry has been a company leading lady since the 1960s, as well as a fine director in her own right.  Especially interesting is the fact that Murrell wrote the role of "Prof", a middle-aged and disenchanted university English professor, especially for her.  Luke Humphrey, a three-season veteran of the company, proves himself thoroughly up to the major challenge of playing her unexpected student, "Murph".

And a challenge it is.  Murrell's script is layered with fascinating complexities, and while some of the back story is revealed by the dialogue a great deal is not.  There's a great deal of laughter evoked by the verbal fencing of the two characters, and there are a few moments when the author seems to be rubbing a moral in your face rather pointedly.  Not until afterwards do you realize that these were almost like distractions, to make you lower your guard, so some deeper and not so obvious points could be scored. 

Henry gives a performance shot with repeated lightning flashes of brilliant wit, timing, and power.  As the student, Murph, who is sent to her for special coaching in Shakespeare's Othello, Humphrey achieves a realistic portrayal of a young man who, like many of his age, is bored and blasé with everything but video games.  The tone of the play, and the relationship between the characters, is set right in the first minutes when Murph, quite typically, drops an F-bomb and Prof immediately repeats it right back at him, in the form of a question.  This, as we soon learn, is as typical of her as the F-bomb is of Murph.

As the play develops, the relationship between these two disparate personalities continuously shifts and grows and evolves, and the evolution is not by any means always along predictable lines.  (For an actor, this must be like a theatrical equivalent of singing the choral music of J. S. Bach, where the notes often seem to fly at you in a sequence that is neither expected nor especially easy to sing!)  Take just one example, the moment when Murph springs the surprise that his mother (who asked Prof in a phone call to coach Murph) is the Dean of Arts and Sciences at the university.  It's plain that the reaction he gets from Prof is not the one he expected (but what would that have been?).  The impact of this reversing of the surprise is that further doors are opened to further growth and confidence between them.

Expecting a love relationship here?  Don't.  Murrell is far too brilliant a writer to fall into the trap of that oldest of formulas.  Really, the only formula here is the one of teacher and pupil learning from each other, which is only a reflection of the reality of true teaching.  Even this one Murrell manages to handle without lapsing into wholesale imitation of his predecessors.  The similarity in treatment with Shaw's Pygmalion is not all that noticeable on the surface, but it's an undoubted similarity all the same. 

The trio of Leblanc, Henry, and Humphrey has created a wonderful performance of this piece.  The fourth key person in the team is designer Michael Gianfrancesco.  Within the confined space of the arena stage at the Festival's Studio Theatre, Gianfrancesco has created a marvellous mess of a room that totally reflects the mess of Prof's life.  It's old, tacky, tattered, overstuffed, creaky, and comfortable all at once.  And, in spite of the "overstuffed" part of the description, this apparently crowded-to-death room actually has plenty of space for the characters to act and interact in all sorts of ways, at all sorts of interesting angles.

A final note: there must have been some temptation to move this show into a larger space like the Tom Patterson Theatre.  It could probably still have done very well -- Martha Henry's name alone is a guarantor of a respectable take at the box office, as is shown by the fact that the run in the Studio is virtually sold out and has even been extended.  But the Studio, small and slightly cramped, is the place for this performance without question.  No other Stratford theatre could have drawn us so thoroughly into the claustrophobic room and life of Prof, nor made us feel so strongly the liberation that comes over both her and Murph by degrees as the play unfolds.

Wednesday 21 August 2013

Shaw Festival # 3: Making War on War

My third show at the Shaw Festival this year was a true classic -- Major Barbara by George Bernard Shaw himself.  It seems a pity, in a way, that Shaw has become so "unfashionable" these days.  The audience was comprised mostly of people who appeared somewhat older than my nearly 60 years.

Well, so much the worse for the younger crowd.  But in time I expect the wheel will turn full circle.  Many playwrights, and indeed many creative artists of all genres, have had to go through a period of "exile" following their lifetime successes before posterity resurrects and reaffirms their work, and Shaw seems to be in the exile phase right now.

That said, even as powerful a play as Major Barbara is not without its weaknesses.  Shaw wrote himself into a paradoxical dilemma by creating Barbara's father, Andrew Undershaft, as such a demonically clever and powerfully convincing antagonist for her.  At the end of Act II it seems that he has already won the battle between them, an impression reinforced by the tone of Act III.  We know that Shaw had a lot of trouble with Act IV, and it shows.  Here, and here only, the action of the play decomposes into lengthy rhetorical speeches.  At an early point in this last act it seems as if Adolphus Cusins and Andrew Undershaft have already resolved the tangled threads of the plot -- why, then, does Undershaft have to keep demanding that Cusins make up his mind when it seems that he has already done so?  I've always felt that this weak last act somewhat undoes the dramatic drive and power of the first three acts.  Were I directing the show, I should feel very tempted to start blue-pencilling this final scene.

But that's just me.  Anyone who has ever tried writing plays knows that he or she could do it much better than the playwright in question.  This is known as a wannabe author's ego trip!

As for the performance, kudos first and foremost to Jackie Maxwell for helming a production of this flawed masterpiece that went far to minimize the flaws, while making the most of the strengths.  In the intimate stage space of the Royal George Theatre, Maxwell and designer Judith Bowden have come up with three different settings that each speak of the worlds they represent.  The Salvation Army shelter of Act II was especially noteworthy for conveying a simultaneous impression of back-streets poverty alongside the Army's determination to keep its quarters neat and clean.  Each set created plenty of usable acting space, which Maxwell used to the full.

The cast must be led, of course, by Andrew and Barbara.  As the Salvation Army major, Nicole Underhay turned in another of those sterling performances which have made her one of the great treasures of the Shaw company.  In every scene she took Barbara exactly where she needed to go, and did it with fire and passion.  Even in her depressed moments in Act III, the passion shone through to show us that while Major Barbara might be down, she definitely was not out.  Her coaxing manner in the Salvationists' shelter was just as involving as her ecstatic re-definition of herself in Act IV.

As her father, the international munitions manufacturer, Benedict Campbell turned in the best performance of this fascinating monster that I have ever seen.  It's funny to recall now, but a look through the pictures in the program book reminded me that I was right.  The first production of Major Barbara that I ever attended was at the Shaw Festival in 1978, with Campbell's father Douglas in this central role.  Visually, Benedict Campbell looks just like his father in the same role!

But the resemblance stops right there.  Douglas Campbell was famous for his deep, booming bass, one of the most dominating voices I've ever heard on any theatrical stage, anywhere.  Benedict Campbell can dominate too, when he has to, but with moments chosen carefully so that the "everybody-freeze-on-the-spot" quality appears only at a few key moments when it is really needed.  This Undershaft displays an awesome variety of speaking styles -- by turns genial, coaxing, friendly, forceful, wheedling, didactic, and overwhelming, to name only a few.  It's a tour de force for use of the voice on stage, and I would not hesitate to call this a "definitive" performance -- while being perfectly aware that others will disagree.

The third great strength of this production is the uniformly strong set of performances turned in by all the supporting actors.  Laurie Paton as Lady Britomart Undershaft provokes plenty of hilarity right in the opening scene with her sublimely timed overriding of her son (played with appropriate bewilderment by Ben Sanders).  Graeme Somerville finds all the varied notes required in the rapidly evolving character of the Greek professor, Adolphus Cusins, who ultimately becomes the heir to the Undershaft munitions factory. Wade Bogert-O'Brien keeps a firm grip on the inanities of Charles Lomax, making sure that this shallow fool never descends into mere caricature.  James Pendarves did fine work in living out the driving force of frustration behind the words and actions of the ultimately powerless bully Bill Walker, in the shelter in Act II. 

Apart, then, from my desire to start editing that last act, I have no serious criticism at all of the way Jackie Maxwell and company have mounted this powerhouse play -- a splendid re-creation of one of Shaw's most powerful and perplexing pieces.

Sunday 18 August 2013

Shaw Festival # 2: The Fan Club

My second show at the Shaw Festival this year was a rather rare production of Lady Windermere's Fan by Oscar Wilde.

In watching this play for the first time, I was often reminded of a review given to Eric Nicol's play, Like Father Like Fun, when it was performed in Toronto:  "It has a lot of funny lines, but I wouldn't call it a comedy."  (quoted from memory, please be merciful about any unintentional errors!)

Lady Windermere's Fan was Wilde's first big dramatic success, and many commentators -- perhaps influenced by the subsequent triumph of the more famous Importance of Being Earnest -- have described this play as a comedy.  In my humble opinion, it is no such thing.  I suppose a director might tilt the piece towards a more comic approach, but this could only be done by nudging the audience to mock the characters and situations.  This would be a dangerous mistake.

Indeed, I think it has become rarely performed because it is a near-ideal exemplar of that long-dead genre, the Victorian melodrama, whose only living offspring, the American TV soap opera, is itself now considered an endangered species. 

In its own day, Lady Windermere's success was largely due to the novel idea of satirizing the world of the upper classes so bitingly in public.  But it goes much deeper than that, portraying a world where people are condemned on the flimsiest of evidence or on no evidence at all beyond that of mere coincidence.  The assumptions and condemnations of the "good people" in the play are our own, and exactly mirrored in the snap judgements people make today about the actions and motives of others.  Not for nothing did Wilde subtitle this work, A Play About A Good Woman -- although by the end you are left with the unanswered question of whether the good woman in question even appeared, or whether she is just an imaginary compendium of the best aspects of several of the characters.

The play is complex in the sense that the situations involved are only revealed bit by bit, scene by scene, and character by character.  The lady of questionable character with whom all the others are concerned only appears in the third scene, nearly an hour into the show -- a risky proposition from the viewpoint of keeping the audience involved!  But Wilde manages to sustain interest in the mysterious Mrs. Erlynne for as long as it takes to reach the moment when she appears.  The fan is a perfectly chosen symbol of a world where all the characters are making choices about what to conceal and what to reveal, and to whom.

 I had to give all this background to set the framework for my reactions to the performance.  If the fan is a subtle symbol, the set design was anything but.  The setting of the first scene was slowly revealed by the three edges of a black frame retreating to left, right, and up -- but not far.  This gave a fine claustrophobic air to the first scene and certainly hit us all over the head with the idea of revealing secrets.  Whether it needed to be done so bluntly is questionable.  Whether it needed to be repeated at every scene change is an easier question to answer -- no.  The slow opening and closing of the scene frames became repetitive and tedious, and dragged the play to a halt each time.

Most of the actors gave effective and realistic portrayals of their characters -- and some did considerably more than that.  One of the best was Corrine Koslo as the Duchess of Berwick, by turns motherly, overbearing, friendly, concerned, and judgmental.  Jim Mezon did fine work as Lord Augustus Lorton, a part more sympathetic than many I have seen him in.  Kyle Blair as Mr. Cecil Graham came across as an over-the-top aesthete, a living counterpart to Oscar Wilde himself -- which was understandable, since his part contains more Wildean epigrams than all the rest of the cast put together. 

Marla McLean as the young Lady Windermere, and Martin Happer as Lord Windermere both created their characters effectively.

Tara Rosling, as Mrs. Erlynne, commanded all eyes from the moment of her arrival.  This was partly a matter of costume -- black off-the-shoulder gown when all the other women wore lighter colours with pouffed sleeves.  Most of that command, though, was Rosling's own indomitable acting skill. 
Mrs. Erlynne is a tough character to bring across.  She's a terrific mixture of motivations from all points of the moral compass, and even more than the others uses language to conceal rather than to reveal herself.  Rosling captured all the diversity of this complex personality, and played her with humanity and conviction.  Mrs. Erlynne must not be played as the conventional melodramatic villainess at all, and was not.

Stage pictures (they have to be called "stage pictures" because of the framing blacks) were clearly composed, and the numerous movements of the complex ballroom scene well handled.  Peter Hinton's direction clearly supported the character relationships throughout, and all scenes were effectively lit.  Visually, this could have been a stunning production but for those annoying frames.

If I had to give ratings for this show (maybe I should start doing that), I'd give it a 3.5 out of 5 stars -- that would be a 4 for the performances and a 3 for the designs.

Saturday 17 August 2013

Shaw Festival # 1: A Familiar Favourite

My annual outing to the Shaw Festival took me to 3 shows this year.

The first, Guys and Dolls, is one of my favourite musicals.  After a friend said she didn't like it at all because of its sexism, I started to analyze exactly why I like this particular show so much.

There are three factors: the razor-sharp witty comebacks in the script, the clever patter-song style lyrics of several of the songs, and the absurdity of the relationship between Nathan Detroit and Miss Adelaide (engaged for 14 years, no less).

Like many Broadway shows, this one requires a romantic lead couple and a comic second couple.  Unlike many shows, the second couple -- and especially Miss Adelaide -- can walk away with the entire show without too much trouble.  That's a weakness of the book to a degree, but also shows where Frank Loesser put his best lyric-writing and composing gifts to work.

The Shaw's production of this treat, directed by Tadeusz Bradecki, was a good, solid show.  Alas, it was so solid that it had trouble really lifting off.  Everything was competent, professional, and slickly produced.  But that didn't leave much room for inspiration to take wing -- with two exceptions.

I've really admired some of Kyle Blair's other performances, but here I felt he was miscast.  He just looked and sounded far too much like Mr. Nice Guy to be really convincing as the king of the crap rollers, Sky Masterson.  Elodie Gillett as Sarah Brown seemed stiff and unconvincing at first, but after she cut loose in the Havana scene (and she certainly did cut loose) she successfully made the transition from a "role" to a "person".

Shawn Wright as Nathan Detroit and Jenny L. Wright as Miss Adelaide proved my point about stealing the show by doing just that.  Miss Adelaide in particular turned in as nearly perfect a take on this role as I would ever hope to see.  Her Brooklyn accent was so thoroughly absorbed into her speaking that she even captured the little detail of "cold" becoming a two-syllable word -- "A poyson could develop a co-ahld" -- and stretched it out just enough that the second syllable took on an unmistakable life of its own.  That classic song (Adelaide's Lament) was full of perfectly timed comic payoffs, as were all her scenes.

Miss Adelaide was one of the two examples of genius in the show.  The other was the choreography of Parker Esse.  His dance numbers owed little to any previous productions, but a great deal to careful study of the period.  The dances were the one area where the show really caught fire.  The Havana scene (as mentioned) was a swirling extravaganza of Latin dance that hovered just on the edge of mayhem without falling over.  The Hot Box Club's girls exactly recaptured the flavour of the kind of nightclub dancing considered "naughty" back in the day (and looking very innocent now, to be sure).   The Crapshooters' Dance was a rapid-fire number, bristling with tricky moves and fast position switches, that deservedly pulled down some hearty applause.

In sum: a show with some excellences, a great deal of good work, and nothing seriously wrong except that the whole show wasn't as good as the work of Miss Adelaide and the choregrapher.

Tuesday 13 August 2013

Festival of the Sound 2013 # 4

On our final day of the Festival for this year, we again went to three concerts, two of which had a decidedly lighter flavour than the previous day!

At noon the concert was entitled "Music for Fun".  The opening piece best fit that description, a group of movements from a Serenata by Alfredo Casella -- light-hearted and vigorous, with quirky harmonies.

The performance of Chopin's Etude in A-Flat Major by 14-year-old Parry Sound pianist Gordon Mok was impressive indeed.  Many young "clavier-tigers" can fire off the notes with machine-gun accuracy, and that is as far as they get.  Mok already has the mark of a true musician, with a sense of the rubato appropriate for Chopin which comes as naturally as breathing.  His tempo ebbs and flows with such subtlety that most listeners are probably unaware that it is happening, and that is a prime objective for any Chopin pianist.  Watch for more from this gifted and insightful artist in the future!

There followed a Concert Piece in F Minor by Mendelssohn featuring the unusual and lovely sounds of the basset horn, a kind of alto clarinet.  The fun here, of course, came with the inevitable but still funny joke about not being confused with a basset hound.

The final Piano Quartet in A Major by Joaquin Turina was not overly long, but certainly substantial -- a most effective marriage of the mainstream European chamber music tradition with the characteristic rhythms and harmonies of Spain.  I certainly hope to hear this piece again.

The afternoon concert was a 60-minute program of "Baroque greatest hits", as selected by James Mason and Julie Baumgartel.  As Mason admitted at the outset, the selection of such a list involves a heavy dose of personal opinion which is bound to omit someone's favourites, causing a degree of distress or upset as a result!  However, this selection certainly hit many of the high water marks of Baroque music while making ample use of the musicians available on this occasion.  For me, the star of the show was flautist Suzanne Shulman, equally impressive in the sustained legato of Gluck's Dance of the Blessed Spirit as in the hectic but finely articulated Badinerie from Bach's Orchestral Suite No. 2.  For the rest, I certainly enjoyed the entire program apart from the inevitable dismay of not hearing such works as the Bach Suite or Handel's Water Music in their entirety.

The Friday night concert, aptly entitled Carnival Night, included a fair bit of letting-down-the-hair on the part of all performers.  In a bel canto aria from La sonnambula by Bellini, Leslie Fagan had to put up with shenanigans from accompanist Guy Few, and her hearty laugh soon had the whole audience roaring as well.  How she could sing after that, I do not know, but sing she did and most impressively in this classic instance of coloratura fireworks. 

In the second half, Fagan returned as narrator for Animal Ditties by Anthony Plog, with Guy Few performing now on trumpet.  With impeccable timing, Fagan nailed the hilarious pay-off lines in the verses, and slipped in a little verbal comment of her own (I suspect) in one number.

This was followed by the well-loved Carnival of the Animals by Camille Saint-Saens.  Well-loved, that is, by all but the composer.  He wrote it for private performance to entertain at a soiree of musicians, and absolutely detested the immense popularity his musical clowning achieved!

For the first time I can recall at the Festival of the Sound, the Carnival was given with the ridiculous verses by Ogden Nash recited before each number.  These recitations were shared between Guy Few and Peter Tiefenbach, the latter especially impressive for his absolutely deadpan delivery of Nash's groaner puns. 

Musically, Tiefenbach shared the critical two-piano duties with Robert Kortgaard, their playing firmly anchoring the whole performance.  Violinists Jerzy Kaplanek and Jeremy Bell made a great game out of trying to outdo each other in the cries of the Wild Asses.  Jim Campbell hammed up The Cuckoo in the Woods, listening and waiting with the fiercest concentration for each of the cuckoo's calls.  Shulman's Aviary fluttered delicately with beautiful articulation.  Tiefenbach and Kortgaard varied the tempo in each of the faux-Hanon exercise in Pianists, to great comic effect.  Beverly Johnston, as ever, rendered the clacking of the bones in Fossils with terrific energy.  Best of all was the lyrical, deeply felt Swan of cellist Katie Schlaikjer, lovingly applauded by the audience.

All in all, a great wrap-up day for our Festival times this summer.

Now, on to the Shaw Festival for three plays!

Friday 9 August 2013

Festival of the Sound 2013 # 3

On Thursday, we had another string of three great concerts at the Festival of the Sound in Parry Sound ON.  This time, though, the focus was definitely on the core composers of the classic chamber music repertoire.

The noon concert began with a sparkling, energetic reading of Haydn's Piano Trio # 39 in G Major.  This is a favourite work at many chamber music venues, including the Stockey Centre, largely because of the high-speed final rondo "a l'Ongarese" which has given the trio its sobriquet of "Gypsy" Trio. 

This was followed by a 2-movement violin sonata by Mozart (# 21 in E Minor, K.304) which often moved the violin part into the middle of the harmony while the piano carried the melody -- to fine effect.  It's a composing technique that requires special attention by the performers to keep the parts perfectly balanced.

Last came a well-known classic: Schubert's Arpeggione Sonata.  Written for a stringed instrument that is almost extinct, this sonata has been transferred to many other instruments, including cello (most often), viola, clarinet, flute, and probably others as well.  In this case, Joel Quarrington played the solo part on double bass.  It's a fascinating experience, and Quarrington went through some serious gymnastics to catch all of Schubert's rapidly moving solo figurations, which he played with great finesse and skill.  But I felt the experiment was overall not a success, simply because of the very low register of the solo instrument.  Many lines had to be shifted down an octave from the original, and were so low down that it was difficult to hear them down under the entire piano part.

In the afternoon, we got first a Wind Quintet by Antonin Reicha.  This close friend and contemporary of Beethoven invented the wind quintet format (flute/clarinet/oboe/bassoon/horn) to give the wind players a chamber forum equal to those enjoyed by string players.  This was the second of a series of 26 such quintets Reicha composed.  I've heard several of them on a recording which I thoroughly enjoy, but this particular one was new to me -- and very well worth hearing.  I hope we get more of these in future from the Festival Winds.

The second item was a String Quintet by Mozart.  The first three movements of this work were light-hearted to the point of being jolly in a Haydnesque way.  The solemn slow introduction of the finale threatened to turn the whole work darker, but was quickly succeeded by a rollicking allegro that brought the Quintet to a lively end.

The evening concert began with a lovely Oboe Quartet (oboe plus string trio) played with great style and effect by Jim Mason.  This was succeeded by a powerful rarity: a Septet in D Minor by Johann Nepomuk Hummel, for the unusual combination of viola, cello, double bass, piano, bassoon, clarinet and flute (notice there is no violin!).  The piano carried much of the weight, not surprising when you know that Hummel was a leading piano virtuoso of his day.  Angela Park's flying fingers delivered a truly monumental reading of the piano part which was definitely of concerto proportions.  Her performance earned her the ultimate accolade of applause from her colleagues before all turned to acknowledge the applause of the audience.  The six other players also had much to contribute, and each got their own highlighted solo moments.  The work built to a towering conclusion which all but burst the bounds of chamber music, sounding like it really belonged in a symphony which the composer never got around to writing.

It's easy to see why a Septet like this doesn't get played much, because of the odd instrumentation, but the Festival of the Sound makes a specialty of throwing musicians together with minimal rehearsal time for such rare masterpieces, and the results are often very special indeed.  This one was a highlight of this year's Festival, another breathtaking performance that highlighted exactly why the Festival of the Sound is such a Canadian cultural treasure.

After the intermission, we heard Beethoven's well-known Septet in E-Flat Major, Op. 20.  This one has appeared on Festival programs before, and is always good to welcome back, like any old friend.  It's for the much tamer combination of a string trio with oboe, bassoon, horn, and double bass -- in effect, half of the traditional harmonie wind ensemble so beloved in Germany and Austria combined with the strings.  The players all did a beautiful job with this early Beethoven work, in a rather Mozartean manner -- don't expect the heaven-storming ambition of the late Beethoven, but this Septet is still a charmer for all that.

Thursday 8 August 2013

Festival of the Sound 2013 # 2

Okay, we're back in Parry Sound again, and in 3 concerts yesterday we were exposed to an extraordinary variety of music.  A little jazz, a little blues, some wartime concert pieces, and a couple of grand old classics from the 19th century chamber repertoire.

The intention behind yesterday's noon concert was to explore the music of composers who were exiled from homes in Europe during the Nazi horrors, as well as composers who were self-exiled from the USA because their black skin blocked their professional advancement.  For me, the music was just music -- nothing I heard particularly reflected the reality of exile, although the harsh realities of the world situation certainly had their impact on several of the pieces played.

We had the jazz and blues set first.  Now, I am no expert at all in the fine art of jazz and blues, so I only sit and enjoy without having much ability to comment on what I'm hearing -- other than to say that I like it.

In the concert music part of the programme, we got a couple of pieces by Erich Wolfgang Korngold.  His music is as lush and romantic as if it were written in the late 1800s, and not half a century later.  The effect is not unlike listening to a film score from the golden age of Hollywood, and that's not surprising because Hollywood is precisely where Korngold ended up when he came to the USA.  

I have to say, though, that Andrew Burashko (pianist) went far over the top in trying to proclaim Korngold as one of the greatest masters of all music.  It was all I could do not to roll my eyes when he said that.  Korngold may have been a very skilled virtuoso performer, but I've heard enough of his music to state that (for my money) Korngold was derivative, milking an old and tired tradition for every last drop but creating nothing especially original or memorable in the process. 

Then we got a Violin Sonata by the Czech composer Martinu.  This was thorny, rebarbative music.  Again, violinist Mark Fewer's description of the work as an overlooked masterpiece cut no ice with me.  I'd like to be able to say that he and pianist Burashko gave a good performance, but honestly I had no way of knowing.  Martinu's music often sounds as if the two players were not on the same page, or perhaps I should say it sounds as if they could be on the wrong page and the audience wouldn't be able to tell the difference.  It's a pity, because there are a few amazing works Martinu wrote that I would go anywhere to hear, again and again, but this Sonata is definitely not among them.

The afternoon concert was another matter altogether.  Guy Few (trumpet) and Angela Park (piano) gave a breathtaking performance of Hindemith's Trumpet Sonata.  I use the word in its most literal sense as I found myself gasping for air after the intensity of the final funeral march and the long silent pause that Few and Park held after the last notes.  Hindemith was definitely a composer of his own time, but this Sonata remains resolutely tonal (albeit with many surprising twists and turns).  The Sonata is full of moments both powerful and moving, and I will be looking out for a good recording.

It was followed by a Bartok String Quartet (No 6) which dates from the years before the war, and certainly reflects the unease and fear the composer felt.  The Penderecki Quartet captured the intensity of this work beautifully as well.  Each movement begins with a slow, solemn introduction (on similar thematic basis) before branching off on its own lines.  The last movement remains slow and solemn throughout, bringing the Quartet to an intense conclusion.

The evening concert opened with a memorable traversal of Schumann's famous Piano Quartet, Op. 47 by the Ensemble Made in Canada.  These four young artists captured all the wit, fun, shades of dark and light, and especially the clarity of the counterpoint in this complex and sophisticated work. 

Alas for good intentions, the succeeding Grand Sextet by Mikhail Glinka turned up sounding like the work of a rank beginner by comparison.  Glinka would gain fame as the founder and exemplar of Russian nationalism in music, but this Sextet predates his return to Russia.  It is fashionable, flashy, and musically about as substantial and rewarding as an empty cream puff.  Glinka detested any suggestion of counterpoint, so the five strings play in mostly chordal textures, while the piano also plays chordally but with the chords enlivened by endless chains of tremolandos and arpeggios.  In the end, the pianist (Andrew Burashko in fine form on a rather unrewarding assignment) does about 80% of the work, with the strings just coming along for the ride.

In sum: five stars for performance, one star for the music (maybe).

The conclusion of the evening was Dvorak's monumental String Quartet No. 13.  It's a late work, written just after Dvorak's return home from New York, and like many of the late Beethoven quartets it seems on the verge of bursting the bounds of quartet form.  The writing is often symphonic in force and density, and could probably form a successful target for orchestration.  I found the slow second movement especially moving, not least because of the slow introduction which (like the one in the New World Symphony) shifts the key from the first movement to the second movement by rather mysterious means.  I also thoroughly enjoyed the powerful finale, and do plan to dig out my recording of this marvellous work and make its further acquaintance.  The Penderecki Quartet again gave a near-definitive performance, high-powered, full of energy and emotion, and not without sublety where required.

Sunday 28 July 2013

Festival of the Sound 2013 # 1

It's that time of the year again, dear readers.  Back to Parry Sound to wallow in the endless feast of classical chamber music served up each year by the Festival of the Sound.

For this first visit of the season, we took just one day and took in three concerts.  More will come in a couple of weeks.

The day actually began with Moshe Hammer playing a Bach Partita for solo violin at the Station Gallery in a "pay what you wish" concert.  We decided to give it a pass, and I was glad we did when I heard that a Festival staffer had to sit outside and turn people away because the crowd had hit the Gallery's fire code maximum capacity!  Knowing Moshe Hammer's playing, though, I'm sure it was a splendid performance!

The noon concert began with a selection of Brahms Intermezzos played by Jamie Parker.  This is music of considerable restraint, subtlety and complexity, not at all like a virtuoso showpiece.  Parker's performance was beautifully shaded and full of poetry.  This was followed by Schumann's Piano Quintet, Op. 44.  I first heard this work at my very first Festival concert back in 1994 and now I was hearing it again at my first concert of my 20th season!  The Tiberius Quartet from Rumania played with both precision and fire, and Parker's piano part was right in scale with them. 

In the afternoon concert we had first the Cello Sonata in A Minor, Op. 69 by Beethoven.  Yegor Dyachkov's playing in the cello part was commendable, but I had trouble hearing in some of the quieter passages -- perhaps because I sit to one side of the stage and he was turned slightly away from me.  Martin Roscoe was predictably excellent on piano. 

This was followed by the String Quartet No 1 in C Minor, Op. 51 by Brahms.  Here we had the formidable artistry of the New Zealand String Quartet.  Of all the quartet ensembles I have heard play at the Festival over the years, this one is my hands-down favourite.  There's a special intensity to their playing, due in no small measure to the fact that they play standing, with the cellist seated on a riser that brings him to the other players' eye level.  This particular piece has never been one of my favourites, but the New Zealand Quartet managed to make me forget that and truly enjoy it -- and that says it all, I think.

The evening concert opened with a piece I had been waiting to hear played live all my life: the Piano Sonata in C Minor, D.958 by Schubert.  Like the other late Schubert sonatas, this work is almost better described as a symphony for the piano.  At 30 minutes, it's shorter than some of the others, but no less powerful and varied in scale.  Martin Roscoe, that consummate musician who also happens to be a highly skilled pianist, gave us a reading that was very much more than the sum of its parts.  In the concluding allegro, a fiendish moto perpetuo of whirling triplets that runs on nonstop for almost ten minutes, Roscoe worked up to a whirlwind conclusion that left me literally short of breath!

After the intermission came the equally spectacular Piano Quintet in A Minor, Op. 84, by Elgar.  Here, Roscoe was partnered with the New Zealand Quartet and the results were sublime -- truly a performance to make you forget any other you might have heard.

All that incredible music in one day!  And the next time, it will be a week's worth of multiple daily concerts!  I'm sure you can understand why the Festival of the Sound is an essential part of my summer schedule every year.

Wednesday 3 July 2013

Stratford Festival 2013 # 1: Second Fiddle to No One

First visit to Stratford this season, to take in their production of Fiddler on the Roof in the Festival Theatre.

It's a well-known saying:  "If it ain't broke, don't fix it."  This particularly applies to very well-known and popular classics of the musical theatre.  Any director who is going to start in to lead a production of Fiddler had better take the established preferences of audiences seriously.  But "on the other hand", a show originally designed for a proscenium stage is inevitably going to change quite a bit if it's to be mounted on a thrust stage like this one.

Donna Feore has steered her course very successfully among the possible traps awaiting the show.  Since a hugely detailed backdrop simply isn't practical, the customary setting which pays homage to Marc Chagall's brilliantly coloured paintings of life in the shtetl is out of the question.  The set designer (Allen Moyer) and director have brilliantly substituted individual figures inspired by Chagall hanging overhead under a kind of "dome" of sky-blue banners.

Below them, the dark-walled and dark-floored stage is left open to admit all kinds of action and the kind of temporary and highly mobile set dressing that has become a Stratford specialty. 

The next huge problem is the question of adapting choreography from the highly successful original of Jerome Robbins.  But adapted it must be, as the space has changed from the broad oblong of a Broadway theatre to a tight and narrow near-square.  While paying full respect to such key moments of Robbins' inspiration as the Bottle Dance, the resulting dance numbers (choreographed by Feore) have managed the critical feat of combining relentless motion and power with the need to keep stopping and turning frequently so the dancers won't shoot off the edge into the laps of the front row audience!

One key choice made by this company was to forego an across-the-board set of Yiddish accents.  The natural rhythms of the writing carry that impression quite clearly, and any director who opts for accents-all-around runs the risk of having the entire show deteriorate into caricature.  A few characters (such as Yente the matchmaker, played by Gabrielle Jones) did use accents very effectively, but even then they kept it fairly low-key. 

The particular structure of the story makes it impossible to identify such conventional casting as the "romantic leads", the "comic romantic leads", or the "fifth business" (to quote Robertson Davies).  This is essentially an ensemble show revolving around its one and only central character: Tevye the milkman.  The show will only work if the strength of these two elements can balance each other.

Scott Wentworth seemed to me a surprising choice as Tevye, but he proved to be a fine choice for the part.  In his interpretation, dogged persistence and world-weariness were Tevye's dominant characteristics.  Wentworth's strong deep vocal tones led us naturally to that conclusion.  Even his famous soliloquies to God exhibited a level of fatigue that told us Tevye might still believe in God, but he was definitely tired of waiting for an answer!  As good and effective as these key moments were, this was not a definitive performance.  For me, the weakness came in Tevye's scenes with his daughters.  His tone in speaking to them reminded me of the times when I used to snap at my students who were wasting too much time in class.  The exasperation was there, but any sense of affection seemed to be missing.  In a way, I was surprised every time he hugged one of them.

As a contrast, his relationship with his wife Golde (played by Kate Hennig) displayed that quality of affection in spades -- from both of them -- during the duet in Act II, Do You Love Me? 

All of the ensemble roles, from daughters to suitors, from fathers to soldiers, were admirably strong.  I could not single out any one performance as being better than any other.  Thus, it was the group numbers that left the strongest impression in my mind, because the entire cast was functioning as a single entity -- Matchmaker, Matchmaker and To Life being prime examples.

The sound throughout was excellent, neither too loud nor too soft, and all dialogue and singing (with one exception) came across with utter clarity.  In this respect, the Stratford company showed up the touring version starring Harvey Fierstein which I saw in Toronto a few years back.

The one exception came in Tevye's Dream, where the stage was filled with figures dressed in costumes and masks straight out of a Chagall painting.  When the ghost of Fruma-Sarah appeared, the stage became filled with such frantic action and the orchestration became so noisy that her words were lost.  A pity.  By the way, I'm not telling you how she appeared.  Surprise is everything!

On the whole then, a very fine production of Fiddler on the Roof, with very strong performances across the board and very imaginative solutions to the staging issuesNot perhaps the definitive production or the last word on staging this beloved show, but then when dealing with a classic of this kind there had better never be a last word! 

Saturday 29 June 2013

Transformations That Are "MOST Remarkable"

As a devoted fan of Helen Mirren's Academy-Award winning performance in the 2006 film The Queen, I was immediately attracted to the idea of attending the National Theatre's cinema telecast of the new play, The Audience -- which features the same woman (Mirren) playing the same woman (Queen Elizabeth II) in a script by the same author (Peter Morgan).

Logically, then, I suppose I was expecting it to be "more of the same".  See how wrong you can be?  In fact, I have now read that Mirren was very worried about that possibility until she read the script.

The film was a cross between biopic and docudrama, focusing on one intensely emotional week in the monarch's reign.  As such, it had to encompass a great deal of storm and stress, while depicting the effort it costs such a celebrated person to damp down her emotional reactions in the public eye.

This new play comes across as a kind of comical counterpoise to the film, spreading its reach across the whole of Her Majesty's life, even reaching back to her years as a young girl.

The main subject matter of the play is the weekly audience which the sovereign shares with her Prime Minister every Wednesday, whenever both are in London.  One of the carefully planned aspects of Morgan's script is the diverse range of ways in which he depicts the event evolving with time, and with the evolution of the Queen in her role.  Since the convention of the weekly audience is that nothing said there is ever revealed to any outside person, Morgan has been free to try to imagine the tone of the weekly meetings.

Unlike the rather stiff audiences shown with Tony Blair in The Queen, many of these meetings are downright hilarious.  The humour comes as a combination of clever plays on words, reversals of expectation, one-ups, and the wonderful facial expressions which Mirren brings to her role.

In between the audiences, there are numerous short scenes where the Queen's younger self (played by Bebe Cave and Nell Williams) takes the stage, including several where the younger Elizabeth and her older self talk to each other.  This is just one of the fascinating ways that Morgan's script plays fast and loose with time.  The scenes tumble over each other in anything but chronological order, so that Mirren's portrayal is laced with quick changes of costumes and wigs.  In two cases these take place very quickly -- right on the stage, in dim lighting, while the scene is progressing elsewhere.

Although the play is predominantly funny, there are some truly touching moments in a few places, and the company deserve full credit for clearly conveying the difference in tone and bringing the audience right along with them into a different kind of emotional place.

Mirren's performance is a sheer tour de force of theatrical skill and sensitivity, since she effectively portrays a different person in virtually every scene.  Not only that, but she has to age backwards and forwards at different times -- her growth is certainly not depicted in a neat linear manner.  This is one of the great strengths of the script: the way in which it treats the constant growth and change that attends a thoughtful individual's personality throughout her life.

All the Prime Ministers are marvellous (eight of the twelve PMs Elizabeth has worked with are shown).  It seems invidious to single any out, but I simply must mention two:  Haydn Gwynne's Margaret Thatcher shows almost as good a mastery of voice and gesture as Mirren's Queen, and has the additional handicap of dealing with the one badly overwritten scene in the play -- a scene designed to make Margaret Thatcher come across as something of a self-centred, obnoxious, verbal bully.  The other was Richard McCabe in the very important role of Harold Wilson, appearing in two different scenes -- at the very beginning of his Prime Ministership, as a hilarious working-class bumpkin, and again at the very end as a victim of Alzheimer's Disease, an ailment which forcibly ends his political career. 

That final scene, by the way, comes as the unspoken answer to the question from David Cameron in the previous scene of which Prime Minister was the Queen's favourite.  Given the initial negative reaction to Wilson's first appearance from Mirren, this final moment takes on a most poignant air, supplemented by her verbal observation about Baroness Thatcher's funeral.  Here indeed is the emotional heart of both the script and Mirren's performance.

Like all the shows I've seen in the NT Live series, the sets and costumes are both factually accurate and formidably detailed.  A short sequence in the intermission feature showed us the care that went into matching fabric swatches with the colours that Her Majesty is most often seen wearing in public.
Lighting was always effective without drawing overmuch attention to itself, and the sound included several aptly quiet and formal-sounding pieces to bridge some of the scene changes.

Director Stephen Daldry made most effective use of the available space in front of the sets on the Gielgud Theatre's stage, with contrasts of movement and stillness (when to stand and when to sit) as carefully judged as all royal protocol needs to be.

All in all, a thoroughly entertaining and enjoyable show -- and several more repeat dates have just been announced (the first screenings have played to sold-out houses in a number of places, and with good reason).  If you go to the NT Live website, you'll find all the details -- including the names of the performers whom I have not specifically mentioned.