'Satyagraha' at the Coliseum

Philip Glass's 'Satyagraha' is on at the Coliseum with the English National Opera. I saw his 'Akhenaten' there a couple of years ago  and thought it would be interesting to see another of his works. I wasn't quite sure what I was watching a couple of years ago and that experience was repeated last week at this performance.

The production tells a version of the tale of Mahatma Ghandi's early years in South Africa, some of which I'm vaguely familiar with but not to the extent of knowing about the specific incidents we saw on that stage. I'm also, you'll be surprised to hear, I'm sure,  not familiar with Sanskrit so couldn't follow the tale by listening to the words since there were no surtitles. It all came down to the visuals, and some of those were astonishing.

Phelim McDermott's visuals left the stage bare at times and at others incredibly rich with spectacle built upon spectacle. Giant animals made out of baskets appear out of nowhere, gods on stilts battle for supremacy and random pages from a newspaper create a swirling maelstrom that Ghandi both disappears into and is created from. What on earth is this? What am I watching? The answer is that I didn't know while I watched and still don't know. I don't really want to know since I'd much rather revel in the random artistry of the piece.

The singers and chorus are dressed variously as Victorian ladies and gentlemen and this gradually changes to dhotis and saris for many of the characters as the story progresses and Ghandi rejects British modes and adopts his traditional Indian dress and traditions. It struck me as rather strange at the time, something quite challenging in it's own way since we rarely see a stage full of people dressed in what we think of as traditional Indian garb.

The music is slow and stately, swirling and repetitious with the same phrases seemingly repeated endlessly. Far from making me nod off it actually kept my attention riveted to the music, possibly simply waiting to spot the moment when it changed, perhaps? That will remain a mystery. I have to say that I don't think I could listen to it without the visuals. This is definitely one of those pieces that relies on the whole, rather than it's parts, in order to work.

Toby Spence sang Ghandi with sopranos Charlotte Beamont and Anna-Clare Monk. Karen Kamensek was the conductor (who also conducted 'Akhnaten' a couple of years ago).

While I quite like simply revealing in the experience and not wanting to try too hard to understand it, something that simply increased my frustration as the production moved forward was the continuous slow pace of every movement. How on earth can someone physically move so slowly across a stage for just under three hours? Even the memory of it makes me feel frustrated and need to move with increasing speed.  I can only give the performers kudos for sustaining it but, c'mon people, have some regard for it might make the audience feel!

I wonder what the next Glass production might bring?

'The Winter's Tale' - Royal Ballet Rehearsal at the Royal Opera House

I went to see a rehearsal of 'The Winter's Tale' by the Royal Ballet at the Royal Opera House, my first rehearsal so I wasn't too sure what to expect. What we got was a full run through of the ballet in full costume and with a full orchestra. The only difference from a 'real' performance was that the orchestra were in civvies (including the conductor), the bar was shut and there were no ice cream sellers (that I saw). Other than that, wow!

I saw 'The Winter's Tale' a couple of years ago and was delighted with Itziar Mendizabal dancing Paulina so I was very excited to be seeing her dance that role again in the rehearsal. She is the epitome of grace and strength and is a wonder to watch.

It was great to see that moment when jealousy emerges when Hermione places Leontes' hand onto her pregnant belly as well as Polixenes' hand, his great friend and the action stops except for Leontes dancing around his wife and friend as the jealousy takes hold. That moment is so powerful in dance. Thiago Soares danced Leontes and Marianela Nunez danced an impressive Hermione. But it's Itziar who won the day with her graceful lines and movement and it's Itziar who closed the performance being the last left on stage as the curtains closed.

I'm looking forward to more rehearsals now!

'Tosca' at the Royal Opera House

Last week I was lucky enough to see the Royal Opera perform 'Tosca' at the Royal Opera House, coincidentally, on the same evening it was broadcast live to cinemas. I saw 'Tosca' a couple of years ago performed by the English National Opera so it was nice to have the opportunity to see the Royal Opera put their spin on the tale. The story behind the opera is quite simple but riven with emotion and the music is just gorgeous (thank you Mr Puccini).

Mario Caravadossi is an artist painting in a church in Rome in 1800 and, although he uses a strange women who visits the church as his model for Mary Magdalene, his love belongs to Tosca. Floria Tosca is a famous singer with jealous, dark eyes, who comes to visit her lover to arrange a tryst later that night. But a senator has escaped from Castel Sant'Angelo and is hiding in the church and Caravadossi pledges to help him escape and the downfall of our lovers is set in motion. Baron Scarpia pursues the senator to the church and misses him but encounters Tosca who he's lusted after. He doesn't want to seduce her, he wants to conquer her, to own her and move on. The Baron arrests and tortures Caravadossi and will only release him if Tosca submits... and she does, to save her lover, before stabbing the Baron in the heart after he's given her a note of safe passage out of Rome with her lover. The man who is feared by all Romans and he's killed by Tosca for her love of Caravadossi.

The Baron plays true to form and he's lied to Tosca. She visits Caravadossi before his execution which should be fake but isn't and he's shot., When the troops come to catch Tosca for killing the Baron she refuses to submit and throws herself from the battlements of Castel Sant'Angelo. A great heroine who died for love.

'Tosca' is an astonishing piece of work by Puccini, edited from a longer play he saw to make a powerful three act opera. All the ingredients are there - love, jealousy, death, heroism, patriotism, lust, death and immortality - all melded into a rather simple story that wraps itself around you and pulls you into it before you've even noticed. Floria Tosca is a great heroine - her dark eyes might be jealous eyes but they're your eyes if she loves you.

Our beloved Tosca was sang by Adrianne Pieczonka and Caravadossi by Joseph Colleja with the Baron (boo! hiss!) sung by Gerald Finley. They were all in excellent form as was the Chorus of the Royal Opera.The lighting and set were great but I thought the final set for the roof of Castel Sant'Angelo could've done with a bit more work. I visited that roof last year in honour of Tosca so I know what it looks like.

Thank you Royal Opera, you didn't let me down.

'Annie' at the Piccadilly Theatre

'Annie' is one of those shows that most people probably know something about if only because it's an old story, it was a very successful film and it has some famous songs that are regularly covered. It is, however, a story I don't know because I've never seen the show or the film. I do know the famous songs, though. The reason I went to see it was really to see Meera Syal who took over the role of Miss Hannigan last year. Meera is an excellent actress and comedian so I wanted to see her song and dance steps.

We all know the story of 11 year old Annie in the orphanage run by Miss Hannigan during the depression. Oliver Warbucks, one of the richest men in the world, wants an orphan for Christmas and Annie is chosen by his secretary. She charms him and he wants to adopt her but, first, she wants to find her real parents. Hannigan's crooked brother turns up with a scheme to pretend to be Annie's father to swindle Warlocks out of money but the plot fails, the Hannigans get their comeuppance and all ends well for Annie, Daddy Warlocks and, it seems, his secretary. 

The show is, of course, liberally sprinkled with song and dance numbers by the stompy, energetic orphans leaping around the stage, by the down and outs of Hooverville, the dancers from the big screen film Annie sees and the staff of Warbucks' Mansion. I couldn't help feeling that not all of these musical interludes helped take the show forward or were strictly necessary but, on the other hand, what's not to like?

The story moved along at a fast rate, livened up every now and then by Amber the pooch - the real star of the show - scampering across the stage. Amber, who plays Sandy, always got a reaction from the audience. The sets changed quickly, everything seemingly on wheels, with the cast flooding on and off, one dance number after another with the cast of kids popping up every now and then to remind us about the orphanage. It was fun.

And Meera? She gave a solid, professional performance and yes, she can both sing and dance. She has a very good singing voice and should do more. She also does good drunk. Well done Meera, it was great fun to see you, just such a shame those pesky kids got in the way of your gin consumption!

'Charles I: King and Collector' at the Royal Academy

The new blockbuster exhibition in London is all about Charles I's collection of paintings and other art works at the Royal Academy. And it is a BIG exhibition. It's full of room after room of great paintings with hardly a dull note and some works by artists I've never come across before. There are four tapestries designed by Raphael and nine enormous canvases my Mantegna showing a triumphal procession in ancient Rome, loads of portraits of Charles and the royal family by van Dyck, self-portraits by Rubens and van Dyck, Charles on horses, a room of miniatures and lots more besides. This really is an exhibition to linger over and there's something here for everyone.

I found myself mulling over how this exhibition came together and imagined the curators having a cuppa in the cafe one day and chatting about their dream exhibitions - if only we could get X Y Z together - and here they are. Charles I's collection was spread far and wide after his execution and, while many were subsequently bought back, many still reside in collections around Europe. This exhibition brings many of them together again.

One of my favourite paintings was 'Portrait of a Woman in Green' by Agnolo Bronzino. If you ignore those enormous green sleeves for a moment, you could easily see that woman on a bus or train going about her business today.

She is so fresh and 'real' with her patient face waiting to get on the next train because this one is too crowded. She looks kindly with a bit of backbone when needed, easily the manager of a busy office. That bright green dress against the rich, deep red background makes the painting really noticeable - how often do you see that rich green in old paintings? The painting was really noticeable and I'd love to know who she was and what happened to her. Maybe that's covered in the catalogue?

Another painting that caught my eye was a large one by Rubens, 'Minerva Protects Pax from Mars'. The titular characters are in the background while a great deal of frolic goes on in the foreground, presumably showing the benefits of a peaceful life and nation. I particularly liked the little group of children at the bottom-right of the painting - just look at those faces. I've no idea what that satyr is up to. And look at Minerva's arm pushing against Mars' shield - we don't quite see muscles and tendons pushing against her skin but that demonstrates her power against the god of war.

I also really liked the 'Adoration of the Shepherds' by Jacopo Bassano. The Virgin and Child are centre-stage in the brightest part of the painting while Joseph sits on the ground with his dog curled up beside him (I don't remember a dog being in the story but he looks cosy down there).

It's called 'adoration' but I didn't get that feeling from the shepherds, rather there's a suggestion that they're a bit agitated and don't really know what to do because they've never worshipped a baby before so they've brought a sheep as a gift. Well, what do you bring a baby that angels seem to know? Luckily, all is right with the world because the donkey and ox are there for consistency.

It was a surprise to see Jan Gossaert's curly-haired 'Adam and Eve', partly because of all the flesh on display - with a few exceptions, most of the paintings have fully clothed people in them. Of course, trees were really handy in Biblical times because they always seemed to sprout a branch at crotch height to avoid any embarrassment. Bit unfortunate if you walked into the branch though, especially if it had thorns. I'll leave that thought there.

Another painting I liked was of the royal kids by van Dyck with their enormous dog (and a tiny pooch). I stood there pondering dressing kids as little adults but then focused on the dog - if I was them I'd want to ride round on his back! He looks docile enough but has a striking musculature. It's also a bit of a show-off painting with all that beautiful fabric and lace on show, almost like van Dyck was saying, 'just look what I can do and how good I am - I'm certainly worth every penny you're paying me'.  And, indeed he was.

There were lots of paintings of Charles himself, mainly large, always regal and calm, sometimes outdoors on horseback and sometimes in a more courtly setting. His flamboyant clothes were always gorgeous and it's easy to imagine artists being very careful to ensure he's shown off to best effect. One of my favourites was a simple line drawing by van Dyck towards the end of the exhibition.

I've recently taken up drawing so it was fascinating to see this lesson from a real master, bringing the likeness to life without over-doing it and without filling the page with chalk. There's no shading or detail on the hat or clothes, it's all about the face. Very minimal with the lines but still brings the drawing to life. I bought the postcard of this drawing to keep with my drawing stuff as a reminder and a lesson. It really is quite marvellous in its simplicity. Thank you Mr van Dyck.

This really is an exceptional exhibition and I'll certainly want to visit again when the crowds of the first few weeks start to thin out a bit (at least I hope they will).

Sand-shoes to Trainers

When I was young we only had plimsolls, or, where I grew up, they were called sand-shoes. Now, I'm sure you can find histories of sand-shoes and trainers on Wikipedia and specialist websites, but this is my history.

Sand-shoes were white although some people managed to find black ones (I don't know where from). I seem to remember they had a thin sole which is all that you needed when you walked on sand on your annual holiday or you played at school in the sports hall. Life was simple back then.

I seem to remember "trainers" arriving in the mid-1970s, new-fangled things that seemed to use up a lot of material and built in a heel and all sorts. The most popular ones had three blue stripes on the side and went by the name of 'Adidas'. Why were these things needed? I stuck to sand-shoes, thank you.

Possibly later in the '70s or maybe early-'80s I started to notice other "trainers" emerging that had a big white tick on them and went by the name of 'Nike'. There were also a few others, such as something called 'Reebok', and I started to get confused. Why do we need so many of these shoes?

By the mid-'80s I'd adopted Adidas since that was the first sort of 'trainer' I was familiar with and the design was nice and simple. White with blue stripes. By the late-'80s I tried out some Nike 'deck shoes' (as I think they were called). They were very comfortable and I bought more pairs in successive years.

In the mid-'90s I started going to the gym so I returned to 'proper' trainers and got some white ones with three blue stripes and they were ideal for what I was doing and protected and comforted my feet. I replaced those trainers several times.

Last year I started going to the gym again and hunted out my three stripe trainers. They're a bit battered and worn, hardly trendy, but they do the job. Then I decided I really ought to have some new ones so I went shopping. I couldn't believe my eyes. I remember a time before 'trainers' and suddenly, there are hundreds and hundreds of trainers lining the walls of sports shops. How many varieties do we really need? It's all terribly confusing.

So i thought back and decided that I needed some white trainers with three blue stripes and that's what I bought. I'm sure there are lots of technical differences between the trainers of the '80s and those of today but, to me, the difference was really that instead of white laces we're given blue laces to match the stripes. And they are *so* comfortable. Thank you Adidas.

Soutine, Modigliani and Cezanne - Portraits Exhibitions

It seems to be portraits season in London at the moment, with three major portraits exhibitions open at the same time: Soutine at the Courtauld, Modigliani at Tate Modern and Cezanne at the National Portrait Gallery. I've no idea why this is the year of the portrait (apparently) but it's nice to see the very different treatments of the portrait by three different artists who didn't live so far apart.

The Soutine exhibition is, as ever, rather bijou, using the usual two rooms at the top of the Courtauld Gallery. The price of entry to the exhibition is included in the general entry ticket so, as well as looking at the Soutines, you can see the rather impressive Courtauld collection as well (and don't forget the early Renaissance works on the ground floor that too many people seem to walk past - there are three Fra Angelico panels in there).

My abiding impression of the Soutine portraits is gorgeous colours and distorted bodies and faces. The portraits are of hotel and restaurant workers and, probably, some in domestic service, all the opposite of the type of people who usually have their portraits painted. Some seem to be humble whereas others swagger and you probably wouldn't want to meet them in a dark alley. One of my favourites was the narrow-faced and big eared pastry chef in his acres of uniform umpteen times too big for him, shrinking away from the artist and slightly concerned. Of course, all that white isn't necessarily white as you see all different colours smeared into the overalls. There are a few other pastry chef paintings, seemingly of different sitters but I liked this one.

Another painting I liked was this one of a hotel worker described as having different jobs (Soutine, apparently, rarely titled his paintings so dealers gave different names to them). There are actually four different painting of this bloke, two with hands on hips, one with hands lying flat on his thighs and one close-up. In each the facial features are distorted but he wears the same uniform. Apparently he was't a good sitter and got bored very quickly and started fidgeting. I like knowing things like that about portrait sitters - it helps to bring them alive. From the pose and expression I can well understand it in his case, too.

A much bigger exhibition is the series of portraits by Madiglioni at Tate Modern on the other side of the river from the Courtauld and a bit further downstream.

It was a very busy exhibition when I visited so I really need to go back again to get a closer look at the paintings. My overall impression was of a lack of eyes in any of the portraits - eyes left blank or painted in black but few depictions of eyes. There was a quote somewhere from Modigliani to the effect that he'd paint in the sitters eyes when he had seen his or her soul. That's an interesting supposition but I wonder whether he just found them difficult to portray in a non-mannered way so avoided the problem. I'd be tempted to do that.

There's a nice selection of paintings in a big exhibition, nudes and society women, workmen to gentlemen. A bit of this and a bit of that. There's even an opportunity to try out a virtual reality headset but I didn't bother because of the queue, maybe next time.

The extended and simplified shapes of bodies and features was a bit odd but eventually drew me in. What was missing - although I may have passed them due to the crowds - were early works before he developed his style that demonstrated that he actually was an excellent draughtsman and knew how to draw and paint 'properly', that would help us understand how he developed his own style. Or did he just launch his 'style' and start selling paintings that encouraged his to keep using the style.

In an odd way it's both a bit repelling and attractive at the same time, the elongated figures, faces and features, no real sense of proportion in many of the paintings and no clear rationale for what he chose to do. Does that matter? The further into the exhibition I went the more compelled I felt to look and appreciate, to wonder and to start making up stories about the sitters. It's worth taking a close look at the paintings, all with a high finish, but wonder why he chose an elongated nose and tiny eyes here or an exaggerated pose there?

I certainly want a second viewing and intend to go back when, hopefully it is less busy. I'll leave you with a self-portrait of the man himself with blacked out eyes.

An exhibition that I'd already seen in Paris was the Cezanne portraits exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery. I first saw it at the Musee D'Orsay in Paris back in September, before it travelled to London. It heads off to Washington after London.

When I say i'd already seen this exhibition, that's not entirely true. What I should say is that I'd *most* of this exhibition before since it's not exactly the same - some of the paintings on show in Paris aren't on show here, and some are shown here that weren't on show in Paris. The most obvious are some rather cold paintings of the artists's son that I hadn't seen before.

The central paintings are, of course, here, including the boy in the red waistcoat that is, again, the poster for the exhibition. I have to say that, much as I love the D'Orsay, I preferred the layout of the paintings in the National Portrait Gallery which gave them more space and seemed less crowded despite being just as busy. On the other hand, the shop in the D'Orsay had more themed merchandise and cards than the National Portrait Gallery ( I notice such things).

Having done a painting course inbetweenseeing the exhibition for the first and second times, I looked at the paintings with a different eye, looking at the obvious brush strokes in some paintings and wondering what sort of brush he used and wondered why some brush-strokes go *that* way while others go *this* way. If you're interested in painting then this is an excellent exhibition to visit to get some ideas on technique as well as style.

If I could only go to one of these exhibitions then I'd definitely choose Cezanne - without him then the other two painters probably wouldn't have developed their distinctive styles. Well done Mt Cezanne and, especially, your long-suffering wife whom you kept on painting.

'Song of the Earth/La Sylphide' - the English National Ballet at the London Coliseum

Last week we went to see the English National Ballet dance a double bill of 'Song of the Earth' and 'La Sulphide' at the Coliseum. I hadn't seen either ballet before and knew nothing about them but, in hindsight, it was a rather odd pairing. 'Song of the Earth' is almost pure dance whereas 'La Sulphide is full of storytelling. I enjoyed both but I suspect there are better pairings.

'Song of the Earth' is a single act ballet by Kenneth MacMillan set to music by Mahler. It's full of dance and is very elegant, with simple staging and costumes helping to make the emphasis the movements of the dancers. It's split into a number of different movements with different combinations of dancers and dancing. On the evening that I saw it one of the dancers was blatantly out of sync with the others in the first movement and that was rather jarring. It also affected how I saw the rest of the movements, waiting for that dancer to come on and make similar mistakes but, thankfully, he didn't. I enjoyed the dancing but would like to see it again, done properly, and probably with a different ballet to follow on from it.

'La Sylphide' is a very different portion of haggis, with lots of story-telling and characterisation and it was really in the second act that the dancing took off. It's set in a Scottish manor house (cue kilts for everyone) where the laird is due to get married but falls in love with an ethereal fairy - you know it's her because she's the only one in a frothy frock rather than a kilt. For some reason there's an old witch involved and she wants to ruin the laird's life (not sure why) so she casts a spell to make the laird kill his love. This happens when he's in some fairyland glen surrounded by other fairies coming and going.

In a sense, it's a rather daft plot and there wasn't a single bagpipe in the orchestra, but I really liked it. Despite the gloomy ending it's actually great fun. Bright red and yellow kilts added lots of colour to the gloomy manor house set and the fairies flitted about nicely in the magical glen. It's a sad ending - and I still don't understand the witch's role - but I'm pleased I've seen it. A hour of whimsy after the more serious 'Song of the Earth'.

'Barnum' at the Menier Chocolate Factory

'Barnum' is a big show so how will it play at a more bijou theatre like the Choccy Factory? The dreary days of January are the perfect time to find out, grey outside and full of colour inside. It's also full of circus acts, singing, energetic dancing, giant elephants, tight-rope walking, invisible lions, flame eating and everything else you'd expect from the greatest show on earth - except that we don't see 'the greatest show on earth', we see everything that leads up to it.

I'd never seen 'Barnum' before so the story was new to me. It tells the tale of PT Barnum, a showman living off humbug and blarney married to his young wife with their children. We see his career grow as he gradually finds his role, always yearning for the colour and magic of performance and, seemingly, getting it. His wife is his stalwart critic and supporter and it's her that sends him to Europe to hire a famous singer to bring back to America. He brings the singer and then has an affair with her, leaving his wife to run the family business. He ultimately goes back to his wife, tries to settle down, gets into politics and then his wife dies. He then meets Mr Bailey who seeks his advice on setting up a new circus and the show ends when he agrees to join Bailey to produce the greatest show on earth.

It's a fast-moving monster of a show that somehow fits into the Choccy factory. I don't know how, but it does. For the first time in its history, the Choccy has transformed the bar/box office area to create a circus atmosphere with the walls covered in canvas with adverts for the various acts, signs on doors to warn of dangerous animals (the lion lived behind one of those doors) and the theatre space is now a circus ring. I heartily approve.

I loved it and have decided that I will run away and join a circus when I grow up. Some of the cast seem to have had some circus training to perform their acts, there are singers and dancers aplenty and a special shout out to Danny Collins who played a couple of roles. I thought Marcus Brigstocke (Barnum) and Laura Pitt-Pulford (Mrs Barnum) had a great on-stage presence together, nicely playing off each other. I found it hard to hear Marcus Brigstocke singing (a problem with the mic?) but that's my only criticism of the show. It's great fun! Such great fun, in fact, that I've already got tickets to see it again!

Oscar Wilde's 'De Profundis' at the Vaudeville Theatre

Part of the year long season of Oscar Wilde plays at the Vaudeville Theatre on the Strand is a short series of performances of the long letter Oscar wrote to Bosie from Reading Gaol. It's performed by Simon Callow lasts around 1:40 hours. How Simon remembers all those words, those endless, numerous words while on stage alone is really quite astonishing. Or at least it was until I noticed the two screens attached to the front of the dress circle, presumably there 'just in case'.

A bare stage with just a chair and a light shining above Simon's head, this is all about the words and the emotion behind them, the sheer exasperation of Oscar with Bosie's behaviour at times, the feeling that he in thrall to the younger man who uses Oscar and he just can't break away from him, even when he flees to Paris to put some distance between them. The letter tells us of their friendship and relationship over the years, recounting specific incidents and how Oscar reacts and interprets them. Of course, we only hear Oscar's side of the story but Lord Alfred Douglas sounds like a nasty little shit who was only interested in using Oscar for his position and money and then loses interest. The awful thing is that Oscar seems to see this quite plainly but keeps forgiving the little shit and keeps giving him more money and attention.

I've seen Simon Callow on stage before in plays, but this was just him along on stage with only a chair as a prop and to sit on. He does move around, gets down on his knees. stands, leans on the back of the chair, sits on an arm, but that's it. He's caught in a small space with his memories, just like Oscar was when in jail. It was an impressive performance.

'De Profundis' was adapted for the stage by Frank McGuinness and performed by Simon Callow.