Catherine Bennett resumes the weekly look at the performing arts world, with the sad end of Jerusalem, the luck of a cabbie, and French revolt. Do you hear the people sing?
Adam Alcock reviews Nigel Kennedy playing Vivaldi's Four Seasons and his own Four Elements at York Opera House.
Catherine Bennett highlights the trends in the performing arts world today.
One cast member reflects on RAG's Winter Wonderland pantomime.
Much like Ibsen’s other portrayal of social malaise and gender-based subjugation; A Doll’s House, Ghosts is a scathing commentary of the antiquated notions that kept women in their place during Ibsen’s 19th century. Ghosts features a mother and widow who fights against society’s preconceptions and bigotries in order to do what is best for her son.
A rainy Monday evening in December seems all-too-appropriate for the staging of Ibsen’s much-maligned play, written now one hundred and thirty years ago in 1881. Staged over two consecutive nights in the Drama Barn, for the meagre sum of £2, this abridged version – directed by Alex Wakelam - lasted a little over one hour; the first of three plays. Freshers’ plays have long carried a certain stigma regarding their stylistic credibility and as such, the cast entertained an audience but a fraction larger than themselves.
Sitting in the front tier, before a sparse, focused set – a settee, two armchairs, a small table and just enough room for tipple – the lack of attendees actually did favours to the atmosphere; for much of the play, I felt that I was in some way part of proceedings. Alex Bryan hobbles onstage as the irreverent Jacob Engstrand, opening in heated argument with daughter Regina (Eliza Shea); the pair appears understandably nervous – Bryan frequently struggles with his raspy, rough-as-sandpaper accent; Shea, whilst believable, appears somewhat erratic in her delivery – in no doubt aided by my relentless scribbling. There is obvious chemistry between the play’s two protagonists; Mrs Alving and her son Oswald are really brought to life by Poppy Bullard and Edd Riley. Riley in particular does wonders with Oswald’s unnerving mannerisms – a painter, sent away to avoid corruption from his misogynous father – his listlessness and violent outbursts frequently dominated the stage. Poppy Bullard’s Mrs Alving is detached and well-voiced; the spare lighting adding a gentle melancholy to her presence, particularly during her speech to Manders (Tom Cocker) towards the close of Act 1.
The underlying problem is that missing dialogue in this abridged version lent to a disjointed interpretation, while easily-remedied upsets in detail often distracted from the performance at hand – Regina’s glittering heels in particular stood out. These gripes aside, this interpretation came across, for the most part, assured and generally well-acted. Turning to bow at a six-person audience must have knocked the casts’ confidence, and I only hope Tuesday night’s performance is strongly attended.
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