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.
Jonathan Cridford reviews 'Ghosts', one of the Freshers' plays for this year.
I must begin with an admission, I don’t like Greek tragedy. Oh no, I hear you cry, how can you profess to be a fan of theatre if you can’t appreciate it in it’s most raw and ancient form? I can accept that to some the thrills, drama and poetry of Greek tragedy is to be revered as the crucible of modern theatre and that it’s melodrama, ritualised staging and chorus work must be celebrated. I’m afraid I can’t agree. The reason that I feel I must declare this cultural failure of mine now is because I felt that Richard Rowland’s new translation of Sophocles’s The Women Of Trachis may well have received a very different review had the reviewer not had an irrational fear of Greek drama. That being said, here we go.
The atmosphere created in the Guildhall was deeply steering from the beginning, and it was a mood maintained throughout the performance. The highly vaulted ceiling and stained glass of the building, coupled with the happy coincidence of a sunset gently baking the interior a fading yellow gave the space a feeling of solemnity. While at first the atmosphere that director Jon Hughes had managed to create was one which impressed me, as the play progressed, it began to grate. The sonorous singing which accompanied the audience’s entrance instantly put me in the mind of one who has entered church late, rather than the bubble and excitement of entering a theatre’s stalls. Unfortunately, this feeling remained with me for the entirety of the play. While the very skilled musicians who played a staggering range of instruments produced a sound that was, at first, deeply moving, it remained un-changed, to the point that it reminded me less of Epidaurus and Cyprus trees, but more of lift music in a morgue.
However, I do believe it to be a hard task for the music to solely bring the sudden crescendos of joy purely as the script and Sophocles’s original story is just so unremittingly dull and depressing. The majority of the play is taken up with listening to Deianeira (Doreen Gurrey) moan on and on about her husband Herakles (Paul Osborne), and how he is away causing epic amounts of destruction and how he no longer is devoted to her. This continues until she finally kills herself, to which I must admit I sighed with relief. But then, when we finally see Herakles, the only character who seems to be having any fun, he is lying on his death bed, demanding to be burnt on top of a funeral pyre. Again I feel I must apologise for not enjoying this intrinsic quality of Greek tragedy, that of its incessant sadness, but in my opinion it is a flaw.
That is not to say that the actors should not be praised. In fact Doreen Gurrey was able to maintain the poor character of Deianeira with aplomb and kept the urge to wail down to a minimum, which, with a script like The Women of Trachis is no small feat. Furthermore, Paul Osborne was excellently cast, every inch the bed-ridden warrior, racked by anger and frustration at his constriction. However, my favourite part of the performance was the elegant, graceful and very well choreographed movements of the Chorus. Greek chorus work is always difficult, being more than merely speaking in unison, it requires a particular stylised and controlled manner that allows you to glides about the stage, and the actresses chosen fulfilled this extremely well.
I believe that Jon Hughes has made the most of this production. Attempting to bring one of Sophocles’s lesser-know works to life by injecting it with a stirring gamelan soundtrack and well-choreographed staging is admirable. I think however, there is a why The Women of Trachis is not often performed. It can be most appropriately compared to visiting church. I felt as though I was fulfilling a duty, my thespian duty to appreciate Greek tragedy. Regrettably this production didn’t leave me convinced. In conclusion, a performance with a noble goal, but a very misjudged choice of vehicle.
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