Multimedia
01 November, 2007
Alan Frost relishes a feast of arts and entertainment.
I discovered recently two startling films onTV. Quite the most brilliant film of the lastfew years is The Illusionist (2006). There isnot a weak feature in it. The cast is superb,the story surprising, the art direction stunning,and the music by Philip Glass well crafted. Ifyou like Vienna, magic, love and surprises seeit now. A showing of A Canterbury Tale (1944)produced a poignant recollection of how lifewas in the year of my birth. The story concernssome war-time travellers journeying to Canterburyalong the Pilgrim’s Way. When watchinga movie about Victorian England or Georgiantimes, one always has a sense of historical perspectiveand distance that firmly places theaction in another time. The curious thing aboutthis film was that I felt similarly detached – yetthe England portrayed was only as old as I. Aswe edge towards the end of the noughties Icling by the fingertips to the forties.A challenging readThe Observer newspaper recently ran a piece onliterary works that have failed to become classicsin the UK but might have received morerecognition. From a long list I bought five,which I am gradually working through. Themost original find is a book from 1980 by RussellHoban called Riddley Walker. The settingonce again is Kent and the action takes place afew thousand years after an apocalyptic end tomodern humanity. The book is written entirelyin the idiom developed by the survivors, is challengingto read, but very rewarding. An afterwordby the author reveals the genesis of thework in Canterbury Cathedral. It is formidableand very depressing. For light relief I discoveredAngel by Elizabeth Taylor. This gem from 1957is quite the funniest book I’ve read for ages.She’s a marvellous author with pinpoint accuracyin describing her characters.Five-letter TVThe buying of TV series from the US must be avery specialised task. I imagine there to besomeone in Soho whose job it is to visit theStates and buy programmes with just five letters.The last episode of House left me bereft.Hugh Laurie’s acerbic doctor was, after 24 homevisits, an old friend. Fortunately there was anoverlap with Shark, an equally well writtenseries starring the estimable James Woods as aDA in LA. Withdrawal symptoms were alleviatedin both cases by my finding Weeds, whichis set in the archetypical suburb of Agrestic andfeatures a young, suburban widow trading and producing cannabis. The humour is, as they saythese days, adult, or in other words deliciouslywicked. Someone somewhere must be writinga PhD on ‘A comparative analysis of the didacticcontribution of five-letter TV series to contemporaryAmerican mores’. And why not?Classical blissCordelia Williams is a pianist with her starascending. She opened Bournemouth ChamberMusic Society’s winter series with a crisp rendition of Mozart’s lovely Sonata in B flat, K.570.The Chopin Ballade No. 4 was a tour de forceof great passion (apparently inspired by aLithuanian story of the war of the Lettonsagainst the Russians, Teutons and Poles). TheSummer Music Society of Dorset closed its seasonwith a recital by the Schubert Ensemble.This was as good as it gets. An exhilarating performanceof the Dvor?ák Piano Quintet wastuneful, rhythmic, forceful and as Slavonic asHungarian goulash. The contrast with the FauréPiano Quartet No. 1 was remarkable. Both wereexquisitely played by this phenomenal group.Marin Alsop opened the new BournemouthSymphony Orchestra series with Mahler’s ThirdSymphony. This gigantic work, lasting over90 minutes, demands even more resources thanthe ‘Resurrection’ and is less often played. Thejourney from primeval nature to humankindconcludes with an apotheosis to the glory ofMahler’s God, which left me speechless forsome minutes. There seemed to be the inhabitantsof a small village on stage, with an enormousorchestra, the mezzo EkaterinaSemenchuk, a ladies’ choir, and a children’schoir. Utter bliss!A waste of great operaBack to town for a visit to English NationalOpera at the Coliseum after a break of nearlythree years. Had matters improved? They couldscarcely have got worse after a dire ‘Ring Cycle’.In short, no! The un-Spanish, gloomy, postmodernistCarmen by director Sally Potter isappalling. The scene set on a motorway bridgebetween two service stations was typical, andMicaëla’s aria was delivered from the hardshoulder. What a stupid waste of great music.Alice Coote’s Carmen was the least sexy I’veever seen, and José seemed disinterested. Oneof the extras was also seen yawning hugely atthe tedium of it all. It was, in fact, an Alsatiandog of great discernment.Ballet production is a treatLa Bayadère is an improbable ballet but the productionat the Royal Opera House is glorious.Minkus’s music plods along as it was designedto do, merely as a catalyst for movement. (It wasnot until Tchaikovsky gave us Swan Lake thatwe also had ballets with great tunes.) But thereis great scenery; Carlos Acosta is airborne forimprobable amounts of time; Tamara Rojo is atemple dancer of great sensuousness; andMarianela Nuñez in her tutu is an artist of extraordinarydelicacy. What a birthday treat!
