Midsummer Bacchanalia, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 23rd June 2012

Posted on June 25, 2012 by therealchrisparkle

As part of their Festival of Chaos, the Royal and Derngate organised a late night Bacchanalia on Saturday 23rd June to coincide with Midsummer’s Eve (almost). Part feast, part party, part performance; “expect the unexpected” was the strapline, so it was a voyage of trust as we went into the unknown.

It turned out to be mainly party; and, in keeping with the R&D’s Dionysian summer, one that got steadily more alcoholic as the night went on. Clustered slightly anxiously outside the Royal Theatre Circle, we were suddenly beset by a noisy and welcoming bunch of characters who greeted us like old friends and encouraged us into a side room – that I now know to be the rehearsal room – decked out in gold wall hangings and giving a pretty good foretaste of the hedonistic self-indulgence to come. Uncertain what would happen, some people sat on chairs, others on the floor; Mrs Chrisparkle and I in our usual unconfident party manner clung to the walls for security. We started off with a dramatic introduction from the theatre’s storyteller Jo Blake Cave. She has a charming style and natural authority; and she used her skills to good effect to stimulate the imagination as she wandered round giving her account of the birth of Dionysus. And with something of a flourish the party began in earnest.

There were five or six main characters – I’m not entirely sure who they all were – but one was the DJ in a gold lame dress, and we thought his music was pretty funky and enjoyable. There was another man dressed all in leaves – not quite sure what that was about; then we had an entertaining couple in the form of a dolphin, who only spoke “deep deep neep neep” type noises – but very eloquently – accompanied by the pirate Acoetes, who every so often sprayed the delighted dolphin with water to keep him moist. I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you that Dionysus turned a bunch of wicked sailors into dolphins, but that Acoetes was always on Dionysus’ side and became a priest to Dionysus as a reward. Whenever the dolphin got things wrong Acoetes would take him back stage for some physical corrective abuse. That’s not part of the legend – that was on Saturday night. It was a funny act. The dolphin also mixed some mean rum cocktails which he was generously passing to all and sundry. Acoetes had more than a passing resemblance to Dr Zee from Flathampton. I bet you never see the two guys in the same room together.

Exhorting everyone to dance was the savagely wounded King Lycurgus of Thrace, which by all accounts is a very dangerous place to go, I couldn’t recommend it. He may have been wounded, but he was well up for a party. His white shirt was soaked in blood and every time he got near her, Mrs C covered up her proudly newly acquired white Levi’s jacket lest it be contaminated from his dripping wounds. Fortunately it survived. There was a very jolly lady whose identity I didn’t quite catch – she might have been Semele, (Dionysus’ mum) – not certain – but she was helping everyone to scoff cherries and cumquats dipped in a chocolate and toffee sauce. I remarked that the offspring of Semele should be called Semolina. Apparently Euripides left that bit out. Then this lady who may or may not be Semele came back with some round white chocolates covered in coconut which she described as her “balls” and which Mrs C and I were required to feed one to each other. They were very nice. When she came round again I fancied another. She accused me of already having helped myself to her balls. My eyes pleaded for more though, and I got it. I’m just lucky that way with hedonistic women. By the time the evening was coming to an end she was sailing around with a bottle (several actually) of Sainsbury’s Port, some of which she lobbed heartily in Mrs C’s glass, more of which she just swigged out of the bottle. It was getting very decadent by this stage, as you can tell.

We were just politely wandering round when a young lady dressed in a dark cloak beckoned to us and encouraged us to go on a journey with her. Always happy to oblige, and with a group of other similarly enticed partygoers, we followed her and her colleague out of the party and into the deep dark secret areas of the theatre. Well, past the toilets to the Underground Studio actually, so not that secret; where we were met by some cavorting nymphs welcoming us to Delphi. We were to take a look round and then join them for tea. Sounded nice. In the middle of the floor of this verdant paradise another lady was lying prostrate. She was the Oracle, we were informed, and once we were taking tea we were invited to ask the Oracle any questions. This could have been very funny indeed, if perhaps we’d had a bit more to drink than we had done, but actually no one could think of any questions and it started to feel slightly embarrassing. Some questions were eventually forthcoming, and the Oracle, true to her word, came up with some pithy answers. The kindly Oracle girls gave us all a coin which they said would be necessary on our continued journey.

Our guides told us it was time to go but they had a special treat for us – to visit the Boatman. So we left the Underground and turned into the Royal Stalls. After much knocking, eventually the boatman answered. It was Charon – not Sharon, as he pointed out. It was highly irregular for us to be transported by him across the River Styx, but as we all had coins for him, he’d make an exception. We followed him in his imaginary boat until we ended up on the stage of the Royal – which was very interesting in itself, to be behind the lovely Safety Curtain, and see the little message written on the back – and also to find that one was basically part of the set of Blood Wedding. Charon told us to wait – and that the light might fade – and out went the lights and we were left darkling. In the pitch black, the storyteller’s voice emerged and told us the tale of Orpheus and Eurydice, how she could follow him from Hades, until he looked back…. In this slightly spooky environment Mrs C clung on to me for dear life and I don’t suppose she was the only one. Afterwards Charon released us and sent us on our way to meet King Midas, resplendent on his throne in the Royal Circle foyer. A welcoming king with a welcoming handmaiden, we ate golden grapes and got gold streaks painted on our faces. He wished us good luck on our way. Mrs C noted I had tried on his golden gown last year at the Flathampton Fashion Show. Just because everything he touches turns to gold, there’s no reason not to be occasionally thrifty as well. Once we had solemnly sworn not to tell a soul about where we had been… oh damn, I’ve told you now… we rejoined the party.

By the end of the evening, the Oracle and her girls, Charon and King Midas all made their way into the throng. Midas – I’d dropped the “King” title by now – told me I was looking good for my age. I took it as a compliment. The lady with the bottle of port wanted a dance, which was difficult as I had no time to put down my glass; so it was just a quick cavort. Bloody Lycurgus came and chatted her up and shortly afterwards they were seen giving it all on the dance floor. Just before it was all over, our storyteller returned with a few final words about dear old Dionysus. I was kind of expecting him to make an appearance, until I realised he was of course already here – in the wine, in the food, in the decadence. We toasted him with what was left in our glasses and the party was over. Everyone seemed to have a good time; if you’re the kind of person who swings naturally into party mode with a load of strangers it was the perfect opportunity for fun. We’re not quite like that, but we still enjoyed it and very much appreciated the great effort put in by what must be dozens of people to run the party and perform its entertainments. I understand there was a plan to go on to the Black Bottom Club afterwards and continue drinking until 3am, which originally we thought we would do; but as we had to be up early the next day, we decided against it. Sense prevailed. Take that, Dionysus.

Review – Sister Act, Milton Keynes Theatre, 21st June 2012

Posted on June 22, 2012 by therealchrisparkle

Regular readers won’t be surprised to hear that Mrs Chrisparkle and I have never seen the original film of Sister Act but I always fancied seeing this show and wanted to catch it when it was at the Palladium, with Sheila Hancock as the Mother Superior. Alas it was not to be, but I jumped at the chance to see the current UK tour.

The story is pretty simple – showgirl Deloris sees gangster boyfriend murder a squealer so has to flee for safety. The softy police guy arranges for her to stay in the local convent, much to the disappointment of the rather staid Mother Superior but to the excitement of the nuns who learn amazing song and dance routines off her. As such their religious services gain massive popularity and thus Deloris’ cover is blown. The villains get close but it all ends with the suggestion of “happy ever after”.

With no pretensions to having a hidden message other than “evil is bad, good is great and isn’t it wonderful when we all get along”, this show is filled with feelgood fun-packed scenes and Mrs C and I sat through it beaming with pleasure. It looks smashing – lavish costumes, beautiful set, nicely lit; although some mischievous electricity gremlin turned up the house lights during a few scenes which felt odd. It’s got a nice big talented cast to use up the stage, and a superb twelve person orchestra which whacks out the jolly score superbly.

There were one or two slight issues that kept it in the realm of the 4* and not the 5* for me. For instance a couple of the numbers in the second half were over-amplified so that the lyrics were hard to follow; a shame, because the lyrics that we could decipher are really good. The nuns’ welcoming song “It’s Good to be a Nun” is very funny and the evil Curtis’ “When I Find My Baby” is nastily witty. Mind you, we both thought “Bless Our Show” strayed into the saccharine. That was the other slight problem; when the show gets a bit sentimental it loses some of its drive and punch, but that’s probably hard to avoid with the storyline as it is.

What you certainly can say is that there are some terrific performances. As Deloris, Cynthia Erivo has a great presence, looks gorgeous and has a superb voice. She performs with gusto and pizzazz throughout, whilst still retaining the occasionally vulnerable aspect of her character. She creates an immensely warm and likeable atmosphere on stage, and having only graduated from RADA in 2010, I’m sure she will have a very successful career.

Julie Atherton’s Sister Mary Robert, the rather timid postulant who gains confidence from her friendship with Deloris, has a belter of a beautiful clear voice which you could never predict from her diminutive appearance. Her character’s journey is very warmly told and Ms Atherton gives a super performance. Jacqueline Clarke, as SisterMary Lazarus, has lost none of the cheeky charm she had as one of Dave Allen’s sketch partners back in the 1970s, and can use her relatively older age to great shock effect; like when she’s jazzing up some dance routines and dishing out some less than holy jokes in her no-nonsense manner. She was very funny and a huge hit with the audience.

Edward Baruwa plays Eddie Souther, the cop who rescues Deloris and hides her in the convent, and it’s probably the most realistic characterisation in the whole show. He’s a bit wet really, but struggles manfully with his wimpiness to great comic and emotional effect. His growing confidence with Deloris is a delight to watch and he has a brilliant routine – “I Could Be That Guy” – where he dreams of “coming on strong”, with his wonderful pastiche of slightly hamfisted 1970s soul performer. And with some very cleverly done changes of outfit – I saw how they did the first one but the second one was a big surprise! I really enjoyed his performance, and of course it’s very rewarding when his character saves the day at the end.

Straight out of pantomime, and absolutely excellent with it, is the evil Curtis played by Cavin Cornwall. Mr Cornwall has a magnificent voice and is convincingly nasty in his ruthlessness. He has scary authority on stage which provides a very funny juxtaposition with his ludicrous henchmen when they turn into backing singers and dancers – more entertaining performances fromGavin Alex, Tyrone Huntley and Daniel Stockton. Michael Starke’s Monsignor O’Hara is another very good performance, as he develops from being a rather starchy clergyman to a glitzy showbiz compère. I think his secret is that he gets just the right level of campness to the character so that it’s all the more believable.

Indeed the whole cast are excellent; I just have a slight quibble about Denise Black’s performance as the Mother Superior. She has a superb voice, and I loved her singing – she absolutely looks the part and gives a good combination of innate dignity and very human irritation when having to deal with Deloris. But I felt that she didn’t quite tweak all the humour or pathos out of the role. I’m sure she could have emphasised her withering looks or simply spoken the words in a more creative, slightly less pedestrian way.

Musically, the songs are bright and have good tunes but are strangely unmemorable. We enjoyed hearing them very much but when we left the theatre found we couldn’t bring any of them to mind – in fact we reached the car singing “You Can’t Stop The Beat” from Hairspray, very much in the same style as the Sister Act songs; but it’s not a good sign when you’re reminded of other shows. Mrs C in particular thought the only thing Sister Act lacked was a couple of strong numbers with really good hooks. On reflection, the lyrics are definitely more memorable than the tunes.

However, it really is an enormously entertaining show and a feast for the eyes, with some cracking performances, a very funny book and a great feel good factor. It received a very big reception from the audience and I’m sure this tour, which goes on till October, will continue to be very successful. I’d definitely recommend it.

Review – The Bacchae, Royal and Derngate at Northampton Chronicle and Echo Print Works, 16th June 2012

Posted on June 19, 2012 by therealchrisparkle

An underground car park – pillars, electrical mountings, side offices, a lift shaft, and a bashed up abandoned old car. Walk through that innocuous looking door at the Northampton Chronicle and Echo old print works and you enter a surprising world. A world where security CCTV systems maintain a regime headed by a spoilt king with a manipulative mother, protected by a Head of Security who can instantly summon a line of hard riot cops to intimidate and overthrow any attempts to subvert the system; but where a new cult frenzy is spreading that has caused all the women of the city to abandon their homes and run freely in the hills, thereby gaining superhuman strength; a fervour whipped up to such an extent that people simply do not know what they are doing but become overpowered by the lure of Dionysus and all he represents.

This modern version of Euripides’ The Bacchae adapted by Rosanna Lowe and directed by Laurie Sansom is presented by the Royal and Derngate as part of the Cultural Olympiad’s London Festival 2012 along with their production of Blood Wedding, with which it plays in repertory. I’m sadly ignorant about ancient Greek drama on the whole, so we thought it would be a good idea to attend the talk “Suppressing the Urge” that took place at the theatre before the performance. Professor Chris Carey is meant to know his stuff; we thought he’d give us a good introduction to the play; and in any case, he’s Mrs Chrisparkle’s uncle, so it would have been rude not to go! It was a very amusing and informative talk – and definitely gave us some pointers to watch out for when we saw the play later on.

I’d seen the production photographs for the Bacchae and they did make it look exciting, but nothing quite prepares you for the astonishing way this production fills this disused industrial space. Takis’ design is one of the most exhilarating adaptations of a space I have ever seen. It’s not warm; it’s not cosy; it’s harsh and hostile. It’s the perfect setting for this smart, highly modern, zippy version of the Bacchae, sacrificing some of the beauty – and rightly so I believe – of the original Greek poetry for convincing hard-hitting modern idiom. There are scenes of comedy and tragedy; music songs and chants; some buttock-clenchingly unsettling discomfort; and some no-holds barred horror that will make you swear to vegetarianism for the rest of your life.

This production tells its age-old story magnificently well and leaves you with some outstandingly memorable mental images that are hard to shake off even after a few days. It’s also full of extraordinary performances. The company works hard to achieve fine drama in Blood Wedding but here you somehow feel they enjoy themselves much more – energy, intensity and a sparkiness in their performances simply crackle with delight with apparent effortlessness. When it comes to Chaos, Euripides trumps Lorca’s ace. It flows freely from its central character and occupies the landscape and all its inhabitants. Expect the unexpected, as Dionysus warns us on his surprise first entrance. He’s everywhere and he’s got a lot to answer to.

After Dionysus has introduced us to his world, and revealed the shrine to his mother Semele, his followers, the Bacchantes appear and use the car park as their base to plot, to worship, to avenge and to plunge the world further into chaos. The acoustics mean you hear absolutely everything clear as a bell, which suits their challenging and aggressive alarums and excursions. They make a really effective chorus. I particularly loved the show-stopping number led by Alicia Davies in fine form, but they were all excellent and linked scenes together with great pace and menace.

There were two remarkable scenes in the play that for me expressed the special degree of trust between the actors that you always get with a Laurie Sansom production. Pentheus’ mother, Agave, played by Kathryn Pogson, quickly becomes entranced by the Bacchantes when she comes down to the basement to see what all the fuss is about. The spirit of Dionysus quickly embeds itself in her and what started as a confrontation becomes a dreamlike dance of rapture, where she is passed from follower to follower, sailing through the air on an enveloping wave of bliss. It’s a beautiful, balletic sequence, and showed fantastically well how the Bacchantes assimilated Agave. It’s also a great symbol for what Dionysus can be, as this beautiful, calm dance sets in motion Agave’s murder of her own son – you can’t get sharper contrasts. The gruesome scene where she slowly realises what she has done, bringing in Pentheus’ flayed head that she is devouring with hedonistic pleasure, is a gripping performance. The horror of realisation fills in to her face, even while she is still chomping on a bit of son, and her subsequent agonised remorse is one of those moments you don’t forget in a hurry.

Pentheus is played by Liam Bergin as a sharp-suited spoilt Mummy’s boy of a king, full of sound and fury but signifying nothing that can overcome Dionysus’ hold. He gives a good account of petulant annoyance at the security lapses and his fury that Dionysus has escaped imprisonment is real and tangible. He may bark angry threats and try to preserve his whining authority but you know from the start he is doomed. Ery Nzaramba’s Dionysus has an electrifying presence, a manipulating god from the start – you even feel uncomfortable in the opening and closing scenes when he is addressing the audience in case he somehow gets into you too. His voice encompasses power, influence and cheekiness. He teases, he cajoles, he mocks; he won’t be silenced. His scene with Pentheus where he undresses the king so he can change his appearance to spy on the women is another of those extraordinary trust-between-actor moments. Mr Nzaramba is calm and controlling, deceptively supportive and encouraging; Mr Bergin’s face portrays the point where agony and ecstasy meet, sweating buckets in intense vulnerability. A creepy, sensual, erotic, frightening, awful moment, and quite brilliant.

Humour is supplied courtesy of Tiresias (Robert Benfield) and Cadmus (Jim Bywater) a couple of old Bacchanial sots who are happy to worship because of the drink – I always enjoy it when a toy teddy bear comes to life. The play also features an excellent performance by Philip Cairns as Pentheus’ head of security – a self-sacrificing, unquestioning supporter who only functions to protect and obey.

This is one of those productions where you go on thinking and talking about it for days afterwards. Every so often a new thought comes into your head about it – a fresh insight, a sudden realisation, an unexpected appreciation. There’s a lot going on during those 100 minutes of non-stop drama. I think it would be a crime against theatre if this didn’t have some kind of life after this season ends. It should at least be recorded for television or DVD. But the key to the success of this show is the outstanding overall vision of how this classic tale could be brought right up to date, transforming a dead brownfield environment into a place of vibrant artistic excellence. If you enjoy experimental innovation in your theatregoing, you’re going to love this.

Review – Danza Contemporanea de Cuba, Milton Keynes Theatre, 7th June 2012

Posted on June 8, 2012 by therealchrisparkle

Whilst Mrs Chrisparkle was enjoying the high life of an unexpected business trip to New York, it was left to me to spread out over our two seats at the Milton Keynes Theatre for the return visit of the Danza Contemporanea de Cuba after their first UK tour in 2010. I’d heard largely good things about this company and was keen to see where they fit in the modern spectrum; and the answer, I’m pleased to say, is at the high end, with inventive, humorous, gymnastic choreography performed by an engaging company to exciting (if recorded) musical scores.

There were three individual dances, decently interspersed by two proper intervals. First was Sombrisa, choreographed by Itzik Galili, and created for this tour. Set to a thrilling drum soundtrack (Steve Reich’s Drumming Part 1), it takes its inspiration from the world of boxing, so the dancers are all dressed to fight and all wear boxing gloves. Simply staged but with complex lighting, visually it’s very effective. The lighting uses both bright white spots and coloured spots in a variety of combinations that constrain individual dancing areas;and when the dancers come close to the front of the stage they’re in some kind of half-light which gives them a slightly sinister air of mystery. For the course of the dance, what starts as general work-out, develops into individual battles and then into a boys’ team versus a girls’ team and then, curiously, into courtships, so that by the end, when the music takes a turn into what sounds like lilting African choirs, it’s become a dance of love.I really enjoyed its progression, and it was danced with great intensity and warmth throughout, even though I thought one or two of the dancers were slightly under-rehearsed on this one. This didn’t matter though – if there were occasional lapses it just helped the impression of one contestant in a boxing match being a little stronger than the other.

The second dance – Carmen?!, choreographed by Kenneth Kvarnström – has been in the company’s repertory for a decade now, and takes some of Bizet’s best tunes and manipulates them into a clever construction for this left field look at the well known opera. The seven guys performing it all did a great job, taking on various aspects of the Carmen story and interpreting it in their own way for this light-hearted piece. Its strength is the juxtaposition of the essential silliness of the choreographed work with thedeadly serious macho attitudes of the performers – it nicely subverts them and makes them look gently ridiculous. You get the sense that they’re largely playing anyway – playing at being toreadors and bulls, playing at being coquettish cigarette girls and vamps; they transform the stage into one big Sevillian playground. Again, the whole company were excellent throughout – I loved the wry facial expressions of Yosmell Calderón, he’s probably the best actor of the company; and also the magnificent technical prowess of Abel Rojo, for me the most fluid and energetic dancer of the company.Mario S Elías is a great dancer but unfortunately he had a disobedient trouser zip that wouldn’t stay up, and the sight of scrunched up red shirt emerging from his fly slightly detracted from the macho image he was otherwise creating – Wardrobe take note. Another side issue – the recorded sound was of quite poor quality, which, whilst it didn’t spoil the performance, was nonetheless a shame.

The last piece – Mambo 3XXI, choreographed by company member George Céspedes, who was one of the dancers in Carmen?! – was part of the 2010 tour and a major reason for their Olivier, TMA, and National Dance Awards nominations. It’s an examination of Cuban music and dance, that questions its role within the country and how the country and its people can move forward in the world using music and dance. If this sounds difficult and cerebral, think again. It’s the most vivacious and enchanting contemporary dance I’ve seen in a long time.The progression from its uniform and repressed opening to its self-confident expressive finale is a joy to behold. Some of the choreography reminded me of my “dance hero” Christopher Bruce, in the way the dancers wrap around and roll over each other, reminiscent of Ghost Dances and Swansong. There’s a wonderful sequence towards the end where dancers form two groups lining the sides of the stage and then move towards the centre to meet each other and pass, whilst leaving behind two dancers to interact together,before the two sides return, gather up those two dancers and leave another two behind. It’s compelling stuff that really makes you want to get up and join in. Again Abel Rojo was spectacular in his precision and power, but also Yaday Ponce and Carlos Blanco really shone in this performance. It got a well deserved huge reception at the end. This was the penultimate night of its tour – just one show left in Salford on 9th June. Catch it if you can.

Review – Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Nigel Kennedy plays Brahms, Derngate, Northampton, 2nd June 2012

Posted on June 7, 2012 by therealchrisparkle

It was a perfect start to the Queen’s Diamond Jubilee weekend with a long-awaited concert by the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra with guest soloist Nigel Kennedy. I remember back in the late 1980s being absolutely knocked out by his crisp and sparky Vivaldi Four Seasons CD which had so much more attack and personality than any other recording of the Four Seasons I have heard before or since. So it was a no-brainer that we would book for this concert, and we’d been looking forward to it for over a year.

The Royal Philharmonic were conducted by Andrew Litton, whose performances we have appreciated in the past and who was at the Julliard School with Nigel Kennedy. Once again Mr Litton beamed his perky happiness throughout the evening, taking charge of the orchestra in a seemingly effortless way.

We started off with Brahms’ Academic Festival Overture, which was a new one on Mrs Chrisparkle and me. It’s a bright and charming piece and a great way to open a concert. The orchestra were clearly on good form and I particularly enjoyed the punchy drums and percussion.

Next up was what would be the highlight in any other concert in which it featured – Elgar’s Enigma Variations. This really is a personal favourite of mine. It only took the first few seconds of its starting and my eyes instantly welled up with the atmosphere and emotion. It was a beautifully paced and balanced performance, including a really snappy Troyte variation and a delicately laid back R.P.A. Whenever I hear Nimrod, I always feel it’s possibly the most beautiful piece ever written – and then I hear the final variation, E.D.U., and for me it always trumps Nimrod’s ace. Another super performance, and quite rightly Andrew Litton invited virtually everyone in the orchestra to take their own individual bow. In a sense it was odd to play Enigma before the interval, rather than leaving it to the end, but with Mr Kennedy waiting in the wings I could see there was no alternative. We certainly left for our interval Sauvignon Blanc on a high.

On our return, the male members of the orchestra (Andrew Litton apart) had reappeared in shirtsleeve order. I wasn’t sure if that was because they were universally hot, or whether it was to go along with Nigel Kennedy’s own informal style. If it was the latter, it’s slightly bizarre to have everyone conform to the nonconformist – but no matter. For vivacious style and content, this couldn’t be beaten. Mr Kennedy saunters up to the podium exchanging bon mots and giggles with half the orchestra before spending the first thirty seconds enjoying and praising the beauty of First Violinist Clio Gould, lamenting the fact that she’s “taken”. He trades a bit of laddish banter with “Andy” Litton – clearly an old friendship that works a treat here – and with “Dave” Cohen, first Cello, of whom he’s also obviously fond. He gives them all, and some members of the audience, a fist bump. Then he picks up his 1732 Carlo Bergonzi violin, turns his back to the audience, and Brahms’ Violin Concerto begins.

At first, his turning his back seems slightly rude; but as the piece progresses you realise it’s actually an act of great humility. It’s a good few minutes before the violin shows up in the first movement, and it’s a time for the orchestra to show off its prowess, so Mr Kennedy makes himself invisible for this time. When it’s his turn, he shifts about 135 degrees round so that he’s still on quite an odd angle to the audience, and starts to make the most brilliant music. His style is still that of the bold, boisterous Kennedy of the Four Seasons. When it came to the first movement cadenza, he played – according to the programme notes – the Fritz Kreisler version and it was stunning. You could have powered the entire lighting rig from his energy.

The whole performance was fantastic. For me, Nigel Kennedy elevated the art of being a soloist a hundredfold. He dazzled, yet remained an intrinsic part of the orchestra, never missing an opportunity by word or gesture to allow his colleagues to shine too. The partnership with Andrew Litton worked perfectly; they clearly have an understanding and appreciation of precisely how the other operates, and it becomes a joint venture of mutual respect and admiration. Each enables the other to soar.

When the concerto was over, we got the usual rounds of extremely well deserved applause and bows; and just when you thought Andrew Litton would come back for one more call, he stays away and leaves Nigel Kennedy centre stage with the orchestra for a full half hour’s worth of additional encores and banter. He thanks us for supporting live music – no worries, Nigel, the pleasure was ours; he continues to “big up” individual members of the orchestra, and why not; he generates another sequence of fist bumps; he starts to play a little tune on his “fiddle”, gets it slightly wrong and says a playful “oh sh*t”; then finally gives us some exuberant Brahms Hungarian Dances, with David Cohen’s First Cello acting as cimbalom – which works really well. He works some cunning and amusing variations in there too, which included, inter alia, the theme to Bonanza.

After all the rapturous reception was finished, the orchestra had dispersed and the audience was making their way to the exits, it was rather humbling to see Andrew Litton, now dressed in jumper and jeans, nip back on stage to collect his paperwork, a visual underlining of the fact he had earlier handed over the ultimate glories of the night to Nigel Kennedy. A superb concert, a privilege to see a soloist so in command of his instrument, and an orchestra worth going a long way to catch.

Review – Blood Wedding, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 1st June 2012

Posted on June 6, 2012 by therealchrisparkle

Blood Wedding, together with The Bacchae, form the first two thirds of this year’s major “Made in Northampton” highlight, the Festival of Chaos, which is also part of the Cultural Olympiad’s London 2012 Festival. This is no mean achievement, and one of which the Royal and Derngate can truly be proud. The plays (including Hedda Gabler coming later this summer) are Artistic Director Laurie Sansom’s three all time favourites in the whole of drama; so I expect we will see a large dose of his special magic in these productions.

Certainly his creative footprints are all over Blood Wedding. The cast work together as a superb ensemble, which I’ve found is the absolute hallmark of his directing style, and the play has a generally stylised and cultured feel to it. I think Mr Sansom even sneaks into the cast himself as the disembodied voice of the news broadcast on TV. The production has a versatile and useful set – I particularly admired the upstairs landing in the wedding scenes, which seems to exist without any side access – and the whole show is sensibly and properly lit. Dougal Irvine’s specially composed score is frankly gorgeous, played live by a gifted quartet in the orchestra pit, and I could imagine myself seeing the show again, simply to re-experience the music.

The play of course is like a 20th century Spanish Shakespeare – a classic tragedy, which lends itself to all sorts of modernisation and adapting. Lorca’s masterpiece was first staged in 1932 but like Shakespeare its themes of nature, fate and revenge are timeless and can fit in any era, any place. This production is set “sometime in the near future”; a rather surreal world where TV reception is still tenuous, hospital receptionists don’t speak to you until you’ve taken a numbered ticket from the pull-off machine, and you still wash using a Victorian style jug and bowl.

The surrealism is further emphasised in the language. Like much of Shakespeare, the rhythms of the verse lend their own atmosphere, which comes across to good effect in Australian Tommy Murphy’s adaptation. It’s set in southern Spain, but the actors use English North Country accents; and Tommy Murphy includes some down under phrases to the text. “No worries” and “Good-oh” have become reasonably universal but when Leonardo’s wife says she bought something “on special” (instead of “in a sale”) and he describes distances in “klicks”, you are definitely on Terra Australiana. I’m not sure if that was a deliberate ploy or just an accident of idiom; together with all the mother’s anxieties about dust on shoes this could just as easily be the Outback as Andalucia. It all contributes to an intrigue of displacement.

This is extremely stirring drama. From the moment the tale starts to unfold you are locked in. Kathryn Pogson’s Mother, berating Liam Bergin’s Groom about his choice of bride-to-be and her enduring resentment over the Felix family is all very recognisable. Indeed, Mrs Chrisparkle and I saw elements in this opening scene of our very own blood wedding almost 25 years ago; and when the mother finally meets the bride and her father on their own territory, you sense it has all the makings of an acrimonious Scouse wedding reception. (If you’ve ever attended one of those, you’ll know what I mean.) Kathryn Pogson is scarily convincing as a woman just hanging on to her wits, who is emotionally and psychologically scarred by the death of the men in her family, who faces the prospect of her only remaining son leaving her, who scrambles around for reasons to hate her prospective daughter in law, and who wallows in a general disdain for the wider Felix family. Liam Bergin too is excellent as the resolute son toiling on the land all day (partly to get away from his mother, you suspect), exuding a dapper confidence on his wedding day and embodying heroism in his determination to track down the swine who has nicked his bride.

They are well matched by the pairing of Ery Nzaramba as Leonardo and Amanda Wilkin as his wife. Bitter with his home life, Mr Nzaramba’s Leonardo can barely disguise his loathing for his wife, and gives a great portrayal of someone who is hurting as much as he hurts. The audience should detest him for the way he treats his wife, but his emotionally subtle performance makes your response much more complex. He has a great stage presence in his first scene, when you feel he could lash out with considerable violence at any minute; but this is nicely reigned in for the wedding scene, where he fades remarkably into the crowd so that the abduction of the bride comes as a complete surprise (except that I’ve now told you about it.) I thought Amanda Wilkin was fantastic alongside him – treading a fine line between accepting and resenting her lot, gaining our sympathy for her plight without any mawkish demands for it; perceptive, but powerless; another subtle and fascinating performance.

The unusual presentation of the character of The Girl – part Shakespearean Fool, part Greek messenger – as a fully adult male in the shape of Robert Benfield works very well. It fits in comfortably with the general surrealism of the production as a whole and also gives the larger than life character more prominence. When she lets loose a tirade of obscenities it makes more sense than if a genuine little girl had said it, whilst still retaining its shock impact. Every time she makes an entrance, she oozes trouble and portent; and her bloodied appearance after the interval, foretelling the death and destruction to come, makes for a very disturbing image.

The whole cast are excellent, with no weak links at all, but I particularly enjoyed the performances of Rosie Ede as the maid (and particularly as the nosy neighbour), Jim Bywater as the bride’s father – something of a Dickensian self-made man to that characterisation – and Donna Berlin as Leonardo’s mother in law, trying in vain to keep the peace between her warring family. There are some great set piece moments – most notably the machinations at the wedding scene itself, and also later when the wedding party, in pursuit of Leonardo and the bride, enclose and move in on Leonardo and the Groom at their double death scene; that made a very effective and striking tableau. The production takes on the nature themes of the last part of the play – the appearance of the Moon, the living forest, and so on – with some clever modern twists, and the whole vision of the modernised setting holds together extremely well. Despite – or maybe because of – its stylisation, it’s a very engaging production that holds your attention throughout and makes you feel as though you’re witnessing something very special, that magic something that can only happen on a stage.

It was a shame that on the performance we saw, one significant member of the cast got all petulant at curtain call; when the cast moved into the wings before returning for a second call you could see this person mouthing “What, again? Really? Do I have to? Oh for God’s sake” (or the equivalent), returning to the stage with an impatient glare and subsequently hot-footing it back offstage before some members of the cast had even had the time to stand up straight again. Not only did it convey the message to the audience that they didn’t care about how we reacted to the show, it was also disrespectful to their colleagues. A pet hate of mine! I trust it was a stress-induced one-off.

Review – Matthew Bourne’s Early Adventures, Derngate, Northampton, 29th May 2012

Posted on May 30, 2012 by therealchrisparkle

Every few years a revival of Matthew Bourne’s Swan Lake comes around and it is compulsory under Artistic Law that you must go and see a performance because it is just the greatest thing since sliced entrechats. Mrs C and I have seen it probably ten or so times now and it never fails to amuse, beguile and horrify. But what of his other work? We’ve seen his Cinderella, Highland Fling, Car Man, Nutcracker, Dorian Gray and Play Without Words and they have all been fine entertainment in their own way – I list those productions in what I think is ascending order of excellence – but to be honest none of them come close to Swan Lake for its combination of aching emotion, inspirational choreography and downright funniness. So it’s fascinating to have the opportunity to see (for the first time, for us) three of his earliest works, to compare them with his later works, and also to compare them with contemporary pieces of today.

The set and costume design are by long-term collaborator Lez Brotherston. When you see Lez’s name in a programme, you know you have nothing to fear. Incredibly simple staging proves wonderfully versatile, as through the course of the evening a simple mini-proscenium arch and a few benches coupled with effective lighting suggest townhouses, countryside, railway stations and all things Paris.

The first piece, Spitfire (1988), is brief in more ways than one. Four poised and posy guys in a variety of vests and pants present us with a stately pas de quatre. The humour comes from the juxtaposition of their classical attitudes danced to a full orchestral Glazunov score, with the ridiculousness of their undies appearance. It was very nicely done, and I particularly liked the way some of the dancers looked snootily down their noses when their colleagues were performing their variations – very Ballets Trockadero de Monte Carlo; as was the suggestion that they were sexually interchangeable, sometimes doing more ballerina-type moves. I thought Christopher Marney was splendidly lugubrious in his pomposity. A very good curtain-raiser.

Next we had Town and Country (1991), with “Town” coming before the first interval and “Country” coming after. For me this was the most entertaining of the three pieces. Both parts are basically sequences of vignettes showing aspects of life in the town, and then the country, set distinctly in the early 20th century. “Town” starts with the arrival of grand people at a grand house, having the servants bathe them, while a couple of gay guys get to know each other over a genteel cup of tea – a super performance of aloofness from Tom Jackson Greaves. The scene changes to a railway station with a splendid tribute to Brief Encounter, complete with amusing waiters, which finishes with a clever bittersweet ending to the two couples involved. This is all Bourne at his story-telling best. “Country” features some typical bumpkins doing what turns out to be a lethal clog dance, some excellent recreation of horse and hound-land and some effective depiction of unsophisticated rumpy-pumpy. Whilst there are comparisons between the town and country lifestyles I don’t think the dance as a whole is meant to draw any major insights from putting the two together, which is probably a trick missed.

After the second interval it’s The Infernal Galop (1989), an homage to la vie Parisienne, with music by Charles Trenet and Edith Piaf amongst others. More apparently unconnected vignettes, featuring lovers and sailors, including some rather unsubtle stuff at the pissoir and culminating in a version of the can-can that is diametrically opposite from what you would expect, which was a nicely subversive ending. I did feel this particular piece lacked narrative though. Whilst I love Trenet’s “La Mer”, Paris is approximately 110 miles from the sea, so I couldn’t quite understand its relevance, and whereas the scenes in Town and Country followed quite a meaningful sequence, I didn’t get any sense of unity with “Galop” apart from the setting itself. A lot of the dance work also involved quite intricate mime. Sometimes the characters seemed to be communicating with each other with elaborate hand gestures reminiscent of Give Us A Clue, and if you didn’t get what they were trying to convey (as I didn’t) it was like being left out of a conversation. I would have preferred them to try to convey their message through the wider choreography rather than concentrated manual shenanigans.

What was particularly interesting in these three pieces was recognising the early use of some trademark Matthew Bourne choreography moves made famous in Swan Lake. We saw on more than one occasion dancers outstretching the left arm straight ahead whilst placing the right over their head and pointing their fingers in the same direction, in precisely the same way he choreographed the general appearance of the Swan Lake swans’ heads. In both Spitfire and Galop a dancer was on the floor, his upper body at 90 degrees to the floor with right leg stretched out and the left bent inwards, toes pointing in the same direction as the right leg, arms in fifth position, exactly as the Swan appears on the lake. On another occasion dancers depicted animals by simply touching their two hands together at the wrists and making a snappy clapping sound by bringing the tips of the fingers together, very much as a savage Swan Lake swan would. Mrs C recognised the swaying motions of dancers that reminded her of the basic dance moves of the Major Domo character. There’s probably a thesis to be done tracing the development of Bourne’s hallmark motifs.

The genius, if that is the word, of Matthew Bourne’s works is more in the wider interpretation and the mise-en-scène than in the detail of the choreography itself. He is great at taking a well known story or situation and putting it in a different place to maximum comic and/or shock effect. Throughout the whole evening you get the feeling that his primary aim as a choreographer – in these early pieces at least – is to make you laugh. Recently we have seen both the Balletboyz and Richard Alston Dance Company and in both cases, the physical demands and level of technical expertise required from the dancers far outshone what was evident in these Early Adventures. That’s not a criticism of the dancers in this production who literally did not put a foot wrong. But Bourne’s choreography did not challenge me to the same artistic degree as those other companies. I asked Mrs C if she thought the choreography was deceptively simple, or just simple. She agreed that she thought it lacked the technicality of some recent productions we have seen; and when you take all the ingredients together that make up the perfect night at the ballet, it’s an area where this production is slightly lacking.

It’s also really noticeable how Mr Bourne creates much better dance roles for men than for women; nearly all the memorable moments – the telling facial expressions, the comic nuances, the star dance turns – were performed by men. The only exception was during Brief Encounter where the two female dancers got equal stage rights.

I don’t want this to be too introspective, because it’s a fun show of dance escapism, and not a serious examination of the human condition. A highly entertaining evening of inventive comedy dance performed to perfection by a very likeable company, the audience gave it a big reception and it deserves to have a very successful tour throughout June.

Eurovision Semi Final Two 2012 – The Morning After

Posted on May 25, 2012 by therealchrisparkle

Owing to the lateness of the arrival of Mrs Chrisparkle slaying dragons in London business meetings late into teatime, our Semi Final Two started at approximately 9.15pm, but fortunately the chase play thingy worked ok so we didn’t miss out. I had even timed it so that I remembered at about 9.30 to stop watching for a bit and phone in my votes for my bets, I mean favourites.

After a splendid gluten-free Waitrose Bolognese Pasta treat, and munching deeply on Lady Duncansby’s roulade, it was time to assess those Semi Final Two performances. As on Tuesday, the goal was to find out own personal ten favourites who we would put through to Saturday’s final.

Serbia – A performance full of class that we all appreciated. Lady D announced her approval of it within seconds of the violin striking up. “Those sleeves are distracting” said Mrs C. There’s no pleasing some people. All three said yes.

FYR Macedonia – Its slow and slightly weird first verse alienated Lady D who said “no” a number of times. Mrs C stayed silent. I thought it was an incredibly good performance. Lady D succumbed a little to its rockier charm in the second verse. Mrs C still silent. I was very impressed. All agreed to send it to the final.

Netherlands – Within seconds of it starting Lady D was loving it. I’ve never been a fan of this song and I didn’t think Joan sang very well. Her notes were all over the place at times. By the second verse Lady D and Mrs C were swaying from side to side but I was resolutely not joining in. By the end they had fashioned a tomahawk out of a piece of cheese and were erecting a wigwam in the dining room. It just doesn’t do it for me. However, when I added up my scores in the end I found it was still just in my top ten so we all put it through.

Malta – The living room erupted into a glittering ballroom of enjoyment. Kurt did a really good performance, the stage and light show were terrific and we’ve all promised to practise our pointy shoe shuffle for Saturday night. My top score of the night. Unanimous approval.

Belarus – How many times have they changed this arrangement? It’s got slightly rockier again and I thought their live performance was better than the one on the CD. Mrs C does a similar trick with the microphone stands when she’s attempting pilates. Another song that we all gave a tick to.

Portugal – It did precisely what it said on the tin. A very good performance, even if Mrs C and Lady D made defamatory comments about Filipa’s legs. Good quality entry but just not my plate of bacalhau. Despite saying she’s not into Fado, Mrs C was the only one to approve.

Ukraine – another Sara Cox guffaw moment when she likened Gaetana to a Dolmio puppet. I felt it was much better as a studio recording than a live performance – there were too many holes in the wall of sound. Lady D thought the backing dancers were fresh out of I Claudius. We did enjoy the albeit pixilated effect of the people dancing behind her – one way to get out of the 6 person only rule. Still uplifting though, so we all put it through.

Bulgaria – Oh no, said Lady D, not at all. And we all kind of agreed. It was ok but she got a bit screechy at times. I thought Portugal was a better example of its genre than this song was of its (club style thing) and as I voted Portugal quite low I had to vote this lower. Mrs C surprised us by choosing to promote it to Saturday material.

Slovenia – Quite nice, but just not quite nice enough was the general consent. I made a rather sexist remark associating the lead backing singer and with the generously proportioned underwear outlet Bravissimo. This was the first song that none of us selected.

Croatia – And this was the second. Lady D was aghast at Nina’s knees. It also had very silly dancers. Embarrassingly so. I wrote down the phrase “deliberately awful”.

Sweden – Of all the songs in the contest this is the one that, despite my better judgment, has been VERY slowly growing on me. I still think it fails in many ways but it does have a je ne sais quoi, something I just can’t explain. Her appearance is something akin to a flesh-eating zombie Kate Bush. Lady D noted that it was nice to see Mr T again doing the dancing. Direkt til Baku.

Georgia – Awful song and ragged performance; although I did think it was a bit unfair for Anri to have to perform in the remains of Loreen’s dandruff. The worst attempt at bongo drumming I’ve ever seen. Zilch.

Turkey – I find this song intensely irritating and I thought it was another poorish performance. Still, it’s Turkey, so what can you say. It snuck in as my number 10 and Lady D also begrudgingly gave it a thumbs up.

Estonia – He really has changed the performance of this song hasn’t he? I didn’t like it much before and I probably haven’t changed my mind – it sounds really overperformed now. Mrs C actually suggested pressing the fast forward button. There was, however, some mild appreciation of Mr Lepland’s rather famous charisma implant, noticeable from most angles. Not enough for any of us to vote for him though.

Slovakia – Lady D confessed she didn’t mind the song, and to be honest I quite like it too. I thought Max was out of tune for most of the performance – pitched far too high, unlike his waistband. Nul points.

Norway – Thought it had a bit of a ropey start, and a bit of a ropey end, but somehow he got through it ok. Catchy enough to survive. Three votes for yes.

Bosnia Herzegovina – Dull, dull, dull. Performed quite well. Dull, dull, dull. No votes.

Lithuania – A great performance of a slushy song. Not much more to say really. The PC part of me finds the whole blindfold thing a bit tasteless. Lady D and I put this through.

So the scores for last night were that Lady D and I both got 8/10 and Mrs C just 6/10. Just the big night on Saturday to look forward to now!

Italy – Venice

Posted on May 24, 2012 by therealchrisparkle

I have two self-contradictory comments to make about Venice. On your first visit there, it looks precisely as you had always expected it to look. The basic vistas have not changed since Canaletto set up his easel, and you are staggered how accurately he captured the place, all those years ago. So in a sense you already feel slightly acquainted with it. But – and here’s the contradiction – nothing can prepare you for the majestic awe you experience when you emerge from Santa Lucia Station. You look around you and all you can see is Venice. Venice everywhere; it takes your breath away. Gondolas, water taxis, vaporettos, bridges, people, pigeons, canals, wooden poles stuck in the water, blue and white stripey shirts, pastel coloured buildings, all of it constituting huge dollops of Venice.

Not only laden down with suitcases but also with a packed lunch we bought at Padua station – as we assumed all the eateries in Venice would be ridiculously expensive – we slowly wended our way down one of the world’s longest train platforms – or so it felt. We had arranged with our hotel that we would be met at the station by a water taxi and “hostess” to take us to our hotel. The hostess was a loud in-your-face tourist guide who took the mickey out of my surname and faffed around for ages trying to find us a water taxi. But when we did eventually get going it was a marvellous 25 minutes journey, delving deep into the canal system; and by the time we got to our hotel we felt like we’d had a really privileged excursion. As many do, our hotel – the Duodo Palace – has a land and a water entrance, and walking straight into reception direct from the boat is a very swanky feeling.

Top marks to the Duodo Palace for a terrific welcome. If felt as if the concierge and I had known each other for years – extremely friendly and helpful but also extremely polite; a perfect blend. The Duodo Palace is a converted palace, you won’t be surprised to hear. As a result it is very elegant and attractive, quaint and irregular. Our third floor room was comfortable but a little squashed. The bathroom was quite big though and everything worked. Lady Duncansby’s room was on the floor below, and in all the time we were there we never worked out how you went from the third floor to the second floor by foot. If you walked down the stairway from the third floor you emerged at the first. It’s almost as though you can only get to the second floor from Platform 9¾. Fortunately there was a lift so we didn’t spend too much time worrying about it.

Before we left for a mosey into town, our new friends at the Conciergerie suggested another water taxi tour later on in the afternoon. They described it as an hour of pure relaxing pleasure. Would 5.30pm be suitable? It sure would. At 130 euros for an hour, to include a bottle of Prosecco, it wasn’t cheap entertainment but we were well in the mood. Time to go out now; being just a relative stone’s throw from St Marks’ Square, we headed in that direction. Of course, every street in this neck of the woods is lined with gift shops, so progress is slow, as Mrs C and Lady D inspected every item of jewellery, handbag and dress en route. Fortunately they’re not into carnival outfits.

St. Mark’s Square is thronging and fabulous. Very posh and expensive cafes line its sides, with string quartets and similar musical entertainment pushing up both the style and the costs. We took our little picnics down to the water’s edge, sat on some steps opposite San Giorgio Maggiore, consumed now rather warm and soggy sandwiches and it was bliss. You are completely surrounded by thousands of people yet there is an enormous feeling of peace and relaxation. It is simply an extraordinary place.

There was no queue to visit the Doges’ Palace so we thought we’d give it a try. It’s a grand old place and very attractive, particularly the marvellous Sala del Maggior Consiglio with Tintoretto’s magnificent Paradise covering an entire wall. When you see it, the scale of it is breathtaking. But the whole palace is architecturally very stirring. You also get to see all the prisons and walk across the Bridge of Sighs, which I always – erroneously – thought was so-named because it was so beautiful. Wrong! The sighs are because you’re just about to be chucked in the clink.

We popped briefly into St Marks Basilica but it was a bit too busy to appreciate. You quite quickly get satiated with artistry and opulence, so we admired the outsides of the buildings and promised to return later. Other stunning sights in the square include the Campanile and the beautiful astronomical clock. I quite fancied visiting the Clock Tower but simply couldn’t locate the entrance. Another reason to return another time.

So we hot-footed it back to the Duodo Palace for our 5.30pm appointment with the man with the water-taxi, and a gift of a bottle of Prosecco from Signor Concierge and we sat back and let Venice engulf us. Actually, we didn’t sit at all – it was all far too exciting. We all stood at the back of the boat, bottle or glass in hand, cameras and phones ready to capture anything that passed us by and we had a whale of a time. Our route took us up the Grand Canal right to the sea’s edge, round the outside a bit and then back into the city plunging through small waterways that you would otherwise only see on the map. We must have taken hundreds of photos; just a magical, privileged afternoon, and the only way to see Venice in style. 130 euros don’t go that far in Venice, but it really was one of those “you only live once” moments.

After the statutory afternoon nap, we headed out for dinner. I had done some research and it seemed to me the only way to get a decent meal in Venice was to pay through the nose for it; and even then, it’s no guarantee. The place is so full of tourists staying for just a short time, that restaurateurs never expect to see you again, and accordingly don’t bother to make an effort. First we headed back to St Mark’s Square to see it lit up in its finery – a spectacular sight. Then we eventually settled on the Osteria San Marco. It’s a very welcoming little place and quite authentic, you feel. Our plan was to go there just for a drink first but decided the vibe was nice enough to stay. Not a great meal, but certainly good enough, and the three of us had quite sufficient to eat and a perfectly reasonable bottle of plonk for less than £100.

Day two in Venice – and the morning revealed the only weak link in the Duodo Palace’s chain – breakfast. To be fair the food itself was perfectly adequate, once we got it – but we had to wait a long while for a table to become available. The breakfast area is crammed into two small rooms and it wasn’t really comfortable. No doubt the hotel was full but the area given over to breakfast simply isn’t big enough. Not that it would stop me from returning – I thought it was a terrific little hotel.

We thought we’d head out west and explore the Dorsoduro district. Venice is at its best when you simply go and walk somewhere. Deliberately get lost if you like, and just see what each corner you turn has to offer. We discovered the Campo Santo Stefano, which was a charming square, with its elegant church to the side, which inside displays a painting of Pope John Paul II which looks more like Les Dawson. From there it’s a nice, relatively quiet, walk through to the bridge over the canal opposite the Accademia. You have an amazing view from this bridge, every Venetian cliché you can think of is here. The bridge itself is teeming with people but eyeball a picturesque spot, stick to your guns and linger while you can. It’s lovely.

Still heading west we discovered the charming little church of San Trovaso, kept walking along side little canals towards San Sebastiano church (for which we decided not to pay the entrance fee), Angelo San Raffaele, which was worth a short visit, and finally on to San Nicolo Dei Mendicoli which is a little stunner. You’re not meant to photograph inside but I’m afraid it was irresistible. It’s one of those little churches where not a scrap of plaster is undecorated. Absolutely beautiful.

A much needed coffee break at a little café gave us the fortitude to head north east towards the Campo Santa Margherita. There we espied a little place that looked like it would be good for lunch later on. Interestingly the square had a few fish stalls and they must have been fresh because there was no smell at all. Further along, past San Pantalon, we carried on to what turned out to be a major highlight of our visit – the Scuola di San Rocco. Adjacent to the church of the same name, which is quite nice but nothing outstanding, the Scuola was originally a charitable confraternity. In 1564 they commissioned Tintoretto to decorate the walls and ceilings, which you could say was a wise move, with the benefit of hindsight. The ground floor is stunning enough but upstairs is breathtaking; a vast salon of incredible artwork where you could spend hours – it’s definitely a must-see in Venice. There was a small film crew there too, filming a young couple meeting outside and then walking in to the building. If they did it once they did it twenty times. They might have been Italian starlets. Who knows?

It was without doubt now time for lunch and we did go back to that place on Campo Santa Margherita for lunch – Pier Dickens. Just a pizzeria, but probably the best meal we had in Venice, as it wasn’t trying too hard and the food was pretty darn good. All in a lovely, not too touristy location. Really recommended.

Time for a bit more culture so we called at Ca’ Rezzonico, an old palace that houses a museum of 18th century Venice. It belonged to Robert Browning, and his son Pen, and is worth a visit to get a feel of the time and to enjoy being inside a typical Venetian palazzo. It’s notable for the extravagant (if perhaps surprisingly smallish) ballroom. Upstairs are some new art galleries and I must say I found the art on display there rather fresh and stimulating.

Needing to get outside after all that art, we wandered back towards the Accademia but then carried on to the end of the promontory where you find Santa Maria della Salute church. It’s a rather unusual shape – an octagon; quite grand on the outside, slightly workaday on the inside. But from there you have spectacular views back over towards St Marks Square. We walked right to the end of the promontory and were surprised at how windy it was! And that really was quite enough tourism for one day. On the way back to the hotel we found a little pub. Unpretentious and simple, it wouldn’t have been out of place in Stratford on Avon. Can’t remember it’s name, but it was perfect.

After a much needed nap, we went out on our usual forage for food and drink. We decided to start off at Caffe Brasilia, very informal, quite expensive, but comfortable, friendly and much used by locals. Good for pre-dinner drinkies. For dinner we chose the Ristorante San Stefano, which was a complete tourist trap and offered a lazy, uninspired, barely adequate, expensive meal. Never mind, some you win, some you lose.

Too early for bed, we decided to do a nighttime walk to the Rialto Bridge. Nowhere is that far away from the San Marco district and we were surprised how quickly we got there. It’s definitely a tourist attraction at night – heaving with people it was, but with a good friendly vibe. Rather like the Ponte Vecchio in Florence, the Rialto still has its shops on the bridge, and it’s another must-see. Having retraced Shylock’s steps, we returned to the St Marks area, looking for one last place for a late night drinkie. We found a nice little place, just to the side of St Mark’s Basilica; full inside but it was mild enough (just) to sit at the pavement tables and drink in the atmosphere and Chianti. We were happily sat supping away when a bunch of clean cut American youths appeared and basically asked the waiter if he would give them something to eat if they sang. Intrigued, the waiter asked to hear them at work – and then these lads suddenly came out with the most wonderful a cappella music, totally unexpectedly. The waiter was impressed, and they got some pasta. The odd things you see on your travels!

The next day was to be the start of our cruise adventure, but we still had a free morning in Venice, and had no wish to miss out on any of it. So we headed east from the hotel, past St Marks and the Doges’ Palace, into the Castello district; a charming network of narrow canals and even narrower alleys; nothing especially outstanding or beautiful, but overwhelmingly picturesque taken as a whole. Mrs C and Lady D plundered a couple of jewellery shops – considering the location, they got some really nice stuff at very low prices. We wandered past the Campo San Martin and ended up near the San Giovanni in Bragora church, having a light early lunch in a simple authentic little café, on the corner of Calle de la Pieta and Calle del Dose. Refreshed in the sunshine, it was time to head back to the hotel to catch our water taxi to the Passenger Terminal. Yes, yet another water taxi ride; each one a different kind of bliss. It was a really splendid way of arriving for a cruise, speedboating alongside the liner as you headed for the shore. I’d really recommend it!

Later on, when the cruise ship finally gets going and leaves Venice, you are treated to the most amazing view. The height and distance of the ship is just perfect for the grandeur of St Marks Square from the water. Admittedly we were a bit late in staking our perfect spot for the view so had to watch through a window but it was still glorious. A wonderful way to say goodbye to Venice and to look forward to the week ahead.

We would have one more morning in Venice at the end of the cruise before getting the train back to Verona for our flight home. Getting from the ship back into Venice “town centre” was an adventure in itself. Doing what I would never normally do, I responded positively to some bloke meeting the ship offering people taxis to the railway station. With “safety in numbers” in mind, I was grateful that another couple also eventually consented in the same way. After a very long wait we were finally escorted to a very decent looking taxi that did indeed take us to the railway station for 10€ each. But what a strange route! Through industrial zones, over railway lines, opening barbed wire gates, backs of farms… hardly any of it properly tarmac’d. The thought did drift through our minds that we would be all found as skeletons in some lime pit in fifty years time, but of course we were safe. The Left Luggage provision at Santa Maria station works fine, so unencumbered we were able to saunter back into the Saturday throng.

We started off inspecting the elegant interior of the Scalzi church next door to the station. It’s amazing how many of these small churches are as opulent as any cathedral. Then we crossed the nearby bridge and lost ourselves in the Santa Croce district. In desperate need of a coffee we found a nice little place on the Campo San Giacomo dell’Orio with swish toilets and an ace view of the piazza. Then we continued to the Campo San Polo with its super campanile and fun lion statues. Our goal was to check out the Rialto by day, having only seen it at night before. And we made it with ease, to find out it was equally busy as it is at night. With all the shops and markets open it’s a really lively area to waste an hour or two – which we didn’t have, unfortunately. We popped into the rather bizarre little church of San Giacomo di Rialto, which basically seemed given over to the sale of concert tickets; and then joined everyone else posing for photos on the bridge itself.

Time was against us, and we needed lunch, so after a couple of false starts we found a little restaurant on the Strada Nova. I can’t remember its name now which is probably just as well. The wine list was a board outside that advertised Pinot and Soave. Let’s have some Soave, I thought. When I ordered it, the waiter seemed perplexed, as though no one had ever done that before. He went away and brought the Maitre d’ (quite a posh name for the kind of guy he was in all fairness). “I recommend the Pinot”, he said. “I don’t think we have any Soave left, but I will *check* if you like” – in a tone designed to convey that it would cause him enormous inconvenience. I held my ground and let him be inconvenienced. He returned saying we were “in luck, and there was one bottle left”. He left it to his little mate to open the bottle and serve. I noted the age of the wine – 2007. That’s a bit old for a Soave, I thought. He poured a small taster into the glass. It had a colour best described as “first urine of the day”. It was repulsive. Mine host knew full well it would be. “May I suggest the Pinot then sir” was his rather barbed defence. Pinot it was. The meal was fine actually, and the wine experience humorously bizarre! Why didn’t he just say, in best Basil Fawlty tradition, “sorry, Soave’s off”?

We made it in good time to get back to Santa Lucia station, reunite ourselves with our luggage and get our train back to Verona; our final lovely 1st class Trenitalia experience. On arrival we decided to get the shuttle bus from Verona station to the airport, which worked fine – we just bought the tickets from the tobacconists inside the station complex. But it dawned on me afterwards that with three people a taxi to the airport – of which there was a plentiful supply – would have been cheaper and quicker. No worries. The plane was late; and Verona airport is a bit of a boring place to be fair. But we’d had a fantastic time away.

However, gentle reader – this is not the end of this story; oh no, you don’t get away with it that easily! What happened on the cruise itself is a tale yet to be told….

Eurovision Semi Final One 2012 – The Morning After

Posted on May 23, 2012 by therealchrisparkle

So here’s just a brief resumé of the activities and reactions at Lady Duncansby’s Manor last night as we sat down to watch the first Semi of 2012. Lady Duncansby had instructed Cook to prepare a fine repast of Pork steaks and salad, topped and tailed with an excellent variety of crisps and some tasty olives. We also got through a few bottles of El Vino Exquisito. Each team’s task was to identify their ten favourites to progress through to Saturday’s final.

Montenegro – Rambo Amadeus looked all the world like an embarrassing relative late in the evening at a wedding reception. Blank faces of disbelief all round. No takers.

Iceland – General approval, although I thought it was a little ragged – I expected a crisper performance. Good enough though. Got the green light from all three of us.

Greece – Slightly out of tune, but who cares when you’ve got legs like that. We’re all suckers for a bouzouki disco number. It’s a yes from everybody.

Latvia – Mrs Chrisparkle thought the first line was “I was born in Bicester 1980” which gave it an unexpected local interest. Lady D gave it a firm “no” before Annmary had had a chance to do much name-dropping. I’ve always liked this but felt it didn’t work. Nevertheless, after we had done all our tallying by the end of the evening, we all had this progressing to the final.

Albania – This song plumbs emotional depths that go sailing over the top of our heads. Mrs C noted that whoever did her facial make-up should be shot. We all guffawed at Sara Cox’s observations on Rona’s hairdo. Just too over the top for me. No one put it in their top ten.

Romania – It’s catchy, but is it art? Mrs C and Lady D were bopping away in their chairs whilst I still failed to get it. Considering the lead singer clearly had earpiece problems she kept in tune amazingly well. Our first split decision – Mandinga were in Lady D and Mrs C’s teams but not mine.

Switzerland – Loved the light show, and felt the guys did a great job. We all loved it, and all had it sailing into the final.

Belgium – After about five notes were played Lady D had got bored enough to discuss the latest Debenhams sale with Mrs C. After a shaky start Iris got into her stride but it really is an immensely tedious experience. Three rejects.

Finland – The ladies were divided on the dress, the hair, the make-up. We were however all unanimous on the boring. Sorry Pernilla, it’s a no from us.

Israel – Having liked this a lot in the pre-season, I was surprised how lifeless it appeared on stage. The lead singer came across as a bit creepy and the two backing singers posing with each other just looked stupid. Terribly cheesy. Mrs C put it through though.

San Marino – The song having been the butt of so many run-up-to-the-contest jokes, I was expecting something dreadful. What I wasn’t expecting was Valentina’s super performance. The prevalence of uh oh oh ohs on the backdrop didn’t enhance the song, but we still liked it enough to all vote for it. Beep beep.

Cyprus – My favourite song of the year. Not sure if Ivi sang it well, as I couldn’t hear her over the sound of me singing along. I must have given an impressive performance though as we all voted for it.

Denmark – Nicely dressed troupe but still dull. Didn’t register with anyone – no votes.

Russia – I wasn’t expecting six classically trained voices but really they are awful. Not only out of tune but out of time too. Not sure about the oven – even in Buranovo I bet they rely on microwaves. Yes the little one is cute but the camera dwelt far too much on her. Virtually unspeakable in every way, but only Mrs C didn’t put it forward.

Hungary – This song has been one of my firm favourites for the last few months and I was pleased that the guys absolutely nailed the performance. About a third of the way through Lady D announced that she really didn’t like it at all. Two thirds of the way through Mrs C agreed with her. That left just me raving about it.

Austria – I was surprised how this song completely lacked energy. The preview videos may have given you a sense of the obscene or depraved but it somehow it always got down and dirty in a funky sort of way. On the night I thought it was extremely boring. Lady D and Mrs C just had “Disgusted of Tunbridge Wells” looks on their faces. No support.

Moldova – I’m just loving this more and more each time I hear it. It oozes fun and I’m a big fan. Lady D wokked her popo to it. Mrs C felt by about 2 minutes 30 that it was “a bit samey”. Nevertheless we all gave it the thumbs up.

Ireland – The ladies approved of Jedward’s altered hair. Lady D already had the song down as one of her big faves and we all agreed it was an excellent performance. Unanimous approval.

So Lady D and I both got 7/10 and Mrs C got 6/10 – should have gone to Buranovskiye Specsavers.