Tag Archives: Derngate

Review – Hal Cruttenden, Tough Luvvie, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 30th October 2014

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Little did I know, gentle reader, that as I was battling with the northbound M1 traffic yesterday evening and wondering whether I would get home in time to meet Mrs Chrisparkle, have something to eat and then go out together to see Hal Cruttenden at the Royal, that Mr Cruttenden was having precisely the same thoughts. Well, maybe not the bit about meeting Mrs C and me for a bite to eat, but definitely struggling to get to the theatre in time for his 7.45pm Tough Luvvie show. Mrs C and I made it on the stroke of 7.45. Mr Cruttenden beat us by a few minutes apparently. How do I know this? Because his account of his panicky journey, then discovering there was nowhere to park, was how he introduced his show. Those anxious worries about Not Making An Important Appointment On Time set the tone for the evening; an extremely candid, personal and honest two and a half hours summation of what makes Mr Cruttenden tick. Mind you, if had been late he could have bought us all a pint like John Bishop did.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. We’ve actually seen Hal Cruttenden once before on the stage of the Derngate, when he was – I think – supporting Julian Clary (so to speak). I could be wrong about for whom he was warming up, it was before I started blogging. But I remember we both enjoyed him and the insight into his world – a camp straight man married to a woman from Northern Ireland with a fearsome voice. We’ve not seen any of his interim TV appearances so I was looking forward to seeing how he would carry an entire show by himself.

Hugely better than I could have expected, as it happens. He has a very chatty and welcoming style that makes you feel like you’re just sitting in his front room after a lovely meal, passing round the port and the cognac whilst he holds court; the perfect dinner party host, all relaxed bonhomie and with a funny story about every possible subject. Whilst it seems as though he is jumping around from topic to topic as things occur to him, I actually think it was all jolly cleverly planned and prepared – but you couldn’t tell the join between the scripted bits and the off-the-cuff dealing with whatever the audience threw at him.

We were indeed an eclectic bunch in the Royal last night, that included a Royal Protection officer, a “Plastic Paddy”, an acutely embarrassed young couple in the front row and a woman recovering from a Bone Marrow transplant who didn’t so much heckle as simply engage too loudly with the proceedings. Mr Cruttenden can bat these unusual oddballs into the long grass with ease, but some of them were quite resilient in their determination to play a part in the show. One response of his I particularly liked when the interrupting woman started up a new conversation was “I’m actually quite busy at the moment…” There was also an actor (with the stress on the final syllable) who had trained at Bristol Old Vic (Mr Cruttenden clearly rather envious of this reputable Alma Mater) and who I recognised as being a friend of a friend of a friend. It gave Mr Cruttenden the opportunity to do a hilariously silly sequence about how stage schools don’t prepare you for the reality of Life In Showbiz.

Despite the continual dipping in and out of conversation with various members of the audience, there were loads and I mean really loads of great material here. Mr Cruttenden’s main strength is the contrast between his “butter wouldn’t melt” appearance and accent, and the not always so sweet content of the language that he uses and the situation he’s in. He’s unbeatable when doing a routine where a middle class person (i.e. him) is suddenly plonked into an alien working class environment, such as letting loose a tirade of foul mouthed abuse at a football referee, then turning to his friend on the terraces and simpering “so sorry about the language, Giles”. We loved his “gay football chanting” sequence – again it’s the juxtaposition between the roughty-toughty world of football and the unexpected and inappropriate chants of its less aggressive supporters.

There are very many outstanding sequences of comic fantasy that had us in hysterics. We loved the extension of that common phenomenon where parents suddenly become very religious when the local C of E school gets great Ofsted reports, and what could happen if it was an ISIL school; he speculated on a comprehensive school version of Hogwarts; he looked back at the part the English played in the Scottish referendum; he admitted what you really shouldn’t say to a returning Iraq/Afghanistan war veteran who admires your work as a comic; and we heard the refined young Hal’s reaction to seeing his first QPR game. And so very much more besides.

Most of all, I love the way Mr Cruttenden sends himself up, playing on his sometimes precarious camp/straight balance, ridiculing his own middle class lifestyle and offering us just that touch of vanity that we can all recognise in ourselves – beautifully highlighted in his final story about protecting a lone female traveller on the tube.

The two and a half hours flew by. His tour continues, with many dates still to play before Christmas. We found him both refreshingly self-deprecating and completely hysterical with his class-based routines and asides. Highly recommended!

Review – Paul Chowdhry, PC’s World, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 27th October 2014

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It’s always rewarding when a well-known comic performs at the lovely old Royal Theatre and packs it out. At a pinch the Royal can take about 450 people which is the perfect number for a buzzing yet intimate experience. For Paul Chowdhry’s new touring show there were no seats available apart from the couple in the middle of Row B stalls who didn’t turn up, making us in C 8 & 9 look and feel remarkably vulnerable with our unhidden proximity to the stage. Fortunately Mr Chowdhry chose to pick on other, much funnier, people.

As I so frequently have to confess with comics who have come to prominence in the past few years, neither Mrs Chrisparkle nor I had seen him before – I think I may have had a ten second glimpse of him once on a TV show but not long enough to tell if he was funny or not. I had gathered, however, that race plays a significant part in his act, his previous show being “What’s Happening, White People”, and now his new show is called “PC’s World” – and there’s nothing PC about it.

Being a reasonably PC person myself – not priggishly I hope, I just don’t see the point of upsetting people if I can help it – I wondered if I might be offended by any of his material. But I wasn’t remotely – he’s far too funny for that. He’s an incredibly skilful and confident performer and his material is absolutely top notch. I’d estimate that half the evening is actually spent on his routines and the other half on getting to know the people in the first few rows. He’s a big tease – the kind of guy who will find your weak spot in unguarded conversation and then go for it mercilessly, just the way your mates do.

You might perceive that some of what Mr Chowdhry does and says might be considered racist. Alternatively, you might not. When it’s presented in such a funny and friendly way, it’s very difficult to identify. What’s racist and what’s not?This is the question posed in some way by almost everything that takes place in the show. He’s perfectly happy to pick on himself as much as anyone else; for example, pointing out how his new beard makes him look like someone trying to get to Syria. He dwells on stereotypes for sure, but stereotypes exist because to some extent they are true.

So when Mr Chowdhry starts talking to “Uncle” in the second row, who’s not showing a flicker of laughter, 18 year old “Afghan” in the front row who’s dressed in a camouflage jacket (you couldn’t make it up), gym bunny “Yadesh” (that may be his name, no one could quite understand) confessing he has a red Porsche at the age of 23 (“ah, a Guju!” exclaimed Mr Chowdhry), or the hordes of unseen lurkers in the balcony, collectively known as “Luton”, he takes our stereotype understanding of what these people might be like, embellishes it and creates a fantasy audience of comic characters, whom we all laugh at, just as much as we laugh at him. And that way, all our hands are dipped in the blood, so if you sense the comedy’s heading in a direction that you’re not entirely comfortable with, for whatever reason, well, you’re already guilty as for having joined in the fun earlier.

Much of this stereotype-enhancing comes from his use of accents, which Mr Chowdhry actually says he doesn’t always feel comfortable using. He does a range of Indian accents (or moods) that go from finger-pointing belligerent to kissy-kissy sweetness – and everything in between; plus, he does cockney thug. Most of his comedy can be personalised with at least one of these voices. Talking of which, I really loved his interpretation of the guy pedalling at the front of the new Indian space rocket, a perfect blend of creative wit and old-fashioned stereotype. Perhaps the most interesting aspect about him is that his humour is, generally speaking, really benign; he does tease but it’s never cruel, it’s creative and revelatory. For all its making fun of racial stereotypes, it unifies us rather than divides us and you end up feeling like part of one big international family, leaving with a multiculturally warm glow to bask in as you go home.

One of the stage lights, suspended from the top over the back of the stage, exploded last night, behind him during a chat with one of the audience, so he couldn’t see what had happened. Naturally, he assumed that “Luton” had sent in the snipers. It’s not often that the stage itself becomes a heckler! Naturally funny and positive, he has an excellent ability to juggle all the information already gleaned from the audience to use it back at them later on in the show, a relaxed style and an unexpected humility – I really enjoyed his act. Racist? No, more like the antidote to racism. There are a few more dates left at the end of this very long tour but most of them are sold out. We’ll certainly look out for him again next time round.

P.S. As Mrs Chrisparkle and I were walking home we were overtaken by this fiercely fast and flashy red Porsche ripping up the tarmac and screeching terrifyingly as traffic lights unexpectedly turned red. Can only have been Yads taking Uncle and the rest of the family home.

Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Underground at the Derngate, Northampton, 24th October 2014

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We’ve been having such a good time at the Screaming Blue Murders recently that we have been encouraging more friends to come and join us. Last Friday we were accompanied by the Sheriff of Shenstone, Lady Lichfield and the young Baron Brownhills. We were expecting our usual host Dan Evans to appear but in a change to the advertised programme, the show was hosted by Kate Smurthwaite, whose name suggests to me a little blue Belgian gnome with a big white cap. But she doesn’t look like that at all. She’s a genial, jovial, intelligent sort of comic, who makes a good connection with the audience and picked on the right people with whom to have some decent banter.The dishwasher girls and the father-in-law/sons-in-law group gave good value, as did the inevitable comedy fans from Travis Perkins (IT department). She strayed a little into politics, but we’re not very interested in that kind of thing here. Sorry about that.

Our first act was Paul F Taylor, an innately funny guy with a great sense of the surreal and a fast attacking style. He stayed just on the right side of manic all the way through his material, which includes some pungent puns and shaggy dog stories. I liked his analogy that much of his set was like the middle aisle in Aldi, and really enjoyed his final sequence, where vending machines take on human identities. He went down well with the crowd, and I hope he comes back for more some time.

Second, and continuing the change to the advertised programme, we had the return of Karen Bayley, whom we have already seen three times, once as host and twice as the opening act. If you’ve not seen her before she is extremely funny with her self-deprecating, “desperate for sex” material, channelling all her desires to the youngest man in the front row, this time Chris, 26, who several times looked as though he wanted the earth to swallow him up. It’s all brilliantly funny, and the Sheriff thought she was sensational – but if I have a criticism, it is that Karen has more or less performed precisely the same routine four times now, and I reckon it’s time to shake the act up a little.

Final act was also someone we’ve seen twice before, and always enjoyed, Robert White. Looking extremely innocent, and gently knocking out some bontempi tunes on his keyboard, he uses his unique selling point combination of being gay and having Asperger’s syndrome to make up extremely funny, frequently saucy songs about all the members of the audience whose identities had been revealed by earlier comics. He usually discovers some rather straight-laced chap in the front to whom he starts singing explicit sex songs, and then in whom we all delight watching him squirm. But this time his first choice of target was gay and so that wasn’t going to work, then his second choice turned out to be someone who was equally happy to “take him on”, so to speak, so Mr White’s usually hilarious finale got scuppered. Nevertheless, it was great fun to witness it all fall apart in the most light-hearted of manners.

A reasonably sized house this week, but come on Northampton, you can do better – everyone book for the next show on 7th November!

Review – The Ninth Annual Malcolm Arnold Festival, A Night With The Stars Gala Concert, Worthing Symphony Orchestra, Julian Bliss, Martin James Bartlett, Derngate, Northampton, 19th October 2014

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Once again the Royal and Derngate Northampton played host to the annual Malcolm Arnold Festival with a weekend of concerts, talks, films and readings; and once again, Mrs Chrisparkle and I just attended the Gala Concert on the Sunday night. Maybe one year we will immerse ourselves more deeply in the whole Malcolm Arnold Thing; I’m sure it’s all highly entertaining. But for this year, we were happy to limit ourselves to the Main Show.

All hail the return of the Worthing Symphony Orchestra under its nom de baton of the Malcolm Arnold Festival Orchestra, ably conducted as always by John Gibbons. It’s the fourth year in a row that Mr Gibbons has fronted the WSO for this concert, and they always do a sterling job. The programme for the evening is always varied and exciting; this year was no different, with an overture, a premiere, two soloists, two concertos, some old favourites, a speed challenge and Finlandia. That’s a lot to pack in to around two hours.

We started off with the first of three Malcolm Arnold pieces of the evening, A Sussex Overture, Op 31 – not inappropriate for a Sussex based orchestra. It’s a very cheeky and brash nine minutes or so, giving plenty of opportunities for the percussion to shine. John Gibbons said that, having discovered this overture, it’s going to become a mainstay of many WSO concerts to come – amen to that.

Next came Malcolm Arnold’s Clarinet Concerto no 1, Op 20, and the first of the evening’s three encounters with the excellent Julian Bliss. Like the Sussex Overture, I hadn’t heard this before but it’s a very imaginative and lively piece of music. John Gibbons described it as “dark jazz” and “not an easy listen” at times. To be honest, I felt he over-emphasised its difficulties as we both found it rewarding and entertaining. I loved the chirrupy tune in the first movement, and the “dark” second movement was like being massaged by woodwind. Mr Bliss has a wonderfully infectious personality in front of an orchestra and you can only marvel at his musicality and skill.

As an antidote to the challenges of the Arnold Clarinet Concerto, we next had “Morning” and “In the hall of the Mountain King” from Grieg’s Peer Gynt. A couple of much loved old favourites that everyone knows. Of course, every time someone plays an old favourite that everyone knows, it’s always someone’s first time of hearing it – as Mr Gibbons said, “Mountain King” is one of the BBC’s Ten Pieces to Inspire Children, and it really is a rumbustious torrent of excitement once it gets going. To be honest, whilst we both really loved the rendition of “Morning” – great flute and oboe work by Monica McCarron and Chris O’Neal – we both felt that the “Mountain King” sounded a bit ragged when in full pelt. Still, what do we know?

From the familiar to the unknown, and our world premiere, Fantasy on a Theme by Malcolm Arnold for Clarinet and Strings, by Toby Young. Composed especially for this concert and for Julian Bliss (who told us how it developed from some Facebook messaging and several pints in pubs), this short, dynamic piece is full of entertainment. It obviously allows the soloist to extemporise, enhance, embellish, and basically fool around with the original notes and Mr Bliss does this with supreme elegance and panache. Bright, lively and fun – an excellent addition to the programme, and it was a pleasure to see Mr Young there to share in the applause.

Last piece of the first half was Finlandia, Sibelius’ nationalistic symphonic poem; a very stirring experience with great warmth and power coming from the brass instruments, but given great support by the entire orchestra. It gives you a Ready Brek glow to take you into the interval and your fifteen minute Merlot.

When we returned after the interval the two TV screens either side of the stage that had previously just shown an image of Malcolm Arnold had changed to showing a stopwatch face. The first item of the second half was entitled the Malcolm Arnold Minute Waltz challenge – and I correctly put two and two together. Apparently Sir Malcolm had always quibbled that Chopin’s Minute Waltz bore that name, because it’s actually impossible to play it in a minute. Step up to the podium Julian Bliss, to see if his fluttery fingers could whack through the waltz in under sixty seconds. Not only was it a feat of musical dexterity, it was also a success! The stopwatch stopped at 55 seconds; we reckoned it might have been about 1.5 seconds late getting started, but even so Mr Bliss passed the finishing post within 57 seconds. A box of Guylian choccies was his rightful reward.

Our penultimate piece was another not-so-well-known tone poem, Malcolm Arnold’s Larch Trees, Op 3, dating from 1943. Very tuneful and relaxed, perhaps with a hint of mystery and bleakness, it gave the orchestra an opportunity to play with delicate expression and gentle contemplation.

Our final item of the evening was a change to the advertised programme. It was to be Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No 2 in C minor played by soloist Martin James Bartlett. Instead, due to a tendon injury, it became Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini, still performed by the aforementioned Mr Bartlett. Well, if this is how he plays with an injury, heaven knows what he’s like when he’s match fit. I was astounded at how movingly he played – a really beautiful performance. From where we sit, you can clearly see the reflection of the pianist’s hands in the black panel above the keyboard, and it’s always fascinating to see how deftly they move up and down the instrument. Mr Bartlett threw his entire body into the expression, lunging backwards and forwards, almost standing at one point, twisting and contorting himself to get just the right oomph behind each note. No wonder he gets injured.It was a highly entertaining, skilful and moving performance. At the grand old age of 18, Mr Bartlett is the current BBC Young Musician of the Year. We sat two rows behind his parents – not difficult to see how proud they are of him; and indeed if he continues to develop his skills he has a most amazing future ahead of him.

As always, a highly enjoyable evening of music from the Worthing Symphony Orchestra, with a Malcolm Arnoldesque slant. Pretty good turnout in the Derngate auditorium too. Looking forward to next year!

Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Underground at the Derngate, 10th October 2014

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There was quite a turnout from the Chrisparkle contingent at last Friday’s Screaming Blue Murder – my good lady wife and I were not only accompanied by Lady Duncansby and the Duchess of Dallington, but also we had a return visit from Lord Liverpool and the Countess of Cockfosters. I can’t think why Tatler weren’t in attendance.

Our genial host was the one and only Dan Evans, terrific as always at getting everyone loosened up and ready for the fray, although he failed yet again to get some seats in the front few rows filled by the cowards who slunk to the back. Well done Dan for keeping the new material coming, us regulars really do appreciate it! Unfortunately Dan had a bit of a (hope you’re not eating) phlegm problem on Friday, resulting in every so often his turning round and having a really good hack at his throat, like Bob Fleming in The Fast Show. As part of Dan’s interaction with the crowd, we loved his chats with the mysterious Scouser and his daughter the Fraud Investigator, including deciding on the merits and the risks of replying to a letter promising a huge haul of cash from Nigeria.

First of our three acts was Peter White, new to us, and a very funny chap from Canada. He has good attack and forms a nice rapport with the audience, but for some reason decided to pick on me because of the size of my head. It’s true – I do have a very big head. But for some reason Mr White seemed to find it rather scary, which is something no one has ever said to me before. I enjoyed his observation about how at home he’s regular sized but get off the plane in the UK and he’s instantly fat. Made me think I could go to Toronto and enjoy an instant crash diet. Great material about how sex is the only fun you can have where there’s always the risky possibility of a baby being born. We all enjoyed him very much.

Second on, and in a change to the advertised programme, it was the return of Meryl O’Rourke. We’ve seen her three times before, twice as an act and once as the host. She’s always really funny with her jokes about sex and motherhood – but mainly sex; and I also liked her material about finding role models for girls. She had a bizarrely funny line about how a posh lady might be affronted by her jokes (“I hope she doesn’t say ‘vagina’, I’m wearing a pashmina”) which we repeated to ourselves all weekend.

Our last comic, and again new to us, was Brendan Dempsey. What a sterling delivery this chap has! His luxurious Irish accent made the Duchess go slightly doolally at the knees. One of those comics who takes it all precisely at his own pace and with such authority that you just go with it, loving the pauses. He had some fantastic sequences: does long term romance ever blossom from a building site wolf-whistle (that had us in hysterics); how to cope with the legal firm constantly pestering you on the phone when you’ve had an accident; and what goes through a child’s mind when it gets on board an aeroplane. One of the best comics I’ve seen in a very long time – really top quality.

Come on Northampton, get your act together! The numbers attending were still only average – but this is your best value comedy by far! Unmissable fun.

Review – Cat on a Hot Tin Roof, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 8th October 2014

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It was only as Mrs Chrisparkle and I were settling down in our stalls seats last Wednesday evening that I realised I’ve never actually seen a stage performance of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. I’d read it when I were a lad (I read almost Tennessee Williams plays when I was 16) and I saw the famous Laurence Olivier version on TV about the same time. It’s taken me several decades to rectify this omission. This play first arrived on Broadway in 1955, but it’s absolutely as relevant today as it was then, with its examination of a family on its knees in a desperate web of deceit.

Brick and Maggie are trapped in a loveless marriage at his parents’ plantation in the Mississippi Delta. Maggie feels the pressure from her overbearing mother-in-law, who’s desperate for yet another grandchild, and her irredeemably fecund sister-in-law who already has five “no-neck” children with another on the way. No wonder Maggie’s as jittery as a cat on a hot tin roof. She tries to work all her charm and womanly wiles to woo Brick into bed but he’s adamant that he has no intention of resurrecting their love life – so this baby is never going to appear under these circumstances.Maybe he’s gay, maybe he’s depressed; maybe he’s too much into his liquor to give a fig for anything else. Meanwhile, Big Daddy’s been undergoing medical treatment and the entire family are aware that he’s actually dying of cancer – apart from Big Mama and Big Daddy himself. How are the fortunes of Brick and Maggie’s marriage and Big Mama and Big Daddy’s marriage going to change during the course of this summer’s evening? This is definitely Tennessee Williams’ version of Long Day’s Journey Into Night. Relationships within the household will never be the same again by bedtime.

In a house where no doors are ever locked, there sure are a lot of secrets. What is it that has driven Brick to down almost three bottles of Bourbon during the course of the play? “Have you ever heard the word ‘mendacity’”? he asks his father, resulting in Big Daddy wanting to know who it is who might have lied to Brick. Brick confirms it’s “no one single person and no one lie”. And isn’t that the truth! Lies about the pretend happiness between Maggie and Brick.Lies about the solidity of Big Mama and Big Daddy’s marriage: “I haven’t been able to stand the sight, sound or smell of that woman for forty years now – even when I laid her!” Lies about the prognosis of Big Daddy’s medical condition. Lies about Big Daddy’s love for his grandkids (he doesn’t). The whole place is riddled with mendacity. Lying is the default setting for the entire household – as his father tells him “I’ve lived with mendacity, why can’t you live with it?” Brick drinks because he can see no way out of this; but Maggie, however, finds a way forward at the end of the play – even though it’s yet another lie.

This excellent production by the Royal and Derngate together with Northern Stage and the Royal Exchange sheds light on the darkness of this intense and disturbing play. Mike Britton’s stark design of white slatted walls suggests a cage from which the characters can’t escape – a world of black and white that allows neither the shades of grey of compromise nor the colours of real living; everything’s just harsh and clinical. Light bounces off the gleaming white furniture and walls in an illusion of happiness where in fact sadness reigns. The louvred walls suggest a lack of privacy as the light and sound of the fireworks invade the bedroom, whilst also providing a very neat representation of Brick and Maggie’s ensuite. R&DArtistic Director James Dacre and assistant director Dan Hutton take that setting and contrast it with the broken inhabitants of the household, creating some very striking images. Maggie flirtatiously prowling round Brick; Brick scrambling across the floor to keep hold of his crutch; the teeth-janglingly sweet “Skinamarinka” birthday greeting of the children that no one appreciates; the pathetic sight of Brick upended at the foot of the bed with burst pillow feathers falling everywhere like Paul Simon’s “freshly fallen silent shroud of snow”. Visually this is a very impressive and memorable production.

There are some top quality performances too. We both felt Mariah Gale as Maggie was stunningly good in that opening scene that calls for so much expression and so many varieties of mood. It’s a cliché but she really does have to run the gamut from A to Z. We’d seen her in Proof but this role is much more suited to her. Wily, desperate, rejected, dismissive, snide, bitchy, yet always hopeful; Maggie has to be all of these and Miss Gale did it to perfection. Charles Aitken’s Brick was superbly dulled and damaged by the detritus of his friendship with Skipper, playing up with relish to the prospect of yet another Bourbon, allowing his spark to be snuffed out with the challenge of daily survival, but still snappy and aggressive in the face of too close an attack – very convincing.Kim Criswell is splendid as Big Mama – formidably menacing when she’s in charge, hopelessly lost when the ground beneath her gives way. Due to the indisposition of Daragh O’Malley, the role of Big Daddy was taken by Terence Wilton, text in hand. I think he’s been playing the role for quite a while now and is giving a rich and powerful performance, only occasionally needing to refer to the script. Such is the magic of theatre that this didn’t in any way spoil the whole effect. The rest of the cast give very good support, especially Victoria Elliott as a nicely waspish Mae and Matthew Douglas as a mildly Neanderthal Gooper. We saw Children Team A on the night we went andthey were delightfully ghastly – good job done!

This is a very vivid production of Williams’ horrendously bleak drama that holds your attention throughout. After it finishes its run in Northampton it goes on to the Royal Exchange in Manchester until 29th November. Thought-provoking and hard-hitting – a very rewarding night at the theatre, and thoroughly recommended.

Review – Richard Alston Dance Company, Derngate, Northampton, 30th September 2014

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I firmly believe that dance, when done well, is the most eloquent form of art that can exist on a stage. It’s also the case that when it’s done poorly, it can be one of the most excruciating experiences. Not that that could ever be the case with the Richard Alston Dance Company, whose annual visit is one of the few diary dates that we would never miss. We’ve followed the company for donkeys’ years now and each time they come they always deliver something spectacular. Whether it be the stunning dancing of the young talented company members or the stirring choreography produced by Messrs Alston and Lawrance, we sit in awe and appreciation of their extraordinary skills. Last night’s programme was no different and was as varied and as exciting as you could ever wish from a contemporary dance company. The overall standard of performance was astounding.

The first piece was Rejoice in the Lamb; not, as Mrs Chrisparkle suggested, what you say when your Sunday Roast finally arrives, but a beautiful, elegant dance choreographed by Richard Alston to a moving cantata by Benjamin Britten. It’s based on an 18th century poem by Christopher Smart who used to pounce on people in the street to get them to pray with him. Nicholas Bodych gives a wonderful central performance as the enthusiastic poet with a penchant for religious mania. Some moments make you smile, but mostly you come away with a distinct feeling of prayer and spirituality to the whole piece, definitely helped by Britten’s remarkable music. The interaction between the dancers is constantly changing and I recognised moments of strength, care and support as well as scenes of enmity and rejection. A very assured, thoughtful and refined start to the evening.

After a pause next was Holderlin Fragments, another Alston/Britten combination inspired by the work of a poet, this time the German romantic poet Friedrich Holderlin. Six fragments of his work are set to a song-cycle by Britten and accompanied by the dancers showing incredible agility and forming terrific angles with their bodies. The ladies are presented in light, flowing, elegant dresses but the guys appear to have been clad courtesy of the H&M loungewear department, which made for an interesting visual juxtaposition. All the dancers gave strong, watchable performances but I was particularly impressed with the energy and artistry of Ihsaan de Banya in this piece.

Often the middle dance in a contemporary dance programme is what I term the “difficult” one – harder to understand, more cerebral than physical, the worthy result of an ambitious project that was meant to make you think, and if the enjoyment of the dance suffers as a result, then so be it. Not this time. Burning, the new dance by Martin Lawrance, premiered only last week in Edinburgh, is the stuff that dreams are made on. It takes as its subject Franz Liszt, in his persona as superstar sex symbol, who had all the 19th century European ladies clamouring for his every attention. One of these was the Countess Marie d’Agoult, with whom he had two children despite the fact that she was already married, and that he continued to carry on with – shall we say – his bachelor lifestyle to his heart’s content. Eventually Marie has enough of his philandering and, despite his outrageous protestations and pleadings, dumps him and runs off (and well he deserved it).

I loved every minute of this dance. It’s a gripping drama that unfolds with beautiful clarity and perfect story-telling and features two sensational performances from Liam Riddick and Nancy Nerantzi. Mr Riddick embodies Liszt’s charisma, vanity and flirtiness with the other girls to perfection; and when Miss Nerantzi walks on in that red dress with that look in her eye, you just know that nothing can stop the passionate affair that lies ahead. There’s a stunning love sequence when the two dance in perfect symmetry which really took my breath away. There’s no denying the fantastic rapport they have with each other, but I also really loved the scenes with Miss Nerantzi battling with the other girls who still want a piece of the action – she might as well have shouted “Back off, bitches!” with her body language and challenging expression, daring them to do something about it. Elly Braund, Oihana Vesga Bujan, Jennifer Hayes and Phoebe Hart bring a marvellously sensual attack to these Liszt-hungry Hungarians. I also enjoyed Nicholas Bodych and Ihsaan de Banya’s fruitless attempts to win back their unruly unfaithful wives, and the whole piece is danced to Jason Ridgway’s superb playing of Liszt’s Danse Sonata live, which gives the piece additional substance and edge. But it’s that fantastic partnership between Mr Riddick and Miss Nerantzi that will stay with me for a long time; I doubt if you could see a better couple on any dance stage at the moment. I think this is probably my favourite piece ever danced by this company (and I can remember as far back as Rainbow Bandit).

The final piece of the evening actually featured in their 2010 programme, Overdrive, and it’s one of those crowd-pleasing pieces with a dynamic soundtrack and exciting choreography. It weaves a wonderful crescendo of movement with blistering techno-throb that really gets under your skin. The whole company get in the act with this assault on your senses, and the demanding attention that they have to give it really pays off and rewards us with a powerful, exhilarating and athletic end to the evening.

This is the most consistently exceptional company performing contemporary dance that I know. After Northampton, their tour takes them to Shrewsbury, High Wycombe, Yeovil, Glasgow and – if it’s more convenient for you – New Jersey. For a fulfilling evening of top quality dance I can’t recommend them too highly. Oh – and if you want to see how to take a curtain call, no one does it with more elegance!

Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Underground at the Derngate, Northampton, 26th September 2014

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Another great night of comedy entertainment at the Underground last Friday, even though the numbers were a little sparse; Mrs Chrisparkle and I took our usual seats in the third row by the centre aisle, but no one sat in front of us, so we defaulted to becoming “front row” again. However, we fortunately managed to largely avoid the limelight this week (unlike last time). The evening was MC’d under the comic guidance of our host Martin Coyote.He normally comes up and hosts a show at least once a season, and his very direct, attacking style makes a refreshing contrast with usual host Dan Evans, who’s much more laid back. Mr Coyote’s always got lots of topical material; this time he had some great observations about the Scottish Referendum, including Salmond’s, Darling’s and Brown’s input, and what would have happened if the yes’s had won. We’re not known for responding to political humour here in Northampton, but this was good stuff!

The first of our three acts, and new to us, was Iszi Lawrence, a delightfully well-spoken, Home Counties, tomboyish young lady, with some cracking observations about other posh people – we loved the idea of cocaine being acceptable providing it’s Fairtrade. She’s got some excellent material about coming out as bisexual, how irritating it is to flatshare with Christians because they’re so nice, and what career opportunities there are with a First in Geography. Whilst some elements of the audience were a little resistant to her humour, Mrs C and I thought she was great.

Second, and also new to us, was Troy Hawke, one of Milo McCabe’s comic creations who had his own show at Edinburgh this year (but alas we didn’t see it). He’s a really funny persona; suave, debonair, vain, slightly childish and occasionally challenging. Imagine Clark Gable telling (forgive me, gentle reader) c**t jokes and you’re partway there. He went off on an amazing flight of fantasy reading all sorts of hidden meanings into the Mr Men and Little Miss books that was comedy genius. One member of the audience challenged him on pronouncing cravat as crevette; I doubt she’ll do that again.

The headline act was someone we have seen twice before, Nick Wilty, who delivers a fast and wry routine jam-packed with subtle asides and self-deprecation. He bases a lot of his comedy on places he’s been round the world. It’s a very sure-footed act and you can’t fail to find him funny, although to be fair it has been more or less the same routine now three times in a row.

You missed it, didn’t you? Why didn’t you come and sit in front of us? You must come next time! A great night out for approximately 7p per minute!

Review – Screaming Blue Murder, Underground at the Derngate, Northampton, 12th September 2014

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Hurrah! Welcome back Screaming Blue Murder season! We’ve missed you. Where else can you get three incredible acts, two wonderful intervals, and a jolly jackanapes of a host all for £11.50 (provided you’re a friend of the Royal & Derngate, which of course you should be anyway). Our host was the inimitable Mr Dan Evans, who has an unbeatable ability to warm us up with anything between some gentle teasing and outrageous insults. He still seems a little sore at my comments (somewhat historical now) about reusing old jokes, but he does come back each week with fresh material, which I for one definitely appreciate and he’s always a joy to watch.

We normally like to sit close-ish to the stage, but not so close that you’re in danger of being picked on by one of the comics. Four rows back, on the central aisle, is just perfect. However, since Mrs Chrisparkle and I went to Edinburgh this summer and ended up at the front in many comic shows and revues, being an unwitting part of the act now holds little fear for us. Paul Ricketts called me a “silver fox” (ready for a care home); Paul Savage had me standing in front of the crowd reciting love poems from the Song of Solomon to Mrs C in the audience; James Loveridge and the Spank! team probed into our relationship and pet names for each other; we danced with Russell Grant; and we were teased by New Zealand’s Mika. Our former role of being a shy, retiring audience member is now a thing of the past, and sitting at the front has become more attractive a prospect. However, for Screaming Blue Murder we were accompanied by My Lady Duncansby who would sooner sit out on the street in the rain than risk being talked to in the front row; so we took our usual four-rows-back place, in (apparently) safe contentment. However, no one else took the seats in the second and third rows in front of us – so you can guess what happened.

Cue the first act, Craig Murray, new to us, and whose act is very much based on getting into conversations with the crowd. It wasn’t long before he had eyeballed me and I knew the game was up. Not just idle conversation; he wanted my name, how long we’d been married, how and where we met, whether it was love at first sight, etc, etc and etc. Only one thing you can do under those circumstances – jump in feet first and go with it. His responses to what I’ve always thought were our perfectly mundane circumstances of meeting made me sound like a creepy stalker, had Mrs C in the role of Scouse car-parker and Lady D as a bitter and twisted control freak. (Well, she shouldn’t have interrupted). It’s like he knew us intimately. But seriously, his is a really good act, with terrific observations about relationships, confident delivery, great timing and very funny material.

Next up was Juliet Meyers, who we’ve seen twice before. The first time we saw her she really nailed her material and she was fantastic. The second time, she seemed to be off the boil somewhat and it never quite hit home. This time, she was again slightly under par but still good; she still likes to assess her audience with an early use of the “c” word – and it seems to me that the more we laugh at that, the more relaxed she becomes, and the more successfully the act as a whole develops. She’s a bright, in your face, likeable, attacking comic and, for the most part, her material went down well.

Last act was Mitch Benn, who we’ve never seen but of whom I’d definitely heard. He’s a man with a guitar and a lot of pluck, which is a useful combination. He did a song about Eurovision to which I bridled instinctively because no comedian is ever going to say anything complimentary about our blessed contest; but in fact it turned into a very clever and funny song about xenophobia, which not only insulted every country throughout Europe but also turned the prejudice on the singer – so that worked well. He had a tender little song that explains how men’s grunts and bodily function noises may be translated into terms of affection; and another that was an homage to the Very Hungry Caterpillar. With very good material, he kept the atmosphere very lively and the audience were loud and enthusiastic in their appreciation.

Quite a good turn-out but we could definitely do better. You must come to the next one!

Review – Last Night of the Derngate Proms, Royal Philharmonic Orchestra, Royal and Derngate, Northampton, 13th July 2014

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With the BBC Proms just around the corner – first night is Friday – what better way to wrap up this year’s classical season with the RPO than by having Northampton’s very own Last Night of the Proms. This is always a fun occasion, with a packed audience, lots of flag waving, and a programme full of old favourites so that there’ll always be something for everyone.

Our conductor this year was the jovial Owain Arwel Hughes, who conducted our Last Night of the Proms concert two years ago, and who we also saw take command of Fauré’s Requiem in 2011. He’s a very warm and friendly figure on the podium, enthusiastically communicating with his musicians, and with his shock of white hair and glasses perched on the end of his nose occasionally has something of a mad professor about him.

You can’t get much more of a lively start than Rossini’s William Tell overture. It galvanised the orchestra into a buzzing frenzy for its famous last section, and from my seat I could clearly see our First Violin Favourite Mr Russell Gilbert’s bow deftly darting over the waist of his violin whilst those of his colleagues doubtless did the same. Before all that, there was, however, a beautiful cello introduction to this piece, superbly played as always by Tim Gill.

Next, we were to enjoy the first contribution to the evening by the Northampton Bach Choir – a terrific performance of Zadok the Priest, full of power, crispness and joy. We could already tell the choir were going to be on great form. Then it was time for Fauré’s Pavane, beautifully and delicately played by the orchestra, expressing all its 19th century French elegance. One aspect of the Last Night programme is that it has many more individual pieces than normal, on average much shorter in length, which adds to the variety of the evening. It can also sometimes be a little frustrating though, when you hear a short piece that by rights should be part of a larger one – as in the next piece, the Hallelujah Chorus from Handel’s Messiah. Again the choir gave it a really good performance, but you felt a slight twinge of disappointment that there wasn’t more from the Messiah for our entertainment.

he last item before the interval, which certainly wasn’t an abridgement of anything else, was Rachmaninov’s Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini. With “Hallelujah” still ringing in our ears, it was time for that laborious moving aside of all the chairs and then lugging the Steinway onto the centre of the stage. “Why can’t it be there from the start?” asked Mrs Chrisparkle with more than a little petulance. “Well there would be no room for the conductor” I suggested. “But the conductor will still be there during the piano playing” she replied. I had no answer to that. The First Violins had all huddled by the entrance stairs, as if they’d nipped out for a quick fag break. Once everything was in place, Mr Hughes returned with our soloist for the evening, Danny Driver. What an incredible performer he is. Mr Driver played with such precision and attack that it took your breath away. Amongst all the keyboard gymnastics of the Rhapsody, there’s one stand-out variation that’s extremely lush and romantic, and feels very different from the rest of the piece. Mr Driver put his heart and soul into it – and it was just sumptuous to listen to. Mrs C and I were overwhelmed by how good he was; and the orchestra also gave him superb support in what was overall a stunning performance.

After a very pleasing Cab Sav break in the interval we returned for one of my favourite pieces of classical music, Borodin’s Polovtsian Dances from Prince Igor. The female voices from the choir stood out particularly well, and whatever it was they were singing, it wasn’t Stranger in Paradise. I did have to stop myself – only partly successfully – from singing along to all the Kismet tunes. I’m only human, after all. It was a really stirring performance, and a great way to start the second half.

Then we had yet another of my favourite pieces, Nimrod from the Enigma Variations. No other piece of classical music captures that warm, safe, noble feeling of deep friendship that you get in Nimrod; but like the Hallelujah Chorus earlier on, it definitely lost something by not being part of a full Enigma performance. Normally it has me choking back the tears, but not this time. A change of mood next for Parry’s I Was Glad, with the choir in full voice, and the orchestra nicely augmented by Alistair Young on the keyboard providing a full organ effect as if we were in a massive cathedral. Visually odd, aurally wonderful.

Into the home straight with the classic final sequence. Starting off with Sir Henry Wood, we had two movements from the British Sea Songs: Tom Bowling, with Tim Gill exquisitely teasing out the melody on his cello, and the Hornpipe, which, despite Mr Hughes’ plea to allow the instrumentalists to have “first go” before we all joined in, was instantly drowned out by a few noisy people in the boxes, one of whom may well have been the manic man from last year. Being an incorrigibly obedient person, I waited with my claps and stomps until Mr Hughes cued me in. Then it was straight into Rule Britannia, with just the chorus being sung by the choir – and by us of course. I couldn’t help notice that the man with the clear voice singing behind me made two classic errors – he sang “Britannia rules the waves” (shocking) and “Britain never never never shall be slaves” (dreadful). I’m afraid the Last Night of the Proms brings out all my pomp and circumstance. Next Jerusalem, favourite classical singalong song of mine since my English teacher used to love to play it on the organ at school assembly over forty years ago. Have you noticed, at Last Nights generally, you might get an encore of Rule Britannia, Land of Hope and Glory, or the Hornpipe, or all three – but never Jerusalem. I’d be happy to start a campaign for the inclusion of Jerusalem in the repeats.

The final scheduled piece was Elgar’s Pomp and Circumstance March No 1, the aforementioned Land of Hope and Glory, where we impressed Mr Hughes with our magnificent lungs. Well not perhaps the manic man in the side stalls, whose voice clattered over everyone else’s; at first I thought we’d been joined by Zippy from Rainbow. But it wasn’t the end – they’d kept back a very appropriate encore for Northampton with a fantastic rendition of When The Saints Go Marching In, with the choir giving it everything and the orchestra loving every minute of it. A superb way to round off the evening.

Looking ahead to next year’s season, there’s some great highlights but I note that there isn’t a Last Night planned for next summer; the final concert then will be an evening of John Williams’ film music. Hmmm. Not quite the same I feel. Bring back the Last Night for 2016!