Monday, 24 November 2008

Richard Hickox 1948-2008

Framescourer is deeply saddened to learn of the sudden death of British conductor Richard Hickox.

Monday, 17 November 2008

Tokyo! at the NFT


onedotzero, the itinerant digital motion picture showcase, came to the Southbank last week with a number of presentations. This one is a collection of three mini-features, all about half an hour long, in and about the Japanese capital. As far as I can see, it's the most significant piece by Michel Gondry since the amiable but abject Be Kind Rewind and whilst the pacing isn't perfect, it's still sharp and funny. You can read what I thought of all three films here.

Monday, 10 November 2008

Boris Godunov at ENO

I've just returned from the first performance of English National Opera's new production of Boris Godunov, the political psychodrama by Mussorgsky. ENO have decided on performing the work without a break. That means 2¼ hours of peroration-led drama, which could be rather testing for the audience.

It's not at all bad. Peter Rose's Boris sings with beautiful diction and he's a substantial figure on stage too - his dialogue with John Graham-Hall's Mandelsonian Shuisky is a complex study of the crippling forces of power, paranoia and genuine mental imbalance. Arguably the best singing comes from Brindley Sherratt's Pimen, totemic and clear. Very moving. I'd also want to commend Robert Murray's Simpleton, beautifully sung whenever he's not having to dash about.

The big achievement of the evening though (and, frankly, it's colossal) is the conducting of ENO Music Director Edward Gardner. Cav & Pag hadn't prepared me for this. He doesn't so much nail the score as build an entire Dacha from scratch. This is world-class conducting, organic and assured, dredging great pathos and narrative lyricism from the pit alone. The orchestra play very well for him (I'm not sure that the bells, whilst affecting, are particularly convincing - there's a mixture of recorded sounds and foundry-slapping up near the balcony. But this is a typical issue with this opera and not of particularly great importance).

The production is an unfussy, period affair, a single set with large doors creating their own vistas and prosceniums. Similarly with the dramatic but discreet lighting. The stage floor looks rather like a freshly ploughed field but dessicated; a Godforsaken plot in which no crops can grow and whence there is no food for the fickle, whining masses. It hadn't occurred to me how Oedipal (as in Sophocles, not Freud) Boris Godunov is, with it's chorus moving between pleading and indignation but always with judicious self-possession.

So, 2¼ hours later... It's a little bare to be overwhelming really (although Jonathan Veira's spirited Varlaam does make a good fist of re-energising the fourth scene) but Edward Gardner's beautifully calibrated lyricism is enough to carry the piece through this considerable span.

St Paul's Projection Installation

The Question Mark Inside is a multiple installation projection artwork by Martin Firrell, based on and around St Paul's Cathedral. This is a grubby cameraphone videoclip of the installation on the west front of the cathedral at night:



(I agree, I really have to upgrade my cameraphone.) The slogans that appear in the centre of the picture are adapted from ideas sent to Firrell's blog specially set up to harvest opinion and thoughts directed towards this exhibit. If you want to get a sense of the scale and size of the west front of St Paul's Cathedral you might want to have a look at the opening of this rudimentary but entertaining music video I created a couple of years ago which incorporates the building at the beginning.

Saturday, 8 November 2008

Portishead Third peripherals

It's Third evening chez Framescourer which basically means trawling the interweb for live, alternative and video-amalgamated performances of the album. Here's their official You Tube site which, charcteristically, isn't terribly helpful (at first glance) and their MySpace page for the Third which is little better.

Bring on the fans.

This dude has a library's worth of material (i.e. his account is minutes away from suspension, I fear) including live performance sessions on Radios 1 & 2 and Jools Holland's show, a number of Current TV videos (Portishead's version of Radiohead's Scotch Mist series of studioy videos) and videos from the special edition of the album. One of the latter is a nightmarish, free-flowing animation video by Nick Uff (who also created the video for The Rip) which looks like this:

Elektra at the Royal Opera House



I managed to land a ticket for the General Rehearsal for this run of Strauss' one act masterpiece (the run proper began an hour and a half ago), although whether anyone should really be watching, let alone performing Grade A self-immolatingly romantic psychodrama like this before lunch on a weekday is a moot point. I can point you in its direction whole-heartedly: even if this was an underpowered, rehearsal-tethered outing of the opera it was pretty dangerous. Susan Bullock promises to sing the title role out of the ball park and she's joined with a first-class Klytemnestra in Jane Henschel, and Johan Reuter as Orestes, obviously the knight-in-shining armour du jour at Covent Garden. Anne Schwanewilms will never quite dislodge the experience of seeing Karita Mattila as Chrysothemis in this house from my mind but - again, even if she was only operating at 70% - her singing is pretty glorious. Nice to see Alfie Boe, slumming it with other regular opera stars. I liked his contribution as I did those of Miriam Murphy and the short-strawed Eri Nakamura, required to spend most of the opera lying bloodied on the stage.

If I've got one reservation with the piece, it's the late appearance of Aegisthus who has to be charmed into the slaughter that Orestes has already started. It threatens to hold the drama up, as much in the score as on the stage, although I feel that director Charles Edwards manages it effectively. His fixed-set production is set loosely in the 1930s. I'm always a little wary of Weimar to Third Reich period affectation in productions whose associations have a tendency to swamp any other intentions of the actual pieces adopting them. However, Edwards manages to be sufficiently indeterminate and discreet in his use of symbols, costuming and set, as well as using Sophoclean elements, to reposition the story at the top of the experience.

This performance was a dress rehearsal, which comes with all the attendant caveats about performances being undercooked. Where that's not applicable to the hellfire blazing on stage on Tuesday, things were different in the pit. However, my experience of the music at Covent Garden is one which is notable for its consistency and I'm sure that the orchestra will be galvanised by the first night. If Mark Elder's exhausted curtain call is anything to go by the first night will be triumphant.

Friday, 7 November 2008

Guardian Jazz covers Radiohead

Today The Guardian has a Jazz special as its Film & Music Friday supplement. Several Jazz notables have been given permission to attempt their own covers of Radiohead's Nude (from In Rainbows) which one can listen to or even download through The Guardian website.

I'm interested to see that no mention is made in the article of Eliza Lumley's She Talks In Maths, a disc of Radiohead cover versions released in 2007. I admit to only having a lukewarm interest in these covers which largely fail to capitalise on the original's potential (that'll be why The Guardian doesn't mention it then - Ed.!), and of course, In Rainbows was released after She Talks In Maths. However, Nude is a song, and for all that a Radiohead lyric may be said to be elliptic, interpreting the text has it's place which isn't fully explored by only one of The Guardian covers being sung.

In the meantime, here's a very different but IMHO successful take on it:


Thursday, 6 November 2008

Sam Taylor-Wood single (!)

... as a corollary to the previous post, here's the 'video' for her new single I'm In Love With A German Film Star, produced by the Pet Shop Boys:



Well, since you ask, I don't dislike it. It's got the same simple, undulating melodic line as The Beatles' I Am The Walrus, a distorted but homogenised soundscape which is not dissimilar to the sonic backwash of My Bloody Valentine's celebrated pre-BritPop albums and a distinct, upfront keyboard and drum machine patina that's typical of Pet Shop Boys themselves.

UPDATE: A year or so after I first saw this video, it inspired me to create a similar video for a friend's composition.


Wednesday, 5 November 2008

Sam Taylor-Wood 'Yes I No'

The White Cube gallery has taken over a disused retail site on Covent Garden to display a site-specific photographic installation, Yes I No, by Sam Taylor-Wood. It's a large space split for the exhibition by an upper mezzanine. On the one hand it look like a poorly reconstructed Victorian building where the threat of damp or collapse might be more of a promise. However there is a steel-and-glass lift in a corner which would suggest that the shell is rather more surface.

Either way it is a good, light space for these photographs, particularly the Self-Portrait series. I liked the colour of the balloons in the bleached monochrome of the building. Not only the colour but the purposefulness - the perkiness - of the balloons holding the artist's consciousless body free of the ground made me look over my shoulder as I've already described - what's holding up this derelict place.

I was less enamored by the clowns (I thought the photographic prints were a little compromised and, under glass and lit by spotlight, therefore imperfect for viewing). Much more interesting was the juxtaposition of the alternative but congruent settings in which the photographs had been shot. I recognise the need for a focal figure to offset and season the prints but I didn't really understand the need for clowns-in-themselves.

It's a good place to go if you've time, which I didn't have. Sam Taylor-Woods' work often repays a some time (her rotten fruit timelapse film Still Life (2001) in the Tate's collection makes a subject of it) and ruminating on the composition as well as the content of her work is an important part of the experience. Having said that, Yes I No is now closed...

Tuesday, 4 November 2008

The Rape of Lucretia - Aldeburgh @ King's Place

King's Place, the shiny new performing and gallery space, a stone's throw from King's Cross and St Pancras Stations, has been open for a month. Consequently performers are still grappling with its benefits and drawbacks - and those attending concerts are doing the same. This evening's concert performance of The Rape of Lucretia, whilst musically and dramatically manicured, was sonically distended in the hall. The soloists, singing in front of the chamber orchestra, were often charged down by the present orchestral sound - or rather charged up, as one could clearly hear the voices balanced up towards the capacious ceiling.

This is a marginal, if consistent grumble and not enough to change the character or experience of this performance. David Parry gave us a brisk Lucretia, in keeping with it's formal, perhaps monumental character (of which more later). The orchestra play with precision and vigour. The cast, in concert dress, are split across the stage, James Greer and Robyn Driedger-Klassen's chorus on one and the named characters on the other. I disagree with The Guardian's Rian Evans about the nature of the staging, albeit in a subtle way. I don't think that the chorus become involved in the drama, but rather that the entire cast, whilst acting the drama, are closer to declaiming it. There is no division between cast and commentary.

Stephen Mumbert is an insipid Junius, all (scheming) talk and no trousers; Allen Boxer a noble Collatinus. Benedict Nelson's Tarquinius is quite a treat, vocally, with pride and sonic power signposting the disaster ahead (from my position his lust often boiled over into insanity though, which might not be what he was aiming for).

Jillian Yemen and Eve-Lyn de la Haye are comparable counterparts to Blythe Gaissert's absolutely ideal Lucretia. By the end of the evening I found that I had little sympathy for anyone, despite the clear injustices - I don't know whether Gaissert's intention was to invoke enough hubris in her Lucretia and her relationship with Collatinus to allow tempering schadenfreude to enter the audience's mind but it happened with me. As I've pointed out, the chorus simply repeat, or perhaps translate the emotional content of the cast - James Geer was most affecting and Robyn Driedger-Klassen's singing was fine.

Lucretia's a difficult opera though. A 'Greek' tale of political struggle, it cannot fail to be a vehicle for Britten's own reflection's on the recent World War. Indeed, throughout its robust formality there are snatches of pathos and satire - Bach in chorales and an oboe de caccia threnody, and pastiche dances and marches - which also appear in the later, more considered War Requiem. The opera, a stark fable, finishes with an almost schizophrenic wailing at the metaphysical: the female chorus begs the audience to decide if it 'is all', which it clearly has been on the basis of what we have seen; only for the male chorus to suddenly bring the gospel to the show and promise Christian salvation. But evangelising hope after the fact, especially in this Looney Tunes, 'that's not all folks!' tacked-on manner does nothing to alleviate the misery of the present company - neither is it sufficiently explicit in linking of the tale to modern armed conflict.

The rape of Europe, of innocence by the overcranked, baited cockfighter is lost. All this company could do was to try and present the score well and in this they succeeded.

Sunday, 2 November 2008

No Man's Land at the Duke Of York's

Small theatre, four very large personalities (well, three until you realise that the least recognisable, Nick Dunning, is far from out of his depth). I went in having been awed by The Birthday Party and bored by The Caretaker - in other words, ignorant.

In two acts, Michael Gambon's Hirst first drinks his way through reticent after-hours conversation with a lowly guest, Spooner (David Bradley) before goading and growling at him in the second. It's an object lesson in how to be a rude, self-interested host beneath the thinnest pretence of courtesy.

Yet both men are poets, it emerges, and the dreaful insecurities and nebulous existential truths coming home to roost for Hirst are offset by this abused comrade. He sees the danger in a couple of thugs, usurpers and puppeteers more sinister and dangerous than any rudeness on Hirst's part. Bradley's great moment is a peroration at the end in which he begs for the opportunity to take up a position in Hirst's employ. In humble opposition to the leech-like son-figure of David Walliams' Foster or Nick Dunning's manipulative manservant Briggs he offers self-deprecating companionship and service to a man who needs it, though he may not deserve it. It's intense but far from hectoring.

This production is all done in a single set with some very carefully arranged lighting. The 'subliminal' music is superfluous - it might as well be coming from St. Martin's Lane. Best of all I liked the set design, rather modern but with a thick burgundy carpet and an echt-1970s bar at its centre (groaning with drink), a melange in tune with the temperamentally layered script. The Duke Of York's theatre seating is fantastically uncomfortable in the great, enduring tradition of impecunious West End theatres though.