The Auryn Quartet @ the RNCM

The Auryn Quartet
Manchester Chamber Concerts Society
Royal Northern College of Music, 15 November 2010

Photo credit: Manfred Esser

The Auryn Quartet consists of Matthias Lingenfelder and Jens Oppermann on violins, Stewart Eaton on viola and Andreas Arndt on cello.  Here they performed works by Janacek, Haydn and Beethoven.

They began with Janacek’s String Quartet No. 2 (1928).  The composer called this work ‘Intimate Letters’ since it takes as its subject his love and longing for a young married woman.  It is a stirring, tormented affair, absolutely engrossing.  In point of fact, Janacek’s desire was never reciprocated or indeed consummated.

Haydn’s String Quartet in D major, or ‘Famous Largo’, (1797) followed next.  Even some two centuries after its creation, this work seethed with vitality and life, especially in the central section.  Wonderful stuff.

The final piece was Beethoven’s String Quartet in E minor (1806), a complex and fretful work finely performed.

All in all, this was a terrific evening’s entertainment.  The Auryn Quartet are superb musicians and they gave confident and compelling performances of all these works.

This was one of a series of concerts organised by the Manchester Chamber Concerts Society.  For details of future concerts, click here.

The Auryn Quartet themselves have a website, which is here.

Cold to the Touch by Simon Strantzas

Cold to the Touch
By Simon Strantzas
Tartarus Press, July 2009
ISBN 978-1-905784-15-8

In the Afterword to this fine collection of stories the author identifies the key characteristic of horror fiction as the elicitation of fear, albeit of the subtle or vicarious kind.  He also speaks of writing – and of reading too – as a guided dream or a ‘lucid daydream’, a term apparently taken from Stephen King.  The words on the page make the author’s imaginings the reader’s own.  And certainly there is often a compulsion to writing, and to reading, though both are acts carried out in private by consenting adults.  There is complicity at work as well, especially acute perhaps when the imaginings in question are unsettling, transgressive and fraught with peril, as is the case here.

Many of these stories are about people who are driven to the margins because of a fear, an anxiety, that they cannot otherwise contain.  For the main someone in ‘Here’s to the Good Life’ horror is to be found in an everyday place (a rather sinister Irish pub) and in what one might call a customary social practice (getting pissed at the end of a working day).  But alongside the urge toward flight there is as well the need for human contact and connection; and ‘A Chorus of Yesterdays’ is a considered weighing up of these competing drives; it is also a formidably atmospheric tale.  And there’s an amusing or maybe a cruel paradox at play in this story, which is that in trying too hard to connect we can drive another away.

Another common thread: a lot of the stories here are about loved ones or friends who suddenly leave or are taken away.  There’s sometimes as well the possibility that they were never actually present in the first place, just imagined.  ’Fading Light’ is one of these stories: it is melancholic and a little mysterious.  Another one, ‘Poor Stephanie’, is more unsettling because of its ambience of coercion and implicit sexual/physical abuse.  ’The Other Village’ deals with unconscious intention and the startling realisation of one’s own capacity for evil and violence.  It has a fine engine this one, being superbly paced and as unpleasant as any Patricia Highsmith yarn.

Among the other riches herein are the title story, which for me evoked that terrific Howard Hawks film, The Thing from Another World (and yes I know Hawks doesn’t actually have the director credit for it) as well as Lovecraft and the Quatermass series.  In a way, it is about a failure to connect with the natural world, an unwillingness to succumb to enchantment and awe.  A story with a related theme, ‘Pinholes in Black Muslin’, concerns itself with the stars and life on earth, with environmental collapse and the very slim possibility of human survival.

Death, or more precisely dying, is the specific subject of two stories, both beautiful and curiously exhilarating.  In ‘Like Falling Snow’ a woman enters a hospice; this one’s about the strangeness of dying and is sort of Rilkean in tone.  ‘The Sweetest Song’ sees death as metamorphosis, transmigration, a step beyond: it is a ‘don’t fear the reaper’ story, if you like.  In between reading this story and writing the review I’ve seen Weerasethakul’s Uncle Boonmee film (the feature; I’ve not yet found the short) and that has a similar vibe.

One story, ‘Writing on the Wall’, suggests that complicity, like responsibility, is infinite.  This could conceivably be construed as an urgent and energising message.  Another, ‘A Seed on Barren Ground’, hints that there’s only so much vitality, good will and kindness to go around.  Giving exhausts the giver.  Finally or almost finally, ‘The Uninvited Guest’ reads like a riff on Poe’s ‘The Masque of the Red Death’, which is no bad thing.

Rewinding somewhat, the first story in the book, ‘Under the Overpass’, strikes me now (and suddenly) as the most personal and a coda to what follows.  There is an atrocity, a shared childhood secret.  There is guilt like a stain that cannot be removed  There’s absolutely no possibility of redemption.  All that good, non-cheery, serious stuff.

I could go on, but it would be better by far if you just got the book and read the stories.  They’re terrific.

The Turning Gate

The Turning Gate
(Saenghwal ui Balgyeon)
Directed by Hong Sangsoo
South Korea, 2002
Cornerhouse, 25 November 2010

Still from The Turning Gate

This is the final film by Hong Sangsoo in a short season of his films entitled ‘Between Men and Women’.

It is an apt title for the series since all of these films have been about the battle between the sexes, the difficulties that men and women experience in getting along.  Although it would be unfair to say that if you’ve seen one Hong Sangsoo film then you’ve seen them all, one can nevertheless point to certain common characteristics:

• Divided loyalties and/or a compromised situation: a married man (or woman) has an affair, say, or a man makes a play for his best friend’s girlfriend.
• Often, a recognition along the lines of ‘A girlfriend of mine did that’ or ‘I’ve said something like that in the past too’, as when the protagonist in The Turning Gate tells a woman that, for him, love means simply liking someone a lot - and she turns away from him, upset.
• Something that should be quite clear.  There cannot be a happy ending for everyone; it’s impossible.
• Conversations will most frequently take place in restaurants or in bed or via a mobile phone; the most important conversations anyway.
• When people insist on being believed, or are most passionate, they are lying.  Any promise made will be broken.
• The casual gesture is always significant; indeed, it can embody great sacrifice.
• Another formulation of the same thought: there are no casual gestures in Hong Sangsoo’s films.

The Turning Gate has, above all, a kind of unkempt authenticity.  It is a terrific film.

The World Encompassed @ the RNCM

The World Encompassed
Fretwork
Music by Orlando Gough and others
Royal Northern College of Music, 24 November 2010

Photo credit: Chris Dawes

This engrossing work effectively evokes Francis Drake’s voyage around the globe.

As with many British (or English) achievements, Drake didn’t go looking for it.  Plunder, treasure, bounty is what he wanted; but once he blundered into it, he muddled through to the end.  Accident, opportunity and no doubt boundless Elizabethan ambition made him great.

The music evoked many images in one’s mind, fragments of an imagined film of Drake’s journey.  Often, one thought of the motion of a ship at sea, its dependence on the current below and the wind in its sails, and one supposed that a ship never goes forward absolutely but always meanders somewhat.  (Though whether this is true or not I don’t know.)

On occasion, one thought of storms and near-sinkings and conflicts that may have developed into mutinies.  Certainly we know that Drake executed one of his officers, a certain Thomas Doughty, during the voyage.  A particular section of the work, characterised by a quickening tempo as of anxiety reawakened, gave the sense of a ship approaching fresh land and strange peoples.  We also heard hymns plaided throughout the work.  Faith is what we all need as we make our way through the world.

All in all, a wonderfully transporting experience.  It is good to come home, mind, a thought that may well have struck Drake too.

Fretwork’s website is here.

Matthew Bourne’s Cinderella

Matthew Bourne’s Cinderella
Music by Prokofiev
New Adventures
The Lowry, 23 November 2010

Set during the London blitz, when death could fall from the sky as easily as song, this is a dark reimagining of the classic fairytale.

It begins with a pre-COI film which warns that the greatest danger of falling victim to a bomb is simply to stand, staring into the sky.  But if an angel puts an hand on your shoulder, perhaps that’s what you are most wont to do.

Everything about this production enchants and delights: the set, the lighting, the costumes, the sound effects (bomb blasts and anti-air raid sirens, etc.) and above all, of course, the dancing.  The middle section, set in a swish dive as bombs rain down overhead, is especially compelling.  As a counterpoint to the dancing, we have a new character: a serviceman – apparently an airman – in a wheelchair.

There’s as well here a smidgeon of foot fetishism (with those slippers, what would you expect?) and a gay coupling (due no doubt to the plentiful supply of oversexed Yanks that Quentin Crisp raved about), alongside the main love story.  Oh, and some fearsome men in gas masks.

This is a terrific production of Cinderella which delivers a strikingly new interpretation of Prokofiev’s score.  However, it’s probably not suitable for children.  So be warned.

Matthew Bourne’s Cinderella is appearing at The Lowry until 27 November.  Further details are here.

And  some UK tour dates are here.

Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives

Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives
(Loong Boonmee raleuk chat)
Directed by Apichatpong Weerasethakul
Thailand, 2010
Cornerhouse, 21 November 2010

Still from Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives

Weerasethakul’s extraordinary film perplexes and rewards the viewer.

It is an experience well worth having, I’d say, though at film’s end it is likely that you’ll still be perplexed somewhat.

The film is gorgeous to look at and the Thai countryside is ravishing.  In this curious world ghosts appear at dinner tables, waiting until dessert is served out of courtesy, and catfish court princesses.  Can we call this a panpsychic universe, or perhaps simply a Buddhist one?  At any rate it seems quite alien to the modern Western world, which is certainly part of the film’s appeal.

There is one scene towards the end, mind, where a Buddhist monk changes from his orange robe into jeans, t-shirt and trainers, that we can all recognise.  An incredibly compelling and well-crafted scene it is too, though it also has its own strangeness.  That scene seems to be characteristic of Weerasethakul’s work as a whole: we never know the rules he is playing by, the ontological assumptions he is making.  As viewers we always have work to do, stuff we have to figure out.

Now someone tell me this: where can I see Weerasethakul’s  A Letter to Uncle Boonmee, the short film that led on to this fine feature?

Chico & Rita

Chico & Rita
Directed by Javier Mariscal and Fernando Trueba
Spain & UK, 2010
Cornerhouse, 21 November 2010

Still from Chico & Rita

A film that is as stunning, sumptuous and seductive as Rita herself.

It is a love story set in the Bebop era, the two lovers meeting in Havana and later travelling to New York.

There are many gorgeous animated fugues, with Chico’s Casablanca-inspired dream sequence being the outstanding solo.

The music – smooth Bebop jazz – is terrific.  More than that, though, it is the overall look and feel of the film that impresses.  This is a world you’d want to live in; these are people you’d want to meet.

And all are drawn with a melodic line that would have made Dizzy proud.

The film has its own website, which looks as scrumptious as the film.  Check it out  here.

Sweeney Todd – His Life, Times and Execution

Sweeney Todd – His Life, Times and Execution
Finger in the Pie
The Lowry, 18 November 2010

This is a gothic tabloid retelling of the tale of England’s most notorious serial killer.

It is dark, lewd, vulgar and ever so slightly visceral.  If Thomas Lovell Beddoes, Jack Trevor Story and Ronald Firbank had got together they might well have come up with something like this.

A certain Mrs. (or Miss) Lovitt was the outstanding turn, she being all insatiable and bawdy and earthy, but this lady was only one of a host of grotesqueries.  There were a couple of fatally wounded duellists too, each one determined to have the last… word.

The shadow-play and puppetry added to the variety of the show, but mainly it was the outrageous acting that held it all together.  We got lashings of mock-fighting, the odd dollop of mock-sex and not a little blood and gore.

Sweeney Todd – His Life, Times and Execution is terrific, all-round entertainment and as English as, as… well, murder itself.  And you can’t beat a good, full-blooded English murder, as George Orwell might once have said.

 Sweeney Todd – His Life, Times and Execution is at The Lowry until 20 November.  Details here.

And some other UK dates are here.

The Bacchae by Euripides

The Bacchae
By Euripides
In a new version by Mike Poulton
Royal Exchange Theatre, 17 November 2010

Jotham Annan as Dionysus. Photo - Jonathan Keenan

To what extent should our lives be governed by the pursuit of pleasure, sensation and ecstasy?

Euripides’ great play about the Bacchae, those sluttish slaves of Dionysus, explores this and other similar questions.

In the main, it recounts the fate of Pentheus (brightly played by Sam Alexander), a nobleman brought low by erotomania.

There is a vibrant power to the dance in this production and Jotham Annan, as the god Dionysus, has a real swagger and presence.  But Mike Poulton’s version of the text seems to Christianise Euripides too much.  We get references to ‘first communion’ and whatnot.  Can you distort the source text of a great play by making it too accessible, by pandering to an audience’s pre-existing cultural notions?  That is a question worth pondering.

At any rate, there is enough intelligible strangeness to this version of The Bacchae to make it well worth seeing.  And do read some of James Hillman’s writings on the Greek gods, he brings them fully to life.

The Bacchae is at the Royal Exchange until 4 December.  Details here.

We Are What We Are

We Are What We Are
Somos lo que hay
Directed by Jorge Michel Grau
Mexico, 2010
Cornerhouse, 12 November 2010

Still from We Are What We Are

When the father of a family of cannibals kicks the bucket, the remaining members (the family members, that is, not the store of food laying in the fridge) wrestle for control and leadership of the pack.

Perhaps a better title might have been We Are What We Eat and, in fact, this brood is very particular when it comes to human flesh.  They’re not too keen on the flesh of prostitutes or gay men.

Here are some good things about the film.  It has an atmospheric Mexican flavour and a visceral, blood and gore quality.  Many of the images and characters could have come straight from an Eduardo Risso comic book.  There’s a weird pathologist/embalmer, a couple of hard-boiled cops, a troupe of prostitutes who look after each other like the yeggs in You Can’t Win.  Enrico Chapela’s music – dissonant and disturbing – is also a big plus.

Unfortunately, it has an unremarkable storyline.  Stuff happens, but nothing much surprising.

This is a film that’s often terrific to look at, being tenebrous to a tee, but it doesn’t really take you anywhere special.