Irish Times writers review the latest offerings from the arts world.
Cassard, O'Conor, Siirala, RIAM SO/Cavanagh, NCH, Dublin
Mozart - Andante and variations in G K501. Sonata in F K497. Sonata in D for two pianos. Concerto in E flat for two pianos K365. Concerto in F for three pianos K242
Mozart scaled the heights in his works for multiple pianists. And the Winners' Mozart programme, presented by the AXA Dublin International Piano Competition, included three very differently constituted compositional peaks - the Sonata in F for piano duet, the Sonata in D for two pianos, and the Concerto in E flat for two pianos.
Playing the permutations and combinations game with three pianists - here, John O'Conor, Philippe Cassard and Antti Siirala - in a programme of this repertoire is not a new idea. But it's one that works to perfection.
Mozart knew that no two performers given the same two bars of music will ever manage to play it in exactly the same way. He takes their differences for granted, differences which, of course, are heightened by the individuality of two pianos and the side-effects of any venue's acoustics. Simply put, Mozart delighted in having players shadow, echo, and imitate each other with all the variety that human nature provides. And he delighted also in the occasional layer of embellishment that sounds momentarily implausible, given the number of fingers actually required.
The programme put the lesser music at either end of the evening. Antti Siirala and John O'Conor's performance of the Variations in G for piano duet did not go far beyond making the music sound pretty. And the Concerto in F for three pianos is a light piece. It's actually more of a spectacle for the eye than for the ears. There may be three pianos on stage, but one of the solo parts was so intentionally simple that Mozart had little to do to when he chose to turn it into another two-piano concerto.
The rest of the evening, however, was given over to works that simply take the breath away through their compositional virtuosity, varied range of expression, and unfettered sensuality. The players (O'Conor and Cassard in the two-piano sonata, Siirala and Cassard in the others) took to it in a spirit of co-operative dialogue rather than competition, with the youngest, Antti Siirala, winner of the 2003 AXA Competition, producing the playing of most consistent and stylish Mozartean poise. - Michael Dervan
How High Is Up? The Ark, Temple Bar
TEAM Educational Theatre Company has aimed its new play, written by Brendan Murray, at children about six to eight years, but its lack of condescension could enable those age parameters to be broadened. The surface simplicity disguises the breadth of its theme.
The story is triggered and forwarded by an old woman talking to an alter ego - moon and sun - and looking through a telescope into a glass case. In it there is a garden, with a girl and her guardian, who is old and close to death. She rebels against this knowledge and, with a comical avian companion, sets out to find a way to stop time and thus preserve her mentor.
They go in search of three distant wizards, and she begins to learn the realities of life. If time stops, nothing can grow or change, the sun and moon will no longer dance across the heavens. Life never stands still, and endings create new beginnings. Even loss, with its sadness, is a necessary part of nature as life renews itself.
The production achieves its goals by first entertaining its audiences, seducing them with colour and comedy. As the characters move through the changing scenes, laughter is generated by the sun-moon duo, the bird-companion and some of the wizardry. Connections are made; each of the wizards is clearly the old guardian transformed, echoing his thoughts. The cycle of life is celebrated through magic, music and movement.
The actors (Sinead Murphy, Jill Murphy, Karl Quinn and Sean Duggan) are delightfully into their roles. Thomas de Mallet Burgess directs against Carol Betera's atmospheric set design and costumes. It is a show that unobtrusively stretches the minds and imagination of its youthful patrons. - Gerry Colgan
• Until Mar 11
Damian "Junior Gong" Marley, Olympia, Dublin
The youngest male in the Marley pack doesn't sound much like his Pops. His gravelly voice, with a deep Jamaican accent, has little in common with Bob's melodic hum. Damian is the product of the reggae icon's relationship with Cindy Breakspeare, a former Miss World and jazz musician. Bob had 10 kids with eight women and adopted another two. Just three years old when his dad died, Damian has close ties with his siblings despite not growing up with any of them. His half-brother Stephen produced and features on his latest album, Welcome to Jamrock, which has helped fuel the current Afro-Caribbean mini-explosion.
Kicking off his European tour in Dublin, Damian, whose dreadlocks almost reached his knees, came complete with a bass player, guitarist, keyboard players and backing singers. "Irish and Jamaicans are one and the same," he pronounced early on, while the crowd roared back their demand for a rendition of his latest album's title track, the radio hit everyone showed up to hear. Welcome to Jamrock, a blast of rage at the inequalities in Jamaica, finally came in the encore as Damian sang about tourists relaxing on Jamaican beaches while kids shoot each other and people starve just a few miles away.
His style could never be described as straight-up reggae; Damian veers all over the place from skank to dancehall to hip-hop. But he's happy to let his Rasta roots shine in the form of his anti-abortion, anti-adoption anthem For the Babies. This pro-life rant (he has also condemned bleached skin and oral sex in the past), "you're raffling and jacketing and auctioning your babies", was well received by the crowd.
But it's his deliverance of cutting political tirades and willingness to experiment with digital and live instrumentation as well as various musical genres that's fast defining him as the most musically diverse Marley. He sees reggae music as "the voice against oppression and struggle" and seems placed to continue the Marley legacy. - Ali Bracken
Goldfrapp, Olympia Theatre, Dublin
With a swish of her horse's tail, Alison Goldfrapp has put the pop world under her electro-magnetic spell, and used her animal instincts to seduce a new generation of disco disciples. She's gone from ambient ice-queen to hot 'n' steamy synth-pop siren in the space of three albums, and her live shows have grown into erotic cabaret revues featuring horses' tails, animal heads and tit-tassels. Alas, she's left behind the naughty props for this tour, but her voice, which goes from sultry sigh to orgasmic wail, offers more than enough aural pleasure.
There may not be ladies in lingerie onstage, but there is a beardy violinist in a billowing jumpsuit who looks like he's come straight out of ELO, a bassist who looks like he belongs in Frankie Goes to Hollywood, and a synth player who looks like Suzi Quatro in a space suit. Goldfrapp sports plain black jeans and top, topped with a pink batwing cardie that flutters in the breeze of an onstage fan. Utopia sees her scream like a banshee in heat or a mermaid flirting with a whale, while Lovely Head finds her wrapping her voice like a snake around the sensuous, cerebral lyrics.
After this chilled-out warm-up, the old-fashioned electro sounds start to crank up, and we're into the galloping rhythm of Train, the synths sounding like velcro being torn from bare flesh. Songs from the new album, Supernature, show that Goldfrapp's Moog mood isn't just a phase she's going through; Slide In is a piston-whipping ode to the machine, while Fly Me Away and Koko revel in the synthesizer settings of the past. Satin Chic has Goldfrapp playing Marlene Dietrich, and Ride a White Horse is a nod to an erotic elf of yore - Marc Bolan.
But enough of the foreplay - Ooh La La lays it out on a straightforward disco beat, Number 1 brings out the beast, and Strict Machine gives it a sound, sexy thrashing. Pop music has a new mistress, and she's cruel but compulsive. - Kevin Courtney
Chinese State Circus, Everyman Palace, Cork
Magic, mysteries and a medieval tradition of entertainment are the key ingredients of the Chinese State Circus which, despite its large ensemble of artists, manages to create an atmosphere of intimate enchantment.
Much of this is due to the exuberance of the performers who display their skills with a mixture of pride and good humour. Pride in their prowess, but also in the culture from which it has been developed into a touring entertainment. It has to be said that this remains enigmatic, as the recorded narration comes in several voices, none distinct but all presumed to be coming from the engaging Monkey King who introduces and often ends each act.
It's not just a matter of flying daggers and dancing lions; the phenomenal big-banner juggling sets the pattern for the jar-juggling and the pole jumping, while acrobats and contortionists dazzle their way through high-piled hoops or suspend themselves - perhaps by their toe-nails - from poles and riggings. The Shaolin Wu-Shu warriors rattle their tin-foil sabres without much conviction until they begin the serious business of brick-breaking and block-chopping on one another's heads and chests, but their densely-choreographed displays of King-Fu arts seem miracles of timing and agility. Strength is also on display, so is mind-bending body-bending.
This is a show with many gasp-inducing feats, not least the nonchalance of the loose-wire walker. But although outside the cultural range of most Western audiences, it is also an experience of real charm, with its episodes from the Peking Opera (even the costumes perform) and its inclusion of such delightful elements as the Lion Dance and the "mystery known as 100 faces". This is a circus as the Chinese know it, offering fun and amazement to all ages, and provided here as an example of an ethos in which strength, technique, discipline and artistry are presented not just with finesse but with grace and generosity. - Mary Leland
• Until Sat
