Irish Times writers review the Michael Garrick Trio at the Bank of Ireland Arts Centre, Ballet Spectacular at the Cork Opera House, Revenge at the Belfast Assembly Rooms and My Fair Lady at the Gaiety.
Michael Garrick Trio
Bank of Ireland Arts Centre, Dublin
Ray Comiskey
For years I've been urging anyone who would listen to bring Michael Garrick here, and the celebrated British pianist/composer finally made his Dublin début this week, courtesy of the Dublin Jazz Society. Whether it was the abundance of jazz visitors to the capital lately - another New York group, David Binney's, was due here the next day - or a resistance to non-American jazz musicians, or the fact that the only booze the venue offers is wine, or some other reason, the turnout to hear a musician of this stature was disappointing.
But those who attended - including several prominent local players, were treated to an excellent concert by a master of the trio format. With Garrick were the hugely impressive Paul Moylan (bass) and Alan Jackson (drums), and although there was a degree of looseness in the playing early on, they settled into the kind of groove that made it clear this was a group thoroughly familiar with each other's playing.
The pianist's influences, notably those of Duke Ellington and Bill Evans, are not obvious in his approach, which is an orchestral one. Nor is he an aggressive player; despite an ability to swing hard, he treated the material with a gently sophisticated subtlety, touched at times with an impish sense of fun. And while the occasional standard such as Gone With the Wind, the beautifully reharmonised Darn That Dream and Moonglow, as well as a grooving In A Mellotone, allowed a greater appreciation of his capacity for transforming the familiar, the repertoire also ventured beyond that. Besides his strong, characterful originals, it included a Swedish folk song, She's Like a Swallow, and such seldom-played pieces as Oleo, Dolphin Dance, and, in a surprising exhibition of his beginnings, Pine Top's Boogie Woogie.
Some of the finest playing, individual and collective, was for his own compositions, however. This was particularly true of the ominously atmospheric Black Marigolds, The Trees (inspired by a Philip Larkin poem), the elegant A Lady in Waiting and the romping Midsummer Departure which brought things to a close. Overall, it was as lyrical and musicianly a demonstration of fine craftsmanship as the venue has hosted this year.
Ballet Spectacular
Cork Opera House
Michael Seaver
With restraint and stuffiness the norm, it made a change to be in the midst of an exuberant and youthful ballet audience at Cork City Ballet's opening night. Fouettés were cheered mid-sequence, mishaps greeted with "aww!" and each piece received with genuine enjoyment. It couldn't disguise, however, the unevenness of a varied programme that held new works next to classics and the finest professional dancers next to students.
The relentless unison in Jane Kellaghan's orientalist Veiled Illuminations stripped texture from the choreography and exposed weaknesses of ensemble, a trait also evident in the simplistic Rainwater by Judith Sibly. They sandwiched Petipa's Don Quixote gran pas de deux, which introduced guest artists Chika Temma and Zhannat Atymtayev. A crowd-pleasing tour de force that is regularly presented independently of the ballet, this duet requires strong technique and joyousness that Temma almost perfectly realised. The duo returned later in the night with Balanchine's Tchaikovsky Pas De Deux from 1960. Particularly associated with Violette Verdy and Edward Villella, this interpretation was not for purists (small Balanchine details were absent), but still contained enough virtuosity to impress.
The most notable new work was Patricia Crosbie's Eva, with music by Van Morrison. Concise, lucid and effectively choreographed for the four female performers, it had natural phrasing and clear emotional weight, qualities also found in the opening solo of Alan Foley's Salut D'Amour. Strong choreography drew keen performances in Royston Maldoom's Celebration, but it was the final item, a suite from Act 2 of Swan Lake, that drew the best performance. The role of Odette demands stratified characterisation, from initial fear to love and idealism, and Monica Loughman allows the changes to subtly pass through her. She never veers towards melodrama, but captures just the right blend of dignity, vulnerability and poise. Young professional dancers and students mixed uneasily in this work, but like everything else we saw, it was graced with effective costumes and Paul Denby's lighting, which freshened each of the eight works.
Tours to Siamsa Tíre today, UCH, Limerick (Fri) and The Helix (Sat)
Revenge
Belfast Assembly Rooms
Jane Coyle
It is Hallowe'en, when the spirits of the dead emerge into the world of the living, permitting free entry to the shadowy country which they inhabit. A wedding is taking place between two people, who are clearly in love and devoted to each other. But, in the eyes of the groom's father, this union is an ugly, damaged pastiche of something far more beautiful, belonging to another time. He is a man tormented beyond coherence by the memory of a terrible event, which shattered his family and condemned his handsome son David to a life sentence inside a broken, blinded body. He is a constant reminder of the day that a lovely girl was blown to smithereens by a terrorist bomb.
Nine years after the first ceasefires, the troubled legacy lingers on. Michael Duke's richly textured story of physical, political, spiritual and psychological fall-out is directed with cool control and stillness by Anna Newell for Tinderbox.
She beautifully captures the lack of physical contact within this family, while allowing glimmers of sexual attraction and dark humour to break through. Each character has his or her own private place of refuge - Marcella Riordan's Mother has retreated into religion, Al Logan's Grandfather is insulated by memory loss, David's young brother is lost in a sea of confusion, while David - Ruairí Tohill and Michael Condron - has found happiness with Abigail McGibbon's Bride with which to fend off his father's contempt.
Newell has boldly created an unlikeable central character in Kieran Ahern's obsessive Father. Impervious to his family's feelings, he submits to the urgings of the Morrigan-like trio of Brigid Erin Bates, Libby Smyth and the wonderful Barbara Adair, with their accompanying Chorus of Spirits, to relive the day that history stole from him. Neil Martin's mesmerising soundscape reaches out and encases this meeting of living and dead, which has been verbally recalled in minute detail in an emotional exchange between father and son. But they reckon without the summoning of one particularly unwelcome guest, whom the old woman insists must be included in the party. She offers the parents a chance to deliver him into her care and effect a kind of rough justice. The choice is an agonising one, faced by so many in this society - the betrayal of their dead or the betrayal of their children. Humanity triumphs - just - and this tenderly written landmark play hints at the possibility of standing straight and tall, while forever feeling utterly alone.
Runs until April 3rd, then tours
My Fair Lady
Gaiety Theatre, Dublin
Gerry Colgan
It would be a brash reviewer who would suggest the status of My Fair Lady has been diminished one whit by the 48 years since its Broadway première. Alan Jay Lerner's book and lyrics are solidly based on one of George Bernard Shaw's best plays, Pygmalion, in turn derived from a Greek legend. The literary provenance gives structure and depth to the story.
Then there is the wonderful music by Frederick Loewe that combines with his partner's words to create melodious and captivating songs. They come lilting off the stage, a continuous pleasure to the ear, witty and sophisticated.
But if the work is critic-proof, there may always be something in the production to facilitate the waspish comment. Here too, however, the misanthrope is defeated, because this Rathmines and Rathgar Musical Society outing is so in tune with the material that one can only acknowledge the fusion of diverse talents that underpins a memorable evening's entertainment.
Garry Mountaine is a brilliant Henry Higgins, carrying the character, songs and monologues with élan. His I've Grown Accustomed To Her Face, sees him deliciously humbled, and ends the show atmospherically. Eliza Doolittle, as played persuasively by Roisin Sullivan, sings beautifully, favourites being Show Me and I Can Do Very Well Without You. Gormless Freddy is well taken by Paul Byrom, and Pacelli O'Rourke's Alfred Doolittle is authoritative.
But then everyone of the large cast (of over 50) on stage, including an exceptional chorus, sprightly dancers and character actors achieves excellence of a high degree. For this, director Noel McDonagh must be awarded the top laurels. A full orchestra, conducted by the energetic Gearoid Grant, is precise and harmonious, with some fine flourishes from the brass.
It is a long evening, about three hours, but I wouldn't shorten it by a note. It was really loverly.
Runs until April 3rd
