Irish Times reviewers see Morrissey at Dublin Castle, a Russian version of the life of Peter The Great at the Granary, a Verdi opera in Strangford and National Symphony Orchestra conducted by David Brophy
Morrissey, Dublin Castle
There's an air of a village fete in the grounds of Dublin Castle on Saturday night as the townsfolk wait for Mr Stephen Patrick Morrissey to provide some early evening entertainment, and possibly announce the winner of the best-quiff competition.
A sign saying "Moriarty Tribunal" was still stuck to the outer wall, but on Saturday night it's the Morrissey tribunal, and we're here to enquire whether Moz is still the chairman of the indie board, or whether he's just a figurehead of a long-bankrupt genre.
A giant Las Vegas "Morrissey" is unveiled at the back of the stage, and here comes the bequiffed old lag himself, sporting a silver-and-black brocade blazer and looking like the doorman at an East End gambling club.
As the band launches into First Of The Gang To Die, followed by Hairdresser On Fire, Morrissey preens and prances, making an exaggerated show of checking his nails and adjusting his quiff. So, no point in poking fun at him, then, he's doing such an accomplished self-parody already.
Morrissey has been in record label limbo for seven years and, like someone let out of chokey, he makes the most of his new-found freedom by playing numerous tunes from his new album, You Are The Quarry, or, as he cheekily calls it, "You Ate The Curry".
Irish Blood, English Heart goes down exceedingly well with the Dublin crowd, particularly the part about spitting on the name Oliver Cromwell, but really, the tune itself is good enough. America Is Not The World, on the other hand, ain't such a good tune, but songs such as I'm Not Sorry and How Can Anyone Possibly Know How I Feel? and Let Me Kiss You have a little more allure, alluding tantalisingly to his sexuality and personal life.
Of course, the middle-aged males here are here for classic Moz tunes, and he duly delivers Every Day Is Like Sunday, Such A Little Thing Makes Such A Big Difference, I Know It's Going To Happen Someday, and, er, that's about it. No Suedehead, no The More You Ignore Me, no November Spawned A Monster.
Morrissey's most popular songs stayed firmly in storage, and even when he resurrected some Smiths songs, he chose less interesting ones such as Rubber Ring, A Rush And A Push And The Land Is Ours and Shoplifters Of The World Unite.
The finale of There Is A Light That Never Goes Out closes the proceedings on a high note, but can't dissipate the air of Phoenix Nights emanating from Camp Morrissey.
Kevin Courtney
Pjotr, MagicNet,Granary
Any thoughts of chauvinism lurking in a Russian version of the life of Peter the Great are banished by Pjotr, which was staged at the Granary as part of the MagicNet international co-production series.
This is firstly because only one of the three companies involved is Russian, and secondly because the playwright, Eva K. Mathijssen, is Dutch. The event becomes, in effect, a process of distillation, with that process exposed and integral to the impact of the play.
It is as if Mathijssen absorbed an atmosphere as well as a history in her attempt to assess or explain an extraordinary character. Her text is like a colander: all the facts are contained in a bowl of fact, but what runs through the holes is the stuff of legend and superstition, and of what humanity, in the form of a man who may not have been one of the most monstrous in the annals of his country but who came close, makes of them.
As performed by the Russian cast and directed by Anatoly Praudin of Experimental Stage, the play is expansive - and often very funny.
As with other European productions in this series, the players are extremely athletic; they also share an attractive vocal agility which carries the audience through the changes of mood and significant events. Costuming and effects extract magic from fear, reality from superstition; from the welter of obsession, frustration and terror which characterised Peter's era, emerged law, reform and sophistication.
As the stage darkens it is littered and chaotic, but the little lights come on among the colonnades and domes, and porticos of the great imagined city which still stands.
Mary Leland
Castleward Opera Chorus and Orchestra - David Angus, Castleward Opera, Strangford
Verdi - Rigoletto
On the whole, this was the finest production I have seen at Castleward. David Angus paces the opera well, and maintains a good balance. Designer David Craig makes effective use of the tiny stage, especially in the final act, and Patrick McLaughlin lights it atmospherically.
Amos Christie is a personable young tenor, if somewhat lacking in arrogance vocally and dramatically - more Gaultier Maldé, perhaps, than Duke of Mantua.
As Gilda, Mary Nelson's top notes have bell-like clarity. Glenville Hargreaves is a steady, musical Rigoletto, and the smaller roles are well cast, particularly Carolyn Dobbin's earthy Maddalena and Simon Wilding's dark Sparafucile, while Jack Smith makes an imposing exit as Monterone.
Rigoletto is a terse, direct opera, and in this confined space a straightforward no-nonsense performance like this can make an impact. But one kept wishing that the performers would make more of their opportunities.
Again and again phrases called out for imaginative nourishment and didn't get it. Hargreaves's Rigoletto also lacked malice and wit in the first scene, and comes over generally as a kindly old man.
Tom Hawkes has relocated the action to mid-19th century Italy, so that the oppressors, the Duke and Marullo, are "Austrians", the victims, Monterone, Rigoletto and Gilda, are "Italians", while Sparafucile and Maddalena are the "Burgundians" - not that these distinctions are immediately obvious.
But the real problem with any Castleward production is that any dramatic tension that may have built up in the first half is dissipated by the 90-minute interval.
Dermot Gault
Dowdall, Malír, RTÉ NSO/Brophy, NCH, Dublin
Rossini - Semiramide Overture.
Mozart - Flute and Harp Concerto.
Rachmaninov - Symphony No 2.
It took three years of psychotherapy for Rachmaninov to recover from the savage reception which greeted his First Symphony in 1897. Another six years would pass before he felt able to return to the genre and compose his Symphony No. 2.
The work is, therefore, emotionally weighty, with weightiness being the dominant impression created in the long first movement by conductor David Brophy and the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra on Friday.
The dark stasis of the opening Largo was deep, progressing through the movement's more active sorrowing to powerful, meaningful climaxes that grew organically from the tense discourse which preceded them. The tension, which acquired urgency in the quickened pace of the ensuing Scherzo, was relieved in the warm slow movement.
Here Brophy resisted the temptation to milk Rachmaninov's grand melody, the first full statement of which was played with beautiful understatement by principal clarinettist John Finucane.
Brophy conducts with an eloquent economy of movement, on this occasion exacting detail and continuity in each of the first three movements. Although he drew less from his players in the finale, he brought the work to a triumphant close by attaining high levels of excitement.
Excitement was low, on the other hand, in the concert's opening piece, the overture from Rossini's Semiramide which, though the playing was good, failed to generate any sense of theatrical anticipation.
Mozart's Concerto for Flute and Harp was performed with greatly reduced strings.The scaling back yielded not only a pleasing chamber music-type balance and dynamic, but also a focused, refined violin tone.
This provided a slightly unconventional setting for flautist William Dowdall and harpist Andreja Malír, who were lively in their interplay with the orchestra and each other.
Michael Dungan
