Irish Times writers review the latest events in the arts
Cinderella at the Everyman Palace, Cork
If there was such a measurement as a scream factor instead of a wow! factor, then the Everyman Palace and Cork Academy of Dramatic Art pantomime Cinderella would score a high mark on the decibel count - and that's referring to the cast. Somehow the use of new or even old technology has bypassed such skills as modulation, balance and control; the pitch of different human voices, singing and speaking, is something of a myth - or at least a mystery - to some sound engineers.
This cheerful approach to the show didn't daunt or dismay the young audience, although it must surely have disturbed Karen Hackett, whose performance as the Fairy Godmother has a delightful tinge of irony and comic pragmatism, could we but hear her properly. Instead her lines are frequently lost in the stratosphere of erring wavelengths and her witty and very capable personality is almost obliterated by the crash-bang-wallop preferences of the sound design by Jim Healy.
Sound and fury to this degree eliminate any chance of magic, although Cinderella's theatrically important transformation scene is very well handled and designer Patrick Murray's coach, a delicate spangled sphere seeming to appear out of nowhere, does hint at production values set somewhat higher than most of the show suggests.
The script by Caoimhe Ní Crimmin has little to offer two potentially excellent leads in Jean Elliott as Cinderella and Martin Cosgrave as Prince Charming; also lost are the comic possibilities of Frank Twomey and Eoin Hally as the ugly sisters.
The choreography manages to be both undemanding and erratic, to put it mildly, and director Catherine Mahon-Buckley allows altogether too much busyness on this relatively small stage.
Although musically unimpressive, the band under Eoin Nash hits all the right popular notes with enough energy to carry the packed house happily along with it. It's impossible to understand why pantomime producers don't work to their own strengths, in this case not only a talented cast but also such attributes as the ensembles of children whose routine in the woodland comes closer to charm than anything else in this maelstrom of cotton-wool wigs which, however, was ecstatically received by almost everyone in the theatre. Mary Leland
The Red Hot Runaways at An Grianán, Letterkenny
Children's shows at Christmas can often prove somewhat an endurance test for accompanying adults, so what a delight to come across one that is equally engaging right across the age spectrum. The Red Hot Runaways tells the story of Prince Hal the greyhound, Reggie the rooster, Coco the cat and Danny the donkey, walking wounded who happen upon each other in the clearing of a forest in the dead of winter. Each has suffered at the hand of their fickle human masters, and is lost and homeless.
Adapted from the German folktale The Musicians of Bremen, first written by the Brothers Grimm, this production by The Civic Theatre in association with Storytellers Theatre Company, combines sophisticated live, on-stage music, an original score, an excellent set and dynamic audience interaction, without resorting to the formulaic slapstick that so often characterises seasonal offerings.
The use of live music on stage is particularly striking. Rarely do instruments like cello and clarinet feature in performances aimed at children. Underpinned by consummate musical skill, The Red Hot Runaways integrates these instruments with total unselfconsciousness.
The performances are all of a very high standard, with Marcus Lamb excelling as Prince Hal. Séamus Moran and Aileen Mythen effortlessly assume a range of diverse persona, one more amusing and credible than the next. The use of radio microphones, while perhaps necessary in the context of a large auditorium full of noisy children, does occasionally lead to less than perfect sound quality.
Equally the X-Factor-style music competition in which the rejected foursome emerge triumphant, while providing several amusing contemporary references, may have been slightly overplayed. Overall, however, this was a most impressive, enjoyable production. Mary Phelan
The Nutcracker at the Point, Dublin
Productions of The Nutcracker in America have become so synonymous with Christmas that not seeing it during the holidays would be like December 25th without any trees. The Russian State Ballet's visit to Dublin for only two days therefore felt bittersweet.
It offered what Nutcracker audiences have grown to love - a giant tree, fighting mice, dancing toys and fairies - made even more captivating because in this version Maria wakes up from her dream rather than staying in the land of sweets. This rendition closely follows the original that premiered in St Petersburg in 1893 to music by Tchaikovsky, starting a worldwide holiday tradition with its belief in family, parties and magic come to life.
The Russian State Ballet offered its talents graciously, with Elena Osokina as Maria and Alexandre Smolianinov as her Nutcracker prince weaving the story together as if helping us turn the page from one scene to the next.
The narrative maintained continuity as dolls from the first act followed Maria and her prince into the land of snow, and because Osokina performed the roles of Maria and the Sugar Plum Fairy - normally done by two different dancers. The second act opened on the Kingdom of Sweets, where the waltzing flowers in their lavender coloured costumes were especially enticing, swirling around in patterns as if creating candyfloss on stage. Each divertissement - from Spanish chocolate, Oriental coffee, Chinese tea and especially the comic Mother Ginger and her boys - offered a reminder that this time of year is not only magical, but fun. When The Nutcracker was first performed in Russia, audiences had the chance to see their favourite divertissements repeated, causing the Oriental coffee dancers to return most often to stage. Were that tradition to start here, quite possibly the entire production, accompanied by the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra, would be warmly welcomed back. Christie Taylor
Joss Stone at the RDS, Dublin
Is it enough for a singer to "get" soul, or does she first have to "have" it? More to the point, can an 18-year-old white girl from Devon truly understand the gospel yell and urban cry of 1960s black America, or just offer a convincing impression of it? These are questions that Joss Stone batted away on her albums, with a vocal prowess far beyond her years and postcode. But the signs in the RDS are less encouraging. Chiefly because something Stone certainly does "get" is the giggles.
At first, Stone's girlish display is almost endearing. But when The Chokin' Kind, a smouldering hymn to emotional suffocation, is thrice delayed by Stone's tittering fits, you crave someone with more experience. The song, when it comes, is revelatory - Stone's voice a perfect combination of caramel and razor wire - but her constant gestures (hand pushed out in protest, or clasped to chest in pain) merely go through the motions, not the emotions. The Main Hall of the RDS is a fine place to keep horses, an adequate venue for examinations, but a lousy place for a concert, and all atmosphere bleeds steadily away from the gig.
Super Duper Love, Jet Lag and her White Stripes cover, Fell in Love With a Boy, allow Stone to strut through the agony and ache of desire believably, without ever really earning our belief.
The bounding defiance of You Had Me proves hell hath no fury like a soul diva scorned, but between all the intros, interludes, and an interminable, musically-worthless jam, the audience's commitment flags. Leaving in droves, they put the kibosh on a planned encore and spell out Stone's problem: She may know how to deliver soul's message, but she hasn't yet grasped its meaning. Peter Crawley
