Adelaide Festival. Adelaide Town Hall. 12 Mar 2019
In an appetite-whetting exposé of the development of the violin-piano sonata, Richard Tognetti and Erin Helyard present two sonatas by Beethoven – Violin Sonata in G, Op.30 No.3, and Violin Sonata in A, Op.47 No.9 ‘Kreutzer’ – and Sonata in B-flat, K.454 by Mozart.
In their introductory remarks delivered to a large audience in the warm acoustic of the Adelaide Town Hall, Tognetti and Helyard explain with rakish glints in their eyes that the history of the violin sonata is “…rooted in the mating rituals of the eighteenth-century middle class.” Men of refinement would play the violin while a lady who might be the object of his carnal interest would play the piano. So that she could demonstrate her accomplishments, the piano part would often be more difficult than the violin. The Mozart sonata is of that ilk, while the Beethoven sonatas are progressively leaning towards the two instruments sharing the work load more evenly.
Although knowing this little morceau of music history adds to one’s overall enjoyment of the concert, the exquisite musicianship of Tognetti and Helyard is all that ultimately matters. Together they prove that the whole is greater than the sum of the parts: they feed off each other and somehow eclipse their own individual brilliance. Playing physically close to each other neither strove for dominance over the other. They perfectly understand the musical dialogue inherent in each composition, and even in the Mozart, where the piano is arguably more complex, they find a balance that seemingly disguises this. The key lies in their luminous phrasing and artful dynamic balance. Noting that Helyard is playing a fortepiano, which doesn’t produce the same volume (or overtones) as a modern (pianoforte) piano, it is critical that Tognetti doesn’t overpower the violin to the detriment of the musical balance, and neither he did.
The highlight of the concert is the Kreutzer. It is almost a pot boiler, and late last year was superbly performed by Natsuoko Yoshimoto and Konstantin Shamary at Ukaria. Tonight’s performance by Tognetti and Helyard is something different again. Features of the composition that are important when played on a modern piano become much less significant when played on a fortepiano. It is fascinating.
Helyard is a wonderfully expressive musician, and the joy he experiences at the keyboard is manifestly evident as he smiles at his instrument and at Tognetti. The communication between the two is tangible and intense, and it is uplifting to watch them both as the music unfolds. One almost senses they are discovering the music for the first time, and the audience is along for the ride.
One should not pass up a future opportunity to hear Tognetti and Helyard play together. They are indeed ‘forces of nature’.
Kym Clayton
When: 12 Mar
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Festival. Space Theatre. 12 Mar 2019
No. This cannot, must not be the last airing of this epic theatre work. It is too important. There are too many people who need to see it.
The Second Woman is a 24-hour production in which one not only sees an exceptionally accomplished and perspicacious performer but also a series of a hundred vignette performances by men of all ages and backgrounds playing a short but profound scene depicting the termination of a relationship. The actress is Nat Randall and she has devised this endurance work with Anna Breckon, inspired by a 1977 John Cassavetes film, Opening Night.
Randall, in a Hollywood blonde wig, plays Virginia, a world-weary actress who seeks some confirmation of meaning in her jaded relationship with her husband, Marty. It is just one short scene which opens as attempted reconciliation. Bringing a take-away meal, Marty comes to apologise for his earlier behaviour. Virginia has been drinking. Marty pours them drinks and, over the box of Chinese noodles, Virginia challenges him for some signs of integrity in their relationship. She wants recognition of her beauty and capability.
This brief scene is played over and over, each time with a different unrehearsed man. How each man delivers his prepared lines and responds to opportunities for improvisation provides what turns out to be a breathtaking and, for some, life-changing panorama of the male of the species. The longer one watches, the more evident become the patterns of male response to the woman in crisis and, predominantly, this is a game of power.
The scenes each take five to seven minutes book-ended by Virginia’s patient tidying of the set to loud reiterative piano music. She is on her knees, fastidiously domestic, picking up after the men, putting rubbish in bin, replacing drinking glasses, creating order in her little red room before she sits once again and, with stoic poise, re-establishes her equanimity before the entrance of the next man.
Then, once again, she walks to the far corner of the little red neon-lit box room set and gazes upwards, her passive expression, not to mention her exquisite movie star beauty, filling the big screen.
Two videographers work in symbiosis to deliver the intimacies of this work, thus giving the audience cinematic nuances of expression. As the repetition of scenes evolves, these subtleties become more significant, especially for those audience members able to see large portions of the 24 hours. Audience members are allowed to come and go. This critic managed two four-hour sessions and found it extremely hard to leave the theatre at all, so utterly compelling had the experience become. One has grown to know Randall’s responses, but never quite to anticipate them. For each man, she has a reactive freshness, even in the early hours of Monday morning when her exhaustion shows through, just for a while, before, after a certain challenging version of Marty, a burst of adrenaline seemed to bring her a fresh wind and hours more extraordinarily focused performance.
Randall is able to make almost instant assessments of the arriving men. Thanks to the big screen, one sees her eyes widen or narrow, one sees the dimple of amusement or the bland gaze of resignation. The length of the scenes depends on the man and their interaction: how he makes his entrance, how he pours the drinks, handles the noodles and how he interacts in the final dance. One is aware of the extreme nerves of some of the men and the encouraging looks Randall gives them. She is not so simpatico towards those who try to be too smart or who try to top her. One soon becomes aware of the ineptitude of modern men, generally. This production showcases a broad ignorance of fundamental etiquette, especially among the young. They serve drinks with their fingers over the rims of glasses. Few ritualise the drinks with a raised glass, “cheers” or clink. They serve themselves before the woman. Very few indeed show concern when she stumbles.
It is surprising how many of the men seem more interested in the food than in the troubled woman in front of them. They bring takeaway Chinese noodles and chopsticks in a paper bag and are expected to unpack and share them.
The volunteer men have been told to expect food but not that it is to be thrown in their laps, dropped disdainfully on their heads, draped across their shoulders, tucked into their pockets, squeezed into their hands, spread on their knees… Different men provoke different noodle treatment, but they all get noodled one way or another. One or two are amused, many are baffled, some are just irked and one or two have difficulty suppressing their ire.
The men come and go. As the hours wear on, there is a rhythm to it. What at first seemed slow, now seems faster: the piano music; the tedious, almost servile cleaning up of the noodled room; Virginia’s interludes sitting on her chair, resigned, patient, in slightly restless limbo. As the videographers step forward, she rises to take her place. The cameras show a close up on her face. The door opens. Another man enters.
Some of them try a bit of power play. In one case, it is quite alarming. The man assumes a vice-like grip around the woman’s waist for the dance and is not releasing her. Nat Randell is not a small woman. She towers over many of the men and, when it comes to one trying to overpower her, she surprises with her ferocious strength and not only detaches the clamped man’s iron grip but then brings him to the ground, pins him down, and keeps him there. It is a serious humiliation for this volunteer who seems to be seething with anger and shame. She gives him a little time to recover before she resumes the script, proffering a $50 and cooly commanding: "Marty, I think you should leave.”
Most men take the money. They have a choice of finishing the scene with “I love you” or “I never loved you”. Over 8 hours, it seems to fall about 50/50.
As audience members leave, remaining audience members change seats to get the best vantage points right in front of the little boxed red room with its softly veiled front and deep red curtains. People start to talk to each other between the scenes. Endurance brings bonding. Were you here last night? How many hours have you done? They compare love-hate emotions towards the men. They recognise some of the men coming to sit in the house after their appearances. They also recognise one man who was in the house and is now on stage. Preparation was not an advantage; he does not fare well with Randall. A professional actor turns up. With all that stage experience, the only way he shines is on his exit. He lingers with true regret.
One over-keen young blade, bare footed and in baseball cap, falls to the knees to make the entrance apology. Ham, thinks the audience. They’ve seen them come and they’ve seen them go. They’ve seen them strive. They’ve seen them embarrassing themselves. They have seen them bare their true characters. They have loved some of them. They might have applauded but rule number one of The Second Woman is “no applause”.
As the hours roll on, the largely female audience grows closer and closer to Randall, reading the nuances of her expression, gasping, sighing, laughing with her and for her. Their empathy is total. She seeks the confirmation that they secretly or not, have sought in relationships. Her exasperation is their exasperation. She has become "everywoman”. And this profound, shared experience will remain with us for ever.
One wants to tell the world. One wants everyone to have seen it.
But Randall has said it will not be done again.
We who were there consider ourselves very fortunate.
And, once again, we thank our Festival of Arts for delivering such rare jewels of theatre.
Samela Harris
When: 10 to 11 Mar
Where: Space Theatre
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Festival. Ukaria Cultural Centre. 10 Mar 2019
In the words of event curator Genevieve Lacey, A brief history of time is a three day musical feast that “…sets Western early music [from the Middle ages to the Enlightenment], up to a millennium old, with the time-expanding universe of Indigenous music-making, and then finds a place for us to meet in contemporary Australia.”
Today’s concert, which is best understood in the context of the whole event, is entitled Remembrance of Times Past. The program consists of five compositions that are each familiar (some more so than others) as touchstones of the baroque repertoire: Handel’s Organ Concerto in B-flat Op.4 No.6 HWV294, Buxtehude’s Trio Sonata in F BuxWV 252, Teleman’s Concerto in D RV93, Vivaldi’s Lute Concerto in D RV93, Teleman’s Concerto for Recorder and Viola da gamba in A minor TWV 52:a1:1, and Bach’s Sonata in G, BWV1027.
These pieces have no connection to ‘indigenous music-making’ but the sounds produced by the ensemble are a timely reminder of where our western music tradition has come from and that what seems old can also sound fresh and contemporary, just as aspects of indigenous music that are rooted in time immemorial can sound strangely modern.
The Lute Concerto is elegantly played by Eduardo Eguëz on guitar. On this occasion a viola (Caroline Henbest), double bass (Kirsty McCahon) and cello (Daniel Yeadon) join the guitar and violins (Thomas Gould and Brendan Joyce). The sound is less bright than might be expected in the first allegro movement, but the largo movement is sublime.
In the Handel, Marshall McGuire produces the most elegant sounds on harp which perfectly complement Neal Peres da Costa on chamber organ. Their carefully controlled dynamic balance allows the style and sophistication of the composition to come to the fore.
In the Buxtehude, Paolo Pandolfo on viola da gamba, Yeadon on cello and Peres da Costa on harpsichord are outstanding in the three faster movements, and allow the violin in the andante and grave movements to sing clearly without being crowded out.
Genevieve Lacey confirms she is a world-class virtuoso on recorder. In the Teleman she produces long sustained notes of beautiful evenness, and demonstrates tonguing that is so rapid and precise that it almost defies belief.
The Bach allows the ensemble one final opportunity to display their collective prodigious talents. Jane Gower on baroque bassoon and Lacey again on recorder contribute an uncommon backbone to the performance. The final result is an ample demonstration that ‘less is more’: music scored for and produced on fewer instruments can sound so much more satisfying than much larger ensembles.
Kym Clayton
When: 10 Mar
Where: Ukaria Cultural Centre
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Festival. Adelaide Town Hall. 9 Mar 2019
The French daily Le Monde has billed the Mahler Chamber Orchestra as the “the best orchestra in the world”. This is a big call, and whether it be true or not, the prowess and sheer class of the ensemble is unmistakeable. Today’s performance is one’s first experience of the Mahler Chamber Orchestra and I’m hooked. I cannot wait for the next opportunity to hear them again.
Conductor Laureate Daniel Harding set his orchestra in a non-traditional setting, with celli and basses to his left and second violins to his right. With a major brass section to his right, the overall effect is to broaden the depth of sound across the stage rather than concentrate the bass sounds to the traditional audience right.
Schubert’s sunny and bright Symphony No 3 in D, D.200 is not frequently performed. It is youthful and brimming with Schubert’s trade-mark melodies. The clarinets and bassoons are light and spirited in the first movement, and the clarinet is brilliant in the second. In the third movement, Vincente Alberola (principal clarinet) is so ‘into ‘ what he is doing that he ‘mouthes’ the music in between his sections and looks around at the other musicians with a beaming smile on his face. Alberola’s joy is typical of every other member of the orchestra, and all the while Harding keeps a firm grip on what they are doing but is ever so gentle (and precise) in his conducting gestures. Indeed, there are times where he doesn’t conduct at all and seemingly leaves the orchestra to its own devices.
Bruckner’s Symphony No 4 in E-flat, WAB 104 “Romantic” is aptly named and the Mahler Chamber Orchestra’s performance of it is surely a highlight of this Festival of Arts. It is the most popular of all of Bruckner’s symphonies, and some brand it as a ‘pot boiler’ that can be relied upon to sell tickets. This may be true, but it is easy to deliver a superficial reading of the Romantic and have it come across as a saccharine sequence of lavish and impressive grand melodies. In Harding’s hands, it shines. The wood winds and brass are luminous in the emphatic opening and are a beacon to light the orchestra’s way to the very end. The timpanist pays as much attention to the horns for his cueing in the second movement as he does to the conductor, such is the trust that they have in each other and Harding. It is a revelation to observe how much the musicians take note of each other. They are ‘into’ each other as much as they are to the music itself! Towards the end of the final movement Harding becomes more and more emphatic, but his style is very much a case of less is more, and it pays enormous dividends.
The audience reaction at the end is telling: caught up in the tsunami of emotion, three or four seconds of silence pass as the last sounds of the Romantic die away, and then all hell breaks loose. There is whistling, foot stamping, clapping, cheers, whooping and standing ovations, and it goes on and on and on. After leading the orchestra through five bows, Harding walks off and each member of the orchestra hugs the person next to them. They know they have done well, and their affection for each other is strengthened further.
The Mahler Chamber Orchestra is an outstanding ensemble. If you ever have the opportunity to attend one of their concerts, don’t pass it up.
Kym Clayton
When: 8 to 10 Mar
Where: Adelaide Town Hall
Bookings: Closed
Adelaide Fringe. Hannah Norris. 9 Mar 2019
Real life stories? Real life people on stage? See the real thing! Autobiography as theatre.
Two women. Mother and daughter. Actors both, generations apart in experience, training or lack of. Exploring where they’ve been in their relationship to each other, to themselves, to their artistic identity across their lives.
The lovely daughter Hannah Norris in red cheerfully greets the audience as they take seats, while also red attired regal mother Angela (née Kendall) reposes on a lounge of cushions, surrounded by baskets and a few snacks on the stage. What follows is illuminating.
After You is autobiography as a theatrical creation, experience and reflection. Not as uncritical hagiographic memoir, but carefully crafted, challenging script, offering melded dual reminisce of daughter and mother lives. It’s a rare and profoundly powerful experience.
Hannah and Angela remember and relive their past and present via anecdote and parallel life history. From Angela’s starting role in the 1960s Melbourne production of The Sound of Music to the earliest memories that made Hannah the respected global artist she is now.
There is pain, there is anger, there are many, many regrets. Many similarities. Yet these women offer their lives unflinchingly as a gift to others that they might learn and profit from it.
The import of the show title grows ever slowly on you. After You… the women who follow and will follow such greatness of example.
David O’Brien
5 stars
When: 8 to 17 March
Where: Live at Tandanya, 3rd Space
Bookings: adelaidefringe.com.au