Reviews

A look at the world of the arts from Irish Times writers.

Belfast Festival - Opening Events

Waterfront Hall

Belfast Festival director Stella Hall is a canny programmer. The combination of a family-orientated free spectacular outside the Waterfront Hall, followed by a concert inside - by the Ulster Orchestra and three of Ireland's best-loved musicians - ensured not only an almost full opening house but front-page stories and photographs in the morning papers. The weekend saw the celebratory launch of the 42nd Belfast Festival at Queen's, of which this year's theme is Journeys and Migrations. In rather cramped, sloping conditions on the Waterfront terraces, the Spanish company, Xarxa, really pushed the boat out with Veles e Vents - Sails and Winds, the show's fireworks, giant fantasy creatures and swirling Moorish music vividly recreating an epic sea voyage beset by storm and peril. Meanwhile, the early-evening life of the city came and went around it, allowing passing commuters a glimpse of the spectacle reflecting off the glass-and-steel Laganside skyline and the gently flowing river.

Half an hour later, attention was diverted inside the main house towards the world premiere of Neil Martin's No Tongue Can Tell. Composed for an orchestra and the uilleann pipes and tin whistle of the composer's mentor, Liam O'Flynn, its inspiration is the happy but tragically short marriage of Martin's maternal grandparents, Hugh and Bridie Canning. Their shared life was punctuated by voyages to Canada and the US and by home-making in Glasgow and Coleraine. All five of their offspring - the youngest of whom, Martin's mother, Margaret, was born after Hugh's death - were in the audience for this special and emotional occasion. Among the many friends and supporters from the arts world at the premiere were Dublin-based actor Stephen Rea and the distinguished English playwright, Trevor Griffiths, both of whom had travelled to Belfast for the event.

At the interval there was warm praise for a piece which began sweet and restrained but which swelled into a weave of wordless dramatic narrative and glorious sound. The orchestra, conducted by David Brophy, generously embraced the sturdy sound of the majestically played uilleann pipes and the doughty little whistle. At the centre of the orchestration, few could have missed the mesmerising percussion of O'Flynn's long-time associate, Noel Eccles, with whom a haunting duet slowly emerged in the third movement.

The second half of the concert saw a transformation - and re-composition - of the audience. Reverence turned to cheering and whooping at the appearance on stage of The Divine Comedy - the fey, urbane Neil Hannon and six backing musicians.

"This place is awfully big," declared the diminutive Hannon. "Are you overawed by the size of my band?" (indicating the Ulster Orchestra behind him). To the delight of his fans, Hannon's lush song catalogue adapted beautifully to its new orchestral setting, though it was occasionally a struggle to pick out the lyrics through the vocals.

While some might have wished to depart the Waterfront with the strains of the uilleann pipes ringing in their ears, this unusual musical combination came out a winner, with new admirers recruited across the spectrum and new audiences garnered.

The festival continues until November 7th (www.belfastfestival.com) Jane Coyle

The Nutcracker

National Concert Hall

"Every Christmas we are one more Nutcracker closer to death." This quotation has been ascribed to dance scholar Richard Buckle and sums up the invented ritual on the other side of the Atlantic, where The Nutcracker takes its place beside The Messiah and A Christmas Carol as the cultural ghost of Christmas past, full of cosy parties, over-sized trees and sumptuous nostalgia. Lurking behind the middle-class ritual is, of course, a bloody good ballet. Although the subtle undertones of E.T.A. Hoffman's original story, The Nutcracker and the King of Mice, was diluted in Ivanov's original choreography, it is still a rich seedbed for ideas and casts an inspirational shadow over today's productions.

Irish ballet audiences are typically fed a high-carb low-protein diet of The Nutcracker, Sleeping Beauty, Swan Lake and Cinderella, and although Ballet Ireland has not yet institutionalised audiences into annual Nutcrackers it nevertheless inherits expectations. We expect spectacle, such as believable snowflakes. We expect drama, not an insipid battle between the mice and the soldiers. And we expect a bit of realism, so when Clara saves the nutcracker by throwing her shoe at the king of mice, we require that she actually attempts to hit him.

Ballet Ireland is not blessed with resources and it would be easy for a Nutcracker-hardened critic to bah-humbug the lack of spectacle or attention to detail. But compensation isn't found in the slapdash choreography or offhand performances.

Gunther Falusy's vision neither upholds nor usurps tradition, but twists the drama out of shape for its own sake. By pursuing a strictly "it was all a dream" narrative, the nutcracker never transforms into a prince, the climactic Act Two pas de deux is inexplicably transposed into a tame quartet, and there is no sense of journey into the Land of Sweets at the end of Act One. If this was an annual money-spinning ordeal there might be an excuse for conceptual laziness, but as a major production by Ballet Ireland the viewer - from weary-eyed critic to wide-eyed child - should expect more.

After touring Britain, tours Ireland from November 16th (www.ballet-ireland.com) Michael Seaver