Skip to main content

The Soldier’s Tale

Tron Theatre, Glasgow
3 stars
Faustian pacts are everywhere just now. After Headlong’s post-modern cut-up of Brit-art soul-selling in Dundee last week, The Academy of St Martin In The Fields go back to World War One for Stravinsky’s similarly audacious piece of boutique musical theatre. Composed in 1918 with a libretto by novelist Charles Ferdinand Ramuz, as director Lawrence Evans makes clear in his extensive programme notes, this is different from both Marlowe and Goethe’s creations in that Ramuz and Stravinsky’s hero is tricked into putting his soul in hock rather than going willingly.

The Soldier’s violin becomes a symbol of purity, with the metaphor pushed even further by having an actor who plays the fiddle for real take the title role. Played alongside the Academy’s seven-piece ensemble, who step in and out of the action at various points, such authenticity lends depth to Anthony Marwood’s turn, even when forced to mouth a text which at times sounds unavoidably stilted in its English language translation.

As designer as well as director, Evans does everything in his power to de-formalise proceedings, from having Walter Van Dyk’s narrator enter through the audience wielding an umbrella to onstage projections of archive newsreel footage alongside portents of the future such as the Millenium Dome. Agnes Vanrepote’s Princess and Ian Woodhouse’s Devil skip about with a choreographed abandon that’s sometimes too busy for what’s being delivered.

Beyond commenting on the relationship between war and money, the music is the star here. The arrangements scored for violin, double bass, clarinet, bassoon, trumpet, trombone and percussion are evocatively and exquisitely delivered in a portable chamber piece that never quite transcends the restraints of its form.

The Herald, November 19th 2007

ends

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Losing Touch With My Mind - Psychedelia in Britain 1986-1990

DISC 1 1. THE STONE ROSES   -  Don’t Stop 2. SPACEMEN 3   -  Losing Touch With My Mind (Demo) 3. THE MODERN ART   -  Mind Train 4. 14 ICED BEARS   -  Mother Sleep 5. RED CHAIR FADEAWAY  -  Myra 6. BIFF BANG POW!   -  Five Minutes In The Life Of Greenwood Goulding 7. THE STAIRS  -  I Remember A Day 8. THE PRISONERS  -  In From The Cold 9. THE TELESCOPES   -  Everso 10. THE SEERS   -  Psych Out 11. MAGIC MUSHROOM BAND  -  You Can Be My L-S-D 12. THE HONEY SMUGGLERS  - Smokey Ice-Cream 13. THE MOONFLOWERS  -  We Dig Your Earth 14. THE SUGAR BATTLE   -  Colliding Minds 15. GOL GAPPAS   -  Albert Parker 16. PAUL ROLAND  -  In The Opium Den 17. THE THANES  -  Days Go Slowly By 18. THEE HYPNOTICS   -  Justice In Freedom (12" Version) 1. THE STONE ROSES    Don’t Stop ( Silvertone   ORE   1989) The trip didn’t quite start here for what sounds like Waterfall played backwards on The Stone Roses’ era-defining eponymous debut album, but it sounds

Edinburgh Rocks – The Capital's Music Scene in the 1950s and Early 1960s

Edinburgh has always been a vintage city. Yet, for youngsters growing up in the shadow of World War Two as well as a pervading air of tight-lipped Calvinism, they were dreich times indeed. The founding of the Edinburgh International Festival in 1947 and the subsequent Fringe it spawned may have livened up the city for a couple of weeks in August as long as you were fans of theatre, opera and classical music, but the pubs still shut early, and on Sundays weren't open at all. But Edinburgh too has always had a flipside beyond such official channels, and, in a twitch-hipped expression of the sort of cultural duality Robert Louis Stevenson recognised in his novel, Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde, a vibrant dance-hall scene grew up across the city. Audiences flocked to emporiums such as the Cavendish in Tollcross, the Eldorado in Leith, The Plaza in Morningside and, most glamorous of all due to its revolving stage, the Palais in Fountainbridge. Here the likes of Joe Loss and Ted Heath broug

Carla Lane – The Liver Birds, Mersey Beat and Counter Cultural Performance Poetry

Last week's sad passing of TV sit-com writer Carla Lane aged 87 marks another nail in the coffin of what many regard as a golden era of TV comedy. It was an era rooted in overly-bright living room sets where everyday plays for today were acted out in front of a live audience in a way that happens differently today. If Lane had been starting out now, chances are that the middlebrow melancholy of Butterflies, in which over four series between 1978 and 1983, Wendy Craig's suburban housewife Ria flirted with the idea of committing adultery with successful businessman Leonard, would have been filmed without a laughter track and billed as a dramady. Lane's finest half-hour highlighted a confused, quietly desperate and utterly British response to the new freedoms afforded women over the previous decade as they trickled down the class system in the most genteel of ways. This may have been drawn from Lane's own not-quite free-spirited quest for adventure as she moved through h