A queer historical romance written by a talented new playwright (Ruby Thomas) at a trendy and reputable fringe theatre (Hampstead) – what more could you want? Well, as it turns out, quite a lot more. A clipped, panto-style courtship begins a whimsical romance before a sombre second half severely alters the tone, leaving the audience with a narrative propelled by inevitability and doom. This tragic narrative arc is perhaps an accurate trajectory for a historical exploration of lived queer experience, but, as a piece of theatre, it doesn’t offer up much in the way of cliff-hangers or surprise for the audience, who sense that this can only, unavoidably, end one way. Despite the pitfalls in the narrative structure, the sparkling characters in this play are amusing and memorable, both brave and bawdy and sharp and articulate, Linck & Mülhahn are a power couple we all should know about.

Owen Horsley’s production, set in eighteenth-century Prussia, follows the true story of Anastasius Linck – an individual who, after it is discovered that they were assigned female gender at birth but is presenting as male, is trialled along with their wife, Mülhahn, for illicit sexual relations (and secondarily for desertion as a soldier). Ruby Thomas’s play is based on the real transcript from the trial in 1721. In this document, Linck comments that ‘even if (I am) done away with, those who are like (me will) remain’. Linck’s words are a reminder that queer (and specifically non-binary) people have always existed, even if the law has not recognised these identities as real.

The first half is fun, charming and genuinely funny. The music is notably well-chosen and acts as an effective anachronistic element of the production, giving the historical narrative a contemporary feel. Helena Wilson, playing the rebellious Catharina Mülhahn, stands out with her apparently inextinguishable energy, quirky humour and rebellious nature. Lucy Black as her mother adds brilliant (although melodramatic) humour, whilst the ‘Spinster’, Marty Cruickshank, provides contrasting depth and feeling as the wiser and older Mülhahn, doubling as an omniscient narrator – a device which is interesting similar to the omnipresent Virgina Woolf(s) in the Garrick’s recent Orlando.

Maggie Bain, as Anastasius Linck, is, at first, dashing and charming – a smooth-talker and a charismatic soldier; he is as popular amongst his fellow Prussian troops as he is amongst the women. However, soon enough, Linck’s suave and charm start to appear overly stylised and wooden. What’s more, their energy levels seem to dissipate in the presence of Linck, who falls so intensely in love without an apparently reciprocal level of passion from Linck. Indeed, the love story felt shallow and tongue-in-cheek, as if catching laughs from the audience took precedence over a convincing courtship. For example, Linck’s words of agreement when Mülhahn suddenly suggests marriage, are: “F*** it, let’s do it!”. This comic tone would not have been a problem (quite the opposite) if it had been maintained, but the seriousness of the second half felt unconvincing after such an ironic opening.

This dynamic and fluid first half, with its swiftly executed scenes and entertaining dance vignettes, is followed by a slow-moving second half, largely dominated by the court case. The courtroom scene features arbitrary moments of blaring punk paired with strobe lighting between each witness. Is this a reference to the first half and its mood of fun, rebellion and frivolity, or is it a foreboding reference to danger and a symbol for panic? Whatever its purpose, these brief interludes are a jarring distraction. The previously slick and witty humour seems suddenly to be replaced by irrelevant and simplistic jokes and the verbal sparring changes into slow dialogue. However, the macho humour between the men in the courtroom acts as an effective contrast to the flirtatious and unconventional exchanges between Linck and Mülhahn.

In the final scene, as Linck and Mülhahn speak across the adjoining wall of their prison cells, Linck’s tone becomes self-aggrandizing and overly formal, as if reciting a sermon or political speech. Linck’s final speech before death is not full of distress, as expected, but imbued with a calm stoicism which reflects their martyred sense of purpose in dying for a cause they have lived for their whole life. Linck’s fortitude and apparent acceptance in the face of death seem so superhuman that it leaves the audience detached from the emotion of Linck’s tragic fate.

Linck, literally living as a man in a man’s world all their life, has had to hide their vulnerability and perfect their outward presentation for years, never letting their guard down for fear of being “found out”. In this final scene, it would have been a good moment for another side of Linck to have been revealed: a vulnerable and messy Linck, who doesn’t need to “perform” for the outside world.

The play develops from a romantic period piece to a polemic. Altogether, the two halves feel disjointed in tone and the narrative seems to serve primarily as a vehicle for expressing the play’s philosophical agenda, rather than a fully rounded story in itself. Nonetheless, one does glean a valuable insight into the fascinating, though tragic, biography of Anastasius Linck, and the joy of the first half acts as a glimmer of hope and a touchstone for the queer community, highlighting the progress made but also the continued need for tolerance and understanding.

Image: Helena-Wilson and Maggie Bain in Linck & Mulhahn Credit-Helen Murray

Review by Lucy Evans

Lucy’s passion for the arts began with drawing and painting at a young age and developed later on into a love of landscape painting and a degree in Art History, with a focus on Modernism and gender. Lucy has grown to love literature and acting in particular, and her experiences acting at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival have been formative, convincing her that performance can be an essential tool for communication and connection, as well as of course being a valuable source of entertainment.

Lucy’s latest review here Review: The Oyster Problem – Gustave Flaubert pays the price for his insatiable appetite for champagne and oysters – Jermyn Street Theatre until 4 March – Abundant Art

Information and tickets

Maggie Bain (who plays Linck) interviewed by Ham&High

Asif Kapadia’s film based on the acclaimed production of English National Ballet, choreographed by Akram Khan

As the director of many well-known films such as Senna, Amy, or The Warrior, this recent film by Asif Kapadia is an entirely different kind of project. Creatures comes from his choice to make a film from a contemporary dance production by the English National Ballet, choreographed by Akram Khan, at a time in which it was being rehearsed but unable to be performed during the height of the pandemic.

With no prior experience with dance, Kapadia found in the performance themes that pertain to his realm of filmography: grief, drama, euphoria, love, and hence describes the project as actualising a film that already existed before him. In fact, as someone who doesn’t come from a dance background myself, I found Creatures to be a highly emotionally engaging watch. Fusing performance, music, and filmography, the talent on screen and that which brings them to our eyes are both made absolutely inescapable.

At heart Creatures is a love story set in a dystopian world. Although the setting is un-specified, throughout there are background references to tangible dystopian truths of our own world, such as to rising sea levels and rising carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere. A sense of the all-powerful nature of a vast and sovereign outer world, which might serve as home to any number of delicate inner worlds, removes any hope for change in this regard and, l found, it largely sets the tone for the whole production.

In the foreground, through stunning sequences of contemporary dance, the core of the story brings forth themes of sexual harassment, war and violence, love and rejection, which are made believable through Kapadia’s ability to draw our attention to details. The deep breathing of the dancers as they focus in a moment of stillness, or the contraction of their muscles as they pose, dance becomes more than movement in space, and is rather conveyed as a manner to witness life on screen.

The fusion of creative forms in Creatures makes one feel the tragic un-fairness of life. Beautiful in many ways, I came out with an appreciation of how dance and film can be extensions of one another.

Review by Michela Giachino

Since studying History of Art at The University of Oxford Michela has continued to pursue her interests in art and culture. She particularly enjoys considering how contemporary and historical art forms are presented to the wider public through exhibitions and viewings at art institutions. Michela’s favourite mediums include photography, film, painting and drawing, and she is always excited to learn about new art.

Read Michela’s latest review here Review: Gaining a greater perspective on Giorgio Morandi’s art-practice and legacy-Masterpieces from the Magnani-Rocca Foundation – Abundant Art

Making Modernism at the Royal Academy of Arts brings together a varied collection of 68 works which together feature a wide range of themes, styles and visual languages. Each of the main four artists included in this exhibition – Paula Modersohn-Becker, Käthe Kollwitz, Gabriele Münter and Marianne Werefkin, have strikingly different and distinctive styles despite the fact that they all engaged, to differing extents, with Expressionism in Germany in the early twentieth century. Modersohn-Becker, in my opinion, provides the most radical and iconic imagery of the exhibition, possessing such a memorable and unique way of making pictures and painting figures – most notably herself.

The exhibition has clearly had a hard task of bringing together the 68 works and the four main artists into a selection of coherent narratives and themes. Indeed, it is hard not to feel that the themes provided for each room (of which there were only three) were too broad for the works themselves. The themes were: Ourselves and Others, The Century of the Child, Intimacy, City, Town and Country, and ‘Still Lives’. The actual paintings (and the one beautiful sculpture by Kollwitz) were surprising, shocking, agonising, sensual and intriguing, but the frameworks provided for interpretation were not particularly helpful, primarily because of their vagueness as they attempted to cover large themes across time and the biographies of all four individuals at once.

The self-portraits in the first room were brilliant. Kollwitz’s self-portrait from 1889, produced in ink, was incredibly captivating both because of how self-assured Kollwitz looks, and because of the striking contrast between the fine, agitated lines on her face (presumably done with pen) and the smooth washes of ink used to draw her body (presumably done with a brush). Modersohn-Becker’s self-portrait with lemon, 1906-7, is concise both in its size and in its vision: the work is narrow, small and cropped, with a focus on the face and Modersohn-Becker’s one hand, which holds the lemon. One of the points of genius in this work is its use of colour. The colours are warm and harmonious, and yet the surface bursts with surprising layers and contrasts, one example of which is the combination of ochre and bright blue used to form the iconically large eyes.

One of the most brilliant characteristics of Modersohn-Becker’s works is their quality of mystery. In her self-portrait from 1906-7, the mystery lies in the presentation of a lemon as if it were a trophy, the darker shade of bruised purple used for the face, which jarringly contrasts with the pale tone of the body, and the diverted eyes, which make you want to find out what is being looked at.

Münter’s Self-portrait from 1908 isn’t the most confident of the self-portraits on display, but in terms of paint, I found it the most exciting.  The work is painted loosely on cardboard in an endless array of somehow miraculously harmonious colours. Thick and vigorous brush marks don’t distract from how tender and searching the eyes are, but instead add to the mood of intense longing and inquisition.

The set of interiors which followed were beautiful, intimate and featured some of my favourite works in the exhibition. Werefkin’s interior featuring two men leaning on either side of a fireplace is both comical and beautiful. The lines and brush marks in the painting are delicate and loose, and though a painting, the whole scene has a graphic, story-telling quality as if a satirical comic in a newspaper. As the exhibition went on, it was evident that this humour and irony could be found in all of Wereffkin’s works, which was a nice contrast to the profound themes of grief and suffering in Kollwitz’s works.

Münter ’s interior scenes were reminiscent of the lives of the Bloomsbury set – paintings featuring socialising paired with intellectual conversation in pleasant (domestic) settings. Münter ’s Kandinsky at the Table (sketch), from 1911, was one of my favourite works because of its abstract nature and the focus on colour and simplified forms, which locates it firmly in the territory of modernism.

The next room focused on the motif of mother and child. This room felt profound, emotive and genuinely moving, not least because of Kollwitz’s portrayal of a mother clinging to a dead child. Indeed, the seriousness of Kollwitz’s inquiry into human suffering is hard to absorb, since the emotion in her works is so raw and unflinching. Kollwitz’s Head of a Child in its Mother’s Hands, 1900, drawn in pencil, is exquisite. This room was particularly important as it represented female subjectivity within the narrative of Modernism.

The final room was the least effective and engaging for me. The theme City, Town and Country felt redundant, and the works were all so different that it felt a bit like the leftovers had all been put together in one gallery. One artist, however, stood out. Werefkin’s highly saturated paintings of towns, mountains and imaginary, symbolic landscapes burst with vivid colours and often had a hallucinatory quality, whilst also appearing isolated and slightly haunted. Two beautiful sketchbook pages of Marianne Werefin’s are displayed, but there is otherwise a lack of supporting ephemera, more of which could have enriched what was a fascinating but fairly small and minimal exhibition. These works together brush the surface of women who were making modernism in the early twentieth century. I can only imagine how incredible it would be to have exhibitions dedicated to each of these phenomenal artists individually.

Image: Käthe Kollwitz, Woman with Dead Child, 1903. Etching on paper, 42.4 x 48.6 cm. © Käthe Kollwitz Museum Köln. (provided by the RA)

Tickets: Making Modernism | Exhibition | Royal Academy of Arts

Review by Lucy Evans

Lucy’s passion for the arts began with drawing and painting at a young age and developed later on into a love of landscape painting and a degree in Art History, with a focus on Modernism and gender. Lucy has grown to love literature and acting in particular, and her experiences acting at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival have been formative, convincing her that performance can be an essential tool for communication and connection, as well as of course being a valuable source of entertainment.

Read Lucy’s latest review here Review: Mother Goose, Hackney Empire – packed with puns and full of contagious energy (abundantart.net)

Estorick Collection of Modern Italian Art-6^th January – 30^th April 2023

The classic way to make endless hours of still life drawing marginally more engaging, at least at my school growing up days, was to use Giorgio Morandi’s paintings as references for these classes. As a painter who confidently brought the genre of still life into the 20^th century without hesitation, he has almost become a symbol of how the genre can be viewed as modern and newly stimulating, even cool.

The current exhibition at the Estorick Collection of Modern Italian Art  brings together a broad range of Morandi’s paintings pertaining to the Magnani-Rocca Foundation, which was set up by Luigi Magnani in 1977 as way of making his years of collecting accessible to the public. The exhibition is therefore not an attempt at presenting a revolutionary argument about the artist (typical to contemporary artist retrospective exhibitions), instead focuses on the story behind how the specific collection on view came about and the fondness Luigi Magnani held for Morandi’s work, ultimately as a way of relaying the artist’s legacy.

I personally greatly enjoyed this stripped backed nature of the exhibition’s curatorial arch. The viewer is invited to simply absorb unseen artworks by the artist side-by-side some of his most recognisable pieces. The grander oil on canvas paintings are complemented by an array of his etchings, drawings and watercolours which reveal so much about Morandi’s artistic methods. For example, many of the sketches demonstrate the potential for abstraction he found in simple objects, giving power to negative shapes and blurring boundaries between forms. The collection also features landscapes, as well as a rare self-portrait.

Since the Magnani collection includes works from many well-known modernists, at times, the exhibition draws connections between Morandi and Cezanne. However, these connections result slightly unevidenced. Since mentioned, it would have for instance been interesting to know more about this tie.

However, other than this, no real novel ideas are revealed about the artist – the exhibition reads that Morandi wanted to “unlock the magical poetic qualities of everyday object” against the context of Italian Futurism and the historical pursuit for a modernity.

Some might therefore argue that there lacks a critical edge to the exhibition, however, by opting against a trendy critical approach one is invited to fully embrace the known “meditative” qualities of his work, and fill in knowledge gaps in the process. I felt as though I was picking up from where I left off in school. Through the exhibition at the Estorick Collection I discovered some facts unknown to me. I learnt about Morandi’s friendship with Luigi Magnani and about his un-assuming approach to art-making, for example, how he created art with no intention of selling; and ultimately, I did come out of it thinking that it was pretty cool how he was recognised by this important collector at the time.

Image: Giorgio-Morandi-Still-Life-with-Six-Objects-1930

Estorick Collection of Modern Italian Art www.estorickcollection.com

Review by Michela Giachino

Since studying History of Art at The University of Oxford Michela has continued to pursue her interests in art and culture. She particularly enjoys considering how contemporary and historical art forms are presented to the wider public through exhibitions and viewings at art institutions. Michela’s favourite mediums include photography, film, painting and drawing, and she is always excited to learn about new art.

Read Michela’s latest review here Film Review: ENYS MEN-Surreal Nature as Aesthetic Thriller – Abundant Art

Footnote:

To mark its25th anniversary, the Estorick Collection is proud to present an exhibition of works by the major 20th-century artist Giorgio Morandi (1890-1964). For the first time, the entire Morandi collection from Italy’s Magnani-Rocca Foundation will be shown together in the UK. Featuring 50 works spanning the artist’s career, it includes oil paintings, watercolours, drawings and prints. The Estorick’s own collection of works by Morandi will also be on display at the museum.

Read more about Giorgio Morandi at www.estorickcollection.com/the-collection/giorgio-morandi

If you like slow-paced and aesthetically shot films with unusual narratives, and enjoy a ‘folk horror’, then this is the film for you. Directed by Mark Jenkin, ENYS MEN was shot on 16mm and stars Mary Woodvine, a wildlife volunteer, who comes face to face with a bizarre world unleashed through her interactions with a rare flower.

Within the opening scenes we gather the little context provided for the whole film – we are in the year 1973 on an abandoned island off the Cornish coast, whose mysterious past is alluded to. It is only as the film continues, with every new sequence of strange events, characters that appear and disappear, and objects that take on personalities, that the film’s thriller overtone takes its full form.

What is most striking about the film is its sensitivity towards Cornish folk culture. Local traditions in myth and ritual underscore the film’s ability to allude to the region’s culture and history. Human dialogue is often absent and it is replaced by the sounds of nature, ambient music, and long moments of silence, which together raise the auditory script of the film to a story-telling role, on par with the visual. Beautifully interwoven, the two scripts, auditory and visual, provide an engaging sensory experience, that is yet rooted in their individual simplicity. Harsh mechanical sounds, radio static, the glitches of light inherent to the 16mm medium, or visually jarring combinations such as a bright plastic jacket against a hillside, are cut and pasted, mixed and matched, to add to feelings of unease throughout the film.

What makes ENYS MEN an interesting watch is its attention to carefully crafted sensory moments by channelling an authentic cinematographic simplicity in nuanced manners. Mary Woodvine is in fact an actress based in West Cornwall; this is not necessarily obvious from the film, but it does serve to highlight this point. If one is expecting to be thrilled by the film they might be disappointed – I can’t stress enough that it is a very slow film. Instead, the film’s play on horror and the surreal encourage reflections about the power of nature and dissolve our fallacy of human dominance. “What if the landscape was not only alive, but sentient?” – Mark Jenkin (2022).

Image credit-Steve Tanner

Tickets: https://www.enysmen.co.uk/. ENYS MEN is in cinemas UK-wide from 13 January 2023.

The Cinematic DNA of ENYS MEN season [curated by director Mark Jenkin] runs at BFI Southbank until 31 January with selected films and Jenkin’s shorts collection on BFI Player. The ENYS MEN Original Score by Mark Jenkin is out now digitally via Invada Records and released on vinyl on 24 February.

Review by Michela Giachino

Since studying History of Art at The University of Oxford Michela has continued to pursue her interests in art and culture. She particularly enjoys considering how contemporary and historical art forms are presented to the wider public through exhibitions and viewings at art institutions. Michela’s favourite mediums include photography, film, painting and drawing, and she is always excited to learn about new art.

Latest reviews on Abundant Art are here www.abundantart.net/reviews

London Coliseum – Now on until 7 January 2023

The English National Ballet’s Nutcracker is truly enchanting. This year’s show is the ENB’s 10th of Wayne Eagling’s production. Over the years, different productions have interpreted Tchaikovsky’s iconic ballet in countless different ways. Having seen a very different version last year, I found the English National Ballet’s more classical production all the more fascinating to watch.

The performance begins by introducing the audience to Clara and her family in a delightful little set (Clara’s bedroom) positioned on the side of the stage. Shortly after, we are taken outside of Clara’s house, where people are skating on the frozen ‘Thames’ and playing in the snow. With the start of the story clearly set, the show moves on to the party.

We see guests appear and presents begin to collect under the glittering Christmas tree. The most notable part of this scene, for me, is the dancer’s costumes. The female dancer’s dresses, in particular, create a beautiful image of flowing skirts. This scene manages to find the perfect balance between acting and dancing. As the festivities continue, the children are each given their presents and Clara receives a Nutcracker doll from a mysterious old family friend, Dr Drosselmeyer. After a rather unfortunate event, Dr Drosselmeyer manages to magically put Clara’s doll back together. The party finally comes to a close and the stage darkens as the children go to bed and the guests go home. A detail here that I enjoyed was being able to see the guests leaving in the snow through Clara’s bedroom window as her maid shut the curtains.

It is from behind these curtains that the Mouse King emerges and begins to dance around a sleeping Clara. The dream begins! Clara is chased all over the stage and is soon joined by giant rats and mice as the living room is transformed into a battlefield. In the midst of the chaos, the Nutcracker, now a dashing soldier, appears to defeat the King. In a battle against the rats, he is injured and everything melts away to leave him and Clara alone onstage as snow begins to drift down.

Now the stage is transformed into a winter wonderland and the audience is delighted by the Waltz of the Snowflakes, one of my favourite parts of the Nutcracker. The snowflakes’ tutus twinkle and shimmer in the light, leaving the audience entranced by the beauty of the dance. Then, in a flash, the Mouse King returns, and he pursues Clara and the Nutcracker through the snow. Dr Drosselmeyer enters the stage with a hot air balloon, which the three then use to escape, with the Mouse King clinging onto one side.

After the interval, the balloon lands and the Mouse King is finally defeated. A magnificent celebration begins and dancers from all over the world representing China, Russia and Spain perform divertissements. I found the Russian dancers’ technicality and display of remarkably high jumps and leaps to be particularly impressive. The stage then turns into a beautiful garden and the dancers then perform the Waltz of the Flowers. This dance exceeds expectations. The costumes are wonderful and flutter around the dancers’ as they move about the stage. After a glittering presentation of perfectly angled arms and legs, the final section brings the audience to a complete hush with its glamour. Clara dances as the Sugar Plum Fairy and Tchaikovsky’s iconic tune echoes around the stage. The daintiness of the music is matched by the Sugar Plum Fairy’s beautiful white and gold tutu. Clara is then joined by the Nutcracker in a magical duet and we watch them glide around the stage.

Suddenly, Clara wakes up back in her bedroom, and we are brought back to that little set in the corner of the stage, realising that the glitter and snow were all just a dream.

A mix of sparkling costumes, intricate sets and beautiful choreography and storytelling, The English National Ballet’s Nutcracker is a must-watch this holiday season.

Tickets: Nutcracker – English National Ballet

Image Credit: Laurent Liotardo

Written by Aishani Chatterjee

Read Aishani’s latest review here A Midsummer Night’s Dream – but with a twist! St.Paul’s Covent Garden (abundantart.net)

Hackney Empire-Now on until 31 Dec

Mother Goose – who, in fact, isn’t a goose, but whose best friend, Priscilla (Ruth Lynch), happens to be…a goose! Yes, it’s a little bit confusing. The heroine, Mother Goose, is even running a free beauty parlour for those wanting to become famous (for the sake of it?), whilst the moral of the story is that outward beauty and social media stardom can’t bring you happiness. Contradictory, right? Nonetheless, it’s full of colour, lights, live music, wonderfully elaborate costumes (Cleo Pettitt), numerous puns and an immersive, enchanting set. It’s very enjoyable and very charming.

Set in Hackneywood, near to the dark depths of Dalston underground, the narrative begins with landlord Squire Purchase (Tony Marshall) demanding rent from the overly benevolent Mother Goose, who loves providing beauty treatments so much that she inexplicably does it for free. Priscilla, the Goose, starts laying golden eggs – which is great news, and solves Mother Goose’s rent worries. But then all that gold begins to corrupt the beloved Mother Goose. She starts to turn into the unrecognisable money-loving-fame-seeking star, ‘OMG’. Suddenly, Mother Goose is willing to hand over her best friend, Priscilla, to the Demon Queen’s dark realm- all  for the promise of eternal youth and beauty. This turn of events is all part of the Demon Queen’s (Rebecca Parker) plan to steal Mother Goose’s soul by turning her into an instagram-addict, obsessed with followers, likes and her own appearance.

Clive Rowe, who is both the director and plays the title role, is an indispensable pantomime genius, appearing here in his 15th panto at Hackney Empire. Rowe delights the audience with his effortless wit, uplifting energy, and his relaxed, intimate manner, which makes you feel like you’re part of the events on stage.

Hackney Empire is celebrating its 120-year anniversary, and a small diversion during the plot showed the audience a reel of individuals (Julie Andrews, Louis Armstrong) who have graced the stage over the decades. This theatre certainly strikes me as being far more than a commercial enterprise; it speaks of community and inclusivity, with children and adults involved in the show together, and an atmosphere of enjoyment and relaxed entertainment shines through the action. The building itself is gloriously rich in gold and red ornamentation. This gives the space a nostalgic and fairytale-like feel which, rather than being grand or intimidating, is immersive and cosy, with a historical touch.

The portrayal of the Demon Queen versus Fairy Fame (Gemma Wardle) was unfortunate, since morality seemed to be paired with how much clothing you’ve got on. Parker wore hot pants, heels and fishnet tights, whilst Fairy Fame wore a modest long dress. The narrative created here seemed a little obsolete.

A few of the solo numbers (Steven Edis) in the second half were excellent, with songs from Fairy Fame and the Demon Queen, accompanied by dance sequences by André Fabien Francis. Brilliant vocals were also provided by Rowe himself.

This script (Will Brenton) struck me as a little too didactic and moralising for a Christmas show – who wants to think about AI taking over, giant ipads turning you into a zombie and phone addiction on a festive evening out? The moral of the story is, however, a good one, and it is hard to deny that art and performance are an incomparable way to communicate an important message.

Tickets Mother Goose – Hackney Empire

Image credit : Manuel Harlan 

Review by Lucy Evans

Lucy’s passion for the arts began with drawing and painting at a young age and developed later on into a love of landscape painting and a degree in Art History, with a focus on Modernism and gender. Lucy has grown to love literature and acting in particular, and her experiences acting at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival have been formative, convincing her that performance can be an essential tool for communication and connection, as well as of course being a valuable source of entertainment.

Read Lucy’s latest review here Review: Kerry Jackson, National Theatre – fun but far-fetched (abundantart.net)

Barbican Theatre – Now on until 21st January 2023

Magical, endearing, exciting: Barbican Theatre opens the long-awaited adaptation of Hayao Miyazaki’s 1988 film, My Neighbour Totoro.

The original film of My Neighbour Totoro comes from the celebrated animation house Studio Ghibli, who have produced 24 feature length films including Spirited Away (2001), Howl’s Moving Castle (2004) and Princess Mononoke (1997). Studio Ghibli’s animations are well-loved and consistently top grossing, so it is no surprise this play adaptation has beaten Barbican box office records.

My Neighbour Totoro tells the story of a family who move to the countryside in post-war Japan. After their mother falls ill and is confined to hospital, sisters Satsuki and Mei busy themselves with adventures in the nearby forest, meeting mystical creatures along the way. The bittersweet tale demonstrates the transformative power of family, friendship and most of all, imagination. 

Ami Okumura Jones (Satsuki) and Mei Mac (Mei) both play children, despite them being adults. On occasion the exaggerated childlike actions feel a little excessive, even irritating. But as the play develops, the actors settle into the roles and this becomes less jarring. They both deliver good performances, however, the real stars of the show are the puppets. We see dancing Susuwatari (dust spirits), a friendly Totoro and an illuminated Cat Bus – the latter two, both so large it almost feels impossible they fit on stage at all. On multiple occasions, their appearances prompt gasps of wonderment from children and adults alike in the audience.  

The production, written by Tom Morton-Smith and produced by The Royal Shakespeare Company tells the popular story in a new light, however the magic undoubtedly remains. Music by Joe Hisaishi, who also composed the original film score, flows perfectly throughout. Perhaps even more special, it is performed by instrumentalists on platforms in the treetops on stage – one of the many elements of Tom Pye’s fantastic production design. Although the band remains throughout, we see other elements of the stage change dramatically; the family home spins to reveal the rooms inside, huge trees engulf the sisters in the forest and quiet conversations take place in an intimate hospital room. 

My Neighbour Totoro at Barbican brings the original film to life perfectly. This is one not to be missed by Studio Ghibli and theatre fans alike.

Tickets are available to purchase from http://totoroshow.com/.

Review by Amy Melling 

Amy is a Curator and Creative Producer whose practice is centred around community-led arts projects. Her current research is focused on curatorial methods for exhibiting artworks outside. Amy has a keen interest in the arts and recently completed an MA in Curating and Collections at Chelsea College of Arts, UAL.

Read Amy’s latest review here Remarkable performances, laugh-out-loud dialogue and heart rendering message: new musical, Tammy Faye does not disappoint-Almeida Theatre-Now on until 3 Dec-Review – Abundant Art

180 The Strand – Extended until 30 Dec

‘My film examines an intergenerational destruction; a legacy passed on from grandparents to grandchildren’ says Mosse. ‘We have one generation left to save the Amazon rainforest’.

Award-winning artist Richard Mosse’s major investigation ‘Broken Spectre’ has now been extended until the end of the year and we highly recommend going to see it. The highlight of the exhibition has to be Mosse’s large-scale immersive video installation that is presented in a pitch-black room on three huge screens to show the destruction and devastation of the Brazilian Amazon. Mosse and his team spent years documenting different forms of destruction, degradation and environmental crimes and the consequences captured in this 74-minute film are terrifying. The sound is presumably loud on purpose to deepen the impact of the harrowing, but crucial content. Illegal gold mining, logging and burning of forests and pristine surroundings to create cattle farms alongside indigenous communities fighting for survival isn’t easy viewing. The on-going damage inflicted on the Amazon forces us to address the negative outcomes of greed and proves how art can tackle important societal issues in need of urgent attention. A selection of Mosse’s true to life photographs from the project are displayed alongside the installation and many of them are very large with vivid colours and incredible detail.

Home to London’s creative industries, 180 the Strand’s industrial warehouse-style exhibition space is fitting for Mosse’s major ‘Broken Spectre’ exhibition.

Book tickets here Richard Mosse — 180 The Strand

Written by Jules Nelson

Read Jules’s latest review here Review: The Snowman-fills and breaks your heart at the same time, enchanting till the very end-Sadler’s Wells until 31 Dec (abundantart.net)

Footnote:

Broken Spectre is presented by 180 Studios and co-commissioned by the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne NGV, VIA Art Fund, the Westridge Foundation and by the Serpentine Galleries. Additional support provided by Collection SVPL and Jack Shainman Gallery.

Broken Spectre is also exhibited at the National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne, Australia, until 23 April 2023, and the Converge 45 Biennial, opening 24 August 2023 in Portland, Oregon, USA.

Broken Spectre was made in collaboration with cinematographer Trevor Tweeten and composer Ben Frost.

An artist’s book of Broken Spectre, published by Loose Joints in September 2022, will accompany the exhibition, with essays by Txai Suruí, Christian Viveros-Fauné, Gabriel Bogossian, and Jon Lee Anderson.
https://loosejoints.biz/collections/forthcoming/products/broken-spectre

Dorfman Theatre – on until 28 Jan 23

Kerry Jackson, written by April de Angelis and directed by Indhu Rubasingham, is a wonderfully entertaining new play which despite its dark themes (abuse, grief and homelessness) manages to get the audience laughing both heartily and frequently whilst thinking about class in our post-Brexit world.

Fay Ripley is full of life and contagious energy as Kerry Jackson. She is uninhibited, direct and confident, she brings the party wherever she goes, but she also tends to put her foot in it. The play follows the life of Kerry as she ventures out in her ambitious new business enterprise, establishing the new tapas bar, El Barco, in East London’s heavily gentrified Walthamstow village. Working alongside the brash and loud Kerry, is capable and calm chef, Athena (Madeline Appiah), who is technically being employed illegally by Kerry – who really couldn’t run the place without her. New clientele at El Barco includes the thoroughly middle-class father and daughter duo, Stephen and Alice, and an old ex-policeman acquaintance of Kerry’s, Warren, who by his own definition is an old flame of Kerry’s (while she, on the other hand, doesn’t even remember him from a speed dating episode in their past). Will (Michael Fox), the resident homeless guy, seems to be present as an attempt for April de Angelis to suggest that homeless doesn’t equal uneducated, and being the disenfranchised victim doesn’t necessarily make you a sympathetic character. Will reads Austen and comments on the life of Boudica, before alighting on a kindred spirit in uneducated, right-wing Kerry, as the two find common ground in their surprisingly similar politics. The premise feels forced and unnatural, as all these characters from almost categorically different strata of society end up in ridiculous circumstances together; but seriousness aside, at least it was funny.

Kerry Jackson covers most of the woke issues of our times, from state-of-the-nation commentary to identity politics, and yet the play never takes itself too seriously, even when the characters do (which is refreshing). At the same time, a play which should be (at least unwittingly or subtly) profound, ends up feeling like a casual sitcom which just misses the mark in seriously commenting on class in contemporary British society.

Richard Kent’s wonderful set spins between two main spaces: Kerry’s stylish and cosy El Barco (the bait for gentrification’s target audience) and Stephen and Alice’s Farrow & Ball-clad house (the target audience itself). Stephen and Alice’s elegantly sky-lit kitchen epitomises upper middle-class domesticity – the Smeg fridge is duck-egg blue, the cabinets are olive green and Ecover bottles conspicuously litter the room (strong recycling game, guys). Between these two warm and liveable spaces, is the dark alleyway home to El Barco’s bins and substitute toilet spot for Will.

Stephen and Alice are openly hospitable towards Will, whilst Kerry is openly hostile, and well-educated, gen-Z Alice (Kitty Hawthorne) can’t bear Kerry’s perceived small-mindedness. The play, however, is asking us to consider reality as well as idealised ethics too. Isn’t it easier for Stephen to hand over twenty quid to Will and buy him an avocado sandwich, when he doesn’t have to spare a moment to worry about his rent or if his business is about to collapse, like Kerry does? And with that, de Angelis is breaking down the ‘goodies and baddies’, as she puts it; but then Will dies and we never get to know him as anybody other than as “the homeless guy”.

April De Angelis has explained how she wanted to move beyond polarised opposites in this script and instead play with nuance – the lefties and the Leavers in one space and one (albeit unlikely and far-fetched) scenario. I think that this is done effectively – both Kerry and Stephen, the antithetical characters, are flawed in the end, the rug pulled from under their feet as they are made to look like fools, and Alice gets nowhere with her wokeness – who is she kidding? Just herself. When Will dies, tragically, the play is still funny, even during Will’s memorial – is this ok? Who knows – I think we are denying art its role if we focus on the morality of this scene too much. The scene is undeniably tragic, in an uncomfortable sort of way, whilst simultaneously being funny – which I think is quite a clever and thought-provoking combination.

The character of Alice (Kitty Hawthorne) is likeable and cringeworthy in equal measure. Spurring unsolicited soundbites like a walking activist, it is only her youthful enthusiasm which takes the edge off her know-it-all attitude. What I found interesting, however, is that I didn’t feel anything much at all for this grieving teenager who is utterly lost – but was I meant to? Has she been written as a stereotype of the snowflake generation or is she supposed to solicit sympathy?

Alice is nineteen, and whether it is the fact that this is Kitty Hawthorne’s professional theatre debut, or whether she’s been directed to speak with such extreme self-conviction at all times, I do wonder if they’ve got it quite right with this character…aren’t you a little bit more self-aware by nineteen, and not run by blind confidence like a child? I wish.

It is with trepidation that I write this, for fear of being a Stephen (Michael Gould) – the play’s liberal lefty; how does one respond to a play saturated with buzz words and playing with wokeness itself? If this play is trying to tell us anything, then it has something to do with recognising our own ignorance – from those who dropped out of school mid-teens to those who teach philosophy in vegan slippers, it’s going to take more than Stephen’s use of psychological theories to bridge the class divide in the UK.

This new play felt like watching a Netflix comedy which you’re prepared to binge-watch for the laughs – its best moments featuring dancing and karaoke-style singing, but it still needs more of that valuable element of nuance in order to reach greater depth in its conclusion.

Image credit – Marc Brenner

Review by Lucy Evans

Lucy’s passion for the arts began with drawing and painting at a young age and developed later on into a love of landscape painting and a degree in Art History, with a focus on Modernism and gender. Lucy has grown to love literature and acting in particular, and her experiences acting at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival have been formative, convincing her that performance can be an essential tool for communication and connection, as well as of course being a valuable source of entertainment.

Read Lucy’s latest review here Review: Othello, National Theatre-Clint Dyer plays out Othello like an exposed wound (abundantart.net)

Kerry Jackson is running at the Dorfman Theatre until 28 Jan 23. Tickets Kerry Jackson | National Theatre