Irish Timescritics give their verdict on Out of Timeat Glór, Ennis and Canticum Novum, OSC/Sprattat St Ann's Church, Dublin
Out of Time Glór, Ennis
When Colin Dunne began his contemporary dance training he found that it contradicted rather than complemented his competitive Irish dance skills. Through these new disciplines his rigid arms and torso were released and his legs softened, yet artistically he remained in a sort of no-man's-land. Successful roles with contemporary dance groups brought his step-dancing experience into the black box, but evidence of Dunne's personal aesthetic journey remained elusive - until Out of Time.
This new solo show is an intimate, sincere and funny artistic calling card that sums up why he is who he is and how he is where he is. He is joined onstage by vaporous co-performers in the form of projected black-and-white images of Áine Ní Thuathaigh, Paddy Ban O Broin and three men in Englishman Greville Squires's twee documentary on Irish dancing. These aren't included to earn historical kudos, nor are they presented with an insincere reverence and respect, but rather they are introduced as fellow step-dancing journeymen who happened to live in another time. In purging the vocabulary of competitive Irish dance it would be easy - and, for revisionists, expected - to rail against tradition. But though it might appear that Dunne and Irish dance have a love-hate relationship, the reality is less two-dimensional. He has no high art/low art hang-ups, so is happy to judge Celebrity Jigs'n'Reelswhile being nominated best modern dancer by the London Critics' Circle for his role parodying himself in Fabulous Beast's The Bull.
This all leads to an openness to new influences and a richness in material. With microphones used to digitally delay sounds, ghostly echoes are created. Toe pitter-pats, swishing leg swings and resonant heel thuds pile up in layers until they resemble a backing ensemble. Image and sound are carefully harnessed, never distracting from the live body and harmonising well with the tenor of the dancing. There's flippant humour throughout, yet Dunne has never been more serious, virtuoso dancing as well as hands-down-the-trousers microphone removal.
The moment of liberation comes at the end as he circles the space, running barefoot and leaping with abandon, yet this, strangely, feels less believable than the previous hour, as if something is being held back. Review by Michael Seaver
Bach- Cantatas 99, 8, 100.
This week's guests at the Orchestra of St Cecilia's Bach cantata series were staunch regulars, conductor Geoffrey Spratt and his chamber choir, Canticum Novum. Spratt deployed the two dozen choral voices in two flanks enclosing the orchestra, from where their sound gathered into a superbly unified and balanced whole, with lively yet well-blended lines, idiomatic diction and rock-solid intonation. The only possible cause for regret was that the selection of cantatas didn't give this fine ensemble more to do, for the opening choruses of No 99 and No 100 are identical as far as the voice parts are concerned.
The familiar quartet of vocal soloists - Lynda Lee (soprano), Alison Browner (alto), Robin Tritschler (tenor) and Nigel Williams (bass) - sang from behind the orchestra. This isn't their usual position, but last year, with a performance of the solo soprano cantata, No 199, Spratt and Lee had demonstrated just how successfully it can work.
This time, however, being to the rear of the instruments seemed sometimes to make it hard for the soloists to judge their contributions. This led to some over-loud and sharp singing in two duet numbers, and to the usually agile Tritschler making heavy weather of the poison-laden chromaticism of his aria in Cantata 99. Williams nonetheless turned out two vividly characterised arias, and Browner showed her customary instinct for pacing the expression over lengthy tracts of melody.
Having secured a deliciously light orchestral touch with the opening of Cantata 99, Spratt could indulge a contrasting ceremonial feel when the same music returned, with heavier instrumentation, in Cantata 100.
All three cantatas contained exacting flute parts, which were played with an impressive mixture of stamina and panache. Review by Andrew Johnstone
