Irish Timeswriters review Christy Moore at Vicar Street, Cinderella at the Cork Opera House and the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra under the baton of Robert Houlihan at the NCH.
Christy Moore, Vicar Street, Dublin
Seeking the universal in the particular, Christy Moore tells tales of muslin dresses, bees' wings, stray shovels and dodgy dancehalls with the fluency of a raconteur well-versed in the ebb and flow of a good conversation. He's back in Vicar Street with Declan Sinnott for what is becoming an annual event, and the spit 'n' polish is almost as sharp as ever.
Working his way through the old favourites, fielding the (decidedly genteel) hecklers, Moore revived Delirium Tremens (replete with dancing children of Prague and a nervy Michael Flatley), Nancy Spain, McIlhatton, Strange Ways, Matty, Casey and Lawless, delivering them in his trademark syllabic style, eking every last drop out of each word, savouring it as if, once sung, it would be gone forever.
Declan Sinnott's subtle guitar work bolsters and cushions in equal measure, his sensitivity to Moore's (well-masked) anxieties and foibles a lightning conductor that eases the repertoire from come-all-ye-crowd-pleasers to a workmanlike reading of Shane MacGowan's Fairytale of New York and a gentle revival of They Never Came Home. Moore paid his dues to the late Christie Hennessy, whose Don't Forget Your Shovel lured countless punters to Moore's music and basked in the remembered delights of a Glasgow dancehall in Barrowland.
Wisely, he countered the misty-eyed audience reveries that accompanied City of Chicago with a satisfying cover of Dylan's Pity the Poor Immigrant, a subtle reminder that we're not the only nation well-versed in the perils of leave-taking. If only we did immigration as well as we do the teary-eyed tales of emigration though. The paddywhackery of Joxer Goes to Stuttgart roused its audience as usual, though the storyline is faded and weary at this stage.
Ironically, Moore's finest hour came with Little Musgrave, a paean to a love both doomed and true that harks back to his best days with Planxty. Liam O'Flynn's pipes - harbingers of doom - were sorely missed, and at times Moore struggled to keep the countless beautiful verses in check, but lyrically and melodically, this was the song that stood out above the rest.
Christy's tried and tested formula is one that works - perfectly. His audience adores his curmudgeonly rapport and his verbal slingshots. He's a chronicler of our times though; fingers crossed that he'll locate some more contemporary commentaries on Irish life in the noughties, whose tales are crying out to be told. - Siobhán Long
Cinderella, Cork Opera House
Sometimes it's the subplots which provide the lasting pleasures of a pantomime and the most satisfying aspect of this production of Cinderella is the romance between the lackey Buttons and the Fairy Godmother. Killian Donnelly and Irene Warren share a hint of the "trouper" in that their stagecraft is terrific and their rapport with the large audience of varying ages is humorously assured. Like the rest of the cast, this pair invest a lot of energy in their performances (there's enough energy generated in this show to slow down climate change), but they also offer that punch of personality, a kind of insouciance, which separates them from the ordinary.
That's not to say that the other performances are ordinary - especially not that of Sarah Burke as Cinderella - but they are predictable, despite a script (also by Killian Donnelly) which tries to spring a few surprises. The succession of bangs, explosions and cascading stars considered necessary to provide excitement belie the talents assembled here, such as designer Lisa Zagone, whose lavish set provides a magical transformation scene, all silver and snowflakes, as Cinderella departs for the ball. The imaginative and technical quality of choreographer Jonathan Fitzgerald's work is measured to his good dance team, and although his ballroom sequences have more of the gym than the dance floor about them, most of his episodes are a joy to watch.
Director Bryan Flynn keeps the action tearing along and there is a lot of singing, a requisite amount of slapstick and several thrilling aerial appearances by the Good Fairy. Where things come apart is in the sound: not only is the amplification deafening and unbalanced, it actively defeats what seem to be some naturally fine voices. Projection, of course, is a lost art now, but what envelopes the audience here is a karaoke-style effect with the voices officially on stage and the accompaniment coming from a galaxy far away. Why musical director Dave "Doc" O'Connor, who seems to have a band under his baton, has to overload his pudding with electronic eggs is hard to understand and even more difficult to forgive. - Mary Leland
Runs until Jan 20
King, RTÉ NSO/Houlihan, NCH, Dublin
The first of this week's two RTÉ Christmas Lunchtime Choice concerts wore its seasonality with discretion. Instead of being mere stocking fillers, excerpts from Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker Suite proved the catalyst for a programme of all-Russian music, nearly all for the stage, that was kept subtly topical by movements from Prokofiev's ballet, Cinderella.
As is usual with conductor Robert Houlihan, the RTÉ National Symphony Orchestra played with cool and consistent precision. But the predominantly luscious and lyrical Cinderella pieces set a rather languorous mood that was overcome only in the closing item, Tchaikovsky's Swan Lake waltz.
More Tchaikovsky came with Lisa's aria from Act III of The Queen of Spades and the celebrated None But the Lonely Heart, sung in studious Russian by rising soprano Norah King.
A former pupil of Veronica Dunne at the Royal Irish Academy of Music, King is now furthering her studies at the Cardiff International Academy of Voice. This was her second appearance with the RTÉ NSO.
Though some dainty instrumental articulation and an irresolute tempo took some soul out of Rachmaninov's Vocalise, King's ample sustaining power was more than equal to its demands.
Her strongly technical focus placed rhythm and intonation second to a tenaciously linear, wide-ranging and silvery tone that carried above the orchestra with easy and graceful efficiency. - Andrew Johnstone
