Arts Reviews

The good, bad and ugly in arts and exhbitions

Wednesday

Matthew Dennison

Passionate collector

Masterpiece Watercolours and Drawings Lady Lever Art Gallery, Port Sunlight, until 9 November Even passion has its limits. The first Lord Leverhulme — that ‘Soapy Billy’ who founded Lever Brothers — was a man of many passions. Uxoriousness, philanthropy and, of course, hygiene swayed this confident, capable Victorian magnate. So, too, did art. Leverhulme devoted his final decade to the creation of the Lady Lever Art Gallery in his model village of Port Sunlight. A memorial to his adored wife, it is also a pantechnicon of the vast collection of artworks he amassed lifelong, but particularly during the 12 years of his widowerhood. Leverhulme had an omnivorous passion for art.

Martin Gayford

Wanted! Lost portraits

Criminals can turn into detectives: consider the career of Eugène-François Vidocq, thief, convict and subsequently head of the Paris Sûreté. And, as we have seen recently in London, political journalists can metamorphose into successful politicians. So it is not all that surprising that, once in a while, an art critic should cross the line and turn curator. After many years of writing about exhibitions, for the first time I am organising one myself (or, more precisely, co-arranging it with Anne Lyles of Tate Britain). Even less amazing, I suppose, is that the job turns out to be rather different from what I had imagined. Previously, I’d always thought that making

Lloyd Evans Lloyd Evans

Take two couples

On the Rocks Hampstead In My Name Trafalgar Studios All Nudity Shall Be Punished Union Uh oh. Writers writing about writers writing. Amy Rosenthal’s new play is set in 1916 in a Cornish village. D.H. Lawrence, suffering from writer’s block, has suggested to the publisher John Middleton Murry and his lover Katherine Mansfield, who is also blocked, that they rent adjoining cottages. This promises to be a meagre, literary love-in but the play succeeds extremely well, even for a sceptic like me who remains unconvinced by Lawrence’s obese sentiment-laden novels. (My preference is for the eerie, formless and completely masterful late poems like ‘The Mosquito’ and ‘Baby Tortoise’). The show’s

Deborah Ross

Super trouper

Mamma Mia PG, Nationwide Mamma Mia has to be the most fun you can have with your clothes on. Or is it off? When you get to my age, it’s such a struggle to remember. Either way, though, if you are now expecting this review to be subtly and cleverly interweaved with punning ABBA song titles then you can just forget it. My, my, how can I resist it? Easily, my dears; easily. Or, as Bubbles says, ‘Gimme, gimme, gimme a man after midnight.’ Well, it just goes to show; you can live with someone for years and years and years and still not know everything about them. Anyway, this

James Delingpole James Delingpole

No rude awakening

My favourite part of Banged Up (Channel 4, Monday) — the new reality show in which juvenile delinquents get to spend ten days in fake prison so they’re never tempted to end up in a real one — was the bit where the other inmates discovered Barry was a nonce. ‘Oi, Bazza. Just dropped me soap. Pick it up for me, would you, mate?’ someone said in the showers. And you should have seen Barry’s face as, glancing between his legs, he suddenly noticed the queue of eager lads building up behind him, led by the official prison Daddy, John ‘Baseball Bat’ Holmes. Priceless! No, not really. The scene didn’t

Saturday

Henrietta Bredin

A world elsewhere

Henrietta Bredin visits Oslo’s new opera house and finds it impressive, both inside and out Oslo is a small city, with a population of just over half a million, but it now boasts, funded entirely from the public purse, and on budget — Olympic Committee, please note — a spanking new all-singing, all-dancing opera house which has already rooted itself deeply in Norwegian affections, despite initial resistance from many quarters, especially in rural areas. Completed an impressive five months ahead of schedule, it sits on the waterfront in the old harbour area of Bjørvika like an iceberg that might slip into the fjord at any minute. A governing idea behind

Marcus Berkmann

Hitting the mark

Marcus Berkmann on Michael Jackson It seems hard to believe, but on 29 August Michael Jackson will be 50 years old. Maybe fortunately in this case, the music industry doesn’t really go a bundle on 50th birthdays: I believe there’s another half-hearted greatest hits coming out, but that’s about it. How will Jacko celebrate? I think we can all imagine him alone in one of his vast decaying houses, Charles Foster Kane crossed with Miss Havisham, playing his Nintendo all day and pausing from time to time to pick up the latest nose and stick it back on. If George Orwell was right, he will have the face he deserves —

Peter Hoskin

Here be monsters

The Mist 15, Nationwide As any fan of Howard Hawks, George A. Romero or John Carpenter will know, it’s not the monsters outside your window that you should worry about. It’s the people who are trapped indoors with you. Your friends, family, acquaintances and colleagues. The Humans. They’re the most horrific things of all. This dreary set-up has inspired a handful of great films — from The Thing from Another World (1951) through to Night of the Living Dead (1968) and The Thing (1982). A rich lineage, indeed. And although it doesn’t add anything particularly new, Frank Darabont’s The Mist may well deserve a place alongside them. The Mist sticks

Michael Tanner

Inspired and thrilling

Le nozze di Figaro Royal Opera House The first night of the latest revival of the Royal Opera House’s Le nozze di Figaro I count among the dozen, or perhaps fewer than that, most glorious evenings I have spent in the theatre. Figaro is the opera that a critic sees most often, and it is right that it should be, since it is not only an incomparably great work, but also one which can survive performances of very different levels of achievement. What one hopes for from the Royal Opera, and on this occasion gets in fullest measure, is a superb amalgamation of the arts of singing, acting, producing, conducting.

Lloyd Evans Lloyd Evans

What about the Iraqis?

Black Watch Barbican Whatever Happened to Cotton Dress Girl? New End Divas Apollo   Disney does death. That’s how Black Watch looks to me. The hit show has arrived in London with its bracing portrait of the famous Highland regiment. All its tactics and traditions are presented without criticism, including its devious recruitment policy. Get ’em young is the technique. The regiment offers teenage drifters a blend of stability, adventure and booze-soaked camaraderie, and the army becomes a surrogate family with ready-made bonds of loyalty to the past. Recruits are taught to revere the regiment’s history, ‘the golden thread’, which is exhibited here as a romanticised cartoon celebrating the footsoldier’s

Andrew Lambirth

Distinctly lacklustre

Radical light: Italy’s Divisionist Painters 1891-1910 National Gallery, until 7 September, Sponsoered by Credit Suisse Divisionism is based on the scientific theory of the prismatic division of light into the colours of the spectrum. It’s more familiarly known as pointillism and its greatest exponent was Georges Seurat. Italy bred a minor outbreak of Divisionism, and it is to these artists and to a fleeting period of their work that this show is dedicated. Divisionism was one of the key staging posts on the way to Futurism, but I doubt that it deserves an exhibition all to itself. Divisionism developed out of the Impressionists’ habit of putting unmixed colours next to

Thursday

Fraser Nelson Fraser Nelson

All hail Kylie

Does Kylie Minogue deserve an OBE? News of her honour has irked the usual suspects, perhaps because they are not up to date with her career and cultural achievement. Virgin Radio was once caught out in this way. It launched in 1994 with a a daft slogan “we’ve improved Kylie’s songs – we’ve banned them.” The joke was on them. Kylie had just signed with Deconstruction and was back with “Confide in Me” which hailed the first of her many reinventions. She had moved out of her (still genre-defining) Stock, Aitken & Waterman phase and become the woman whose ouevre is now being honoured. But how to sum her up?

Wednesday

Melissa Kite

A portrait of the artist as a tennis champion

Melissa Kite meets Martina Navratilova, nine times Wimbledon singles champion and now pioneer of ‘tennising’ — an artistic technique that creates Jackson Pollock-style patterns The jet set are strolling across the manicured lawns of corporate Wimbledon. Glistening white marquees filled with champagne and canapés await them at the Fairway Village and Wimbledon Club, just over the road from the All England Club where the tennis championship is taking place. Inside the tents, amid water sculptures and flowers and wine glasses lined up on trays, are some unusual paintings. The pictures, which range in price from £1,500 to £126,000, are Jackson Pollock-like splatters of paint on canvas, which on closer inspection

Saturday

Harry Mount

Oxford treasures

Beyond the Work of One — Oxford College Libraries and their Benefactors  The Bodleian Library, Oxford, until 1 November, admission free A few years ago, my old tutor, the much- missed Angus Macintyre of Magdalen College, gave me a letter that meant I could get into the Codrington Library — Nicholas Hawksmoor’s 1716 gem at All Souls: Gothic on the outside, classical on the inside. At the end of the letter, he wrote, ‘Welcome to the loveliest room in Europe!’ He was quite right; although other Oxford libraries run the Codrington a close joint second. The only problem is, it’s tricky getting inside them to have a gawp at their

Alexander Stoddart

How the West was won

Alexander Stoddart unravels the relationship between art and politics The great British philosopher Brian Magee, writing about Richard Wagner’s political life, points out that it is wrong to think of the Sage of Bayreuth moving to the Right in his later life. Magee’s proposal is compelling; Wagner leaves left-wing politics precisely as men who are maturing leave politics generally. They drift in middle age towards the static wasteland of metaphysics, and this is observed by those still remaining in politics as a move towards the Opposition, since they still cannot think of anything outside the political sphere. It appears that the ageing man ‘goes Tory’. In reality, however, there is

Kate Chisholm

Artist and Believer

I guess it’s no surprise that, while the rest of us were twiddling the dials on our cheap plastic transistors (made in Japan) to find Radio Caroline, the future Archbishop of Canterbury as a teenager in the Sixties was tuning in to Radio Three. He was hoping to hear the first blast of the latest Benjamin Britten, live not from Glastonbury but from the Aldeburgh Festival. Dr Rowan Williams was talking to Michael Berkeley on this week’s Private Passions (Sunday), Radio Three’s antidote to celebrity chitchat. As if to prove that the Sixties were not all about the Beatles and Bob Dylan, Williams told us that he shut himself in

Lloyd Evans Lloyd Evans

Gripped by paranoia

2,000 Feet Away Bush Relocated Royal Court The Chalk Garden Donmar America is nuts about paedophiles. That’s the take-home message of Anthony Weigh’s new play 2,000 Feet Away, which stars Joseph Fiennes. The title refers to a provision of Megan’s law which sets out the minimum permissible distance between the home of a paedophile and any place where children are likely to gather. The law has unintended consequences. A town can completely rid itself of sex offenders if enough inhabitants register their houses as children’s nurseries. The sex offenders are evicted and, deprived of any loyalty to a world they can never rejoin, they congregate in shoddy hotels where they

Robin Holloway

Whisper or scream

Since the recent death of Karlheinz Stockhausen, his compatriot Helmut Lachenmann, 73 this year, has inherited the Emperor’s mantle of grandiose invisiblity. I’m pitching it with provocative unfairness! Yet the struggle to extract gold from their mass of water or rock is beset with legitimate reservations that cannot be begged: Stockhausen the visionary charlatan–genius, Lachenmann the poet of exiguity — both present enormous problems to the would-be believer. In Madrid last week for completely different events, I chanced upon the Spanish première of Lachenmann’s Little Match Girl, a theatre-piece after Hans Christian Andersen, in a revised version, given without staging to open a brief season of avant-garde opera. There was

James Delingpole James Delingpole

Toffs are different

When I was up at Oxford, as I’m sure I’ve mentioned before, my deepest wish was to find a letter one day in my pigeonhole informing me that a distant relative had died and that henceforward I was entitled to style myself the Marquess of Wessex (or wherever), until eventually I inherited my dukedom. That ambition has gone now. As you get older, you grow more accepting of your lot, don’t you? Also, what I’ve noticed is that almost all the people I know who are seriously upper-class are also very seriously f***ed-up. Even more so than I am, which is saying quite a lot. Partly, I suppose, it’s all

Gerald Kaufman

What Cyd Charisse told me about Singin’ in the Rain

Gerald Kaufman on the late, great dancer and film star ‘who could stop a man by just sticking up her leg’, and the accidents that led her to a role that became a movie sensation When I discussed Singin’ in the Rain with Cyd Charisse, who died last week, she was of course aware that this was the film that propelled her to instant stardom. She knew less, however, about the series of accidents that brought about this opportunity. Charisse was scarcely a novice to MGM musicals before her big chance came along, but when MGM’s iconic producer of musicals, Arthur Freed, decided to make Singin’ in the Rain, with