An awesome and ridiculous film that leaves you thrilled beyond the point of your natural endurance
2012
Theatre
The show has suddenly become quite wonderful, and the galvanising factor is the terrific stage debut of Melanie C
Blood Brothers
Music
The British pop music industry may be eating itself but if Muse are the pick of what it can offer the world in 2010 then British music is in rude health indeed
Muse
I was smitten by both Gilberts enormous luxuriant moustache and the intelligence and nuance of this highly entertaining play
I totally recommend Babbo to anyone who is looking for really good and traditional Italian food
Always been a fan but never seen them live. I was ecstatic to be part of this epic event. WOW!
London,




No diva: Renée Fleming
Not content to rest on her laurels, the American soprano Renée Fleming has been investigating unfamiliar repertoire in recent years.
For her Festival Hall appearance (following on the heels of a new CD, Verismo) she chose an unhackneyed programme including a couple of lightweight numbers from the other La Bohème – that by Ruggero Leoncavallo — and an aria from Umberto Giordano’s rarely heard Siberia. Those items were bookended by two more substantial ones: the Letter Scene from Tchaikovsky’s Eugene Onegin and Sola, perduta, abbandonata from Act IV of Puccini’s Manon Lescaut.
Any concert of such extracts struggles to achieve dramatic veracity and tension but one that has to contend with the insipid orchestral contributions of a Charles Dutoit — his bland account of Prokofiev’s Romeo and Juliet music with the RPO in the first half was an omen of things to come — is really up against it.
Fleming managed to raise the emotional temperature only with the heartbreaking Manon Lescaut aria, twisting the knife in the social conscience to fine effect.
But the voice is indubitably a beautiful instrument: luminous, liquid and superbly controlled. It also has a winsome, girlish quality that came into its own in Tatiana’s Letter Scene — that outpouring of confused adolescent emotions — and in O mio Babbino Caro from Puccini’s Gianni Schicchi, the one concession to popular taste, offered as the sole encore.
All credit to Fleming for refusing to push the diva alert button. A sprinkling of stardust wouldn’t have gone amiss, however.
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