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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,
Fiona Mountford's rating
Reader rating
Plots and counter-plots: Count Max Piccolomini (Max Irons) and Wallenstein (Iain Glen)
We must, it seems, be grateful for small mercies. A recent German production of this rarely performed Schiller drama ran to an eye-watering 10 hours, so at least Chichester is letting us off lightly with a mere two and three‑quarters.
Yet despite the best efforts of skilled adaptor Mike Poulton to wrestle the original 1799 trilogy into a coherent stand-alone work, the minutes pass so slowly that it feels as though we have joined Wallenstein himself in fighting 15 hard years of the Thirty Years War.
Mein Gott, the Thirty Years War. Unless you’re fully versed in the astonishing intricacies and dastardly machinations of this religion-fuelled 1618-1648 conflict, during which our unreadable hero commands the forces of the Holy Roman Emperor until hubris finally gets the better of him, the evening is going to be a long one.
Historical specificities elude us from the start as, increasingly, do vast swathes of dialogue, reported events and, even more alarmingly, actual characters.
After years of fighting, plotting and counter-plotting, Wallenstein (Iain Glen) is tempted by the Swedes into betraying the Emperor with the offer of the prized kingdom of Bohemia.
It’s hard, though, to care about the knife-edge fate of this proto‑European Union, as Glen’s vocally showy performance, perhaps understandably given the intractability of the material he’s working with, is impressive surface pomp underpinned by no discernible emotion.
Angus Jackson’s gloomy, static production sees loyalties and family ties tested, young love thwarted and Jeremy Irons’s son Max show off his model cheekbones in a decent stage debut but it’s hard not to feel that the recent Schiller revival should have called it quits after the triumphs of Don Carlos and Mary Stuart.
Until 13 June. Information: 01243 781312, www.cft.org.uk.
Details are correct at the time of publication - please check with venue before booking.
