DANCE
COLETTE SADLER – THE MAKING OF DOUBT **
TRAMWAY, GLASGOWCOLETTE Sadler is known for pushing the boundaries of what we consider "dance". Which, in itself, is no bad thing – and Sadler certainly generates some fascinati
ng ideas with her work. How successful she is at communicating them to an audience, however, is less certain.
Inspired by the disaffected youth hanging out near Sadler's Glasgow home, The Making of Doubt contains flashes of brilliance. As we enter the theatre, six hoodies sit on stage with their backs turned to us, their inertia signifying a group of young people who belong to each other, but not to wider society. As the anonymous figures start to move, it becomes apparent that two of the six are, in fact, large puppets. Slumped in world-weary poses, the dancers and puppets look uncannily similar, until the "real" kids start to take out their frustrations on their pals.
From there, the show takes a dive into incomprehensible, inaccessible material. Dancers stick tape on the floor, calling out words and climbing on chairs, while a crackling soundscape communicates who knows what. Until another inspired idea raises its head – dancers mutate into a bizarre human/dummy hybrid. Some have three legs, some three arms, the effect of which is thought-provoking. As they stretch across the stage, we're forced to figure out which limb is real, which is fake.
The piece is book-ended by fascinating ideas, chillingly executed, but filled with esoteric movement that is virtually impossible for an audience to engage with.
Kelly ApterMUSIC
SCOTTISH CHAMBER ORCHESTRA ****
CITY HALLS GLASGOW THE German conductor Andreas Spering was not the intended figure on the podium for Friday's closing concert of the Scottish Chamber Orchestra season, replacing as he did the indisposed Olari Elts. But there was little sign of anything unprepared as he took over Beethoven's Eroica Symphony and Handel's Nelson Mass.
Some uncharacteristically frayed ends threatened the overall brusqueness of his Eroica but the performance reflected the heroic theme of the programme.
Spering's driven account was elemental, setting loose individual components of the score (the protagonist bullying of the horns, or the bassoon's prodding counter-subject in the fugue of the finale) to the point of opening up unexpected delights, like some Pandora's music box. The funeral march, brisk but calm, was measured and poignant.
Spering played up, too, the pugnacious assertiveness of Haydn's war-inspired Nelson Mass: a Benedictus with attitude; and an Agnus Dei tinged with festive affirmation. With everyone singing out of the same proverbial hymn book – an incisive, if occasionally narrow-toned SCO Chorus and the animated solo vocal foursome of Elizabeth Watts, Karen Cargill, James Gilchrist and Christopher Purves – the mood was ecstatic and gratifyingly wholesome.
Kenneth Walton
The full article contains 460 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
