Easter Sunday at Snape – A further enquiry into the nature of things with Solomon's Knot (work in progress)

Easter at Snape – A further enquiry into the nature of things with Solomon's Knot (work in progress)

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2019 (17 to 24 October)
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)

9 April

Easter Sunday at Snape Maltings – A further enquiry into the nature of things :

Solomon's Knot in Bach's St Matthew Passion, BWV 244 (work in progress)

No more so than would The Full Monty, given by I Fagiolini at Emmanuel United Reformed Church, Cambridge, during Cambridge Summer Music Festival (in 2005 ?), have been as when those performers sang that selection of Monteverdi's Madrigale under the same title, but in another venue, than Solomon's Knot, with J. S. Bach's St Matthew Passion, in the chapel of Trinity College, Cambridge, will assuredly be as they and it were at Snape Maltings (on Easter Sunday) – or, for that matter, in Weimar's Herderkirche (on Good Friday).

Partly, there is site-specificity at play / stake and involved, and, if there are not, as at Britten Pears Arts, side-aisles and a central block of seats, one simply cannot have one's four-part choirs face each other across the stalls and flood the hall with sound in both directions. This was a moment that, probably as one had not envisaged - as one saw it approach - that it could be, was both moving and effective – just, in fact, as so much else was in what we saw and heard, which we had perhaps understood before, but not, in and at the same time, deeply felt in this way before. Or, then again, which we had sensed, but not so fully grasped and found tangible in its questioning force.

Yes, we did feel that what Bach gave us had both just been written and yet always existed.

One of last decade's panel discussions for the regular @AAMorchestra performances of this (and the St John) Passion during Easter at King's highlighted the work's sense of inevitability :

— THE AGENT APSLEY #ScrapUniversalCredit #JC4PM2019 (@THEAGENTAPSLEY) April 10, 2023

However many times arias and chorales take us out of chronicity into devotion, empathy, contemplation, praise, the pacing and purity of the succeeding words of recitative from Thomas Herford, as The Evangelist, bring us right back into the shock and immediacy of what faces Jesus.

— THE AGENT APSLEY #ScrapUniversalCredit #JC4PM2019 (@THEAGENTAPSLEY) April 11, 2023

There is such power in solo or lead musicians (whether instrumentalists or vocalists) not being tied to following a printed score, and, when York Early Music Festival ran three or four recitals of Bach's solo compositions for, probably, violin, keyboard and cello, it was Alison McGillivray who, for this reason, communicated most directly – likewise the great Alisa Weilerstein, during Aldeburgh Festival, in a recital in Blythburgh Church.


More to come...

The first St Matthew Passion I ever attended was also in Trinity Chapel, in Feb 2004 Nick Collon conducting, I was quite blown away by it, and not since has it left as big an impression as then. Until last night, which was truly alive and unforgettable @solomonsknot @derMusikant pic.twitter.com/GzDHycJSOy

— Peter Conlon (@phc27x) April 13, 2023

Well-deserved standing ovation for a superb St. Matthew Passion from @solomonsknot. Loved the solo instrumentalists coming out front and interacting with the singers during arias. Brilliant stand-in Evangelist from Ruairi Bowen. Just miffed they left before we finished clapping! https://t.co/xECixBLwl6

— Eleri W. (@Lelsiboots) April 12, 2023

Eternally grateful to this bunch of absolute legends for the Matthew Passion of a lifetime. Feeling so lucky to be able to co-shape the music as I ideally imagine it, and then see it fly in the hands of these incredible musicians and souls. ❤️💔❤️@solomonsknot pic.twitter.com/Pfv4NMexDT

— Jonny Sells 🇬🇧🇪🇺🇨🇭🇯🇴 (@derMusikant) June 20, 2023

😊 There's nothing more important than how our work impacts each audience member.

It's so special when people feel willing to share their experiences with us. We are profoundly grateful to everyone who has joined us on the journey of St Matthew Passion.

More to come in June! pic.twitter.com/lBlYVrC9Xm

— 𝗦𝗢𝗟𝗢𝗠𝗢𝗡’𝗦 𝗞𝗡𝗢𝗧 🎻🤘 (@solomonsknot) April 13, 2023

Huge shout out to @solomonsknot for the most stunning, dramatic, powerful, searingly moving, poetic St Matthew passion tonight. #definitive #bravo

— Useful&Kind (@UsefulandKind) April 12, 2023

End-notes :

* Probably familiar to so many, who have not necessarily had a chance to set foot within the chapel, from the service of Nine Lessons and Carols at King's, with its processions and solemnity of ceremony (as televised and broadcast by radio) ?





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Unless stated otherwise, all films reviewed were screened at Festival Central (Arts Picturehouse, Cambridge)

Fabette's Beast

This is a review of Babette’s Feast (1987)

More views of - or before - Cambridge Film Festival 2012
(Click here to go directly to the Festival web-site)

4 January

This is a review of Babette’s Feast (1987)

* Contains spoilers *

Babette's Feast, newly released by the BFI (British Film Institute), is not exactly a suspenseful film, but there are tensions, and they have kept me pondering it, and so not writing this review, for several weeks. (Which is very often a sign of a good film, i.e. that it should defy instant analysis.)

When one does not have an original screenplay, but an adaptation, one never quite knows not just what has been changed*, but also how things made manifest in the written work (which may be so ambiguously, provisionally or tangentially) have been embodied on the screen. In some ways, cinema can be more indefinite than a novel, in others it almost cannot fail to state things.

One is the location. Quite apart from what the narration tells us, we can see that it is a small community in a remote spot, and we might subconsciously, even before shown anyone who lives there or, less still, having mention of a sect, infer qualities in those who (choose to ?) live there - and not be so far wrong ?

As to the buildings that, real or specially constructed, we see, no amount of lulling the senses can conceal the fact that they are smaller on the outside – this, though, is not Doctor Who**, and the scenes with which we are presented could often not be accommodated by these modest dwellings, even allowing for the cinematographer being the other side of where a wall should be.

There may be several reasons for having the exterior shot in a way that draws attention to proximity, intimacy and even claustrophobia, but I shall choose the fact that the isolation and vulnerability to external forces are heightened by the smaller scale, giving a sense both of how precarious life there is and that it may be prone to further influences for change. At any rate, that is how I interpret it.

This is Jutland, in Denmark, in – in the present, as shown – the early latter half of the nineteenth century, but what I need to find out is how the various wars between the Scandinavian countries had affected the population geography (I refuse to say ‘demographics’), and whose territory this island had been at various times. I say this because the spirit of August Strindberg hovers over this film for me, and I want to understand things a little better. That inquiry must wait for another time…

Strindberg is first very evident when Babette goes away to make arrangements for the feast, and the sisters have to take over duties that they last performed before she came, in the caricatured responses of those on the receiving end of their charity to the food presented and the fact that it is late, but the whole notion of this sort of meals-on-wheels generosity chimes with later works, too, such as his A Dream Play from 1902. (Does one, though, attribute that feeling to Babette’s Feast because of Karen Blixen or because of the screenwriter?)

Where the feeling is most relevant is at the feast itself, with the sharply defined moments of what neighbour says (or whispers) to neighbour, which is a sort of kaleidoscopic one for me, because I did not feel myself tasked with keeping track of who had a specific grudge with whom until shown them again, but of having an impression of the levels of unrest or discontent – the Strindbergian element is in people saying to each other what, dreams apart, they ordinarily would not reveal, and goes all the way back to a puzzling little play such as Easter.

They most discomfort the two worrying sisters (and they, too, I found it hard to distinguish from each other, though not for want of concentration*), who appear to see any ignoble behaviour or sentiment as ultimately a bad reflection on their father, without seeming to appreciate that maybe, even if he was not a charlatan who just wanted power and authority, he knew these people’s nature better than they do.

That is one of the tensions, but, preceding it, has been the sisters’ regret of allowing Babette to prepare this meal, which they have come to see as beastly and probably satanic, after encountering the live ingredients: in a paranoid response – and the elderly sisters are highly skittish – they come to suspect that the act of kindness is for their ill, and tell all the guests so, who are ready to believe it.

As I see it, the general unrest could, depending on our disposition and mood, affect us differently – we could reject it as their baseless superstition, or think that there might be, in the unfolding of this feast (the English word is laden with significance from Belshazzar to The Last Supper to the feast that is Christmas) be something sinister. As to the latter response, for example, why is the instruction for General Löwenhielm’s glass to be kept topped up, and is he meant blessing by it, or some harm of over-indulgence ? In those terms, indeed, what does this elaborate food and drink for these simple-living people mean ?

That question we come to later, but the night itself embodies dissension and enmity, which almost seem brought on by the feast and clearly disquiet the passive and peaceful daughters of the pastor : to what, one imagines them thinking, has all his work come, if the reaction to this meal in his honour takes the form of the uncovering of deep grudges and hatreds ? Is that the truth, or is there some more magical act of redemption going on, which means that, when the guests (other than Löwenhielm and his aunt, who have already left for home) dance around the well-head and sing, they are truly and fully reconciled to each other, rather than this being a papering-over the cracks ?

At any rate, the naive pair, with no idea how much such elaborate food and expensive wine would cost, have been blessed by Babette (along with the villagers), and had not figured that she could possibly have spent her whole winnings on it all. They had been mean enough to wonder how they would manage without her, if she went back to France – and, indeed, we are shown them struggling, and with the grumpy reactions of those to whom they give charity.

The fact that she did not have anywhere to go to in France does not explain the staggering decision not to buy herself an easier life somewhere else, and that generosity is so baffling that it almost only works on the level of parable, very much in what we are told of Griselde in Chaucer’s The Clerk’s Tale. It remains a puzzle to me, even on some reading (as I have heard critics advance) that wants to see the feast itself as the healing sacrament that these people needed : if there is a synthesis between the pious, remote North and the South of the warmer Parisian lands, then this is really no more than Löwenhielm says, who maintains a commentary on food and drink, both at the level of identification, and at that of gourmandizing wit and wisdom.

It is his presence at table, he who is used to this quality of food from when Babette worked elsewhere, that strikes an alternative note, and, whilst he might guide the others into enjoying the food, he seems as if in a dream, not being amazed at how such things could be in a poor and remote place. He leaves without seeing Babette, and, outside her kitchen, she takes no part in the feast, since she directs the others what to serve and how. It has all led up to the sisters learning that she is not to leave them, with and because of this meal, and there the graciousness of the gesture remains, for me, at the level of allegory.


End-notes

* For example, I know that Tove Jansson was Finnish, but she came from the Swedish-speaking part of Finland, and had Swedish as her primary language. However, this map delineating the extent, at various times, of the Swedish empire shows that, although it encompassed parts of Norway and Finland, and even Bremen and Riga, it did not touch Denmark, for some reason.

However, as flicking through one of these books of the type 385 Films You Must See Before Breakfast revealed, I now know that the story has been translated to Denmark from Norway anyway.

** TARDIS – to come…

*** I could not swear that the daughter whom her father delights in having subject to the philandering of the French musician Papin, just so that he can impiously delight that he has been snubbed, is not the same one whom Löwenhielm seeks to court, even if parity would have one disappointed suitor for each.


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Tired old nag of a film (2)

More views of - or after - Cambridge Film Festival 2011
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25 January

And the amazing thing is that Peter Mullan (who could have done with being given a lot more to do in Trainspotting (1996) than the role of Mother Superior) is in this opus:

Some may not know his name, though - whatever one thinks of its ruling idea - he added immensely (as did his opposite number, Olivia Colman) to Paddy Considine's conception of Tyrannosaur (2011), but, for me, this is almost as incongruous as realizing that Robert De Niro really was playing the part of Tuttle in Brazil (1985)*!


* I haven't seen it since, and should, as it is a great film - than which many a Gilliam production is a pale (or very pale) lamp**.

I also must have known at the time, but I have just been reminded, that he had the great Tom Stoppard alongside to temper his inclinations on the writing side - I wonder if anything reveals how those two got on (other than in the finished film)...

Interesting also, I think, that Terry Jones was accepted as the director of the Python films (more or less, give or take a few grumbles about his perfectionism regarding certain aspects of a take, whilst ignoring what others sometimes thought more significant). Which could have been because Gilliam was in so many ways in a different relation to the others or that he simply had not developed in that way - not, at any rate, until his contribution to The Meaning of Life (1983).


** And I do not know whether I am being unfair to Gilliam for his direction, or to Robin Williams for that certain worthiness that he seems to have in all his acting (or to both), but The Fisher King (1991), for whatever it could have been without, sadly gave rise to a feeling akin to having gorged on too many Easter eggs (when that time of the year, marking Christ's death, necessarily had a highly chocolatey character, such that one could easily do it)!


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Merry birthday ! (1)

More views of - or after - Cambridge Film Festival 2011
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19 January

If anyone can explain what has been raised by adapting some Christmas labels to identify whose is which of two presents being sent together, I'd be glad to know:

We say Happy Christmas and Merry Christmas interchangeably, but we only say Happy birthday*...


End-notes

* The same is true of Easter, actually - does Christmas especially embody merriment (a word used twice by friends this season, when it has no common place in our vocabulary)? Plus there is the word 'mirth', rhymed with 'birth' in the Sussex Carol in a line (or part-line) that goes something like 'news of great mirth': the birth of Jesus is not what we would nowadays think of as a subject for mirth. (I must check, but I think both that the words 'merriment / merry' and 'mirth' are cognates, and that Sir Gawain and the Green Knight may shed light on an older meaning of the latter... - it does, so see, if you will, Merry birthday ! (2))

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