Category Archives: Arts

Anticipating Opera

I woke up this morning feeling tingly with anticipation. There was sunshine creeping in my window and blue sky outside, sharpened by the contrast with rolling white clouds around the edges. I am off to the Opera today. I am so excited. I haven’t been to the Opera since I saw Madama Butterfly in December. This is not for lack of trying. There simply haven’t been any performances that I was able to attend since then. So I am excited to see Opera again. Actually, I’m excited to see any theatre. I’m feeling a little art-starved at the moment.

This is, of course, brought sharply into focus by the fact that I now know that I’ll be home in time to see at least a few days of the National Arts Festival in Grahamstown in July. Fest has become (for my mother and me at least) an annual pilgrimage  to several days – a week if we can manage it – of intensive culture and arts immersion. It is the most amazingly stimulating, relaxing, exciting, fulfilling experience. For those who have never experienced Fest, it is a week long  festival of arts and culture, including drama, dance, comedy, visual arts, music of all varieties, cinema, flee markets and street theatre (this year extended to 15 days of AMAZ!NG ). There are nearly 500 different performances, showings and exhibitions in that time. Some of them are funded ‘main’ productions, such as the annual festival ballet – this year Cape Town City Ballet performing Carmen (swoon), the gala and symphony concerts (conducted by Richard Cock – swoon again) plus other musical performances from the likes of Vusi Mahlasela, BLK Sonshine and Samson Diamond (SBYA for music), major theatre productions and developmental student theatre. There is also the Jazz Festival where some of the top jazz artists around (Concord Nkabinde, Sibongile Khumalo, etc., etc.) perform and new talent is showcased. The ‘fringe’ festival has hundreds more shows, some of which will flop completely but many of which are world-class theatre by some of the top performers in the country, who at no other time gather in one place, making Fest the only opportunity to see them all in action in just 15 days. Physical theatre, live music, dance, drama, plenty of comedy and the usual festival standards like ‘Raiders’ and (although I find him annoying and would never see his show) Stef: the ‘fringe’ is an integral part of the variety and diversity that makes Fest a unique cultural experience. Alongside this are ‘Word Fest’ – a literary festival that warms my heart,  Winter School (recently renamed ‘ThinkFest’) where some of the countries top minds come together to talk about topics ranging from law and  neuropsychanalysis to hip hop activism and sports versus art. Oh, and as a myriad visual arts exhibitions by a wide variety of artists.  To someone for whom all of the above equal joy, Fest is an abundantly joyous experience. This will also be enhanced, this year, by seeing my family for the first time 12 months (yay!) and by the prospect of touching base with friends (some of whom are now showing up as experts and performers in the Fest programme – as odd as that may seem). So the anticipation runs high, even two months away and even though I am very sad that there does not seem to be a way for me to make it back in time for the ballet, the gala or symphony concerts or the lecture on a century since South African Union, given by one of my all-time favourite South African historians.

The anticipation of Fest and the knowledge that it is just a couple of months away, make the anticipation of this Opera even more thrilling. Today’s Opera is La Traviata (G Verdi) performed by the Daegu City Opera at the Daegu Opera House. It’s a matinee performance at 4pm. I’ve never seen La Traviata and am very much looking forward to it. I have researched the story, of course, so that I can follow, because the synopsis that is handed out is generally in Korean and therefore not helpful to me. After 10 months I know enough basic Korean to buy things in shops and direct taxi drivers but I definitely cannot claim to speak the language and would probably still, even had I been studying Korean seriously this whole time, not be able to understand enough to follow an Opera synopsis.

In the midst of all this art-sy anticipation, a friend and I are also preparing for a trip to the cultural heartland of Korea next weekend. We’re both quite excited to see some history and culture although the planning is attended in this case by rather a lot of frustration and dead ends – it appears not all Korean tourist destinations have managed to become English-tourist-friendly. At this point we may or may not have booked accommodation at a place that may or may not have an actual name. It should be an interesting weekend and finding out all I can so that we don’t miss any of the wonderfulness is yet another part of why today is a day filled with the anticipation of wonder and the joy of looking forward to the things (and the people with whom I will share those things) that are good and special and joyful in my humble little life.

Madama Butterfly

Life lesson number # (many): Do not wear mascara when going to watch a great tragic opera. Yes, I cried. Even though I knew what was going to happen. It was beautiful.

Someone asked me last night how I understand the opera if it’s in Italian. I definitely don’t speak Italian and the sub-titles at the Daegu Opera House are in Korean, so not particularly helpful to me. What I do is to make sure that I know the story beforehand, so that I can follow what is happening. This works well. In fact, it’s great because I am able to lose myself totally in the music and singing without struggling to follow the story in two foreign languages. As an added benefit, I am slowly becoming properly familiar with the stories of all sorts of operas and ballets (because the ballet synopses are also in Korean), which is never a bad thing.

Last night’s opera was a special performance for the 25th anniversary of the Yeongnam Opera Company. This meant that it was a fairly elaborate production, which is always a bonus. The opera itself is fairly complicated anyway. Sufficiently complicated that Puccini rewrote it 4 times (there are 5 versions) before he got it right. It can’t have been easy to turn the story of an American Naval officer and a Japanese geisha into an Italian opera. Apparently he succeeded because Madama Butterfly is now one of the most-performed operas in the US.

I nearly didn’t get to there last night. There had been plans afoot to take in a musical instead and then I dawdled while getting ready so I was running late. Of course, this point – when I was already running late – would be when I landed a bus-driver who was careful and steady and slow, rather than the insane speed-freaks who could be Joburg taxi drivers and normally drive my buses. I got to the Opera house with 10 minutes to spare, in the end. I have also now established that it takes 1 hour to get from myfront door to the Opera House in Saturday evening traffic. Ticket in hand (30 000 won), I headed up to my seat on the 3rd floor balcony. The balcony seat was a mistake. Not that balcony seats are generally a bad thing but I was in a side-balcony seat, so it was a little difficult to see the whole stage. I still enjoyed myself, though.

I was impressed, the last time I went to an Opera by the set. This one was also impressive. The best description is that it was relatively simple and completely functional but managed to evoke a Japanese scene with ease and elegance. It wasn’t unnecesarily cluttered, which always annoys me in a set, but it wasn’t small either – using the entire stage. The lighting was also, again, excellent. Both the design and execution were spot-on to evoke emotions and create atmosphere in support of the music.

The most important contribution to verisimilitude, however, was from the performers. There were lots of super performances. Cio-Cio San (Madama Butterfly) was excellent and Sharpless’s rich, velvety, chocolatey baritone was gorgeous.

The star of the show for me, though, was Kim Jeong Hwa (I think) singing the part of Suzuki. Her voice was stunning and she paired with excellent characterisation. She was entirely believable in her gestures and mannerisms as Madama Butterfly’s maid and she also paid particular attention to little things. Like shoes. She meticulously took off and straightened her shoes every time she moved from the ‘outdoor’ area of the set into the house. She never once missed it and it did so much to create the separation between the spaces, which were not divided by any sort of physical wall. Her emotions were also believable. The role of Suzuki involves a lot of anguished moments and a fair bit of cowering and crying and she pulled it off.

A particularly entertaining role was that of Goro, the matchmaker. The performer singing this part had a wonderfully light touch and really pulled off the greasy, sleazy pimp-persona and added touches of humour and entertainment at exactly the right moments.

The other small part that was an absolute crowd-pleaser was the monk/priest. In the story, Cio-Cio San’s uncle, a Buddhist priest, storms into the wedding party of Butterfly and Pinkerton (the US Navy officer) and curses her for abandoning her ancestral gods to covert to her new husband’s religion. This issue is particularly relevant in Korea so it’s not surprising that the small part was given quite a lot of prominence and the priest was fierce and very good.

I was less impressed with Pinkerton, not because of his singing; his voice was gorgeous but someone needs to teach him a little acting to go with it. Also, I struggled to get past the awful orange-blond hair on a Korean. It wasn’t sufficiently problematic to detract from the experience though and, as I said, his voice was gorgeous.

Another thing about this show I particularly enjoyed was the chorus. This included a large number of people, including children. In the first Act, a group of women entered dressed as geishas but each with an outfit that was white or cream at the top and fading into colour at the bottom, in pinks and sea-greens and oranges, each also carrying a parasols in the same colour. Such beautiful little tableaux with their parasols and fans as part of the wedding scene!

One of the advantages of sitting on the 3rd floor balcony is that you have a perfect view of the orchestra. I love watching orchestras. The intricate dance of movement and timing is fascinating. I particularly enjoyed both watching and listening to this one, the Daegu Opera Festival Orchestra conducted by Andrea Cappelleri. It made me happy. I also had a delightful view of the percussion section. There were three people playing percussion with a wide range of sizes and types of instruments, from triangles and all sizes and shapes of drums to a bird-whistle for the early morning scene in the final act.

Of course, many moments from the show are worth remembering. The Opera started at 7:30pm and only ended at 10pm, so it was quite a long performance. My two favourite moments were towards the end. Act II ends with Cio-Cio San, Suzuki and Dolore (Cio-Cio San’s child) keeping vigil in the house, now strewn with flowers, as they wait for Pinkerton to arrive. As the orchestra kept the vigil musically through the long night, the stage filled with members of the chorus, each with a single light, like a candle, dressed in white and creating such a stunning impression of a long, candle-light vigil. The second moment that sticks with me, partly because it was the moment of tragedy and partly because it was so sumptuously visual, was the final scene: Cio-Cio San’s body on the floor, surrounded by red and purple flower petals and with more petals falling from the sky and the stage awash in red light fading from the spot-light on her body, with Pinkerton calling for Butterfly in the distance.

I’m not sure it’ll become my favourite opera, but I am so glad I saw it and particularly that I saw it in Asia, where some of the themes of the opera are relevant in everyday life and aspects of culture like not wearing shoes inside and bowing in greeting are easy and normal for the performers, making the show just that little bit more authentic and moving.

After the Opera, I headed downtown to have something to eat before meeting up with friends. I was wandering the streets, searching for somewhere that looked good, when I came across a place called Gom’s something or other – possibly Gom’s Workshop. I’ve never noticed it before, which may mean it only opened recently – places downtown are always opening and closing – or may mean that I just haven’t noticed it before. Now that I know about it, I’ll be going back. Picture an industrial-style space with unpainted walls and bare cement floor, but all the piping painted in bright primary colours. The tables and chairs are all different. Every single one. Some are office chairs, some wicker patio furniture, some director’s chairs. In one corner, there is a mural on the wall – a tottering tower of tea-cups, painted in a sketch-like style directly onto the unfinished surface. The wall behind where I was sitting had shelves with a collection of old things – an old type-writer, some radios, an old telephone, a sewing machine.

It felt like the kind of place where I could sit and drink coffee and read a book for ages. Or write. The tag-line of the place seems to be ‘Walk Slowly. Eat Slowly. Think Slowly.’ I had a basic pizza, which was good. They also seem to be quite excited about their draft beer, which they serve with either lemon or lime – properly differentiated and even differently priced. I tried it. It was actually pretty good. It’s the first time I’ve found a place downtown that I can see myself visiting regularly and on my own. A good find for randomly wandering down the street at 10:30 at night on the way home from the Opera.

Madama Butterfly

Life lesson number # (many): Do not wear mascara when going to watch a great tragic opera. Yes, I cried. Even though I knew what was going to happen. It was beautiful.

Someone asked me last night how I understand the opera if it’s in Italian. I definitely don’t speak Italian and the sub-titles at the Daegu Opera House are in Korean, so not particularly helpful to me. What I do is to make sure that I know the story beforehand, so that I can follow what is happening. This works well. In fact, it’s great because I am able to lose myself totally in the music and singing without struggling to follow the story in two foreign languages. As an added benefit, I am slowly becoming properly familiar with the stories of all sorts of Operas and ballets (because the ballet synopses are also in Korean), which is never a bad thing.

Last night’s opera was a special performance for the 25th anniversary of the Yeongnam Opera Company. This meant that it was a fairly elaborate production, which is always a bonus. The opera itself is fairly complicated anyway. Sufficiently complicated that Puccini rewrote it 4 times (there are 5 versions) before he got it right. It can’t have been easy to turn the story of an American Naval officer and a Japanese geisha into an Italian opera. Apparently he succeeded because this is now one of the most-performed operas.

I nearly didn’t get to there, actually. There had been plans afoot to take in a musical instead and then I dawdled while getting ready so I was running late. Of course, this point – when I was already running late – would be when I landed a bus-driver who was careful and steady and slow, rather than the insane speed-freaks (who could be Joburg taxi drivers) who normally drive my buses. I got to the Opera house with 10 minutes to spare, in the end, however. I have also now established that it takes approximately 1 hour to get from my flat to the Opera House in Saturday evening traffic. Ticket in hand (30 000 won), I headed up to my seat on the 3rd floor balcony. The balcony seat was a mistake. Not that balcony seats are generally a bad thing but I was in a side-balcony seat, so it was a little difficult to see the whole stage. I still enjoyed myself, though.

I was impressed, the last time I went to an Opera by the set. This one was also impressive. The best description is that it was relatively simple and completely functional but managed to evoke a Japanese scene with ease and elegance. It wasn’t finicky, which always annoys me in a set, but it wasn’t small either – using the entire stage. The lighting was also, again, excellent. Both the design and execution were spot-on to evoke emotions and create atmosphere in support of the music.

The most important contribution to verisimilitude, however, was from the performers. There were lots of super performances. Cio-Cio San (Madama Butterfly) was excellent and Sharpless’s rich, velvety, chocolatey baritone was gorgeous.

The star of the show for me, though Kim Jeong Hwa (I think) singing the part of Suzuki. Her voice was stunning and she paired with excellent characterisation. She was entirely believable in her gestures and mannerisms as Madama Butterfly’s maid but she also paid particular attention to little things. Like shoes. She meticulously took off and straightened her shoes every time she moved from the ‘outdoor’ area of the set into the house. She never once missed it and it did so much to create the separation between the spaces, which were not divided by any sort of physical wall. Her emotions were also believable. The role of Suzuki involves a lot of anguished moments and a fair bit of cowering and crying and she pulled it off.

A particularly entertaining role was that of Goro the matchmaker. The performer singing this part had a wonderfully light touch and really pulled off the greasy, sleazy pimp-persona and added touches of humour and entertainment at exactly the right moments.

The other small part that was an absolute crowd-pleaser was the monk/priest. In the story, Cio-Cio San’s uncle, a Buddhist priest, storms into the wedding party of Butterfly and Pinkerton (the US Navy officer) and curses her for abandoning her ancestral gods to covert to her new husband’s religion. This issue is particularly relevant in Korea so it’s not surprising that the small part was given quite a lot of prominence and the priest was fierce and very good.

I was less impressed with Pinkerton, not because of his singing; his voice was gorgeous, but someone needs to teach him a little acting to go with it. Also, I struggled to get past the awful orange-blond hair on a Korean. It wasn’t sufficiently problematic to detract from the experience, though and, as I said, his voice was gorgeous.

Another thing about this show I particularly enjoyed was the chorus. This included a large number of people, including children. In the first Act, a group of women entered dressed as geishas but each with an outfit that was white or cream at the top and fading into colour at the bottom, in pinks and sea-greens and oranges, each also carrying a parasols in the same colour. Such beautiful little tableaux with their parasols and fans as part of the wedding scene!

One of the advantages of sitting on the 3rd floor balcony is that you have a perfect view of the orchestra. I love watching orchestras. The intricate dance of movement and timing is fascinating. I particularly enjoyed both watching and listening to this one, the Daegu Opera Festival Orchestra, conducted by Andrea Cappelleri. It made me happy. I also had a delightful view of the percussion section. There were three people playing percussion with a wide range of sizes and types of instruments, from triangles and all sizes and shapes of drums to a bird-whistle for the early morning scene in the final act.

Of course, many moments from the show are worth remembering. The Opera started at 7:30pm and only ended at 10pm, so it was quite a long performance. My two favourite moments were towards the end. Act II ends with Cio-Cio San, Suzuki and Dolore (Cio-Cio San’s child) are keeping vigil in the house, now strewn with flowers, as they wait for Pinkerton to arrive. As the orchestra kept the vigil musically through the long night, the stage filled with members of the chorus, each with a single light, like a candle, dressed in white and creating such a stunning impression of a long, candle-light vigil. The second moment that sticks with me, partly because it was the moment of tragedy and partly because it was so sumptuously visual, was the final scene, with Cio-Cio San’s body on the floor, surrounded by red and purple flower petals and with more petals falling from the sky and the stage awash in red light fading from the spot on her body, with Pinkerton calling for Butterfly in the distance.

I’m not sure it’ll become my favourite opera, but I am so glad I saw it and particularly that I saw it in Asia, where some of the themes of the opera are relevant in every day life and aspects of culture like not wearing shoes inside and bowing in greeting are easy and normal for the performers, making the show just that little bit more authentic and moving.

After the Opera, I headed downtown to have something to eat before meeting up with friends. I was wandering the streets, searching for somewhere that looked good, when I came across a place called Gom’s something or other – possibly Gom’s Workshop. I’ve never noticed it before, which may mean it only opened recently – places downtown are always opening and closing – or may just mean that I haven’t noticed it. Now that I know about it, I’ll be going back. Picture an industrial-style space with unpainted walls and bare cement floor, but all the piping painted in bright primary colours. The tables and chairs are all different. Every single one. Some are office chairs, some wicker patio furniture, some director’s chairs. In one corner, there is a mural on the wall – a tottering tower of tea-cups, painted in a sketch-like style directly onto the unpainted surface. The wall behind where I was sitting had shelves with a collection of old things, like an old type-writer, some radios, an old telephone, a sewing machine.

It felt like the kind of place where I could sit and drink coffee and read a book for ages. Or write. The tag-line of the place seems to be ‘Walk Slowly. Eat Slowly. Think Slowly.’ I had a basic pizza, which was good. They also seem to be quite excited about their draft beer, which they serve with either lemon or lime – properly differentiated and even differently priced. I tried it. It was actually pretty good. It’s the first time I’ve found a place downtown that I can see myself visiting regularly and on my own. A good find for randomly wandering down the street at 10:30 at night on the way home from the Opera.

Tchaikovsky and Noraebang (but not at the same time)

It seemed appropriate that a week that began with Puccini should end with Tchaikovsky. I have decided, quite cheerfully I must add, that if it’s too cold to explore outdoors, the Arts will be my substitute source of wonder, so after a brunch opera on Monday, I spent Saturday night at the ballet.

Ballet has not always been a part of my life. I wasn’t one of those little girls who spends all her childhood years dreaming of tutus and pirouettes. I’ve been involved in dance in one form or another for years but it wasn’t until I became a regular Festino that I discovered the joy of ballet. There is a ballet every year at Fest, usually performed by the Cape Town City Ballet accompanied by one of the Johannesburg Orchestras, although they have on occasion had the South African Ballet Theatre and the Cape Philharmonic. Over the years, I’ve seen various ballets, including Coppelia, Don Quixote, The Nutcracker and, my favourite, Carmen.

This is the first time I have seem ballet outside of South Africa, so I was quite excited. I was also very nearly late. I somehow got it into my head at some point during the week that this was a 7:30pm ballet instead of a 7pm start and it only occurred to me to check at about 6:15pm on Saturday, while sitting calmly sewing a missing button back onto my coat. In a panic, I finished getting ready, rushed down the hill, drew money and grabbed a cab. Luckily, the venue, the Suseong Artpia, is literally 10 minutes from my house, so I was in time to get a ticket and find my seat before the start of the show. Tickets ranged from 20000 won (for seats in the balcony) to 40000 won (for the main block of seats right in front of the stage). I picked the middle-ground of a 30000 won ticket (R190), thereby avoiding at least some of the many, many children, while also avoiding being close enough to see the dancers sweat.

Suseong Artpia is another great Daegu venue. The main auditorium, the Yongi Hall, seats nearly 1000 people (including the large 2nd floor balcony) and has comfortable seats, well set so that everyone can see the stage and lovely, lovely acoustics. When I first took my seat, I wasn’t sure if they would be using a live orchestra. Most of the information for these shows is in Korean so it’s always a bit of a guessing game. Then I saw the top of a harp appear and heard them tuning up and was glad. Ballet is always better with live music.

This ballet was performed by the Seoul Ballet Theatre, with original choreography by James Jeon. The first impression I got was of a large production. As we waited for everyone to settled and the ushers rushed around with extra cushions for small children, I had a chance to notice that even the front of the stage was part of the set, with large nutcracker figures stretching from the stage to the ceiling on either side and the clock face hanging in the middle at the top. The curtains weren’t closed. Instead a screen showed a village with snowflakes falling (lights) and the words ‘Merry Christmas’ in lights across the middle of the screen. I felt the tingly joy of anticipation and magic.

The Nutcracker opens with families of mothers and fathers and children arriving at a Christmas Party in all their winter finery. From the first moment, with the orchestra sweeping the audience up in waves of beautiful music, the dancers carried us into a magical world with perfect characterisation and attention to detail. In some performances of the Nutcracker, the mysterious godfather, Herr Drosselmeyer, plays quite a small role. In this one, he was the ringmaster of the show and right from the start, it was he who led the audience into the ballroom, ‘commanding’ the screens to open and village scene to fade away. The first scene of The Nutcracker is lovely, with the children playing and the parents dancing. This one was particularly special because it seemed so natural – with almost equal attention to the acting/characterisation and dancing. I was struck right from the start by the exquisite performance and very strong dancing of the male lead dancing Clara’s father. The scene also had several delightfully authentic Korean touches – like the fact that everyone arriving and leaving would bow to each other and the important part played by the grandparents in the scene. It’s also great to see choreography that’s not scared to introduce little touches of modernity and humour. The battle between the mouse-king and the nutcracker included some fairly modern hip-hop-style moves from the mice, and when two of them were injured in the battle, some of the other mice come in with a huge syringe to revive them.

At the end of the first scene, Herr Drosselmeyer emerged from inside a large grandfather clock and, while Clara watched, made the Christmas tree grow to enormous size and transformed the nutcracker into a prince, all shown on stage with full props and sets. The set and lighting design, as well as the changes, were dramatic and life-sized, requiring very little work from the audiences’ imaginations. I couldn’t helping thinking that this must have been a really expensive production to put together. Not that I was complaining – it was perfectly executed and created layers and layers of magic.

The only bit of the choreography that I didn’t particularly enjoy was the dancing of the snowflakes in the second scene. It took me a while to figure out what I didn’t like about it but I think it’s because the dancing was too frenetic – there was a lot of focus on arm movements and it was a little mechanical, losing some of the gracefulness. I was soon distracted, however, by the children’s choir. It’s unusual, except in very large and expensive productions, to actually see the children’s choir included in the Nutcracker but it is a delightful part of the original score and definitely adds to the ballet.

Act II of the Nutcracker, with the sweets dancing dances from different countries, never fails to delight. This production included the traditional Arabian and Spanish dancers, as well as the Chinese and Russian but also included some traditional Korean dancers. All the dancers were good but some of the touches and some of the choreography raised this part of the ballet above the norm. The Chinese dancers, for example, were accompanied by the cutest, funniest little silver dragon who completely distracted the audience with its antics. The Russian dancers, perhaps because Korea is so much closer to Russia and the culture is therefore more familiar, seemed so incredibly happy and so authentic. The Korean dancers were the highlight for many of the audience and were fascinating to watch. The woman danced with an hour-glass-shaped drum that she carried over her shoulder and beat and used to swing herself around in the turns. More spectacular was a male dancer wearing the hat topped with what must have been a 6-foot long white streamer, from the Korean traditional farmer’s dance, which he swirled around as he jumped and danced with acrobatic movements across the stage. It really added a unique and impressive aspect to this part of the show. The dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Waltz of the Flowers were exquisite. There was none of the awkwardness of the snowflake dance. Instead, we were whirled away in a beautiful, flowing, elegant display of classical ballet. The prince danced, too, and was perhaps one of the most impressive dancers there. His leaps were perfectly executed, his movements both athletic and elegant and he was incredibly light on his feet. I was almost a little sad, when Her Drosselmeyer reappeared and transformed the magical world back into the ordinariness of Clara’s bedroom and she woke with her beloved Nutcracker.

The only negative about the show for me was the fact that, not surprisingly, so many parents had brought their young children and a few of them became restless during the third act. Still, even children chattering a little couldn’t really detract from this magical performance. The audience didn’t stand up – perhaps standing ovations are not done here – but the performers received three curtain calls and it was obvious that everyone was enchanted. Including me. I left humming ‘O come all ye faithful’, which they played as the audience was filing out, and full of the joy and magic of ballet and Christmas. In terms of the dancing, although I loved almost all of it, I was particularly impressed with the male leads. Perhaps just because there aren’t very many strong male dancers in South African ballet, these men blew me away. Clara’s father (danced, I think by Jeong Woon Sik) and the Prince (Kim Sung Hun – although both those names may be wrong) were both excellent.

I had originally tried to get a group together to go to the show but they all had a thanksgiving dinner planned. I’m so glad I went on my own anyway. It was a delightful. I joined some of my friends afterwards, though, and we ended up sampling a very different kind of Korean entertainment. Since I arrived here, I’ve been meaning to go to a Noraebang – a Korean karaoke room. Last night I went with three friends to try one out.

The others had all done this before but I was a Noraebang novice. This is a little different to the karaoke I’m used to at home. Instead of singing in front of a large (and not very attentive) audience in a crowded bar, each group gets a private room. In the room are comfortable couches arranged around a table and TV. On the table are a couple of books with lists of songs and a control console which you use to choose your song, as well as a tamborine. The range of songs is bizarre but there are always some fun ones. Once you’re chosen your song, one or two people pick up the mics and sing their hearts out. Not that you really hear a lot of what they’re singing – volume is permanently turned up rather high and the mics have some sort of built in reverb, so everyone sounds a little like a bad K-pop star. But that’s probably part of the fun. The four of us had a great time. We sang all sorts of things, from Moulin Rouge and Bon Jovi to Mariah Carey and Neil Diamond. In honour of the season, we also included a couple of Christmas numbers. We had a particularly funny moment when Christina found something called ‘The Christmas Song’ by Nat King Cole and we all watched as she put it on, not sure what to expect and then all jumped up at the same time and started singing at the tops of our voices as the words ‘Chestnuts roasting on an open fire’ appeared on the screen. Time really does fly when you’re having fun. After an hour and a half we didn’t even notice passing, we finished off with the almost obligatory ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. We said goodnight and I headed home to dream sweet dreams of chestnuts, princes, nutcrackers and sugar plum fairies.

Tchaikovsky and a Noraebang (but not at the same time)

It seemed appropriate that a week that began with Puccini should end with Tchaikovsky. I have decided, quite happily I must add, that if it’s too cold to explore outdoors, the arts will be my substitute source of moments of wonder, so after a brunch opera on Monday, I spent Saturday night at the ballet.

Ballet has not always been a part of my life. I wasn’t one of those little girls who spends all her childhood years dreaming of tutus and pirouettes. I’ve been involved in dance in one form or another for years but it wasn’t until I became a regular Festino that I discovered the joy of ballet. There is a full ballet every year at Fest, usually performed by the Cape Town Ballet Company accompanied by one of the Johannesburg Orchestras, although they have on occasion had the South African Ballet Theatre and the Cape Philharmonic. Over the years, I’ve seen various ballets, including Coppelia, Don Quixote, The Nutcracker and, my favourite, Carmen.

This is the first time I have seem ballet outside of South Africa, so I was quite excited. I was also very nearly late. I somehow got it into my head at some point during the week that this was a 7:30pm ballet instead of a 7pm start and it only occurred to me to check at about 6:15pm on Saturday, while sitting calmly sewing a missing button back onto my coat. In a panic, I finished getting ready, rushed down the hill, drew money and grabbed a cab. Luckily, the venue, the Suseong Artpia, is literally 10 minutes from my house, so I was (just) in time to get a ticket and be seated before the start of the show. Tickets ranged from 20000 won (for seats in the balcony) to 40000 won (for the main block of seats right in front of the stage). I picked the middle-ground of a 30000 won ticket (R190), thereby avoiding at least some of the many, many children and also avoiding being close enough to see the dancers sweat.

Suseong Artpia is another great venue. The main auditorium, the Yongi Hall, seats nearly 1000 people (including the large 2nd floor balcony) and has lovely, lovely acoustics. When I first took my seat, I wasn’t sure if they would be using a live orchestra. Most of the information for these shows is in Korean so it’s always a bit of a guessing game. Then I saw the top of a harp appear and heard them tuning up and was glad. Ballet is always better with live music.

This ballet was performed by the Seoul Ballet Theatre, with original choreography by James Jeon. The first impression I got was of a large production. As we waited for everyone to settled and the ushers rushed around with extra cushions for small children, I had a chance to notice that even the front of the stage was part of the set, with large nutcracker figures stretching from the stage to the ceiling on either side and the clock face hanging in the middle at the top. The curtains weren’t closed. Instead a screen showed a village with snowflakes falling (lights) and the words ‘Merry Christmas’ in lights across the middle of the screen. I felt the tingly joy of anticipation and magic.

The Nutcracker opens with families of mothers and fathers and children arriving at a Christmas Party in all their winter finery. From the first moment, with the orchestra sweeping the audience up in waves of beautiful music, the dancers carried us into a magical world with perfect characterisation and attention to detail. In some performances of the Nutcracker, the mysterious godfather of Clara and Fritz, Herr Drosselmeyer, plays quite a small role. In this one, he was the ringmaster of the show and right from the start, it was he who led the audience into the ballroom, by ‘commanding’ the screens to open and village scene to fade away. The first scene of The Nutcracker is always lovely, with the children playing and the parents dancing. This one was particularly special because it seemed so natural – with almost equal attention to the acting/characterisation and dancing. I was struck right from the start by the exquisite performance and very strong dancing of the male lead dancing Clara’s father. The scene also had several delightfully authentic Korean touches – like the fact that everyone arriving and leaving would bow to each other and the important part played by the grandparents in the scene. It’s also great to see choreography which is not scared to introduce little touches of modernity and humour. The battle between the mouse-king and the nutcracker included some fairly modern hip-hop-style moves from the mice, and when two of them were injured in the battle, some of the other mice come in with a huge syringe to revive them.

At the end of the first scene, Herr Drosselmeyer emerged from inside a large grandfather clock and, while Clara watched, made the Christmas tree grow to enormous size and transformed the nutcracker into a prince, all shown on stage with full props and sets. The set and lighting design, as well as the changes, were dramatic and life-sized, requiring very little work from the audiences’ imaginations. I couldn’t helping thinking that this must have been a really expensive production to put together. Not that I was complaining – it was perfectly executed and created layers and layers of magic.

The only bit of the choreography that I didn’t particularly enjoy was the dancing of the snowflakes in the second scene. It took me a while to figure out what I didn’t like about it but I think it’s because the dancing was too frenetic – there was a lot of focus on arm movements and a little mechanical, losing some of the gracefulness. I was soon distracted, however, by the children’s choir. It’s unusual, except in very large and expensive productions, to actually see the children’s choir included in the Nutcracker but it is a delightful part of the original score and definitely adds to the ballet.

Act II of the Nutcracker, with the sweets dancing dances from different countries, never fails to delight. This production included the traditional Arabian and Spanish dancers, as well as the Chinese and Russian but also included some traditional Korean dancers. All the dancers were good but some of the touches and some of the choreography raised this part of the ballet above the norm. The Chinese dancers, for example, were accompanied by the cutest, funniest little silver dragon who completely distracted the audience with it’s antics. The Russian dancers, perhaps because Korea is so much closer to Russia and the culture is therefore more familiar, seemed so incredibly happy and so authentic. The Korean dancers were the highlight for many of the audience and were fascinating to watch. The woman danced with an hour-glass-shaped drum that she carried over her shoulder and beat and used to swing herself around in the turns. More spectacular was a male dancer wearing the black hat topped with what must have been a 6-foot long white streamer, from the Korean traditional farmer’s dance, which he swirled around as he jumped and danced with acrobatic movements across the stage. It really added a unique and impressive aspect to this part of the show. The dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy and the Waltz of the Flowers were exquisite. There was none of the awkwardness of the snowflake dance. Instead, we were whirled away in a beautiful, flowing, elegant display of classical ballet. The prince danced, too, and was perhaps one of the most impressive dancers there. His leaps were perfectly executed, his movements both athletic and elegant and he was incredibly light on his feet. I was almost a little sad, when Her Drosselmeyer reappeared and transformed the magical world back into the ordinariness of Clara’s bedroom and she woke with her beloved Nutcracker.

The only negative about the show for me was the fact that, not surprisingly, so many parents had brought their children and a few of them became restless during the third act. Still, even children chattering a little couldn’t really detract from this magical performance. The audience didn’t stand up – perhaps standing ovations are not done here – but the performers received three curtain calls and it was obvious that everyone was enchanted. Including me. I left humming ‘O come all ye faithful’, which they played as the audience was filing out, and full of the joy and magic of ballet and Christmas. In terms of the dancing, although I loved almost all of it, I was particularly impressed with the male leads. Perhaps just because there aren’t very many strong male dancers in South African ballet, these men blew me away. Clara’s father (danced, I think by Jeong Woon Sik) and the Prince (Kim Sung Hun – although both those names may be wrong) were both excellent.

I had originally tried to get a group together to go to the show but they all had a thanksgiving dinner planned. I’m so glad I went on my own anyway. It was a delightful. I joined some of my friends afterwards, though, and we ended up sampling a very different kind of Korean entertainment. Since I arrived here, I’ve been meaning to go to a Noraebang – a Korean karaoke room. Last night I went with three friends to try one out.

The others had all done this before but I was a Noraebang novice. This is a little different to the karaoke I’m used to at home. Instead of singing in front of a large (and not very attentive) audience in a crowded bar, each group of people gets a private room. In the room are comfortable couches arranged around a table and TV. On the table are a couple of books with lists of songs and a control console which you use to choose your song. The range of songs is bizarre but there are always some fun ones. Once you’re chosen your song, one or two people pick up the mics and sing their hearts out. Not that you really hear a lot of what they’re singing – volume is permanently turned up rather high and the mics have some sort of built in reverb, so everyone sounds a little like a bad K-pop star. But that’s probably part of the fun. The four of us had a great time. We sang all sorts of things, from Moulin Rouge and Bon Jovi to Mariah Carey and Neil Diamond. In honour of the season, we also included a couple of Christmas numbers. We had a particularly funny moment when Christina found something called ‘The Christmas Song’ by Nat King Cole and we all watched as she put it on, not sure what to expect and then all jumped up at the same time and started singing at the tops of our voices as the words ‘Chestnuts roasting on an open fire’ appeared on the screen. Time really does fly when you’re having fun. After an hour and a half we didn’t even notice passing, we finished off with the almost obligatory ‘Bohemian Rhapsody’. Outside, we said goodnight and I headed home to dream sweet dreams of chestnuts, princes, nutcrackers and sugar plum fairies.