New hope for the West End?

The success of <a href="">Ivanov</a> this week is a beacon of ho

Tom Stoppard’s version of the Chekhov play is part of the Donmar's residency at Wyndham's theatre, an ambitious project that aims, says director Michael Grandage, to bring about a return to straight theatre in the West End and make it accessible to all.

Tickets will be sold at Donmar rather than West End prices, with 130 tickets per performance going for £10, which means that each show will need to sell a formidable 80% of the 750 seats to break even. However, the success of Grandage’s Othello last autumn, which sold out so quickly it left many disappointed, suggests that this is by no means unlikely.

Ivanov has been rapturously received, with critics enthusiastically relating to Kenneth Brannagh’s debt-ridden and crumbling lead, a moody, self-loathing, comic Russian Hamlet with [the mother of all midlife crises]. A slight improvement, then, on the play’s 1897 premiere, after which a disgusted Chekhov complained of his actors: "They don’t know their parts, make mistakes, talk nonsense. Every word cuts me like a knife in my back."

Video games and Bodysnatchers

In the wake of this spring's disconcerting news that video games are the most lucrative media products around these days, this year’s Cambridge Film Festival
will show a series of Machinima films, made using techniques and tools more commonly used in games than cinema. The Festival’s Machinima series will show film from recognised genres translated into CGI worlds, along with a discussion of the place of Machinima films in the world of film today.

Matt Kelland, co-curator of the series, explains the popularity of this surreal and often surprising new branch of cinema: ‘As young people become more enaged with internet culture and home-produced content, they are becoming more interested in user-created movies like machinima, and less interested in broadcast content.’

Co-curator Saint John Walker, however, interprets it in terms of ‘the spectacular/fantasy versus documentation/realism. Games and CGI/VFX cinema are growing; film realism is shrinking.’ He is optimistic about the future: "In five years time we'll see the Machinima era as a watershed, like the talkies!"

Films showing in the series will include Lainy Voom’s Black Swan, Tony Bannan's Folie à Deux ( and the video made by Phil Rice for the Radiohead song "Bodysnatchers".

Plugged in festival

The festival season is now over (which is, I suspect, why the weather has improved so suspiciously suddenly), but if you’re not quite ready to let go, swap your wellies for a pair of headphones and head to Dalston's Café Oto this weekend. The London Placard Headphone Festival takes place this Saturday, with banks of headphone splitters taking the place of PAs to provide a concentrated yet strangely isolating listening experience. The audience will bring their own headphones, and plug into electronica from the likes of Hamster Ate My Garage Band and Leafcutter John, and the "medieval drum robot and synth array" of Bavin. Which, all in all, sounds like a far wiser way of seeking sound quality this weekend than the alternative – joining Metallica fans petitioning for a rerecorded and remastered Death Magnetic, having decided that its current version sounds better on Guitar Hero.

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On the trail of Keith Jarrett's melodies

Lose focus for a second and you can quickly drop the thread of Jarrett's complex improvisational techniques.

“So, this is a piano,” said Keith Jarrett, sitting down at the one that had been placed centre stage for him in the Royal Festival Hall on 20 November. Blowing on his hands to warm them, he acted as if he had never encountered such an instrument before, raising a chuckle from the hundreds of fans who had turned out to see the man in the flesh. For 40 years, Jarrett has been giving concerts like this – alone with the piano, playing his improvised music to a room full of rapt devotees. Notoriously grumpy – and now as well known for his tirades against cameras and coughing audience members as for his early days playing with Miles Davis – he has an almost eerie focus onstage, relieving the tension only very occasionally with his barbed observations about the excellence of the instrument, or the shuffling in the auditorium.

Jarrett gave us a series of short pieces, each rendering separate and distinctive musical ideas. He began with an intricately woven flash of notes in both hands, criss-crossing the melodies that were by turns dark and haunting, or light and dancing. At particularly complex moments, when his arms were crossed over and the notes were flowing from his fingers faster than anyone could imagine them into existence, he leaned his ear down towards the keys, as if physical closeness could help his ideas more swiftly become sound.

A couple of folk-inflected ballads followed; heart-achingly sweet melodies picked out above rumbling, sour arpeggios. Like Glenn Gould, the Canadian pianist best known for his recordings of Bach’s Goldberg Variations, Jarrett can’t help adding vocalisations as he plays, which are all the more evident in his quieter compositions. He rose and fell from his stool; we heard his guiding hum along with the melody, as well as the odd strangled shout, yelp and grunt. He might insist on absolute silence from the audience but his own noises seem completely uninhibited as the music spins around him.

Although notorious for his curmudgeonly attitude to his fans, Jarrett was mostly restrained in this outing, allowing himself just one short, sweary outburst about killing a “f***ing camera”. At the age of 70 and with the power to sell out his concerts in just a few hours, you do wonder how much of the persona is genuine and how much of it is just giving the audience what it expects. A case in point came near the end, when he yielded to clamouring and gave a surprisingly simple and straightforward rendition of “Danny Boy”, an encore that long-time fans know well.

Given that this recital was under the auspices of the London Jazz Festival, there was surprisingly little in Jarrett’s programme that could easily be identified as jazz. One piece, full of brisk rhythms and chunky chords, gradually revealed itself to be based on a modified 12-bar blues structure and another had haunting overtones surely pulled from the classic American songs of the first half of the 20th century. Indeed, this musical ghosting becomes a major preoccupation when you see Jarrett live. It is too easy to distract yourself in trying to follow the auditory trail he has laid for you – was that a bit of Debussy, or Bach, or Glass just then? – and lose the thread of what he plays next. The improvisational technique might have more in common with jazz but now, 40 years on from his bestselling live recording The Köln Concert, it’s difficult to characterise Jarrett’s output as anything other than contemporary classical music.

If it needs a classification, that is. At one point, I became convinced that a particular piece was a Jarrett riff on Beethoven’s Bagatelle No 25 in A Minor – or Für Elise, as it is more commonly known. I was sure it was all there: the extended opening trill, the rising arpeggios in the left hand, the melody cascading from treble to bass and back again. Except, by the time I surfaced from my musing, there was no trace of Beethoven to be heard. A clashing, almost violent melody was dangling over a long drone in the bass. If you try too hard to pin down Jarrett’s music, it moves on without you.

Caroline Crampton is web editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 26 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Terror vs the State