Friday Arts Diary

Our cultural picks for the week ahead.


Eugene Onegin, The Royal Opera House, Covent Garden, and selected cinemas. 20 February.

Tchaikovsky adapted Pushkin’s great novel in verse into what he described as ‘lyrical scenes’, in which a young girl is rejected by Onegin, and eventually chooses honour over true love. The opera has an intimacy rare in the Russian tradition, and explores themes of maturity and sexual awakening. This production is directed by first-timer Kasper Holten and stars Simon Keenlyside, and is part of The Royal Opera House’s cinema initiative, in which performances are streamed live to a rage of Vue cinemas. Opening is Wednesay 20. The Royal Opera House reminds fans that screenings are updated and added on a daily basis, so they ought to check back regularly to see at which cinema’s this production is showing.



Poster Art 150: London Underground's Greatest Designs, London Transport Museums, Covent Garden Piazza. From 15 February 2013 to 1 October 2013

London Underground has developed a reputation, since a graphic poster competition in 1908, for commissioning exciting poster art. This exhibition, in commemoration of the tube’s anniversary, collates 150 of the most remarkable. There are posters by renowned artists and photographer such as Man Ray, alongside work from lesser known artists. This exhibition presents a vibrant pictorial history of the underground and the art works which have animated the world’s oldest subway system.



Montgomery Clift Season, BFI Southbank. 19 - 28 February

As Trevor Johnstone of the BFI writes, “when he burst on the scene in the late 1940s, Montgomery Clift brought a new kind of masculinity to the screen. Listening, caring, intelligent, but no wilting flower either – behind everything lay a stony determination”. “Wrongly, he’s often lumped in with those icons of the Method, Brando and Dean, but while their performances were often founded on expressive self-revelation, Monty did his utmost to disappear inside his characters”. This retrospective overviews key films, such as Wild River, directed by Elia Kazan, and The Misfits with Marilyn Monroe.



Our Country’s Good, St James Theatre, running until 23 March

This acclaimed play is based on the true story of a cast of convicts who put on a play under the enthusiasm of a young marine officer. Both behind the scenes and onstage their positions break down and intermingle, opening up a compendium of self-discovery in Australia. The play achieved many awards in Britain and American during its first run, and this production represents a welcome re-invention of a classic. Max Stafford-Clark, who recently revived Top Girls to 5 star acclaim, returns to Our Country’s Good after directing the play 25 years ago.



Alan Davies: Life is Pain, Hammersmith Apollo, 18 - 19 February

The star of QI returns to stand-up after a ten year vacation with this jovially cynical set. Davies looks back to the 80s in this at times autobiographical routine, comparing his behavior then with the middle-aged outlook with which he now wrestles. Ripples of seriousness (the death of his motehr whenhe was six) remain ripples, as Davies focuses much more intently on his mild worries about the end of the world.


Montgomery Clift in A Place in The Sun (Photo by Keystone-France/Gamma-Keystone via Getty Images)
Martin Knoller/Wikimedia
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End of an orator: the ancient Roman machinations of Robert Harris's Dictator

Dictator, the final installment in the "Cicero trilogy", finds the great lawyer exiled from Rome.

If ever a Roman was lucky enough to win a great military victory without losing too many of his men, he could return to the city in triumph. He would be paraded through the streets alongside placards proclaiming his successes, trophies and spoils, prisoners and horses. Cicero, who was never one for frivolous excess, triumphed in a different way. It was just a pity that his kind of triumph was also his undoing.

At the beginning of Dictator, the much-anticipated final instalment in Robert Harris’s “Cicero trilogy”, the great orator and lawyer has been exiled from Rome. What Cicero considered to be his great triumph – the quelling of a conspiracy to overthrow the Republic in 63BC – was all his enemies had needed to get him out the way. Illegally, he had put the conspirators to death without trial. A protracted absence from Rome was just the first way in which he would pay for acting so precipitously.

We see him through the eyes of Tiro, his trusty secretary, who is a delightfully subjective biographer of his master’s last 15 years. Tiro has had plenty of time to discover that, for all his kind-heartedness, Cicero can be incredibly tiresome. So when Cicero threatens to kill himself rather than endure the ignominy of his new life in exile, Tiro stands aside, as if to let him get on with it. “He couldn’t stand the sight of others’ blood,” he says, “let alone his own.”

Self-pitying and incredulous how a man of his intellect could fall from such a high status so quickly, Cicero grows his beard and awaits news from Rome, where the ruthless demagogue Publius Clodius destroys his house on the luxurious Palatine Hill, replaces it with a temple to Liberty and generally dispenses with all justice.

All of which makes this novel just as thrilling but altogether more sorrowful than the first two books. Grim inevitability lurks in the background of every page, as all that Cicero loves most about the Roman Republic goes to pot. When he returns to the city the situation grows still worse: the “triumvirate” alliance uniting Julius Caesar, Pompey the Great and Marcus Licinius Crassus begins to crack and the politicians hurtle into civil war, which dominates the second, busier half of the novel.

The events and political upheavals of these years are some of the most complicated in ancient history. Undaunted, Harris remains impressively faithful to the ancient sources, embellishing the gaps with terse dialogue, exhilarating exchanges and witty observations of some of the lesser-known senators.

Tiro is an indispensable guide, proving himself a more objective historian than he is a biographer of his master. Indeed, there are times when he is just as conscientious about describing the significance of events as a modern-day historian would be: “Even allowing for a degree of exaggeration, it was plain from the Commentaries that Caesar had enjoyed an astonishing run of military successes.” Not that this does anything to distract, as Harris skilfully navigates these fraught years in Cicero’s life. His novel often feels like the best kind of narrative history, at once frenetic but measured in its assessment of the characters who brought the Republic to an end.

Although it is true that Cicero is one of the most documented figures of antiquity, capable of providing a fair self-portrait through his own letters, it can be hard to differentiate between how he saw himself and how he was seen. This is where Dictator triumphs. Although it is hard to blame him, given the crises that unfurl between Octavian (the future Emperor Augustus) and Mark Antony, Cicero becomes a caricature, ever certain of his own greatness, ignorant of how unhinged he must look to everyone around him. And yet, it is impossible not to warm to him, especially as the darkest days draw near. He was, historically no less than in this novel, a loving father, a defiant believer in a cause, an excellent writer and public speaker, and an intellectual.

Harris’s trilogy leaves one pondering: was Cicero born at the wrong time, or precisely the right time? Without setting himself up to challenge the inevitable return to one-male rule in Rome, he would never have found the fame and legacy he so yearned for, but nor would he have suffered the painful demise that Harris charts so spectacularly. Catapult him back two centuries earlier into the Republic, and his life would have been far more pleasant – pleasant enough for us never to have heard a thing about it.

Daisy Dunn’s “Catullus’ Bedspread: the Life of Rome’s Most Erotic Poet” will be published next year by William Collins

Dictator by Robert Harris is out now from Hutchinson (£20, 464pp)

This article first appeared in the 19 November 2015 issue of the New Statesman, The age of terror