Carla Bruni. Photo: Getty
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Antonia Quirke on radio: Carla Bruni's last tango in Paris

Oh, Paris. So nostalgic, so mythical. “Do they say that in English – mythical? Ah, yes! So mythical!”

Carla Bruni's Postcards from Paris
BBC Radio 2

“’Allo, this is Carla Bruni, with my third and final postcard from Paris to you!” Another fascinating hour listening to music by Claude Nougaro and Charles Aznavour while wandering the City of Light in the company of the former first lady of France (4 June, 10pm).

Bruni – model, actress and nouvelle chanson performer – is a woman entirely swept away by the big picture. Oh, Paris. So nostalgic, so mythical. “Do they say that in English – mythical? Ah, yes! So mythical!” If you were ever to throw caution to the wind and visit Paris yourself, then Carla strongly suggests forgetting the guidebook and just strolling through the parks.

All of them are nostalgic and romantic. There’s the Jardin des Tuileries, for example, “which is square and green”. And all the museums, too, which are “so beaudiful. But best to walk with a boyfriend because this is definitely romantic.” When Carla walks these streets herself, she can’t help but think about Hemingway and Joyce and the great Irish poet Yeets. Quel homme. “The memories, the history . . .”

Mysteriously, the theatres in Paris can be big but they can also be small. “For lots of people,” marvels Carla, “and for a little amount of people, too. We have all the opportunities for theatre in Paris!” Bruni sighs.

Her voice is gorgeously musical – frequently low and woozy, always full of a velvety fire. Occasionally she slows, allowing the listener to drink it all in, or even scribble things down, as though this were an informal kind of salon for some of the most interesting people in Parisian public life – artists, scientists, and so on. Simple rustic food, rough bread and cheese and sophisticated musings about British punk (“The Clash could never have been Swiss”). Anything to get people away from the chambre de TV and wandering the green and square parks of Paris!

Most of all, Carla thinks she would like to visit Scotland. Who knows? Maybe one day, thinks the listener, after she is released from the isolation unit. “It must be so nice. The castles. I don’t know how much time you need to go from south to north or east to west but I’m sure it’s possible, non? I’d love to do it with the kids, or with my man. So nice. So romantic!”

Antonia Quirke is an author and journalist. She is a presenter on The Film Programme and Pick of the Week (Radio 4) and Film 2015 and The One Show (BBC 1). She writes a column on radio for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 11 June 2014 issue of the New Statesman, The last World Cup

BBC/Chris Christodoulou
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Proms 2016: Violinist Ray Chen was the star of a varied show

The orchestra soaked up his energy in Bruch's first violin concerto to end on a triumphal note. 

Music matters, but so does its execution. This was the lesson of a BBC Symphony Orchestra and BBC Symphony Chorus programme which combined both a premiere of a composition and a young violinist’s first performance at the Proms. 

The concert, conducted by Sir Andrew Davis, opened with Tchaikovsky’s symphonic fantasy The Tempest, a lesser-known sibling to his Romeo and Juliet overture. The orchestra got off to a fidgety start, with some delayed entries, but fell into line in time for the frenetic chromatic runs that drive the piece. The end, a muted pizzicato, was suitably dramatic. 

Another nature-inspired piece followed – Anthony Payne’s composition for chorus and orchestra, Of Land, Sea and Sky. Payne drew on his memory of watching of white horses appearing to run across water, as well as other visual illusions. At the world premiere, the piece began promisingly. The chorus rolled back and forth slowly over scurrying strings with an eerie singing of “horses”. But the piece seemed to sink in the middle, and not even the curiosity of spoken word verse was enough to get the sinister mood back. 

No doubt much of the audience were drawn to this programme by the promise of Bruch violin concerto no. 1, but it was Ray Chen’s playing that proved to be most magnetic. The young Taiwanese-Australian soloist steered clear of melodrama in favour of a clean and animated sound. More subtle was his attention to the orchestra. The performance moved from furious cadenza to swelling sound, as if all players shared the same chain of thought. Between movements, someone coughed. I hated them. 

Ray Chen in performance. Photo: BBC/Chris Christodoulou

Chen’s playing had many audience members on their feet, and only an encore appeased them. It was his first time at the Proms, but he'll be back. 

The orchestra seemed to retain some of his energy for Vaughan Williams’ Toward the Unknown Region. Composed between 1904 and 1906, this is a setting of lines by the US poet Walt Whitman on death, and the idea of rebirth.

The orchestra and chorus blended beautifully in the delicate, dark opening. By the end, this had transformed into a triumphal arc of sound, in keeping with the joyful optimism of Whitman’s final verse: “We float/In Time and Space.” 

This movement from hesitancy to confident march seemed in many ways to capture the spirit of the concert. The programme had something for everyone. But it was Chen’s commanding performance that defined it.