FESTIVAL IN RETROSPECT: Stendhal 2014

Si's Sights And Sounds wraps up 2014 with a look at this year's extravaganza at Ballymully Cottage Farm

It is written that Stendhal Syndrome is an illness, a psychosomatic state that causes rapid heartbeat, dizziness, fainting, confusion and even hallucinations when an individual is exposed to a particularly beautiful cornucopia of art in one place at any one time. Such is the advertised experience at the Stendhal Festival of Art, which brings Ballymully Cottage Farm, on the outskirts of Limavady, to life each summer in its own unique, all encompassing and above all artistic manner.

Being the home of Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling before we even arrive at the Main Stage, or at least the steady, folky, easy-going rock of Pitcher Of The Moon is. Becca Allen's determined, driven vocals counter the big back cloud that hovers over the tent and point to something sunnier in the distance and throughout the rest of the day. Meanwhile, Bobbie Harvey and her band gently ease the soul with a lilting, jazzy beat, matching the tone and feel if not the sound of a young Joni Mitchell.

Passionate, yet predictable, the Snow Patrol-esque In An Instant have a sound worthy of grabbing any crowd, but their set gains only a limited attendance. Some other time for them, perhaps? Elsewhere, the drifty, hangdog Malojian, highly praised by Gary Lightbody, Lauren Laverne and Stuart Bailie, doesn't yet stand out as anything special, but his sweet, homely and sometimes catchy melodies are definitely pleasant to the ears.

Time for two doses of reliability. It so appears that PØRTS' leading man, Steven McCool, misses the name Little Bear so much that he's brought along a t-shirt with a bear on it. And changed the lyrics of I'd Let You Win to "I'll let you in... my cardigan". It's that time of night, so let there be that type of humour. Back at the Main Stage, Bronagh Gallagher (above) and her smoothly soulful rock are a communal medicine for the night, entrancing in the midst of misty lights and a chanting crowd. If PØRTS feel experimental, Gallagher feels wholly at home, each artist unifying and heartwarming their watchers.

Then along come The Thundertones. At least that's what everyone's favourite Perfect Cousins and Teenage Kickers (even today) try to be, with their material retaining the same punky, powerful thrust it has always had. When one isn't watching Paul McLoone play with his microphone stand and jump, one is jumping to the beat. Alas, they can't maintain such a pace, and The Thundertones teeter dangerously close to Going Undertones. Fortunately the set ends before that happens.

There are no big black clouds on Stendhal's second day, just a lovely sunset and the dulcet, delicate tones of Lisa O'Neill. Draperstown's Gemma Bradley performs in the woods, her piercing vocals and steely gaze defy her slight, fragile frame and create a promising presence. It's quite a contrast to the friendly gospel folk of The Henry Girls, which spreads over the farm like a warm blanket.

By now, the rain is falling, but that doesn't prevent the atmosphere of a Jazz Festival and the light of Lumiere (well, something like that anyway) teeing up for a unique ambience at the Keady Corner. If only more were dancing to Duke Special's Gramophone Set, and his blend of Ritz and Andrews Sisters.

Never mind, for the highlight of the whole weekend is just around the corner - the cheery, chirpy warm up of the wondrous Wonder Villains. Packed with youthful punk pop and retro grunge, and a fine leading lady to boot, they stagger the eyes and delight the ears with their spirited, spunky synchronicity, sparking both young and old into life. They are, in a word, awesome here - one hopes they can maintain this standard. To quote a certain Yasmin Evans, the only way is up.

Pleasurably paced reliability is key for Paddy Casey. Like his namesake Paul, and the Jive Aces, his set goes down a treat. Particularly when he performs "I Wanna Be Like You"; how can you not win with that song? In closing, headliners Frightened Rabbit take to the Main Stage - they are, in essence, four guitars, two keyboards, a consistent drum beat and a succession of singable refrains and tantalising riffs.

The dry wit of Neil Hannon has been foregone this year for something more upliftingly Scottish - and, to be fair, who really wants to think at this moment? And though the sound isn't the kindest to them, these killer Rabbits are the ideal tonic for closing time, raising everyone's spirits and cementing Stendhal's status, at least in my mind, as Northern Ireland's Electric Picnic. More of the same next year, please.

MUSIC REVIEW: Jingle Ball 2014

With the Jingle Bells comes the Jingle Ball, and, if you're ready to swing with the mood, jingle all the way. Following the obligatory warm up of disco and Chrimbo tunes, Cool FM's third annual "hip pop" extravaganza bursts into life, dazzling the eyes and ears of the screaming thousands in the Belfast Odyssey.

It's not so much a Christmas gig than a Christmas present for the predominantly youthful audience. Selfies, photos and flashing lights are all encouraged above, around and below the star filled stage.

And it is Labrinth's "We Will Rock You" claps that set just the right mood for deafening sound and beats. His pluck and power combo, sonic booms mixed in with piano balladry, are the ideal prologue for the light and liveliness of the night.

The equally plucky yet much lower key acoustics of Elyar Fox aren't quite as winning, but they're more than enough for an audience wholly keen on losing themselves in the steadily enhancing party atmospherics. Better is local girl Leah McFall of The Voice fame: her strong, piercingly clear and determinedly fresh vocals ring true in this cauldron of noise. With each act having no more than a handful of songs, tonight is as much about having fun as making it count: and McFall takes this fully on board.

As does Fuse ODG. His chantable refrains and easily clappable rhythms, adorned in spotlights of many colours, cement already high spirits. It is like MTV Crashes all over again.

A succession of significantly quieter boyband anthems from Hometown pave the way for the biggest surprise of the evening following the interval. Humble as a speaker, ebullient as a singer, the refreshingly contradictory Paloma Faith is a breath of fresh air, with enough charisma, jazz and soulfulness to all too briefly capture local hearts. By contrast, the meek yet charming Alexa Goddard struts teasingly like a little songbird, daring watchers to be sucked in. Hardly a dominant presence, she nonetheless gers by on goodwill, gumption and a dash of jollity.

The stage is then set for Neon Jungle to bring back the booms before Sigma and McBusted's grand finale bring the curtain down excitably. Like a selection box of popular chocolates, you mostly know what you're going to get at the Jingle Ball, but the event is no less enjoyable for it.

(The original version of this review was published in the Belfast Telegraph on Tuesday December 9, 2014. It can be read here.)

THEATRE REVIEWS: NI Panto 2014

Read reviews of three Northern Ireland pantomimes - a colourful, charming adventure, a "most amoosing" feast of fun, and a novel, playfully entertaining journey

ALADDIN (Grand Opera House, Belfast)

A curtain cast in glitter rests upon the eyes of a buzzing, chattering, excitable audience of all ages as John "May McFettridge" Linehan's 25th appearance in the Grand Opera House Christmas pantomime begins.

Accompanied by the likes of former Steps singer Faye Tozer, world renowned ventriloquist Jimmy Tamley and local actress Jayne "Sweeney Todd" Wisener, Aladdin promises a colourful cascade of gaudy theatricality for the whole family. On that count, it doesn't disappoint.

Of course, it's a nonsensical, anachronistic stew. How can it not be? But it is a rather enjoyable one. It opens on a perfect note, with self-titled "chosen one" Aladdin, played by Aaron Hayes Rodgers, leading a superbly choreographed take on Pharrell Williams' "Happy". Energetic, lively, vibrant and vivid, it's the ideal door opener for McFettridge to pull out all the stops on this occasion - his occasion.

Cheap and local situational humour of the verbal and physical kind are tossed into a casserole of sometimes charming and sometimes catastrophic charades, played to the hilt by McFettridge and her, or his, animatedly affable ensemble.

Predominantly doused in fluorescent light, and surrounded by commendably detailed set design, the cast and chorus pack in as much lightly lateral and all-too-obviously literal banter that the framework of the classic Aladdin story allows, some of it raising more laughs than others. This version of Aladdin is ultimately at its best when its stars are given the freedom to show off their not inconsiderable skills, which is relatively frequently.

Jimmy Tamley and his puppets are a hoot, while as enchantress Scheherazade, Faye Tozer keeps you on your toes, alternately pleasing with her engaging expressions and powerful pipes.

On stage, Tozer is a perfect counterpoint to Earl Carpenter's evil Abanazar. Like Ralph Fiennes or Alan Rickman with a clownish bent, Carpenter is intimidating yet inept, a true pantomime villain that the children can really enjoy booing or hissing at.

And while Carpenter and Tozer somewhat overshadow the antics of Aaron Hayes Rodgers' title character and Jayne Wisener's Princess Jasmine, Hayes Rodgers' schoolboyish enthusiasm and Wisener's sweetly mellow perkiness are strong enough to win the audience over.

Amidst all the comedy and choreography, there's also room for two more marvellous technical visuals - the sight of Aladdin "soaring into the air" on a magic carpet, and an animatronic King Kong-esque figure that leads to a highly amusing sketch involving apes and bananas. It's a worthy celebration for May McFettridge, and a pleasing reminder that all that's glitter can be some kind of gold in the right company and with the right personnel.

(The original version of this review appeared in the Belfast Telegraph on Wednesday December 3, 2014. It can be read here.)

JACK AND THE BEANSTALK (Millennium Forum, Derry-Londonderry)

"Sit back, clap your hands, stamp your feet and let the show begin." So proclaims Panto Dame William Caulfield as the hitherto mild-mannered Derry-Londonderry audience prepare to be sucked into Jack And The Beanstalk, a passionately performed feast of fun and frolics which does not fail to impress.

The tempo is steady and true as Good Fairy Rose Petal, played by Orla Mullan, and Evil Flesh Creep, played by standout performer Keith Lynch, narrate the prologue in comic verse as a prelude to the first of many popular songs seamlessly integrated into this sketch show, love story and fairy tale rolled into one.

This tale of evil giant Blunderbore and hero Jack's quest to bring him down in the land of a bumbling king, a sweet princess, a snidely, snooty, buffoonish villain and a loveable cow named Daisy, is showered in a series of cracking choreography and charming comedy. The duets are strong and clear, not a bum note is hit during the dances, and Caulfield forms a good dynamic with everyone in the Forum, particularly Gerard McCabe's Silly Billy.

The sets are cartoonish and colourful, giving the feeling of being enveloped in a hyperactive comic book. Naturally, the faithfulness to the story means a little sap, but the overall tone is so winning that this is more than forgiveable.

And yes, the presence of the costumed cow is most amoosing and the cast milk it. With its experienced talent, winningly fresh faced youth and bunch of bumblers game for a laugh, this is a classically warm-hearted community panto, a real treat.

(The original version of this review appeared in the Belfast Telegraph on Friday December 5, 2014.)

SLEEPING BEAUTY (Lyric Theatre, Belfast)

With all the big, brash pantomimes around, how about a warmer, more intimately theatrical alternative? That's what writer Derek O'Connor, director/choreographer Deborah Maguire and the cast and crew of Sleeping Beauty seemed to offer the wet, shivering yet spirited souls who trundled up the Lyric's stairs. They were not to be let down.

How, one wondered, could O'Connor set this well told fairy story apart from its previous incarnations? His modus operandi is to "(make) the journey as much fun as possible", and, true to his word, the first quarter of the play was an utter delight – no "getting to know you" period, just a surprisingly fast-paced, colourful "in your face" concoction of natural humour, post-modern irony, original tunes and deft dancing. It leaves viewers keen to see more of this "Lost Kingdom" and its king, prince, princess, evil witch, good fairy and rather dazzling special effects.

Complemented by a tuneful score, the never really frightening yet always playfully entertaining production - because isn't that what panto should be? - features three particularly striking performances. Richard Ashton is fun to watch as the king, the impressive Jo Donnelly booms and hollers her way out of Maleficent's shadow, and the cheery chirpiness of Kathryn Aiken's fairy Firefly pumps the production with life at the most timely of moments.

(The original version of this review appeared in the Belfast Telegraph on Thursday December 11, 2014. It can be read here.)

FILM REVIEW: Night Will Fall/Electricity

Movies about capturing and being captured stand out at Derry-Londonderry's Foyle Film Festival

A Holocaust documentary about a Holocaust documentary, André Singer's Night Will Fall centres on the challenge of witnessing and experiencing atrocity from close range, and in doing so depicts the largest mass murder in history in a starkly unfamiliar manner.

Towards the end of World War II, trained cameramen amongst British, and later Russian and American, soldiers set out to capture footage of those captured for a Sidney Bernstein documentary, one that will ultimately take almost seven decades to see the light of day. They genuinely encounter sights no one should want to see, a horrifying yet enlightening sight for them back then and for us at this moment in time.

After entering the concentration camps blindfolded, for the first time, the soldiers' open their eyes on the doll-like corpses of typhus victims. To get too close would spook out any soldier to the point of insanity; it is wisely left for the interviewed survivors, among them Schindler's List producer Branko Lustig, to document the near death experiences. When one survivor says, "You spend years preparing to die and somehow you're still here", everything about their God-like view of the Allied soldiers makes perfect sense.

From such quiet, matter-of-fact testimonies, and additional interviews with historians and those involved with Bernstein's film, Night Will Fall earns an emotional numbness to compliment its soberly frightening sights. The danger of present-day audiences becoming alienated from overexposure to the horrors is averted many times over: the sight of the SS's grave digging alone, for example, recalls the mistakes made from trying to bury the past instead of dealing with it, and the German apathy of the period harshly reflects that inaction can be even more damaging than action. Night Will Fall neither glosses over its horrors nor flatters its audience: it isn't a shocking wake up call followed by a comforting resolution, but instead strongly reminds viewers of, and draws viewers into, a cold and hellish landscape. The story of the film that didn't make it, too, gives invaluable heft to the production, extra beats to the once damaged and now healing hearts of the survivors and witnesses.

The documented oppression of the Holocaust victims finds a more individualised, closer-to-home metaphor in Lily O'Connor, the central character in Bryn Higgins' excellent Electricity. Opening with a depressing image of bodies floating in mid air, the film immediately recalls the HAL-esque "eye" that opens Matt Reeves' superb Dawn Of The Planet Of The Apes: emptiness and lack of direction amidst darkness. Lily, wonderfully played by Agyness Deyn, is all those things personified – she is an epilepsy sufferer who courageously refuses to be entrapped by either her illness or the stigma against epileptics, yet she genuinely feels she has nowhere to go.

Flashing lights make Lily ill at ease. The art in her family bedroom, at one point edgy and at other times colourful, matches her state of mind. Lily is the kind who feels suffocation in excessive confinement, a point emphasized brilliantly by extremely shaky hand-held close ups: she does not want to be a prisoner but accepts that she is a prisoner of sorts. In her world it feels like almost everyone will be there for you when you're in trouble, but your dependence on others holds you back from fully growing up. Lily has trained herself to deal with the abuse she received since her youth, but is unable to cope without support. Thus, she is alternately headstrong and helpless: attributes which come wholeheartedly to the fore when the death of her mother turns the lives of Lily and brother Barry upside down.

Once their mother's house is sold, Lily suggests that the proceeds should be split equally between herself, Barry and long-lost brother Mikey (Christian Cooke), and, despite Barry's warnings, goes on a quest to track Mikey down in London. Alas, for Lily it's a London as unforgiving as another Lily's London ("When you look with your eyes, everything seems nice, but when you look twice, you can see it's all lies") - a whirlwind of mistrust and superficiality. Relief is eventually forthcoming in the form of the equally alienated and warmly friendly Mel (Being Human's Lenora Crichlow, right at home as a sympathetic ghost in this broken shell) and from here on in – save one unfortunate, heavy-handed plot strand about a street beggar – Electricity compellingly wraps themes of friendship, fear, the need for acceptance and survival around a tautly mannered narrative. It is frighteningly and disturbingly truthful both to its central illness and to its characters, making the heart-rending and heart-warming case that while superficial acceptance is common, true acceptance, much harder to find, is invaluable. If Night Will Fall is crucial as documentation, Electricity is up close and personal – a dark, despairing near-masterpiece.