Bold, colourful focus on the hopelessness of war 

 Beautiful People: a movie about refugees struggling to lead new lives in London 
  
ON THE SURFACE, Beautiful People is about the war in Bosnia. But unlike Michael Winterbottom's Welcome to 
Sarajevo, the last movie to explore this subject, Beautiful People avoids depicting the horrors of the conflict itself, 
focussing instead on a group of refugees struggling to lead new lives in London; in many ways, it is no less vivid an 
experience. 
Beautiful People is the result of more than a decade of cultural observation by Jasmin Dizdar, himself a "former" 
Yugoslavian who has lived in London since the late 1980s. 
His approach to this, his first feature, visualises London through fresh eyes: it's a bold, colourful film that sets a frantic 
pace and could be described as a comedy, were it not for the spectre of the atrocities in Bosnia looming over every 
frame. 
But this conveys how difficult it is to feel hope in the face of horror; we sympathise more deeply with Didzar's 
characters because we're not quite comfortable enough to laugh either with them or at them. 
Didzar interweaves several story strands, opening as two men _ one a Serb, the other a Croat _ start a fight on a bus that 
spills out into the streets of London. They end up sharing a hospital ward, where a nurse turned disciplinarian (East Is 
East's Linda Bassett) helps them toward an uneasy peace. 
In another strand, a nurse (Charlotte Coleman) falls for a recent immigrant (Edin Dzandzanovic) who must then brave 
her upper-crust family, and in yet another, an obstetrician (Nicholas Farrell) whose life is in tatters attempts to prevent 
a pregnant Bosnian woman from aborting her child. 
Juxtaposing images of hate and hope with intermittent moments of viscera and humour, Didzar's approach at times 
drifts uncomfortably close to didacticism. 
But he counters this expertly with a complex, coincidence-based structure and moments of inspired, almost demented 
genius: at one point, a teenage football hooligan dozes off in an aid package to find himself dropped out of a plane over 
Bosnia, and perhaps best of all, when Dzandzanovic is introduced to Coleman's staunch Tory parents, he thanks them 
in his faltering English for their "hostility", before going on to demonstrate a virtuoso talent for the piano. 
A potent comment on the futility of blame that ends on a spectacularly uplifting note, Beautiful People paints a 
bustling, frenetic picture of an ethnically-torn London from a truly unique perspective. 
Not to be missed: Wonderland, Michael Winterbottom's similarly eclectic and equally as accomplished mosaic of 
council estate London. Heartfelt and frequently funny, Winterbottom's pared-back film features a trio of wonderful 
central performances. 
 
The happy gap between idealism and reality 
  
 
 
THE ANGEL IN THE HOUSE 
by Kate O'Riordan 
Flamingo, $29.95 
Reviewed by Anna Rogers 
JOANNA Trollope meets Maeve Binchy? Kate O'Riordan's delightful novel is funny, warm and just slightly chaotic. She's a better 
writer than Binchy, but shares, in this book anyway, her compassionate interest in people and her very Irish outlook on life. 
Like Trollope, she has an eye for a rewardingly complex human situation and the intelligence to convey it credibly. But she also has a 
quirkiness and wit that are entirely her own. 
But first, the story. Art restorer Robert, meditative and idealistic, has never found a woman to love, till, while lecturing one evening at 
the Victoria and Albert Museum, he encounters Angela, an Irish girl from Cork. 
He knows there's something indefinably unusual about her, but he doesn't realise _ and she fails to tell him _ that she's working at a 
London men's shelter run by nuns, before taking vows herself. He asks if he can paint her portrait and the relationship develops, 
though never easily. 
A richly farcical comedy of errors ensues as Robert comes to believe that his "angel" is in fact a prostitute, while Angela suffers under 
the misapprehension that the two daughters of Robert's friend Peter are in fact his own children, whom he has cavalierly abandoned. 
Angela's vocation, already wobbly, is now in peril as she tries to cope with the intrusion of love into a life already complicated by her 
strange family at home in Ireland. There's her stoic mother Bina, the three odd aunts, Bridie, Maisie and Regina, and poor, unspeaking 
Uncle Mikey, who has lived in the attic for 50 years. 
The eccentrics aren't confined to Cork: Robert's loud, interfering, but loving mother Bonnie lives on a Thames houseboat and the nuns 
with whom Angela works are by no means stereotypical meek sisters. (The mother superior knocks back the gin and smokes heavily.) 
Finally, after a number of humorous and hectic events, all is explained satisfactorily. 
O'Riordan's characters are mostly believable and attractive, though she's not very comfortable when depicting the young prostitute 
Angela tries to help. She never trespasses on very dangerous territory _ this is safe, friendly, unchallenging writing _ but she does 
what she sets out to do with style and a refreshing energy. 
This is the only Kate O'Riordan novel I've read, so I cannot judge it in comparison with either Involved or The Boy in the Moon, 
which was second on the Irish bestseller list when Angela's Ashes was No 1. 
The Angel in the House is not a Booker contender, but it's a charming, well-written and intelligent tale about idealism and reality and 
the true happiness that lies between them. 
* Anna Rogers is a Christchurch freelance book editor
 
 Few heroes in peacekeeping 

Soldiers look over skulls to be reburied in a memorial for massacred Tutsis whom, Kofi Annan admits, the UN failed 
  
 
 
DELIVER US FROM EVIL 
By William Shawcross 
Bloomsbury, $49.95 
Reviewed by Simon Kilroy 
THERE are few heroes in this tale of post-Cold War peacekeeping politics. Not the warlords, like Saddam Hussein and Slobodan 
Milosevic, who commit evil acts on a massive scale with apparent impunity. 
Not the thugs who carry out atrocities, such as the rebels in Sierra Leone whose trademark act of violence was to cut off peasants' 
hands or lower arms, depending on the answer to the question "short sleeves or long?". 
Not the senior United Nations officials whose cupidity led them to refuse to go to Cambodia to help set up elections unless they were 
paid US$145 a day in cost of living allowances at a time when the average annual wage in that bedevilled country was US$130. 
Not the leaders of the liberal democracies, like United States President Bill Clinton, whose willingness to indulge in high-flown 
rhetoric included a promise that "whether you live in Africa, in Central Europe or anywhere else, if someone intends to commit 
massive crimes against innocent civilians, he should know that, to the limit of our capacities, we will prevent it". That promise was 
sadly unmatched by performance. 
Or French President Jacques Chirac, who is seemingly willing to support the most thuggish of regimes if it would help stem what he 
sees as the rising tide of Anglo-Saxon dominance. 
Not the Bulgarian peacekeeping forces in Cambodia, who rapidly earned a reputation for being more interested in organising 
prostitution rings than in monitoring the ceasefire. 
Not even UN secretary-general Kofi Annan, one of the major sources for this book and someone for whom Shawcross has a great deal 
of admiration, is without blemish. Annan, who, before becoming secretary-general, headed the UN's peacekeeping department, 
accepts blame for not treating warnings of the impending massacre of the Tutsis by Hutu extremists seriously enough. 
The massacre proved to be one of the worst genocides of the 20th century. At its height it is estimated that the Hutus were killing 
Tutsis at five times the daily rate of the Nazi death camps, and by its end, 800,000 Tutsis had been hacked to death. 
Shawcross's access to important figures in the crises of the 1990s and his diligent research invest his book with a credibility often 
lacking in those he characterises as "laptop generals" _ those who believe in simplistic solutions, often involving excessive military 
force _ and the woolly-headed idealists who believe anything can be solved if there is enough talking. Despite the sad list of human 
rights disasters of the 1990s he details, Shawcross believes his book is ultimately hopeful. Even with all the limits and qualifications, 
the pragmatism and self-interest, there is a desire among at least the liberal democracies to look outward and pursue humanitarian 
goals. 
Shawcross's prescription for realistic progress is for those nations which would do good to practise honesty and humility. 
The honesty is in nations making pledges only when they are prepared to provide the means to honour them, even if that means 
putting its own citizens in harm's way, and accepting that the cost of a meaningful pledge may be soldiers coming home in body bags. 
The humility needed is in recognising that, as Shawcross says, not every wrong can be righted just because the international 
community desires it, that failed states cannot simply be rebuilt in the image of successful democracies, that Bosnia cannot be turned 
into New Zealand. New Zealand politicians pondering the direction of our defence policy could do worse than read this book. It gives 
a disturbingly clear-eyed view of exactly what sort of world that policy will have to work in. 
* Simon Kilroy is a Dominion journalist
 
 Writers' festival popular 
  
 
 
THE second Auckland Writers' Festival was a roaring success, organisers say. 
Festival co-founders Peter Wells and Stephanie Johnson say they were thrilled at the public response. More than 5200 tickets were 
sold during the festival, which ran from May 19 to May 21. 
The festival was billed as New Zealand's biggest literary event, with 92 writers taking part in 42 sessions. 
It covered topics ranging from Pacific theatre to journalism, songwriting and history.
 
 Thriller told by time-travelling feminist fails its Gothic promise 
  
 
 
CITY OF LIGHT 
By Lauren Belfer 
Sceptre, $19.95 
Reviewed by David Larsen 
CITY OF LIGHT: it sounds bloodlessly spiritual, like one of those New Age re-invent yourself bibles with all the depth of a puddle 
and all the interest value of a telephone directory. 
It's actually a Gothic-toned historical thriller. The city of the title is Buffalo, New York, and in the year 1901, it does indeed consider 
itself a shining metropolis. 
Trade is bringing money, money is bringing a sense of justified self-importance, and all across America, notice is being taken. Buffalo 
is riding high. 
It's also riding on the south shoulder of Niagara Falls, perfectly positioned to take advantage of the new technology of hydro-
electricity. 
The heart of the book's plot is a struggle between commercial interests and environmentalists over how much water can be taken from 
the falls to supply Buffalo with power. 
The narrator is school mistress Louisa Barrett, spinster, intellectual and fake lesbian. (The last so that "wives do not fear their 
husbands spending time with me, and over-energetic husbands look elsewhere for their dalliances".) 
The jacket bills Louisa as "a woman ahead of her time", but it would be truer to say she's a woman who's learned to time-travel. 
Possibly there were people in 1901 with social, racial and gender attitudes indistinguishable from those of a 1970s feminist, but having 
one as your historical novel's protagonist seems like cheating. 
Still, Louisa is a sympathetic character, and if the book were simply the story of her attempt to have something of the life she wants 
for herself in a vastly chauvinist era, I'd have enjoyed it a lot more than I did. 
But the story of Niagara's commercial exploitation takes over, and it's clear from page one that things are not going to end well. 
In fact, the dominating mood is funereal. Louisa spends a great deal of time intimating that Buffalo is rotten at the core and everything 
she cares about is going to be betrayed. 
Had this been kept a secret, the final chapters might have had a devastating impact. 
As it is, they largely fail to live up to the looming Gothic tone of the preceding 500 pages. 
* David Larsen is an Auckland writer
 
 A human being wanes but the love expands 

 Edmund White . . . intelligent and powerful writer 
  
 
THE MARRIED MAN 
By Edmund White 
Chatto and Windus, $49.95 
Reviewed by Nick Barnett 
THIS is a wonderful book. Edmund White has shown his intelligence and descriptive power in earlier novels and non-fiction works, 
but The Married Man is the distillation of all his skills and is distinguished by its humanity. 
The central character (and presumably White's proxy), Austin Smith, is a 50-ish American living in the Paris of 1989. He divides his 
time between freelance journalism jobs, working on an encyclopaedia of 18th-century French furniture, and taking delight in his 
gracious French and expatriate friends. 
At the gym one day he befriends Julien, a young architect, and soon they begin a relationship in which a pessimist would see multiple 
stamps of doom: on top of a two-decade age difference, a culture gap and divergent temperaments are piled Austin's status as HIV-
positive and Julien's as a married man. But Julien's shunning of gay conventions is fascinating to Austin. 
Haunted at first by memories of earlier affairs, Austin finds his attachment to Julien deepening. Then serious illness enters their world, 
shaping their future and binding them more tightly than either imagined. The illness worsens, a human being wanes, but the love 
expands. 
Edmund White's descriptions of his settings in Paris, Venice, New England and Morocco are exquisite. His images are often dazzling, 
calling out to be re-read but never stretching a point. 
But the finest feature of his writing is its humanity. We are introduced to an array of characters, often only glimpsed, but nearly 
always sketched with generosity and understanding. 
We come to know them through Austin, who, to some readers, might seem cool and detached _ and indeed there is remoteness in all 
his connections to other people. But Austin possesses a faculty he calls an inner Court of Higher Appeals, a sense of justice that allows 
its owner to step back and shine a light of magnanimity on the people around him. His strongest emotions are accompanied by a sitting 
of this court, inquiring benignly into how fitting the emotions are. 
Austin is determined to understand his life and those he shares it with, and brings a largeness of spirit and mature philanthropy to the 
task. He is aware of the complex ways that family background, social class and sexual identity shape a personality, how they have to 
be weighed generously if the individual is to be understood and valued. 
A strength of the book is Austin's meditations on trans-Atlantic cultural differences. Uncomfortable to some degree in both the US and 
France, he is always alert to nuances of social behaviour, habit, dress, outlook. But his insights never seem facile or snobbish; he 
doesn't tediously pick the cultures apart. His judgments are not an author's indulgence but an integral part of the story _ a drive for 
understanding. 
White moves the narrative quickly with prose that is a miracle of clarity and depth. He has a gift for incongruity and black humour, 
but the reader is never disoriented or disagreeably jolted. Only moved. 
Nick Barnett is a Dominion journalist
 
 [No Published Headline] 
  
 
PILATE by Anne Wroe (Vintage, $27.95) is an exhilarating exploration of two millennia, focused on that enigmatic figure, Pontius 
Pilate. Even the origins of his name are a matter for speculation. We know so little that is provable about Pilate, yet every age has 
pictured him in ways that reveal much about each period and about the complexities of our myth-making. Anne Wroe marries a 
novelist's skills and detailed historical research to show us "all our Pilates" and to ask why we see him as we do. 
* * * 
SERENA VITALE'S Pushkin's Button (Fourth Estate, $49.95) tells the story of the duel in which Russia's great poet was killed by his 
brother-in-law. Georges d'Anthes, adopted as heir of the Dutch ambassador to the imperial court of the Romanovs, was a minor 
French nobleman serving in the Russian army. Just summarising this much of the story makes it sound as strange as any fiction. 
Vitale's whimsical title underscores issues of fact and mythologising. An observer recorded that the button on Pushkin's winter coat 
was missing from "the back, at waist height". It's the sort of historical detail we can rely on to be true, unlike many of the larger claims 
and counter-claims about the duel. Even the coat from which the button was missing is worth a diverting excursion into the dictionary 
and fashion. Was it an almaviva, bekesh, caftan, kamerger or salop? Prepare to have your ideas expanded in all directions. 
* * * 
WE ARE still in serious territory with Connie May Fowler's Remembering Blue (Bantam Press, $34.95). This novel tackles serious 
themes: love, a painful childhood, death and grieving. "Blue" is both Nick Blue, Mattie's husband, and the rich waters off Florida that 
sustain his extended family of fishermen, their wives and children. But Nick's love of the sea is tempered with fear: the sea took his 
father and may take again. The human foreground of this story shades off into deeper possible meanings like the gradations of blue on 
blue in the sea. 
* * * 
NOW for something lighter. Meera Syal's fast and funny Life Isn't All Ha Ha Hee Hee (Anchor, $29.95) is about three friends: plain 
Chila who is marrying the handsome Deepak; Tania, a westernised career woman; and Sunita, who is more or less happily settled with 
young children. Tania's partner, Martin, is a gag writer, life and soul of every party but a "sad bastard in the kitchen". This story of 
tangled lives in a London Punjabi community is grittily serious under the gags. 
* * * 
JUDY ASTLEY'S Excess Baggage (Black Swan, $24.95) is about a Caribbean family holiday from hell that turns out all right in the 
end. Astley offers pleasant distraction, if, like her exported Brits, you are into "fervent relaxation", complete with "dog-eared 
paperbacks". 
* Robin Corney is a Wellington editor
 
 Clairmont on the wild side but angels are not the only wise 
  
 
 
THE RESURRECTION OF PHILIP CLAIRMONT 
By Martin Edmond 
Auckland University Press, $34.95 
Reviewed by Stephanie Sheehan 
YOU can't judge a cover by its book. This book is about the late painter Philip Clairmont, but the one colour reproduction of a work 
by him is the cover. 
The justification for this collection of gossip, whakapapa, family stories and anecdotes is the hope that public airing of the linen will 
help raise an outcry for more of his life's work. Very few of his paintings are on public display; most are held by his family. 
The case could be made that the obsession straight people have with the use of unconventional drugs seems to obscure any rational 
analysis or sensible appraisal of Clairmont's work. What most don't understand is the self-discipline involved in the production of 
paintings. And so many, in such a brief life. Clairmont was just 34 when he died, by hanging, in 1984. 
His application of paint is the result of painstaking attention to detail, years of study and practice, practice, practice. Pigment does not 
fly into the right place off the brush when you point it at the canvas without the mind directing the operation, paying complete 
attention to the act, developing the individual technique and tuning in to the collective unconscious, all at once. 
The passion excited by the paintings of Clairmont is the result of the hordes attempting to warm themselves at the flames. 
Visionaries can attract and repel in equal violent measure. His honest reflection of a vivid personal reality is rare and, once seen, never 
forgotten. Hence the legend. 
We need to see the pictures. The time is long overdue for a major retrospective. The arts mafia have a lot to answer for. There are two 
big crimes. First, the focus on the drug use. Second, the apparent reluctance to call for recognition and respect for Clairmont's work. 
There are many sad, stoned and wasted lives. Clairmont's was not one of them. He did choose to embrace tragedy, but he knew the 
risks. 
In the words of another immortal, William Blake, "angels are not the only wise". 
* Stephanie Sheehan is a Wellington painter who studied with Clairmont at Canterbury University
 
 A child's search down memory lane 
  
 
 
Ratings: from **** (Stay Up Late) to * (Give Up Early) 
**** THE VANISHED CHILD by Sarah Smith (Arrow, $19.95): New England, 1887: millionaire dies; child disappears. Switzerland 
1905: child reappears, memory wiped. Slow pilgrimage to past and persecution begins. Accomplished writing; emotional maturity. 
Lightly-worn research into Edwardian medicine, alpine geography, early automobiles, women's suffrage. A beauty. 
*** MOUTH TO MOUTH by Michael Kimball (Headline Feature, $19.95): Dark-feeling family wedding. Dark-eyed stranger. Past 
times return to haunt present times and shape future times. Yes, the writing is like that. But slow, stalking story with scary giant and 
scarier nice guy swells into real chiller. 
**<<1/2>> THE BOMBMAKER by Stephen Leather (Coronet, $19.95): Gorgeous, murderous terrorist takes early retirement. Alas, 
prospective employer backed by scrutable Orientals won't accept no. So, 2000-kilogram bomb set in city building. Skips across 
countries and technologies nimbly. Usual gore-schmaltz blend. Pleasing protagonist. 
** TIP OFF by John Francombe (Headline, $19.95): The racetrack setting, the English reticence, the jockey-turned-author. Not Dick 
Francis, but John Francombe, whose racing/racketeering story of topped tipster and emblematically named horse never really breaks 
free of the bunch. 
*<<1/2>> THE DEVIL'S TEARDROP by Jeffery Deaver (Coronet, $19.95): Only in the USA could a hero be a Forensic Document 
Psychiatrist. This FDP has to find a Washington New Year's Eve machine-gunner. Luckily, the ransom note has weird misspellings 
and lettering. Unluckily, people and plot are as thin as the note-paper. 
* David Hill is a Taranaki writer

Mississippi drama not to be missed 
 Clockwise, from top left, Eric Idle and Robbie Coltrane in Nuns on the Run; Bruce Willis in Twelve Monkeys; Sandra Bullock and 
Matthew McConaughey in A Time to Kill; and George Clooney in Out of Sight 
  
* A Time to Kill (tonight, TV2, 8.30pm; AO) Matthew McConaughey shines in what is a career-making performance as a rookie 
lawyer up to his neck _ author John Grisham's usual theme _ in this smart, above-average screen adaptation of the bestseller. It's about 
a black father's slaying _ in a small Mississippi town _ of the two white punks who raped and left for dead his 10-year-old daughter. 
The ramifications, as you'd expect, are enormous. Among the cast are Sandra Bullock (as a dreamily resourceful assistant), Samuel L 
Jackson (as the accused), Kevin Spacey, Brenda Fricker, Ashley Judd, Donald Sutherland, Kiefer Sutherland and Patrick McGoohan 
(in a splendidly juicy turn as the judge). Director Joel Schumacher operates well above his usual standard. (1996) 
* Penn of Pennsylvania (tonight, Prime TV, 9.30pm; G) Bogus contender in the "classic movie" slot, this simplistic British costume 
drama is about the shift of the early Quaker movement from stuffy old England to the promised land of the free. Along the way, the 
state of Pennsylvania is founded. But before that, we get a lot of undisguised speechifying by rote from pioneer William Penn 
(Clifford Evans), ahead of his courting _ more or less _ of a very young Deborah Kerr. Also known as Courageous Mr Penn. Lance 
Comfort directs. In black-and-white. An early night would seem indicated. (1941) 
* Mean Streets (Sunday, TV2, 1.30am; AO) Life is one big soiled protection racket in the neighbourhood of New York's Little Italy. 
Martin Scorsese's early career-making character study _ which spawned his 1990 hit GoodFellas _ Mean Streets also did much to 
boost the fortunes of Harvey Keitel and Robert De Niro as two apprentice hoodlums. It's strong on authenticity _ so strong you might 
need a hot shower afterwards. (1973) 
* Assassins (Sunday, TV2, 8.30pm; AO) When Hollywood's infamous producer of mega-sized action films Joel Silver does a deal, it 
typically involves enough to fit out a small country with Rolex watches. Silver's pictures include the Die Hard and Lethal Weapon 
series, The Last Boy Scout, Demolition Man and this bumpy Sylvester Stallone vehicle. Though not perhaps quite as dire as Stallone's 
other recent The Specialist, Assassins is still pretty damned bad. It opens with $200,000-a-pop hit man Sly assisting the suicide of a 
washed-up colleague. Either that or he'll cap the guy personally. Now Sly's character wants out. First the big guy has to fend off next 
contender to the throne Antonio Banderas (with lousy diction and spectacularly bad hair). Richard Donner (Maverick) directed. (1995) 
* Out of Sight (Sunday, Sky Movies, 8.30pm; M) Charmer Jack Foley (George Clooney) is an habitual, even compulsive, bank 
robber. He can't stay away from where it says "Queue Here". And his ingenious schemes have led him to doing major time. Now his 
equally well thought-out jailbreak is almost wrecked by sheer bad luck: the chance arrival on the scene of US Marshal Karen Sisco 
(Jennifer Lopez, very fetching). A considerable spark passes between them. Based on the novel by prolific crime write Elmore 
Leonard (Get Shorty, Jackie Brown). Out of Sight is the best, most vivid and often amusing crime caper movie since L.A. 
Confidential. Also in the cast: Ving Rhames (as Jack's solid partner Buddy Bragg), Don Cheadle (as the vicious ex-con Snoopy), 
Dennis Farina, Albert Brooks and, in an unbilled cameo, Michael Keaton. The clever screenplay is by Scott Frank (Little Man Tate, 
Dead Again and Get Shorty); Steven Soderbergh (sex, lies and videotape) directed. Danny DeVito was co-producer. (1998) 
* Shattered (Sunday, TV2, 11.35pm; AO) A well-crafted but ultimately fudged Hitchcockian thriller. Tom Berenger's car crashes over 
a cliff one night, leaving him suffering from amnesia. But is seemingly helpful wife Greta Scacchi truly on the level? With Bob 
Hoskins, Joanne Whalley-Kilmer, Corbin Bernsen. Wolfgang Petersen (The Boat, The Neverending Story) directed, but he's sunk by 
his own script. (1991) 
* Twelve Monkeys (Monday, TV3, 8.30pm; AO) Bleak, noisy, unrelentingly unpleasant futuristic thriller. High-powered scientists 
send a violent convict (Bruce Willis) back to the 1990s to gather information about the origins of a deadly virus. He ends up in an 
asylum where Madeleine Stowe is the doctor and Brad Pitt is one of the other patients. There are some clever twists amid the 
confusion, but you have to be patient. (1995) 
* Mr Deeds Goes to Town (Wednesday, Turner Classic Movies, 9pm; G) The highly likable tale of an unassuming but perceptive 
fellow named Longfellow Deeds (Gary Cooper) who inherits $20 million from an uncle he never met. Coop is ideal as the soft-
spoken, good-natured hero, and the winning Jean Arthur co-stars as a hardboiled reporter determined to sort out where Longfellow is 
truly coming from. Director Frank Capra won his second Oscar here; the screenplay was by Robert Riskin, from Clarence Budington 
Kelland's story Opera Hat. (1936) 
* Nuns on the Run (Thursday, TV4, 10.30pm; AO) Bright, cheerful and easy-to-take Brit entertainment but not quite the success 
hoped for. Still, the distinctive contrasting forms of Robbie Coltrane (the fat one) and Eric Idle (the skinny one) form a fine double act, 
at least once they're in drag as, respectively, Sisters Euphemia and Inviolata. There's welcome support from too-little-seen Janet 
Suzman, giving her Mother Superior role an entirely fresh spin. Jonathan Lynn (The Distinguished Gentleman, My Cousin Vinny) 
both wrote and directed. (1990) 
* Let Him Have It (Friday, TV3, 8.30pm; AO) This compelling drama focuses on a real-life miscarriage of justice in 1950s England. 
Slow-witted teenager Derek Bentley (Christopher Eccleston, now better known for his roles as the Duke of Norfolk in Elizabeth) is 
befriended by swaggering juvenile delinquent Chris Craig (Paul Reynolds). Together they commit a robbery which goes horribly 
wrong. Craig shoots a policeman but is too young to face the death penalty; Bentley thus becomes the scapegoat. Peter Medak (The 
Krays) directed. (1991) 
* Daisies in December (Friday, TV1, 11.30pm; G) Don't let the awful title put you off. Mr Carmody (Joss Ackland) is a grumpy and 
very proper widowed stockbroker. When other family members go off on a skiing holiday and leave him behind at an old-folks hotel 
in Cornwall, he expects to have a rotten time. But then he meets Kathryn, a charming ex-librarian (Jean Simmons). Mark Haber 
directed this gem; the screenplay is by John Kane, based on a story by Jenny Paschall. (1995)
 
 Crusaders to battle Aussies first 

 New revelations shock Peter O'Brien in Deceit 
  
 
 
HOPE for New Zealand rugby or despair? Rugby Super 12 Final (today, TV3 9pm, Sky Sport 9.35pm) is the must-see battle of the 
Titans, the Canterbury Crusaders versus the ACT Brumbies. The really keen can get into things even earlier, with the Build-up 
programmes (TV3 and Sky Sport, 8.30pm). 
Other sport to watch is Hockey (today, TV1, 2pm) for New Zealand's first game of the champions' trophy tournament in Holland 
where they meet world champions Australia. 
In Rugby League (tomorrow, TV3, 4pm) the Warriors attempt the difficult task of keeping their roll going against Newcastle Knights. 
* THINGS are getting hotter on the seaside set of Deceit (tomorrow, TV1, 8.30pm). Richard Moreland's (Peter O'Brien) perseverance 
pays off when Harry's body is discovered on board the sunken yacht. But the former soldier gets more than he bargains for when a 
detective refuses to accept the death as suicide. 
Is Ellen (Francesca Annis) as innocent as she appears? 
* FOR those who want to avoid Saturday rugby . . . start with the absurd My Hero (today, TV1, 7.30pm) _ nobody mentioned the 
hero-in-tights was the lovable Dougal of Father Ted! Then it's straight into The Nearly Complete and Utter History of Everything 
(today, TV1, 8.05pm), a sketch comedy review of the entire gamut of British history, including Ronnie Barker, Barbara Windsor, 
Stephen Fry, Harry Enfield and Richard Briers. 
Stick with the channel for Idol Pursuits (today, TV1, 9.05pm), a documentary about the mechanics and meaning of fame. John 
Travolta, Michael Parkinson and tabloid editor Piers Morgan discuss some mind-numbing experiences with paparazzi, punters, stars 
and stalkers. 
* PD James Murder Mysteries (today, Prime, 8.35pm) is the second episode in a six-part story of a hunt for a strangler. A young man 
confesses, but Scotland Yard detective Adam Dalgliesh thinks there is more to the case.
 
 How friends became bitter business rivals 

 Mr Thompson 
  
 
 
WHEN German Manfred Hertzhoff, a former Lutheran minister, started a successful fish exporting business on Stewart Island, he 
took on an unlikely partner. 
Tomorrow night's 60 Minutes on TV1 tells the story of how a business relationship was forged with Graham Thompson, the former 
Fortex high-flier who, in 1994, was sentenced to six years' jail for his part in the collapse of the leading meat-processing company. 
Mr Hertzhoff and his wife treated Mr Thompson like family, giving him a fresh start after his release from prison. Mr Hertzhoff had 
met him when he had visited the prison as a chaplain. 
The couple paid Mr Thompson a salary, trusting him so much he accompanied Mr Hertzhoff to Europe after the death of his mother. 
But this story has a bitter end. Mr Hertzhoff says Mr Thompson betrayed him _ even to the extent of threatening him and his family. 
He says he found this out in the form of a document showing intent to set up a rival exporting business from an office he was paying 
for. 
In the programme Mr Thompson responds equally bitterly. He says Mr Hertzhoff is "paranoid" _ and has left dark secrets behind him 
in Germany. 
Correspondent Mike Valintine talks with both men, trying to discover how such close friends could be reduced to such bitter rivalry.
 
 At last, this grim beast is exposed 
 CLIFTON Jane 
  
AS THE line between infotainment and documentaries continues to warp, it's hard not to approach something like ANOTHER 
purported doco on eating disorders feeling rather perplexed. Has this latest effort been made because emaciated, bingeing and 
chundering young women are a good ratings bet (which they are)? And am I, deep down, watching yet another programme about this 
already well-documented range of illnesses for the freak show value? This is not just cynicism. Sickness sells, and the more horrifying 
the better. 
Too many programmes on the subject of eating disorders have been perfunctory in the information department, and blatantly 
exploitative and prurient in their graphicness. 
To salve our guilt about being riveted to them anyway, they have piled on the sentimentality _ tears, cuddles, pleas for community 
understanding _ but leave us titillated, rather than informed. 
So, prepared to cut and run from TV3's Dying to Eat on Wednesday night, this reviewer was agreeably surprised. For once we got 
some insights into the nature of the beast. The first being that an eating disorder IS a beast. The mother who said she could "see" the 
anorexia, sitting on her daughter's shoulder mocking her, brought it home vividly. 
The parents got across the It-ness of such diseases. One said he initially thought his daughter would grow out of throwing up her food 
to keep her weight down, but was finally helped to understand this incomprehensible _ to him _ compulsion by seeing it as a thing 
apart from her, which had somehow invaded her. 
Another fresh thing about Dying to Eat was the utter lack of mealy-mouthedness. One mother said frankly that she had been 
embarrassed about her daughter's illness, and didn't want to tell the girl's grandparents. She harboured the common prejudice that only 
children from screwed-up families behaved in this way. She also confessed to being furious with her daughter, even unable to speak to 
her. 
Most other programmes skip those moments of dis-empathy, insisting on portraying all victims' parents as saints and martyrs. These 
were clearly loving and blameless parents, their daughter recovering _ but even now they can't quite believe what has hit them. 
Even more startlingly, the programme found an older, still-afflicted victim, and showed the bleakness of her life. We usually see only 
the spindly and appealing teenagers. Here was an un-glam husk of the tortured gamine, 20 years on. 
There was no "tainment" in this info. The woman told of her monotonous, reduced life in the grip of laxative addiction and bizarre 
self-restrictions. Even while the viewer exclaimed pruriently over her insistence on eating her one daily meal over three hours using a 
salt spoon, the more powerful message was that this parasitical mental illness can imprison a person all her life. For once, there was 
little danger of younger viewers gleaning information to experiment with this, thinking it glamorous or handily attention-getting. 
It was dark. Even the young women interviewed who were clearly recovering remained at least partly in the shadow of compulsion 
and fear. No frontperson told us to notice this, or laboured any point. The subjects themselves conveyed the information, with minimal 
narrative voice-over by Hillary Barry. All that jarred was the glib, infomercial style of this narration, but it's always hard to strike the 
right tone in illness programmes. At least she didn't sound saccharine, or exclamatory. 
Given the poor quality of most such programmes, it's a wonder any victims and their families ever agree any more to talk so 
thoughtfully and self-revealingly to a camera crew. Anyone who saw this programme was indebted to them for trusting director 
Virginia Wright.
 
 Stick with Pletnev 
 BUTTON John 
  
Tchaikovsky: Symphony No.6 in B minor "Pathetique", Romeo and Juliet Fantasy Overture. Kirov Orchestra conducted by Valery 
Gergiev. Philips Classics 456 580-2 (CD 69mins). 
THERE have been wildly conflicting views about this recording of the Pathetique from the British musical press. The Gramophone 
magazine thought it nothing special, whereas the BBC Music Magazine hailed it as the finest since the 1950s, comparing it with the 
benchmark recording by Evgene Mravinsky and the Leningrad Philharmonic. For my money it falls somewhere between. 
Tchaikovsky's subject in this highly personal symphony was life and death, and was composed within the tension leading up to his 
own controversial death, barely a week after the work's premiere. The result is the composer's finest, and most deeply felt, orchestral 
work, and a 19th century masterpiece. 
Valery Gergiev is a superb opera conductor. His work with the Kirov Opera in St Petersburg has shed incandescent light on the great 
Russian operas, and his orchestra is a most responsive vehicle for his highly personal responses to Russian music. 
His Tchaikovsky recordings, most notably a fiery and dramatic complete Nutcracker, have enormous power and intensity, and this 
quality is intermittently in evidence in this new recording. 
In its straightforward way this is fine Tchaikovsky, but I think it better suited to the Romeo and Juliet coupling. The Pathetique has a 
nervously aristocratic feel to it, and I think Gergiev misses this quality. The orchestral playing has not quite the sheer articulation that 
distinguishes the earlier Russian National/Mikhael Pletnev version, now available as a part of a two-CD medium-pricer (Virgin 
Classics 7243 61636), and neither does it quite match that performance for its understanding of Tchaikovsky's personal world. 
Nevertheless, there is much to like, not least the vivid, involving sound, but I will stick to Pletnev to go along with the extraordinary 
1954 recording by the Berlin Philharmonic under Ferenc Fricsay. 
Now that is what I call a classic.
 
 Legendary life of Lennon in words and song 
 O'BRIEN Timothy 
 
Perry Piercy in the comedy/drama Speaking in Tongues;Deryn Trainer (left) and Darryl Lovegrove in Looking Through a Glass Onion 
  
 
IN THE 20 years since John Lennon was fatally shot, he has been deified to an extent that his legend now transcends any mere 
reputation. 
This is so much so that even recent revelations of sordid living can hardly dent it. 
And Imagine, that anthem of pop anarchy, grows more ubiquitous by the year. It must soon equal Albinoni's Adagio on the media list 
of first tunes to reach for in the face of unutterably tragic or incomprehensibly, well, whatever. Lennon may not quite have reached the 
same status as Elvis and Marilyn, but you can see he's not far off. 
Certainly, now there's a show about him, the process is nearly complete. 
Looking Through a Glass Onion opens at the State Opera House on Thursday and is pitched as "an evening with John Lennon in 
words and music". 
In it, Darryl Lovegrove performs 26 songs linked by monologues about important relationships in Lennon's life. 
The script is by Australian John Waters and versions of the show have been a success on tours of Australia and in London. The 
opening of the New Zealand tour in Christchurch continued this, with extra shows added. 
Lovegrove has been a star of numerous musicals, and The Press described his performance in this as so effective that "even die-hard 
Lennon fans could not be but satisfied". 
Another Australian script hits the boards at Circa tonight. 
Speaking in Tongues, by Andrew Bovell, won the 1997 award for best new play in Australia. 
Bovell's work may be better known locally to movie-goers for his co-writing in Strictly Ballroom and Head On. The play is billed as a 
thrilling comedy/drama in which four actors play out nine characters as a detective tries to solve the mystery of which they are all a 
part. 
Bovell says he tries to go beyond the traditional sense of linear narrative and to become more lateral so that the plot jumps sideways or 
backwards. 
"Truth is a very important theme in the play, so we see the same story in a number of different ways. And each time we get different 
aspects." 
On one level it's a mystery about who did it. But Bovell says that on a deeper level, he hopes the play reflects back to people their own 
situation. 
The play is directed by Cathy Downes and features Judith Gibson, K C Kelly, Perry Piercy and Brian Sergent. 
Finally, the Adam Playreading series is continuing at Downstage with the second reading taking place tomorrow. 
The series aims to provide a bridge between new plays and their eventual production. 
The play tomorrow is Flora by Elisabeth Easther. It's based on the life of a renowned Auckland madam and social figure. 
The following Sundays feature Greek Fire by Dean Parker and finally Star of the Sea by Denis Welch. 
Readings start at 1.30pm. 
* This fortnightly column alternates with one on visual arts
 
 Unashamedly Young at heart 
 ALEXANDER Mike 

 Beth Hirsch . . . well on her way 
  
 
NOTHING is ever straightforward with Neil Young. 
The hall of famer who continues to astound with the depth and poignancy of his output has shelved more albums than most artists 
have in them while building up an impressive catalogue of work. 
His latest project, Silver & Gold, initially intended as Young's first solo album, has gone through several makeovers. 
Young first began working on the album at his state-of-the-art ranch studio in 1997. A year later, he decided to call in a top-flight cast 
of musicians, including Jim Keltner, Spooner Oldham and Donald Dunn. 
Six months later, and with most of the tracks re-recorded, Young did another U-turn when he agreed to take part in a Crosby, Stills, 
Nash and Young reunion and offered his fellow members the choice of any of the material he had been assembling for Silver & Gold. 
To further confuse fans, Young is releasing two quite different versions of Silver & Gold. There is the album with himself, Keltner, 
Oldham, and co and a DVD of Young playing the same material live and unaccompanied in Austin, Texas. 
Silver & Gold is a direct, emotionally compelling and quintessential Young in the vein of Harvest, Comes a Time and Harvest Moon. 
Dedicated to his wife Pegi, it opens with the acoustic rambler Good To See You, a coming home song that, like the title track and 
Razor Love, is unashamedly sentimental. Young's raw, broken voice can often feel like it's stumbling awkwardly around a song while 
perfectly exposing its emotional centre. 
And even if he's likely to come across as a little too religious for some on Red Sun or nostalgic on The Great Divide, Silver & Gold is 
where Young's heart is at. 
Also noted: Early Days _ Beth Hirsch: A sweet and lilting acoustic snapshot of an impressive songwriting talent. Hirsch was the voice 
behind quirky French duo Air's chart pluggers All I Need and You Made It Easy. At just over 32 minutes her debut is all too short but 
there's enough personality and sweet folkiness in the heart-shaped world of songs like Mary The Angel, Come A Day and Dream On 
to suggest Hirsch is well on her way. 
Helliocentric _ Paul Weller: The keeper of British pop's flame for more than two decades isn't about to lose his place on the style 
council. Weller's fifth solo album is well paced and brimming with wonderfully crafted moments such as He's the Keeper, a steely 
tribute to Ronnie Lane, and Dust and Rocks, which searches for meaning among the origins of the universe. The cigarette-worn voice 
suits Weller's drifting thoughtfulness on an album that's the perfect tonic for those wet and miserable winter days. 
Tourist _ St Germain: The connection with an 18th century mystic might not be readily apparent but French techno aristocrat Ludovic 
Navarre shares a similar feel for alchemy. Navarre prefers to use a computer mouse to create his kind of chemistry but it's no less 
alluring. On his first album in five years and his Blue Note debut, he's created a sensuous and abstract jazz vibe with some outstanding 
sampling _ a Marlena Shaw vocal loop on Rose Rouge and John Lee Hooker caught in a black hole on Sure Thing _ and stunning 
ensemble work. A sublime mix of machines and music. 
Gung Ho _ Patti Smith: The high priestess surveys the garden of consciousness and finds the US flag still waves in her schoolgirl 
heart. The title track is a sweeping, rambling ode to patriotism and the real meaning of union. It's typical of an album that's a lot more 
menacing than the emotional unburdening of Smith's most recent efforts but you wouldn't expect Smith to keep waltzing in a widow's 
line.

19 Oct 2000

Top pianist for NZ 

 Andras Schiff 
  
CHAMBER Music New Zealand has confirmed that Andras Schiff, pictured, one of the world's leading pianists, will perform as part 
of the 2001 season. Hungarian-born Schiff will play a one-off concert in Wellington on August 30, featuring pieces by Bach, 
Beethoven and Bartok. Other international performers in the 2001 lineup include Britain's Endellion String Quartet and Florestan Trio, 
France's Quatuor Ysaye, and New Zealand's Diedre Irons and Trio Victoria. The season will feature commissioned works by New 
Zealanders Anthony Ritchie and John Psathas. 
 
  A Ching show and nary a feather in sight 

 A detail from Raymond Ching's Traveller (Miss Pryde is anxious) 
   
 
AT THE Tinakori Gallery: "Is it him? You know, the guy who does birds?" "Hmm . . . I don't know . . . there are no bird paintings." 
Eavesdropping on this exchange between two visitors to Raymond Ching's exhibition, I am witness to an enduring myth about the 
man: that he only paints birds. 
At Tinakori's new home, in Featherston St (next door to Ferner Gallery), you'll find a gallery full of human portraits with nary a 
feather in sight. 
The artist, who divides his time between Wellington and Wiltshire, is a 60ish, cultured gentleman with the soft, pink skin only 
extended time in the northern hemisphere can bestow. Asked how he feels about the "birdman" label, Ching shrugs and says: "I've 
always done portraits, I've just never put them all together for a show over here." 
Over there is England, where he's exhibited since 1970. He has also had many exhibitions in the United States and one in South 
Africa. Ching can't predict where he'll end up, but for the moment he's home for the summer (Wellington's recent southerly storm 
excepted) and will return to Britain in February. 
Having a foot in each country helps explain why some of his subjects look so English. Sorting the Kiwis from the Poms is one of the 
little games you find yourself playing as you go through the show. The other is imagining the accents that go with the stream-of-
conscious words strewn around the subjects' heads. 
All but one of the portraits contain written words, though some are deliberately indecipherable. The odd one out features a man whose 
upper body is almost completely covered in tattoos _ word pictures that more than make up for lack of written words. 
Ching says there are several reasons for the words. "One idea behind it is that, by writing words into the picture, it makes it less real, it 
spoils the illusion of their reality." 
On a superficial level, the words encourage viewer participation just by begging to be read, and they require you to dwell on a work. 
Sometimes, though, the words throw up more questions than answers. 
An example is Traveller (Miss Pryde is anxious), which takes its title from a sentence scrawled around the dreadlocked, tattooed and 
heavily-pierced nude study of a black woman. 
Ching says the portrait came about by accident. "I was completing another nude study, Two Woman (also in the show). I had done the 
older woman and needed the model for the young woman. I advertised at the local art school for a model who was a little bit average, 
and the model who replied was the woman I ended up painting in Miss Pryde _ with her hair and tattoos and body piercing, she 
couldn't be less ordinary!" 
Ching decided to paint her anyway, and the extraordinary sentence "Miss Pryde is anxious that we should mention that her 
establishment in Paris, 152 Rue de la Pompe, is now called The Caledonian and that she will be very glad to take in artists for the 
winter months" is something he came across while indulging in one of his favourite pastimes _ reading comics. 
He owns about 30,000 of them and came upon the sentence in a girl's comic from the early 1900s. His addiction to comics began at an 
early age and got him into trouble at his old primary school in the Wellington suburb of Brooklyn. 
"I loved Superman comics, and one day I did a life-size drawing of him on one of the walls at school. The headmaster was furious, 
and my punishment was to scrub every inch of it off. I'd drawn it with a fat, black wax crayon, and it took me months of staying after 
school every afternoon to get the damn thing off!" 
You can't help but wonder what the headmaster would think of how the little vandal turned out. 
Exhibition Roundup 
Codex, recent work by Richard Killeen, is on show at Peter McLeavey Gallery till November 11. 
Layla Walter's enchanting cut-glass vessels feature in Thread Line at Avid till October 28. 
An Inward Sun _ The world of Janet Frame goes nicely with Michael King's biography. It's on at the National Library Gallery till 
November 12. 
New Plymouth's Govett Brewster Art Gallery continues to keep its big city cousins on their toes with Fluxus, a show of 20th-century 
art which includes kinetic sculpture, video installation, concert recordings and film. The gallery has organised a comprehensive public 
programme to enhance the exhibition, which runs till December 5. 
If you're in Wellington during Labour weekend, you'll be able to catch two shows that close on Saturday: Simon McIntyre and 
Monique Redmond's Stars and Stripes is at New Work Studio and Janne Land has Backwater, paintings by Peter Gibson Smith. 
Wellington's International Jazz Festival features photography as well as music this year. Still Voices is an exhibition of jazz 
photographs by Neal Palmer that capture the classic black-and-white look of the 1940s and 50s. It's on at The Space (143 Riddiford 
St), in Newtown, till October 29. 
 
 
The birds and the bows 

 Stephen Gibbs . . . `Carving really slows the pace of life down . . . there's something sensual about it, particularly when you're using 
sharp tools, sliding along the wood, taking little slithers of wood off. The other night I worked late into the night and didn't notice the 
time.' 
  
  
 
Fine carver Stephen Gibbs, bowmaker to many in the string section of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra, has turned his craft into 
an art. He talks to Jackie Bedford. 
-------------------- 
THIS IS is the story of how a duck's head carving ended up on a double bass bow . . . 
In his Karori workroom, Stephen Gibbs hands me a piece of wood that looks like a fence batten _ but is incredibly heavy. It's 
pernambuco, from a Brazilian rainforest tree, which has been a favoured wood for bowmaking for about 100 years. 
After hours of chiselling, rasping and planing thin pieces of wood, Gibbs is nearing his goal of creating a bow of international 
standard. In fact, musicians who've tried his bows, such as Dale Gold, principal of the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra's bass 
section, say they're already excellent. "They're very nicely made and they play really well," he says. "They're very responsive." 
Euan Murdoch, cellist and head of string studies at Victoria University, is enthusiastic. "It's great to have a New Zealand bowmaker . . 
. we have very fine instrument makers; it's an obvious progression to have a bowmaker . . . good bows are in shorter supply. 
Instruments last longer _ bows tend to come to grim ends." 
Murdoch argues that it's more important for a stringed instrument player to have a good bow than to have a very good instrument. "It's 
the thing you speak with, it's like a paint brush . . . a good bow gives you the possibility of doing all kinds of strokes; of effects." 
The demands from what is a very fine piece of wood are extraordinary: a bow must be light so that it can easily be held for long 
periods; strong enough to provide resistance when pulled across strings; and flexible to enable effects such as spiccato (bouncing off 
strings). 
A KEEN woodworker, Gibbs has carved repre sentations of birdlife for many years and in 1991 was named Carver of the Year by 
Ducks Unlimited, a wetland and waterfowl conservation group. 
Three years ago he began experimenting with making bows. He'd had plenty of time to study them, as a double bass player with the 
NZSO for the past 27 years. Then, last year, a Montana Award enabled Gibbs to spend five weeks in Europe, studying traditional 
techniques. 
"Everything is on show and it has to be dead straight," he says. "That's surprisingly difficult to achieve with a piece of wood like this, 
especially when it's under tension. You are not only making something beautiful to look at, but also that can be used. It's very 
satisfying." 
He prefers the "French method" _ using hand tools as much as possible. Machines go against grain, he says. "The lathe, when it's 
spinning round _ it cuts against the grain of the wood and makes tiny nicks. With the French method, you're always planing the 
surface, it's more like rasping." 
The bowmaker's rule of thumb is it takes two weeks of eight-hour days to make a bow, and a week longer for a bass bow "because of 
the amount of wood". However, for Gibbs it's a means of escaping time. "It's something that's nice and slow. Carving really slows the 
pace of life down . . . there's something sensual about it, particularly when you're using sharp tools, sliding along the wood, taking 
little slithers of wood off. The other night I worked late into the night and didn't notice the time." 
Things took an unexpected turn recently, when Gibbs decided to enter the annual Golden C'art competition, held in Carterton. The 
theme this year was Facing the Music _ and Gibbs's response was to put a beautifully reproduced mallard duck's head on the top of a 
double bass bow, all carved from a single piece of wood. 
The duck's head bow won him a merit award _ and a lot of attention. "I feel like I want to make more . . . the main thing is I enjoyed 
making it; I think it looks great and there was a great reaction to that bow _ quite a wow factor. It combines bird carving with 
bowmaking _ which is perfect really. I've never ever seen anything like it." 
 
 
Noumea festival 
  
  
 
MORE than 100 Maori artists will represent New Zealand at the Eighth Festival of Pacific Arts in Noumea, New Caledonia, opening 
on Monday. The New Zealanders, funded by Creative NZ's Te Waka Toi board, join about 3000 participants in the two-week festival 
of indigenous Pacific cultures. The Maori group at the four-yearly festival includes weavers, carvers, kapa haka performers, 
musicians, visual artists and fashion designers. A smaller group of Pacific artists, funded by Creative NZ's Pacific Arts Committee, is 
also part of the New Zealand delegation. The Pacific group includes five opera singers. 

Film tributes 

 Tony Williams, left, and John O'Shea on location in 1965 

 THE work of New Zealand film great John O'Shea features in the Bank of New Zealand Travelling Film Show coming to Wellington 
next week. The free showing is to be held at the Film Centre on Wednesday afternoon. O'Shea ran the Wellington-based Pacific Films, 
and the tribute includes a 1955 advertisement for Caltex featuring a UFO and a newsreel showing Gallipoli veterans at an Anzac 
ceremony in Wellington in the same year. Other films include an extract from The Wahine Salvage, which was shot in colour over 
five years by Paraparaumu amateur film-maker Jack Donaldson, and what is believed to be the first ever footage of an international 
rugby league match, played between Auckland and England on July 25, 1914. The films were among 400 given to the New Zealand 
Film Archive after a search in the Wellington-Horowhenua region last year. 
 
 
They're playing our music there 

 Tainui members perform with the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra 
  
LAST week the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra and Tainui brought their Spirit of the Land tour to Wellington, allowing audiences 
here to hear at least one of the works that had featured in the concerts given at the Olympic Arts Festival in Sydney. 
Wairua was one of two works by Gareth Farr featured in Sydney, and with his efforts, the Sydney critics were always going to judge 
the state of creative music from their neighbour across the water. No matter that just one composer was never going to tell anything 
but a personal story, such simplicity was always going to occur. 
The Wellington audience was not the usual symphony audience, and neither, it would seem, were the Sydney audiences. Humphrey 
McQueen in the Bulletin noted: "Eavesdropping revealed Sydneysiders making their first visit to the opera house to performers they 
had not previously heard." 
The Wellington audience loved the unlikely marriage of symphony players and Maori performers, as much for the tension that such an 
irreconcilable marriage created, as anything else. It was great theatre _ but not really great music. 
Roger Covell of the Sydney Morning Herald seemed to partly share this view. "Such a worthy plan has its risks. The decorated, 
vigorously chanting members of the Maori ensemble made their waiting orchestral colleagues look temporarily pallid and 
conventional . . . on the other hand, the orchestra in full and vociferous cry reduced the Maori women to a merely marginal role as 
they engaged in rhythmic movement at the front of the platform." 
Covell liked Farr's Hikoi with percussionist Evelyn Glennie rather better. "Farr's unabashed eclecticism led him from percussive 
assault into well sustained melody . . . stronger in gesture than overall coherence, the piece signalled talent and accomplishment of a 
conspicuous kind, a notion not contradicted by Farr's appearance to acknowledge applause in an Oxford Street-type ensemble of black 
plastic tails, glittering vest, leather trousers and green-tinted hair." 
The Australian's Miriam Cosic was the most enthusiastic about Wairua: "A wild and wonderful cross-pollination of cultures . . . the 
cacophonic climax juxtaposing 20 Tainui in ceremonial dress against the orchestra in full belt. Just as I was thinking this was total 
chaos, I realised how chaotic the meeting of these cultures must have been." 
The Bulletin's McQueen was somewhat damning of Farr: "Both works exposed Farr's inability to bridge transitions, whether from 
soloist to ensemble, or between musical styles . . . if he continues to compose, he could start over from the brief passage after the 
xylophone solo. Those bars hinted at a capacity to move beyond the inclusion of scenic effects, which was about as far as Alfred Hill 
reached in his Maori-inspired compositions in the 1890s." 
All the critics had nice things to say about Deborah Wai Kapohe and Jonathan Lemalu. McQueen said "[They] gave their Mozart arias 
fresh dramatisation." But James Judd's Mahler First Symphony did not meet with Covell's approval: "The orchestra duly demonstrated 
its all-round competence, but Judd allowed himself to be swept away by enthusiasm and asked too little fine detail of his players . . . 
did this important, spot-lit opportunity come too late for an orchestra and conductor absorbed in other collaborative tasks for the 
earlier part of two evenings?" 
Vaughan-Williams's Sinfonia Antartica (embarrassingly mis-spelt in all the promotional material) was not much liked. The 
performance appeared to pass muster, and Sir Edmund Hillary impressed as much by his sheer presence as by his narration, but no 
critic thought the use of the Natural History New Zealand film was a success. 
McQueen descibed the film as a home movie. Covell thought the images drew attention away from the music: "Placing an orchestra 
under a screen, alas, is a sure way of deflecting attention from details of its performance." 
But after all this, as NZSO chief executive Ian Fraser says: "The two concerts were as well attended as any, without any papering, and 
both received standing ovations, sufficient for the opera house management to be keen enough to discuss regular visits by the NZSO 
to the opera house in the future." 
In concerts given here in Wellington, all the works played in Sydney have had an airing. 
 
 
Cos I'm free 
  

 Marilyn Crispell . . . `Braxton and I used to have a fantasy of getting a gig where he'd play piano and I would sit on the piano and be a 
torch singer. Actually, I was very fond of that fantasy.' 
   
 
Improvisational pianist Marilyn Crispell is to play at the Wellington Jazz Festival. She talks to Brian Marley. 
-------------------- 
THE American improvising pianist Marilyn Crispell is softly-spoken, slight of frame, and her composure is remarkable. 
When she readies herself to play she seems perfectly calm, but there's a reservoir of brimming energy inside her, and the torrent of 
sound she's capable of producing can take people by surprise. What's even more surprising, and pleasing, for anyone who has followed 
her career since the early 1980s, is the elegance, fine nuancing and delicacy with which she plays ballads. 
Crispell became hooked on jazz when she heard John Coltrane and Cecil Taylor, and her earliest recordings try, with some success, to 
capture their passion and energy without resorting to imitation. Any pianist who plays atonally, and with such intensity, is likely to be 
branded a Cecil Taylor clone, but Crispell's playing is more lucid than Taylor's, and her imaginative reach is greater. 
The proving ground for her talent was a decade-long stint with the Anthony Braxton Quartet, which came to an end in 1993. Anyone 
who has heard Braxton's music knows what a formidable challenge it poses for players and listeners alike, and Crispell's studies in 
piano and composition at the New England Conservatory must have come in handy. 
It's worth noting, however, that on the quartet's later recordings, Crispell occasionally seems obliged to rein in her ideas. Quite simply, 
she'd outgrown the quartet. 
No sooner had Crispell left Braxton's employ than she embarked on a flurry of recording, and in 1996-97 the North American label 
Music and Arts issued three extraordinary live solo CDs which demonstrated a new maturity in her music-making. 
HER playing was just as intense, but the material and how she approached it were different. Annette Peacock's sinewy tunes and Bill 
Evans's harmonically rich melodies were added to her repertoire. 
She explains: "The lyrical element was always there. I'd always played Coltrane ballads like After the Rain and Dear Lord, so it wasn't 
so much a change in direction, I just allowed hidden aspects of myself to emerge. I no longer felt I had to apologise for something I 
was feeling." 
This shift in emphasis arose partly because of an encounter Crispell had in 1992 with two Swedish musicians, bassist Anders Jormin 
and drummer Raymond Strid. "That was a very significant meeting for me. I heard things in Anders' playing that I knew would go 
well with something I needed to express. Anders' lyrical quality, his beautiful tone, coupled with Raymond's experience in free music, 
perfectly balances my sound." 
To date, the trio has made only one recording, Spring Tour, for the Swedish label Alice Music, but Crispell wants to do more: "Anders 
and Raymond are among the most important people in my musical life." 
Because the second half of the 1990s was a time of musical transformation for Crispell, she chose to record only one session under her 
own name, the critically-acclaimed Annette Peacock project for ECM, Nothing Ever Was, Anyway. Her relationship with ECM is 
healthy, and a new disc, Amaryllis, will be released next year. "It contains three or four totally free improvisations, slow, lyrical, so it's 
almost another ballads CD." 
When I ask her whether, while playing, she sings counterpoint under her breath, or just in her head, she surprises me by saying: 
"Recently, when I played in Vancouver, I sang Ornette Coleman's What Reason Could I Give To Live. It was the first time I'd sung in 
public for many years. But a friend of mine commented: `Diana Krall has nothing to worry about!' " She laughs, then adds: "You 
know, Braxton and I used to have a fantasy of getting a gig where he'd play piano and I would sit on the piano and be a torch singer. 
Actually, I was very fond of that fantasy." 
* Marilyn Crispell plays a solo concert at the Jazz Club, Cable St, Wellington, on October 21 
 
 
   Spotlight on Shebang 
  
WELLINGTON'S theatre feast continues with more works by leading New Zealand women playwrights in the Shebang Festival. 
Briar Grace-Smith's When Sun and Moon Collide runs till October 28 at Bats. Dominion theatre critic Timothy O'Brien said the play 
"examines the tragic dimension of a resonantly symbolic land and mindscape". Roy Ward directs. 
The swashbuckling Vagabonds continues, starring the playwright, Lorae Parry, as Charlotte Badger, the first recorded European 
woman to live in New Zealand. In what O'Brien called "a rollicking, roguish tale", Badger and a theatrical troupe leader (Sylvia 
Rands) and others become involved in the Waikato Land Wars. Gareth Farr is in the cast and provides music. Annie Ruth directs at 
Downstage, till October 28. 
Renee's 18th stage play, Missionary Position, runs at Circa Studio till November 4. Three women (Irene Wood, Pip Byrne and 
Bernadette Doolan) are in a power struggle with a twist that "puts you on the edge of your seat", said O'Brien. Renee directs. 
Jackie van Beek's social-observation piece, Never Never, plays at Bats till October 28. Emma Willis directs. 
The festival's last play, Jo Randerson's The Unforgiven Harvest, directed by Jonathon Hendry and billed as a dark, funny look at 
parenting and planting, opens at Downstage tomorrow and runs till November 4. 
 
 
The jazz schedule 
  
HIGHLIGHTS in the Wellington International Jazz Festival: 
* After her performance in last weekend's Urban Taniwha, Marilyn Crispell's solo show is likely to be a hot ticket. At the Jazz Club, 
Cable St, Saturday at 8pm. For those who'd love to play alongside this noted improvising pianist, Crispell is also taking part in a free 
workshop at The Space, 143 Riddiford St, tomorrow at 1pm. 
* The Jazz Bus cuts a trail between Civic Square and Queens Wharf between noon and 2pm on Saturday. A free ride for the jazz-
inclined. 
* On Saturday and Sunday between 1.30pm and 4pm at Queens Wharf is the Swing and Latin Dance Extravaganza, a free event 
featuring the Benj Berryman Hiptet on Saturday and CUBop a Go Go on Sunday. The rain venue is Shed Six. 
* The Soonil Kim Trio groups the Christchurch-based saxophonist with Wellington percussionists Chris O'Connor and Simon 
O'Rorke. Sunday at 9pm at The Space. 
* The Windy City Strugglers' blend of styles is no struggle to listen to. Jazz Club on Wednesday at 8pm. 

24 July 00
 
Drummers' energy highly infectious 

 New Zealand Chamber Orchestra 
with Strike and Gareth Farr 
Opera House, Wellington 
July 22 
Reviewed by John Button 
-------------------- 
GIVEN the counter-attraction of Bryn Terfel, the audience for this concert was encouragingly large. Equally encouraging was the 
number of young people present, and the programme certainly suited them. 
The indefatigable Gareth Farr contributed two pieces to the concert and each displayed the irrepressible energy that is the main feature 
of his work. 
Volume Pig, which featured the brilliant percussion group Strike (Murray Hickman, Jeremy Fitzsimons, Tim Whitta and Alison Low 
Choy), owes something to both Pacific and Japanese drumming, and its relentless energy was highly infectious. 
With a piece of burlesque to finish, involving violinist Andrew Thomson and some starting pistols, this clearly tickled the audience. 
Warriors from Pluto, a commission from the New Zealand Chamber Orchestra, finished the concert, and here some busy minimalism 
from both strings and percussion painted a rather different picture. 
Still energetic, and probably a touch too long, it titillates the ear without saying a great deal about anything. 
The Russian composer Rodion Schedrin made a stir in the late 1960s with his ballet based on Bizet's Carmen _ and the Farandole from 
L'Arlesienne recording on Melodiya sold hugely worldwide. 
It probably needs a bigger string complement to make its full effect, but, even so, it is far too long, particularly as we had a couple of 
sections again as encores to allow Farr to appear in drag. 
Strike also performed an interesting piece by David Downes, Painting with Breath, in which the players principally used bamboo 
poles to create a network of rhythmic swishing sounds. The result was certainly different and highly imaginative. 
The orchestra's only "solo" contribution was Astor Piazzolla's Four for Tango, in an arrangement for strings from the string quartet 
original. I have heard far more interesting Piazzolla tango pieces than this, and the Kronos Quartet _ the dedicatee _ makes more sense 
of it. 
The Opera House acoustic, with backstage deflectors, suited the percussion fine, but the string sound was, in tutti particularly, rather 
boxy and unflattering.
 
 Charm as much as voice wins audience 

 Terfel . . . charming 
  
 
 
Bryn Terfel bass baritone 
Malcolm Martineau piano 
Michael Fowler Centre 
Saturday, July 22 
Reviewed by Laurence Jenkins 
-------------------- 
BRYN TERFEL'S near universal appeal is quite understandable. "He is one of us," the audience in the nearly packed Michael Fowler 
Centre almost fell to chanting under the spell of his winsome stage presence, his brandishing of an All Black scarf, and his charm. 
He could have sung anything, but he chose Schubert and Schumann lieder for the first half of his recital, and in so doing opened 
himself up to comparison with singers to whom these composers are second nature _ Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau and Hermann Prey, to 
name two. Both serious artists. Both incapable of the in-your-face approach taken by Terfel to some of the most familiar songs in the 
repertoire, though from my seat I couldn't actually see his face, making it difficult to assess fully this long-awaited event. 
Terfel's best interpretations were the still ones _ the very sombre Litanei . . . D 343 displayed a feeling for the composer almost absent 
from the other items (the opening Gruppe aus dem Tartarus D 583 had more to do with Wagner than Schubert) and his virtuoso 
pianist, Malcolm Martineau, too, seemed more musically involved in this song and less concerned to show the audience by the use of 
eyebrows that he, too, knew what the words said. 
And so it was in the Schumann group. Widmung took its inspiration from the Liszt transcription for piano, not the original song, 
which is a simple and ardent declaration of love for Clara Wieck. And yet the second of the Venetian songs, with its fleeting 
references to the piano cycle Carnaval in the accompaniment, was the very essence of subtlety. The high price of programmes 
prevented many from having the translations of the songs before them, or the response to these and the other non-English works might 
have been stronger. 
Jacques Ibert's Chansons de Don Quichotte, written for the Russian bass Chaliapin, succeeded perhaps because by comparison with 
the dedicatee's recordings, Terfel, singing in superb French, sounded restrained. The chance to develop a character gave the Welsh 
bass baritone, whose forte really is opera, something to sink his vocal teeth into, and he produced a sense of completeness that in 
lieder takes years of dedication. 
In Butterworth's Shropshire Lad settings, of which Terfel gave us six, there was no need for the published texts, for the diction was 
faultless. As to the interpretations, "Is my team ploughing?" was so anguished as to hush the audience before applause broke out; but 
where was the anger in "The lads in their hundreds"? 
There were then Celtic songs and encores from Flanders and Swann, a sing-along Mud, Glorious Mud, and finally, "Non piu andrai" 
from Le Nozze di Figaro. A comic rendition of The Foggy, Foggy Dew left one wondering if singer and pianist hadn't rather missed 
the point.
 
 Dobbyn revels in his `most painless album' 

 Dave Dobbyn 
  
 
 
HAULING on his umpteenth cigarette of the day, Dave Dobbyn is gushing with a deep sense of pleasure down the telephone wire 
about his new album. It's also his umpteenth interview of the day but you wouldn't pick it. Hopetown has obviously been a labour of 
love. 
"It was the most painless album I've ever made," he says. 
In contrast to the introverted The Islander, his latest offering is something of a retrospective collection, a gathering of all he has been 
influenced by _ Motown, Velvet Underground, Tom Waits. 
"The album is celebrating a lot of things. I am looking at this with new eyes. I just got a brand new set of eyes and everything looks 
different for this album. I just wanted to get out there and howl. 
"There's a lot more imagination on this record. There were no insecurities. I just threw the ideas into the air and they came back as 
songs." 
The songs on Hopetown are a cheerful lot with smatterings of unusual instruments _ a flugelhorn, a sitar, a hurdy-gurdy. 
It's a chocolate box of tunes and in the middle of each one there are sweet surprises with heady lyrics and a distinctly local ambience. 
It is more joyful than The Islander, where Dobbyn seemed to be purging himself of a chaotic lifestyle tainted with an addiction to 
alcohol. 
Abandoning the booze has lifted a veil on Dobbyn's outlook on music and life. Gone are the days of mood swings, long depressive 
periods and wide-open memory gaps. "Alcohol gets you in a myopic place. You watch your whole world crumble around you and 
you're still having a party. Now I jump up in the morning feeling really good. My friends hate me." 
The catalyst for giving up the bottle was the discovery of a new partner in his life _ God. Life is far and away more celebratory and 
clear these days, he says. "It's so much more exciting than when I was a flashy Dude on stage with a bad hair-do and not much on. I 
have much more of a sense of celebration." 
There are a few familiar contributors on Hopetown that make you feel like Dave and friends are all part of the same neighbourhood 
gang. There's that all too familiar harmonising of Neil Finn (recorded at Finn's studio north of Auckland), former D D Smash member 
Mark Dennison and Ian Morris, who has been mates with Dobbyn since they were 11 years old. 
Dobbyn plans a pub tour at the end of the year after his wanderings with Tim Finn and Bic Runga next month. Somewhere in between 
these tours there are some gigs in Ireland and Britain. 
Hopetown is the first album of new songs he has put out in two years. There will be another next year and the year after that. The 
creative floodgates are open and Dobbyn is on the ride of his life.
 
 Time of Great Expectations 
  
 
TODAY: There's not much competition for quality viewing tonight. Tony Marchant's beautiful new dramatisation of Charles 
Dickens's Great Expectations (Prime, 8.35pm) has been acclaimed in Britain for its accuracy. The story of young Pip moving through 
childhood to manhood and the terrifying people he meets _ convict Magwitch, Miss Havisham _ is well-known. Be prepared for 
splendour: the English press describes the production as "the BBC at its best". 
Change channels quickly to try out At Home with the Braithwaites (TV1, 9.35pm), the first in a six-part British drama series that 
delves into the secrets lurking beneath the surface of an ordinary, chaotic suburban family. It all starts with Alison, a 40-year-old 
housewife who has won <>38 million on the lottery, but hasn't told her family! 
Or try On the Road: the Mainland Touch (TV1, 8.30pm), a Lana Coc-Kroft joyride, travelling down the South Island in the big rigs. 
It's a sequel to an earlier and similar North Island frolic. Highlights of the final hours of the British Open can be seen on Golf (Sky 
Sport and TV3, 7pm and 10.50pm). 
TUESDAY: Who would you trust with the details of your bank accounts, your credit cards, your medical records? Do you know just 
how many people hold personal information about you? Do you know how secure their records are? BBC Reports' Cyber Attack 
(Prime, 8.35pm) investigates the security of your personal information in the deepest, darkest corners of the Internet. 
Best of the rest is Goodness Gracious Me (TV1, 10.05pm), in which the Asian spoofers lovingly tell the story of God-warrior, 
Krishna. Listen closely: the story bears a remarkable resemblance to Star Wars! Strassman (TV2, 9.30pm) talks to drag performer and 
composer Mika. 
WEDNESDAY: The mysterious Maori concept, tapu (sacred) is explored in Inside New Zealand's Tapu Uncovered (TV3, 8.30pm). 
This documentary promises an interesting unravelling of an ancient idea and how it is evolving in a modern world. 
Otherwise, tonight has old, lightweight series returning. Try Dharma and Greg (TV2, 7.30pm), Suddenly Susan (TV2, 9.30pm), Love 
and Money (TV2, 10pm) and JAG (TV3, 7.30pm). 
THURSDAY: They must have run into some hiccups. New series Shred (TV2, 10.35pm) brings back "Newsboy" Jeremy Wells and 
former Nightline reporter Bernadine Lim, to share with us the culture of Queenstown. The item was originally going to be called 
Export Gold Shred but, at the last minute, the sponsor's name was withdrawn. 
There may be some interest in trying the magazine-style Home Front (TV1, 8.30pm), at least for the visit to the home of legendary 
photographer Brian Brake. Recommendation: stay up late for Shortcuts (TV3, 11.30pm), more in the series of short, short New 
Zealand films. 
FRIDAY: The invention of the cleavage-enhancing "wonderbra" has revolutionised the world of bra manufacturing. Bra Wars (TV3, 
8.30pm) puts cleavages in the spotlight, linking the relevance of the bra to modern image and sexuality. It traces the development of 
the constriction and the battles being fought for the global market. It also investigates what women look for in bras, what men respond 
to, and what the future holds. 
Reel Life: Finest Hour (TV1, 9.35pm), is a continuation of the chronicle of the critical early years of World War II. In this episode, the 
British army is trapped on the beaches of Dunkirk. _ ALAN SAMSON
 
 Harsh spotlight on sex and love 
  
 
Closer by Patrick Marber 
Directed by Jonathan Hendry 
Centrepoint, Palmerston North 
Reviewed by John Ross 
-------------------- 
CONTRARY to whatever lewd hopes might be fostered by comparison with, say, Dean Parker's play "Tonite Let's 
Make Love in London", currently running in Wellington, none of these Londoners actually whip their knickers off on 
stage, in this award-winning play. 
Instead, they keep on trying to strip the clothing of their own and each others' even more private parts, interrogating 
each other not just about what did you do together, but why really did you want to, and what really did you feel while 
you were doing it? 
Nor do the reassuring stories and half-lies people tell themselves and each other about sexuality and love stand up well 
against this harsh scrutiny. Straight answers may not simply reveal the landscape; they can devastate it. Equally, across 
differing gender-mindsets, they can be crucially misinterpreted. 
These characters for much of the time do genuinely love each other; but how much "closer" to the other person can one 
actually get? Dan (Eryn Wilson) is a journalist, a would-be novelist who spends his life composing acceptable 
obituaries. Anna (Emily Regtien) is a portrait photographer. Larry (Johnny Blick) is a dermatologist. Alice (Amy Nye) 
is a stripper. 
Each of them brings to their relationships a dangerous knowingness about the power involved in the manipulation of 
images. 
Hendry has put together a strong, relatively young cast, of actors experienced enough but new to Centrepoint, and has 
put together a sensitively paced production, that makes good use of the potential of the script to choreograph 
fluctuations in tension so as to hold attention without exhausting it. It works. 
An especially demanding episode is the one in which Larry encounters Alice in a one-to-one room in the strip-club, 
where her erotic dance act, and his efforts to reach to her beyond it, shift increasingly towards the wall-length mirror (a 
two-way mirror, ostensibly placed, invisibly, between them and the audience), watching themselves, and aware they 
may be under scrutiny from the club's security staff. It is a hard scene to sustain, yet Blick and Nye bring it off, and 
manage to make it memorable. 
Stephen Mawson's set is end-on, with an empty platform, on which bits of furniture are carried on or off, in the near-
darkness between episodes, to generate one venue after another. The upstage wall is an array of differently coloured 
rectangles, in varied degrees of low relief, that are picked out in different ways by Lisa Maule's lighting. 
It's a very clever play, that has won a substantial reputation in London and New York since 1997, and this is an 
accomplished production of it that should not be missed.
 
 A week of home-grown music 
  
 
HOME-GROWN music is dominating the airwaves in a celebration of New Zealand Music Week. Music from the past 
and present is being played on radio stations, interspersed with interviews of personalities from different eras taking a 
musical trip down memory lane. 
National Radio offers a big menu of Kiwi music, from 1940s showcase programmes to music by contemporary 
musicians like the Finn brothers and boy rock band Breathe. The special lineup includes Maori songs, Pacific Islands 
music and Kiwi hits. 
New Zealand On Air music manager Brendan Smyth said the week was supported by National Radio and b.net student 
radio stations.
 
 
 Performances from heart woo audience 
  
 
 
Elaine Delmar _ Songs of Love 
Sunday, August 20 
Circa Theatre 
Reviewed by Noel Meek 
-------------------- 
CIRCA Theatre hosted a powerful and beautiful vocal talent on Sunday night. 
Elaine Delmar enmeshed her crowd in an array of excellently presented jazz and show standards. Though perhaps a 
little heavy on the Gershwin, the selection was guaranteed to please any crowd. 
Delmar's endless smile carried her into each song, her resounding voice sending occasional ripples of sighs through the 
audience. 
Despite lacking local bass player Paul Dyne for the first half of the concert, Delmar and pianist Alan Slater carried the 
songs well, though there seemed to be a slight difference of opinion on the timing early in a couple of the faster tunes, 
like Fascinating Rhythm. 
When Dyne did arrive the music was enriched by his ever masterful playing. 
Delmar seemed to own the songs in a way few can, perhaps owing to her notable parentage. Her father, Leslie "Jiver" 
Hutchinson, played trumpet in the forties in the UK, lending to his daughter a feel for the music that Slater was hard 
pressed to match. 
Her knowledge of the songs and their history was impressive. 
The trio truly shone on those songs that were not strictly arranged, when they performed by and with heart, creating a 
fine organic sound, rather than going through the motions as they seemed to on a few of the show tunes. The best 
example was the superb piano solo in How Long Has This Been Going On. 
From there the audience was thoroughly wooed, as must audiences have been at the Christchurch International Jazz 
Festival from which they had just arrived. 
The best moment was late in the concert when Delmar kicked into Porgy and Bess for a couple of very smooth, 
masterful numbers.

