By Elisabeth Easther - 10 Mar 2011
Last night, March the 9th 2011, I took a wild trip and I still haven’t come down. In less than 3 hours I experienced two world-class performances from two outstanding performers, both at the top of their game. And I can’t wipe the smile off my face so am trying to avoid people in case I’m accused of skiting, smirking or showing off.
A little after 8pm at the Herald Theatre, celebrated English
raconteur, storyteller and funny man, Daniel Kitson begun his one
man show - "The Interminable Suicide of Gregory Church."
It's not at all morbid as the title might suggest but a
celebration of life, and how one man's inherent nosiness saw him
buried in the letters, thoughts and concerns of one Gregory Church.
Described as "the story of a death postponed by life," Kitson
makes some gorgeous observations. If you like a clever well-told
story with barely a pause for breath, this has to be seen to be
believed.
A virtually full-house were held spell bound as the tale of the
letters, and the man who wrote them, was told. A spell-binding
sweet, charming, witty, meditation on the human condition,
demonstrating the fascination one can have in ordinary people's
lives.
This is also a feat of verbal dexterity, Daniel just talks and
talks for 90 minutes, occasionally he breathes, he stutters a
little which is so very now. One audience member's attempt to be
involved was immediately shut down, "it's not that kind of show
sir, see the fourth wall." Or something like that.
My companion and I would love to have bailed Mr Kitson up, and
joined his fan club, or stalked him only, we were spared being
slapped with a restraining order because we had to race from The
Herald and run all the way to the Auckland Town Hall's aptly named
Great Hall and launch ourselves into out seats, twenty minutes into
Martha Wainwright's stunning show.
If I thought I loved her before, I know I love her now.
I've had such a passion for the music of Martha's mother, the
late Kate Mcgarrigle, her father Loudon, her brother Rufus, not to
mention those Thompsons, Teddy and Linda, the Wainwrights all
knocked about with.
But hearing and seeing this darling, daring diva in the flesh
was simply magnifique.
Her Piaf songs, her original songs, her versions of her mothers
songs, and a couple of classic torch songs lit up the night. And
her husband seems like a lovely fellow, he plays the piano so
affectionately and most winningly of all, lets Martha be the star.
But then it would be hard to eclipse someone of her calibre.
Daniel and Martha, together on the same night, were just so
right, the perfect double feature.