Sunday, June 25, 2006

A glamorous blonde dies tragically young, her country plunges into inconsolable grief whilst her husband watches on seeming more concerned with the loss of personal popularity her passing will cost him. Not that insane month when half of Britain seemed to put on a hair shirt and beat its collective chest after the untimely death of Diana, Princess of Wales and self-styled Queen of Hearts, but turn the clock back more than half a century to a world having barely emerged blinking from six years of hell and slaughter. Argentina 1952 and the woman known to the poor impoverished, working classes as “Santa Evita” and to the rich, powerful elite that have run this country as a whore and slut, sleeping her way from the gutter to the stars, who has stripped them of the industries they controlled, succumbs at 33 to cancer amid a cacophony of caterwauling and muted celebration. Add to this a Hitler-worshipping husband who has made strange bedfellows of unions and the military to take control of the Argentine, and you have unlikely basis for one of the most successful musicals of all time, now returning to the London stage for the first time in more than twenty years.
From the Gods, one realises what a compact theatre the
Adelphi is and waiting for the curtain to rise the thought goes through the mind of how the production might bring to mind the massive political rallies that a so much a part of Evita. Pictures of the 1978 original staring Elaine Paige and David Essex show crowds of extras unfurling banners as the crowds of Evita’s loyal descamisadoes storm Buenos Aires. Likewise the Alan Parker’s big screen version starring Madonna is still fresh in the mind, the limitations of the stage little consideration when Hollywood provides the backdrop. As the lights dim and the orchestra begins the powerfully moving lament that is “Requiem for Evita”, director Michael Grandage gets round the problem with the simple expedient of projecting original footage of Eva funeral footage against the curtain, which then rises to the funeral possession of the illegitimate, and invisible, Eva Duerte’s middle-class father. It is the rejection by her father’s true family that was said to stoke Eva’s life-long hatred for the middle-class and her determination to rise above them. First step on her horizontal rise through the ranks of the Argentinean class system is the second-rate tango singer Augutin Magaldi. Petite and brunette, the precocious Eva snares Magaldi as a meal ticket from her backwoods home to the bright lights of Buenos Aires. Once there Elena Roger, the first Argentinean to play Evita (remember this play was banned at the time of opening and has NEVER been performed there) comes into her own in the role. Diminutive of height, this sassy, sexy Latin, all flashing wide smile, more teeth than a photo finish at the Derby, and sparkling eyes, brings it all into the performance of “Goodnight and Thank You”, as she sees a succession of ever-more influential lovers in and out of her apartment, making full use of the magnificent set as she flounces across the balcony in a succession of flimsy nightgowns. A slight discordance in the higher notes the only minus point.
Credit to the choreographers, particularly for their interpretation of Juan Peron’s simultaneous political rise. Circulating each other warily, one by one the plotting army officers engage each other in a deadly tango with their opponent, the numbers diminishing as each is sent scuttling. Philip Quast, a bull of a man much in the mould of Peron himself, triumphs at the last, waving a white handkerchief before claiming victory with a surreptitious knee to the groin.
The Perons plot their way to the top, “If I hadn't thought, if I hadn't known. We would take the country?”, the fascist Juan Peron’s constant removal of his suit jacket as a sign of his solidarity with the downtrodden workers scarily reminiscent of our own St Tony’s habit of doing something similar. Elsewhere there a knowing references such as during the elections when the ensemble march past a ballot box, the men stuffing their slips in as they pass whilst the women, disenfranchised in this macho land, look on longingly. For all her faults, Evita could at least be credited with inaugurating Women’s Suffrage in Argentina.
Of course there is one tune in this play that all await and as Act II opens, the monumental, triple-sided set now depicting the Casa Rosada, though a cloud of dry ice a vision in white appears, the people’s saviour giving a heartfelt plea to still be thought of as one of their own. The incongruity of this, the Christian Dior clad and diamond draped Evita, still part of that stepped upon lower strata of society is as much part of this for the ambiguity of Evita, still adored and abhorred in equal measure by many in Argentina, is key to a true understanding of her legacy.
The politics are never far away and never more so in "And the Money Kept Rolling In (and Out)" set piece. From a plethora of trunk huge wads of banknotes are distributed willy-nilly to the poor, dreaming like lottery participants of an easy escape from their poverty. Flinging the money left, right and centre Eva, however, is not presented as Robin Hood, taking from their rich and giving to the poor. As she gazing on watching her people celebrating her largesse she looks radiant, but not because her works have freed these people from their drudgery, but at the magnificent of herself. Disconcertingly she brings to mind Margaret Thatcher, smiling benignly, even clutching her hands in the same manner as the Iron Lady. Amidst the dancers whirling around her, she stands aloft before depositing her jewellery and a few surplus notes in one of the trunks.
Her impeding death hangs over the final proceedings and like all good actresses Evita takes her time in dying, but at the moment of passing rather than the maudlin exit, one has grown used to we have a full blown montage with full company in a reprise of all that has gone before, Eva’s bed spun round at breakneck pace. At last it comes to rest and the audience realises Eva has gone, the bed draped with the Argentinean flag as it becomes Evita’s coffin and the cast trudge past as if it were a lying in state. Not for Evita an easy farewell, for ghostlike she reappears on the balcony for one last swansong.
Last word though belongs to Matt Rawle’s Che, a character who throughout has added comment, criticism and question to Eva’s inexorable transformation into Evita, at times appalled and enthralled by the heroine. Too often productions have equated this character with Che Guevara, though here he returns to his intended position as Argentinean Everyman but, call me pedantic, is it really necessary to explain what became of Evita’s body after her death. That is best left for another story, perhaps
Santa Evita by Tomas Eloy Martinez.

Pedancy aside this is a cracking production, the critics may have been fawning over Elena Roger in the title role and rightfully so, but this is a true team victory, each member of the company fully deserving of the long ovation at the curtain call. Add an inspired choreographer, music to a Latin rather than rock beat, Christopher Oram’s evocative set and of course Michael Grandage’s direction and this production should be due a long run on word of mouth alone. Word of caution, do not go in thinking you are getting a straight reprise of the Madonna film version, this is something different altogether.

Dulwich Hamlet Youth 1 Worthing FC Youth 0
Isthmian League Westview Youth Cup
Wednesday 3rd May 2006

"O wonder!
How many goodly creatures are there here!
How beauteous mankind is!
O brave new world,
That has such people in't!"


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Talent today is weaned in the cradle, fathers putting their sons’ names down at birth for a coveted spot in the Chelsea Academy, much as the country’s elite once did for the great institutions of Eton and Harrow. However, beyond the portals of those sterile, battery farm-like institutions there lies a land where the beautiful game is played not for the rewards of mammon but for the rewards of victory. Thus the train took this humble scribe to the far outposts of Imber Court, home of the boys in blue, but this night host to South London’s finest’s attempt to bring back this revived trophy to Champion Hill for the first time. Ranged against them all-conquering Worthing, little more than a twinkle in a south coast salt’s eye when last their forebears clinched the Youth Cup, 1982 to be precise.
Both sides were as near to full strength as dammit. For the Hamlet only the injured Raymond Morath-Gibbs was reluctantly forced to sit out the youngsters’ big night whilst Worthing could call on a full complement of the players that had brought them to the very brink of a Southern Youth League treble.
Once the formalities had been completed, it was battle joined and Dulwich were soon displaying the trickery and skills that have graced a season laced with goals galore and heartache in equal measure. The youngsters seemed determined to banish the memories of their bland performance in the London Cup Final, mesmerising their opponents with neat footwork but just failing to apply the killer touch. A Georgie Harris freekick came within a whisker of catching out Rebels keeper Steve Phillips as he curled in a deadly effort from the tightest of angles that grazed the crossbar as Phillips stood rooted. The prolific Sol Pinnock soon tested the keeper as he pulled the trigger on a fierce drive but Phillips proved himself the equal with a comfortable save. Though Worthing responded with some telling attacks of their own, Dulwich defence ably dealt with the threat as Worthing found their attacks nipped in the bud, few efforts posing much danger to Hamlet custodian Joe Ivory.
Pinnock was again on target, his effortless strike from the edge of the box disguising the lethal power behind it but again Phillips was surefooted in his collection of the ball, unaware of the cruel fate Dame Fortune had in store as half-time drew nearer. Attacking down the right, a neat pass set up Pinnock for a rasping low drive from the edge of the D but straight at Phillips. It seemed a simple task for the keeper to gather but he failed to get his body behind the ball, the shot bouncing off his gloves, over his shoulder and into the net. A calm demeanour belied the personal rage burning within the crestfallen custodian, but no matter how the goal materialised Pinnock was mobbed by delirious team-mates as the strike brought him within a goal of a half-century.
Not that the prodigious youngster is a purely a goal machine for a elegant cross, precise in the extreme, preceded by a pirouette that left defenders feeling as if they were chasing a ghost, picked out strike partner Serge Kamia at the back of the six yard box. Kamia’s header was firm but Phillips had wiped the Teflon from his gloves and held on well.

To the game the first near goal effort came from a Georgie Harris free kick taking it quickly before the keeper got into position went inches over the bar, next Sol Pinnock connected and the keeper saved. The game remained tight with both teams attacking well. The early exchanges showed the Hamlet well in control and solid restricting Worthing to efforts from distance. 25 minutes into the game another Hamlet attack saw Sol turn and crack a shot which the keeper managed to save. Myself and the rest of the Dulwich supporters felt we would be scoring soon and sure enough Hamlet took the lead 5 minutes before half time when another Sol left foot drive put the keeper under pressure the power off the shot took the ball through the keeper's hands over his head and into the net. Dulwich pressed forward more and a minute before half time Serge Kamia headed just over after a great cross from Sol.
Wounded by the goal, Worthing seemed easy prey as Dulwich tore flesh wounds in a ragged defence, Scene I of Act II, belonging to naught but the Hamlet. Barely had the parp of the replacement referee’s whistle broken the still evening air of suburban Thames Ditton than the Hamlet were on the attack. Like a ragging bull, Keir Ferguson charged into the box to connect with a corner, leaving the keeper stranded as his effort cannoned back off the crossbar. Kamia might well have done better as he latched on to a long ball forward from Harris but his attempted proved an easy take for Phillips. Dulwich were now on fire and attacks rained down upon the besieged Rebel goal. A storming run from Masamba Malela was capped with a teasing cross that found Phillips in No Man’s Land but dropped agonisingly just shy of the far post. Again the woodwork came to the rescue of Worthing as a crude challenge 25 yards out gave Pinnock the opportunity to curl in the most delicate of freekick, over the wall, to rebound off the crossbar with Phillips rooted to the spot. Troy Ferguson reacted quickest to latch on to he rebound but only to loft the ball over the bar. With Pinnock again going close with an audacious chipped effort, it seemed as if the engraver might already be adding the name of Dulwich Hamlet to the list of winners etched upon the trophy, but the rebels had other ideas. Galvanised by Hamlet’s failure to put the game to bed as a contest, they rallied and now it was the Dulwich goal under siege as Worthing forced an interminable series of corners as the match entered its final throes. The match became a rampage, the thunder of cavalry, the stench of cordite, the blast of the blunderbuss. But cometh the hour, cometh the men as the Dulwich defence became heroes all repelling attack after attack. Ivory, untested until now, produced one of the season’s outstanding saves leaping beyond his stature to tip away a fierce close range drive. Even with their gargantuan centre-half and skipper Matt Wake constantly winning the ball at a series of set-pieces, Dulwich set out their stall to clear their lines under the most intense of pressure. As seconds ticked down, a mêlée in the box brought claims of handball, but to the Hamlet’s relief the referee waved away pleas for a spot kick. The heart ripped from their cause, Rebel retaliation subsided, stoppage time passed inexorably slowly but at last, one almighty blast of the whistle was the cue for celebration to break out in the Pink and Blue ranks. I have seen the future and it is Pink and Blue!

Teams:
DHFC: Joe Ivory; Masamba Malela; Keir Ferguson; David James; Georgie Harris (Capt.); Tony Ferguson; Myles Martin (Samuel Odolofin); James Fuller; Sol Pinnock; Serge Kamia (Paul Atkinson); Spencer Sachikonye (Dwayne Patrice)
Substitutes not used: Warren Greaves; Anthony Gaughan (GK)

WFC: Steve Phillips; Steve Bantock; Charles Kimbangi (Karl Akehurst); James Gray; Stuart Axten; Matt Wake (Capt); Jamie Brotherton; James Fraser; Ryan Smith (Jonno Meeney); Tom Lawley; Jason Winch
Substitutes not used: Ash Long; James Cox; Jason Lewis (GK)

Attendance: 104

Officials:
Referee: Mr Mark Wood (Redhill)
Assistant Referees: Mr Daniel Robathan (Dorking) & Mr Lee Mills (London)
Fourth Official: Mr Paul Burton (Redhill)

Goalscoring:
1-0 DHFC Sol Pinnock 40th minute