Review
The new pop musical tells the oft-told tale of uxoricide from the women’s perspective.
This is the first in a series of pages in which in one of our critics, working with a young person, comes up with an arts review.
Dire Straits and its string of hits made Mark Knopfler a well-known figure, but going solo gave him freedom to present a wider range songs.
With a powerful partnership, the possibilities for Hot Tuna, it seems, are endless.
William McGregor has crafted a remarkable debut feature, a notable addition to the burgeoning crop of indie folk horror offerings.
Nancy Dalberg’s string quartets are worth getting to know, Wynton Marsalis’s violin concerto receives an electrifying performance, and Osmo Vänskä and the Minnesota Orchestra continue to churn out a less than necessary Mahler cycle.
Michael Hofmann nicely captures our age of truthiness and alternate facts and multiple perspectives, the hollowness of everything from the news-cycle to pop-up restaurants, all of the distractions driven by money and advertising.
Herbert Blomstedt conducts a powerful version of Mahler’s valedictory essay, organist Christopher Jacobson provides a so-so “Organ” Symphony, and Kirill Petrenko’s initial recording as the chief conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic is lovely.
A can’t-miss album of Bartók Ballets, Thierry Fischer continues to do right by the symphonies of Saint-Saëns, and a spirited recording of the “last great symphony in the German Romantic tradition.”
Purple is an ambitious, over-the-top endeavor, which feels completely appropriate, given the calamity at hand.
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