REVIEW: Guildhall Jazz Orchestra and Choir feat. Ola Onabulé


Rating: 5 out of 5.

“A night of soulful storytelling and raw talent, where experience and youthful energy shared the same stage.”


There is something seriously infectious about the energy of the young musicians at Guildhall. You can’t help but get swept up in their talent and the pure joy they bring to performing—it’s like it radiates off the stage. That was definitely the vibe at Milton Court, where the Guildhall Jazz Orchestra and Choir teamed up with the incredible British-Nigerian singer-songwriter Ola Onabulé. From the moment Ola stepped out and casually welcomed us with, “Welcome to my wooden-panelled living room,” you just knew you were in for something special. The whole atmosphere felt laid-back, warm, and like everyone was there just to enjoy some really great music.

Ola Onabulé knows how to own a stage, and this performance proved it. His charm, humor, and stunning voice made for a night that felt effortless and genuinely engaging. Every song came with a story, delivered with his signature elegance. He introduced Ballad of the Star Crossed by talking about a chilling crime he’d seen online, turning it into a haunting and emotional piece. Another standout was his tribute to Lagos, inspired by his 11 years growing up there—a vibrant and heartfelt nod to the city’s complexity and what it gave him.

The Guildhall Jazz Orchestra and Choir were right there with him, matching his energy and passion. You could feel the connection between them and Onabulé—it wasn’t just music; it was a shared celebration of rhythm and storytelling. Watching him move, dance, and live through every note while the orchestra played was pure magic. The students brought a mix of precision and raw enthusiasm to every piece, and you could tell they were feeding off Ola’s energy.

The arrangements were something else—an amazing blend of jazz, soul, and funk that felt both timeless and modern. Ola’s voice, with its crazy three-and-a-half octave range, soared over it all, tackling themes like love, resilience, and social justice. It wasn’t just a performance; it felt like he was inviting us to reflect on real issues while enjoying incredible music.

The night wasn’t just a showcase for Ola’s artistry but also a massive win for the young musicians of Guildhall. Seeing them share the stage with someone of his calibre was inspiring and a real reminder of how important it is to support institutions that foster this kind of talent.

If you ever get the chance to catch a Guildhall performance, don’t think twice. They’re not just putting on concerts—they’re creating something truly special, and you’ll walk away feeling lucky to have been part of it.

REVIEW: Cracking Elgar’s Enigma Code


Rating: 4 out of 5.

A striking rendition of Elgar’s ‘Enigma Variations’ from a world class orchestra. 


My visit to the Bridgewater Hall last night marked an evening of firsts — my first time seeing the  BBC Philharmonic perform live, my first time seeing the music of Elgar (one of my favourite  composers), performed live, and indeed, my first visit to the iconic Bridgewater Hall itself. I wasn’t entirely sure what to expect, so I was easily blown away by the orchestra’s tenacity and vibrancy,  tackling a diverse programme with ease.  

From what I understand, ‘Cracking Elgar’s Enigma Code’ was an evening of tributes — the  ‘Enigma Variations’ themselves are all tributes to Elgar’s “friends pictured within”, including his  wife, Alice, and Elgar himself. The first piece, ‘Swansong’ by Arvo Pärt, creates a tribute to the 19th  century priest John Henry Newman. It is a serene and reflective piece of music, contrasting the  heavier themes yet to come on the programme. Following this was the world premiere of ‘Anima  Mia’ by Geoffrey Gordon — itself a tribute to and inspired by the work of H.R Giger (best known for his work on the film ‘Alien’.) This featured soloist Roberto Giaccaglia, the Philharmonic’s own  principal bassoonist. This music was definitely harder for me to engage with than the rest of the programme, but intensely atmospheric and dark. What was particularly striking about the piece was Giaccaglia’s command of the bassoon — I’d never seen a bassoon soloist before, and he took the  stage with remarkable presence, working well with conductor John Storgårds. He even threw in a short piece at the end of the symphony that he himself had composed, ‘Nuvole’ (clouds). This  seemingly impulsive moment, encouraged by Storgårds, spoke to the confidence and ease with which Giaccaglia takes space within the orchestra, and was again fascinating to see some solo  bassoon work.  

After the interval came baritone Roderick William’s rendition of six monologues from ‘Everyman’,  a song cycle by Frank Martin based on Hugo Von Hofmannsthal’s 1911 ‘Jedermann.’ Again, I had  to work hard to engage fully with this section, as opera isn’t entirely my thing, but Williams is a  stunning baritone, and brought a vivacity to the story. By far the highlight of the evening were the  ‘Enigma Variations’ themselves. It felt freeing to see the orchestra finally released, deftly navigating  this renown piece with boundless energy and exuberance. ‘Nimrod’, one of my all time favourite  pieces of music, was extraordinary — deeply moving, to the extend that it encouraged a smattering  of applause between movements. It was a real privilege to see the ‘Variations live’, performed by  such an adept orchestra.  

Ultimately, ‘Cracking Elgar’s Enigma Code’ is a stirring evening of tribute music, featuring a varied  programme performed by a truly world class orchestra. The two hours concert duration seemed to fly by, and I have been listening to the ‘Enigma Variations’ ever since. 

REVIEW: Guildhall Symphony Orchestra: The Planets


Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

“Exploring the universe through sound, the Guildhall Symphony Orchestra delivered a stellar performance”


Wednesday evening, the Guildhall Symphony Orchestra transformed the Barbican Hall into a gateway to the cosmos, presenting a program that celebrated the infinite possibilities of the universe through sound. Under the conductor Alpesh Chauhan, the orchestra explored works that evoked the mystery and grandeur of space, featuring Thomas Adès’ Polaris: Voyage for Orchestra, Kaija Saariaho’s Orion, Gustav Holst’s The Planets, and Colin Matthews’ Pluto, the Renewer.

Chauhan, a conductor renowned for his dynamic energy and deep interpretative insight, brought a masterful touch to the evening. Having worked with major orchestras, including the BBC Philharmonic and the City of Birmingham Symphony Orchestra, he has a reputation for inspiring young musicians. This was evident in his rapport with the Guildhall Symphony Orchestra, whose youthful energy he channelled into a performance that was both precise and imaginative.

The concert began with Adès’ Polaris, a mesmerizing piece that uses the concept of the North Star as a constant in the rotating celestial sphere. The orchestra captured the work’s kaleidoscopic patterns with finesse, creating a sense of never ending motion. The brass and strings in particular delivered a beautiful sound, giving the piece its ethereal quality.

Next was Saariaho’s Orion, a work inspired by the hunter of Greek mythology. The music explored the constellations’ mysterious beauty. The Guildhall Symphony Orchestra navigated the intricate interplay of textures and harmonies with sensitivity, evoking a sense of wonder and otherworldliness.

The highlight of the evening was Holst’s The Planets, a cornerstone of orchestral repertoire that imagines each planet as a distinct astrological character. The orchestra brought to life the intensity of Mars, the Bringer of War, where sharp, insistent rhythms set the tone for the suite. In contrast, the lyricism of Venus, the Bringer of Peace offered a serene, celestial beauty, with strings and woodwinds weaving a tranquil tapestry.

Rounding off the program was Matthews’ Pluto, the Renewer, composed as a modern extension of Holst’s suite. Matthews’ work, with its contemporary harmonic language and rhythmic complexity, served as a fascinating bridge between Holst’s early 20th-century sound and the evolving possibilities of orchestral music. The orchestra embraced the challenge, delivering a performance that was engaging from the first notes.

What stood out throughout the evening was the unity of the ensemble under Chauhan’s guidance. His ability to bring out the best in these young artists was evident in their dynamic range and emotional depth. The musicians displayed a profound understanding of the music, making the concert a testament to the power of collaboration and shared vision.

For me the concert was more than just a performance—it was an exploration of the vast unknown. How does one translate the essence of planets in an infinite universe, unknowable and mysterious, into sound? The evening’s music offered an answer: by dreaming. Each piece reflected the diversity and wonder of the cosmos, not as it is, but as it exists in our imagination. The Guildhall Symphony Orchestra succeeded in turning these dreams into a reality.

For anyone curious about the possibilities of orchestral music, this concert was a powerful reminder of its ability to transcend earthly bounds and touch the infinite. The Guildhall Symphony Orchestra’s performance under Chauhan was nothing short of stellar, and I can only encourage others to witness their future endeavours.

REVIEW: A Hero’s Life


Rating: 5 out of 5.

A deeply immersive experience


A Hero’s life focuses on the stories of the human spirit, drawing from classic concertos to contemporary pieces. The performance at Bridgewater Hall was elevated by the skill of the orchestra and the venue’s superb acoustics, ensuring that every layer of sound was vividly felt. The piece’s ability to evoke emotion and provoke thought made it a memorable experience for all in attendance.

Anna Clyne’s This Moment was an evocative and deeply immersive experience, blending contemporary classical music with emotional storytelling. Known for her ability to weave introspective themes into rich, textural compositions, Clyne’s work did not disappoint. 

Clyne’s composition demonstrated her signature fusion of tradition and modernity. The orchestration was dynamic, with a seamless interplay between strings, woodwinds, and brass. The music seemed to breathe – at times expansive and ethereal, at other moments tense and compact. 

The pacing of This Moment was one of its strongest aspects. The piece unfolded like a meditative journey, balancing stillness with bursts of energy. Slow, contemplative passages created space for the audience to breathe and reflect, while more urgent, rhythmically complex sections added a sense of forward momentum. The transitions between these contrasting elements were seamless, keeping the audience engaged throughout.

The performance of Alban Gerhardt in Shostakovich’s Cello Concerto no. 2, was a highlight of the performance. Gerhardt expertly translated the dramatic, raw and often jarring notes into a beautiful symphony on stage, capturing the drama and majesty of the piece. His performance was a true testament to his 30 year career in classical music. 

Alpesh Chauhan expertly conducted with meaning and sincerity, bringing the impressive and powerful orchestra together to deliver this moving piece. The most captivating feature was the integration of rhythmic motifs, reinforcing the piece’s central theme. The Bridgewater Hall’s acoustics enhanced every nuance, making the crescendos and silences equally impactful. 

The audience left Bridgewater Hall not just entertained but deeply moved, carrying the echoes of the performance well beyond the evening.

REVIEW: Mozart Flute Concerto


Rating: 4 out of 5.

“André Cebrian may be the star, but the whole orchestra shines together”


There’s nothing like live music to turn those brutal Scottish nights to a head bopping night out. Usually you might think of a night out seeing whichever travelling artist is playing at a venue hidden in the back alleys of Cowgate; but I swear by a live orchestra being able to do the same thing, at least if everything goes to plan.

As conductor Andrew Manze stated in his charming opening talk of the night about the programme and history of the pieces we were about to listen to, Mozart didn’t think highly of the flute , but might have changed his mind if he heard André Cebrián play it. I cant speak for Mozart, but André certainly does rock the flute like a lead guitarist.
We are opened with Schoenberg’s Chamber Symphony No 2, a rather brooding and dramatic piece that while not starring the flutes introduces us to them, before they really show off. While the head bobbing hadn’t begun for myself, Mozart’s Flute Concerto in G changed that. André really shines in this, Mozart composed this magical almost cloudlike piece that really brings into all the fast but delicate notes of the flute into the spotlight which André handles with ease.

The flute sometimes get’s a middling rep, I don’t know many people who when deciding to learn an instrument would pick one up, but I’m glad André has as he absolutely shreds on this. It’d be rude to headbang at a orchestra, or at least it would feel like that, but the powerful, graceful way André plays the flute really made me want to break that social The follow up piece of Schmelzer arr Manze’s Serenata is a rather more chaotic piece which jolted us alive from the interval, and was followed up with the classic Mozart symphony no 35 ‘Haffner’. Here the strings get plenty of moments to shine, the violins and viola take center stage in the most relaxing string movement I’ve heard, had I not needed to get home afterwards I could have fallen asleep on the spot.

André once again stars for his encore wherein he plays a solo solemn piece in remembrance of the victims and survivors of the floods in Valencia. As emotional performance as you’d expect it pours into every note, breath and while technically impressive it is more underplayed than previous pieces in the show, letting the focus be on what really mattered.

A beautiful and balanced arrangement of pieces, executed with as much grace and power as each note deserved made a wonderful night. While the flute is the highlight and deservedly so, the Scottish chamber orchestra are not merely a support act, showing their prowess and creating a fun, varied dive into musical history. Of course André was superb and I would have liked a few more solo pieces from him, he’s either gonna covert you to a flute lover or make you leave wanting more. I’m certainly left wanting more, next time I’ll see if we can start a mosh pit during his performance, it’s worth a try.

REVIEW: Sir Bryn in Belshazzar’s Feast


Rating: 5 out of 5.

A dramatic tour de force, showcasing some of the most outstanding talent in classical music today.


If the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic’s recent Rachmaninov concert was a romantic musical journey, this was an exercise in pure dramatics, and an excellent example of the sheer versatility of both individual pieces and musical artists. I’ve already given my thoughts on the incredible piece of music that is Nautilus by Anna Meredith – and I have also sung the praises of Adam Hickox and Ning Feng recently (in the same review, no less!), so it was with high expectations and a touch of excitement that I went into this performance; adding Welsh bass-baritone, Sir Bryn Terfel, to the mix (alongside the Royal Liverpool Philharmonic Choir), and it feels like something that can only be described as decadent.

The first time I heard Nautilus live I was so taken by the music that I was transported to some other plane of existence entirely, so it was incredibly gratifying to be able to enjoy both the music and Adam Hickox’s conducting this time. The orchestra undulates like the sea, Hickox pushing and pulling the tides with effortless charm. I will say that it didn’t escape my attention that the older members of the audience weren’t quite so keen on the modernity of Meredith’s work, but you can’t win them all.

Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto is everything that I didn’t realise I needed from a piece of music, and it suits Ning Feng’s playing to a T. There were no holds barred with this performance, and my genuine excitement to witness Feng perform again was met with immediate gratification; soaring, crystal clear high notes, speed and precision you wouldn’t believe… It doesn’t matter how bold or delicate the music calls to be played, the execution was exquisite. Feng dances and weaves through the orchestral accompaniment with undeniable grace, and, again it was hard to tear my eyes away to fully appreciate Hickox’s fluid conducting and the orchestra’s incredible performance. Technical brilliance is nothing without the joy, passion, and pure love it is clear Feng and Hickox have for their craft. Hearing fellow audience members gushing with adoration for the performance they had just seen during the interval did not come as a surprise in the slightest.

William Walton’s Belshazzar’s Feast is a biblical story that pulls no punches. It tells the tale of the Babylonian King Belshazzar, his enslavement and dire mistreatment of the Isralites, and his death and the subsequent collapse of Babylon. Both orchestra and choir cultivate a suitably eerie and fantastical atmosphere throughout the performance, and Sir Bryn Terfel cuts an imposing figure on stage; you can practically hear him before he even opens his mouth, such is the gravitas with which he holds himself. His ability to do so, with the orchestra and choir at his back, is indicative of why Sir Bryn is held in such high regard, and his characterisation of King Belshazzar brings a wry humour to the unadulterated drama of Walton’s piece. Further to this, throughout Hickox exudes that boyish charm, and, even with his back to the audience and focus on the orchestra, you can feel his joy as he conducts, practically see his smile as he throws himself into the swell of musicians at his command. The precision of timing each person on that stage displays is enthralling.

The evening culminated not in Balshazzar’s Feast, but in a Welsh choral rendition of Happy Birthday, dedicated to Sir Bryn – a lovely, human touch, and the cherry on the cake after a concert chock full of emotive, dramatic performances. 

REVIEW: Mother Tongue


Rating: 4 out of 5.

“The composition embodies language as both intimate and shared, a timeless link between past heritage and present innovation.”


The evening of November 6th at the Royal Festival Hall was marked by an ambitious and varied program, with Freya Waley-Cohen’s Mother Tongue taking centre stage as the highlight after the interval. Presented by the London Philharmonic Orchestra under the skilled baton of Edward Gardner, this premiere offered a fresh yet contemplative exploration of musical language. The concert was framed by other strong performances, beginning with Víkingur Ólafsson’s near-flawless interpretation of Brahms, which captivated the audience from the start, and culminating in Bartók’s compelling, rhythmic intensity. Together, these works set the stage for Mother Tongue, a composition that invited listeners to reflect on the parallels between music and language.

Mother Tongue envisions language as a carrier of cultural memory and ancestral heritage, linking generations through shared words and meanings. Each movement reflects a unique aspect of this relationship: an individual’s lifelong journey with a word, society’s reshaping of language across generations, the purity of an idea before it finds words, and the intimate passing of language from parent to child. The piece captures language as both personal and communal, a bridge between the past and the ever-evolving present.

Freya Waley-Cohen’s Mother Tongue invited us in my view to define the concept of language through music, its structures and sounds communicating something beyond words. I found myself reflecting on Noam Chomsky’s idea that language is “a process of free creation,” where fixed principles allow infinite variations. Could the same be true for music? In Mother Tongue, individual notes took on roles similar to nouns, verbs, or adjectives—morphology at play in sound. Was I hearing nouns in the deep, resonant tones, adjectives in the vivid shifts of colour, verbs in the energetic bursts?

Waley-Cohen’s composition felt like a conversation with itself, at times loud and insistent, at others soft and introspective. It was as though the music captured the very forms of language engagement: monologues, dialogues, internal reflections, even the loud, messy parts of speech we might never say aloud. Her style is unmistakably modern yet grounded, blending earthy rhythmic pulses with delicate, otherworldly textures. Her vision here seemed to reflect a personal dialogue with language itself—music as both structured and free.

The London Philharmonic Orchestra met Waley-Cohen’s piece with remarkable sensitivity, each musician attuned to the complexity and dynamism of her score. Gardner’s conducting brought an assured clarity to the piece, revealing its narrative layers and guiding us through its shifting energies with grace and precision. He drew out the subtle contrasts within the piece, capturing the essence of Waley-Cohen’s language-like patterns in ways that felt both deliberate and free-flowing.
By the end, I was left with a lingering sense of how music can articulate ideas in ways words never could, each note a possibility, each phrase an expression. This was an evening of bold contrasts, masterful performances, and a powerful reminder of the endless potential within music’s evolving language.

REVIEW: Sunday Afternoon Mozart

Rating: 4 out of 5.

A vibrant showcase of new talent and old classics, the perfect way to spend a Sunday afternoon

If you’re looking for a musical experience that will stay with you, then catching a performance conducted by Matthew Halls should be a priority. If you’re a fan of Mozart, Angela Hewitt is probably the closest you’re going to get to the real deal, so experiencing Halls and Hewitt together is an absolute treat. 

To open, Halls presented the audience with the UK premiere of Robin Haigh’s Concerto for Orchestra. Commissioned by Yoel Gamzou and the oneMusic Orchestra, and given its world premiere at Beethovenfest in Bonn in September 2023, there is something nostalgic about this piece, something reminiscent of Alexander Courage or Miklós Rózsa, yet the meat of it is still undeniably contemporary. Haigh’s background is impressive, his musical pedigree notable and varied, and this is clear throughout – even (or, perhaps, especially) his stint playing and writing for a “progressive heavy metal band” as a teenager. There is innovation in abundance; tuned glasses of water, percussion-like string sections, and a sense of wonder that pushes you forward into some great unknown. The creativity displayed in abundance throughout Concerto for Orchestra set the stage perfectly for Hewitt and Halls’ exploration of Mozart.

You can call me basic, but I love Mozart. I love the humour, the cheekiness, the passion, the sheer imagination of it all… but I have to admit that I find live renditions of Mozart so often fall flat and miss the mark. I’d not had the pleasure of seeing Angela Hewitt live before, and prior to this performance I’d only heard her renditions of Bach (which, by the way, are enchanting), so I had set the bar relatively high, but, as it turns out, I could have set it higher. There is a reason Hewitt is held in such high regard. Mozart’s Piano Concerto No.9 in E-flat major is almost 250 years old, and was written in the throes of Mozart’s youth, when he was just 21. Hewitt and Halls created a timeslip on stage; the music was performed with such palpable passion that it felt almost entirely new. Their energy was infectious – the accompanying orchestra were as committed to the piece as they were, and it was a wonder to me that the audience were capable of staying so still in their seats. That being said, it was clear from the glare of phone screens from fellow audience members trying to record the performance that they did appreciate the Hewitt’s playing. Unfortunately these ill mannered audience member’s decisions to ignore signage prohibiting phone use and to, instead, prioritise recording multiple, shaky, 20 second clips (lest an usher notice and give them a well deserved slap on the wrist!) over the enjoyment of other people, left just as much of an impression as the incredible performance. Perhaps it was due to the perpetrators overwhelmingly being from a generation that one would assume would know ‘better’, or perhaps it was a misplaced belief that a person attending a Sunday daytime Mozart concert wouldn’t feel the need to view the world through a phone screen. Either way, and through absolutely no fault of the musicians or the Liverpool Philharmonic, it certainly detracted from what could have been a near-perfect afternoon.

Maddening audience members aside, after the intermission the show rounded off with a rendition of Sibelius’ Symphony No.3 in C major, which was entirely fitting. There was a dreamlike quality to Halls’ conducting here, and a beautiful, almost frenetic virtuosity to the orchestra’s performance; the music became a synchronised choreography that guided the audience through Sibelius’ movements gloriously – especially during his iconic, twinned finale. The inclusion of Symphony No.3 in C major served as a wonderful call-back to the cinematic qualities of Haigh’s Concerto, providing a gratifying, balanced ending to a performance.

I have long held that afternoon concerts are chronically underrated, and Sunday Afternoon Mozart has gone a long way to solidify this opinion. Matthew Halls is a passionate conductor, whose movements are captivating, and who brings a real punchiness and honesty to his craft that is worth celebrating. Of course, Angela Hewitt is undoubtedly one of the most spirited pianists of our time; she embodies music entirely – interprets pieces in a way that makes you think she could possibly be channelling the composers themselves, and truly makes the piano an extension of herself. Finally, I am excited about what the future holds for Robin Haigue; his music brings the nostalgia of the Silver Screen into the 21st century with a delightful, covert panache, and he has so much potential innovate this much loved, but largely inaccessible, genre of music in a way that it genuinely deserves.

REVIEW: ASMF & ANASTASIA KOBEKINA


Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

“A timeless journey through music, where past and present meet in exquisite harmony.”


The venue of St Martin-in-the-Fields possesses in my opinion an inherently immersive quality, with its architectural elegance and acoustics inviting a rare sense of reverence and focus. Yet, on Friday night, the Academy of St Martin in the Fields (ASMF) infused this atmosphere with an additional layer—a narrative that transformed the experience into a  journey through musical history.

ASMF’s program was crafted to reveal a balanced and delicate dialogue between past and present, each piece forming part of a larger story. They opened with Stravinsky’s Concerto in E-flat ‘Dumbarton Oaks’, a 20th-century homage to the Baroque that immediately set the tone, echoing Bach while unmistakably modern. From there, the audience was transported back to Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C major, a work that connects the elegance of the Classical era with its own rediscovery in the 1960s, intertwining historical eras through both its origin and revival. The night continued with Baroque pieces by Biber and Gallo, and, in the hands of ASMF, these works came alive not just as individual compositions but as elements within a larger musical conversation spanning the centuries.

Opening with Stravinsky’s Concerto in E-flat ‘Dumbarton Oaks’, ASMF brought a crisp and vibrant interpretation to life. This piece, filled with rhythmic vitality and intricate textures, was handled with precision and finesse. The ASMF’s interpretation was dynamic and rich, capturing the playful, but at the same time complex character of Stravinsky’s composition which highlighted the ensemble’s refined artistry.

Anastasia Kobekina took the stage with a star like confidence and theatricality that captured everyone’s attention instantly. Her interpretation of Haydn’s Cello Concerto in C major brought the audience closer to the evening’s narrative of intertwining musical eras, her playing blending historical insight with rich personal expression. Balancing elegance with energy, she displayed the mix of technical ability and emotional depth that define her reputation. Her approach to the concerto’s slower passages was particularly moving, as she rendered Haydn’s lyricism beautifully. Yet, as she navigated the concerto’s livelier sections, her voice occasionally blended too smoothly with the orchestra, as if her sound was at times enveloped by the ASMF’s resonant texture.  For me, the interplay between soloist and ensemble occasionally felt ambiguous; I found myself wishing her voice were more distinct within the orchestral texture. At times, it became challenging to differentiate her lines clearly from the surrounding sound, which, while creating a unified blend, occasionally obscured the soloist’s individual presence. 

By the concert’s conclusion, it was clear to me that the evening had offered something exceptional—a journey through time and style that felt both intimate and grand. The Academy of St Martin in the Fields delivered each work with superb precision and warmth, while Anastasia Kobekina brought a vivid, personal touch. Together they created an experience that left the audience with a lasting sense of connection to the music’s enduring beauty and resonance.

REVIEW: Avatar Live in Concert


Rating: 4.5 out of 5.

“An iconic movie heightened by an incredible orchestra”


In 2009 James Cameron’s Avatar took the cinema world by storm, raking in $2.92billion globally and becoming the highest grossing movie in history. The blockbuster was 15 years in development, and showcased a level of CGI and special effects that wowed audiences in movie theatres across the globe. For me, Avatar is my earliest memory of watching a movie in 3D at the cinema. I vividly remember sitting in a row with my family, aged 11, 3D glasses on, reaching out in amazement, dazzled by the magical plants which seemed to pop out of the screen before me.

Avatar is a thrilling, action-packed sci-fi. Jake, a paraplegic marine, replaces his scientist brother on a mission to Pandora, a planet home to the Na’vi people. His quest is to be accepted by the natives as one of their own, so that he can negotiate the terms of their relocation, but as he falls in love with their way of life he must decide where his loyalties lie. 

The Royal Albert Hall screened Avatar as part of its Films in Concert Series. This screening was dedicated to James Horner, composer of Avatar‘s incredible score, and Oscar-winning producer Jon Landau, who worked for decades alongside Cameron.

Projected onto the big screen in this iconic building, the movie was brought to the next level with live musical accompaniment from the Royal Philharmonic Concert Orchestra, the National Youth Choir and soloists Eric Rigler and Eleanor Grant, conducted by Ludwig Wicki. The score for Avatar was nominated for Best Original Score at the 82nd Academy Awards, and the song ‘I See You’ was nominated as Best Original Song at the 67th Golden Globes. This was a truly incredible experience. The music throughout the show is powerful. The tribal-esque piece ‘Pandora’ featuring whistling and choral singing really sets the scene for the planet, and the exciting and uplifting ‘Jake’s first flight’ makes you wish that you were there on Pandora, riding on the back of an Ikran amongst the floating mountains. The percussion during the tense battle scenes is powerful and intense. With over one hundred musicians on the stage, it really is next level and dictates the atmosphere of each scene. Sometimes it’s hard to choose which to watch – the movie or the musicians. 

Avatar is an undeniable masterpiece, with quality directing from James Cameron and a brilliant cast.  Zoe Saldana is fantastic as Neytiri, a skilled mo-cap actress conveying incredible raw emotion. Sam Worthington makes for a strong Jake Sully, while supporting actors Sigourney Weaver (Grace), Michelle Rodriguez (Trudy) and Joel David Moore (Norm) are inspiring as a troupe of rebellious scientists. Stephen Lang is the epitome of evil as Miles Quaritch, while Giovanni Ribisi disgusts us as Parker Selfridge, both skilled performers. A real stand-out for me is the character Mo’at, played by CCH Pounder.

The story of Avatar is a retelling of the European colonisation of the Americas. The aliens (humans), are after one thing: Unobtanium, a natural material with incredible monetary value. The colonisers are determined to steal the land from the natives for monetary gain, no matter the cost. Seventeen years on from my family trip to the ODEON, sitting in the Royal Albert Hall, the full weight of the film finally hit me. This is a film about genocide. Space travel aside, this is a very real story which is unfolding in various parts of our planet today. As I watched Na’vi mothers with their babies in arms, covered in ash and running from bombs that were destroying their home, I was overwhelmingly reminded of the images which I see coming from Gaza every day, plastered throughout my Instagram feed. In Parker Selfridge’s obsession with Unobtanium I see the plight of the people of Congo, children forced to mine material for smartphones. It is difficult not to draw comparisons between the story of Avatar when the same atrocities are being committed in our lived reality. Avatar sends a very clear moral message against violence and greed, and encourages respect for nature, land and indigenous/native people. A movie such as this, accessible to children with such a clear message is so important. If only more of us could learn from it. 

Other upcoming Films in Concert events at the Royal Albert Hall include Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part 2 in Concert (1st-3rd November); Home Alone in Concert (7th December) and Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon (25th April).