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What Do Fred Astaire, Jacqueline du Pre, and Noel Coward Have in Common?
| Article
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11718 |
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Section : |
THE ARTS
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| Issue
Date : |
4 / 1987 |
2,489 Words |
| Author
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John Elsom
John Elsom is a contributing editor to The World & I. |
Here is a general knowledge question that the makers of Trivial Pursuit forgot to ask. What is the connecting link among Fred Astaire, Dame Sybil Thorndike, the cellist Jacqueline du Pre, and George Martin, who produced the Beatles' hit record, Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band?
Difficult? Let's add a few more clues. Where might you have found, at different times, Mrs. Patrick Campbell, Noel Coward, Claire Bloom, and Xue Wei, the winner of the 1986 Carl Flesch International Violin Competition? And while you are jotting down the answer on the back of an envelope, let us indulge in a short travelogue.
The Barbican in London is not everybody's cup of tea. A grey mass of flats and windswept walkways, it is a recent example of London's postwar reconstruction program on a site that forty-five years ago felt the worst of the blitz. The nearby dome of St. Paul's Cathedral mocks those who have thus hastened the decline of the age of elegance.
Misleading Looks
But appearances can be deceptive. As you follow the yellow lines on the pavement that lead from the surrounding subway stations into the center of this impressive, or depressive, hulk, you suddenly find an ancient church, lovingly preserved, and a duck pond with its own waterfall and fountains. London is often said to be a collection of village and the Barbican, despite its new Brutalist architecture, aspires to be one of them.
Geraniums hang from window boxes, while an Edwardian conservatory with tropical palms rises above the flat roofs. From afar you can hear, as in old Cornish folk song, the "mysterious tones of the cornet, clarinet, and bass trombones." Behind these forbidding walls lies the largest arts complex in Western Europe.
Cynics have protested that the Barbican Arts Centre is just another piece of civic surgery, an artificial transplant, trying to prove that London's money markets, which built the place, have a soul after all. But Londoners and tourists alike have quickly discovered how pleasant it is to visit the libraries, galleries, concert halls, theaters and cinemas, either one at a time or, like some Americans, all in one go. The lazy British often prefer just to sit around the foyers and listen to the excellent small ensembles who regularly play there.
There is even
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