Half-play and half-concert, there should be some Greek-rooted noun to describe Elgar: Stirring The Spirit. But like that mythical beast who was part lion and part goat, there's no doubt which is the more impressive limb of this overdone, directionless piece.
As Sir Edward Elgar lies seriously ill, his daughter pops in to help him recount his life from his humble beginnings to his love of the countryside, women and music. It's not a strong-flavoured tale - his female friendships are apparently sexless, his ire at being underappreciated compromised by having been made a baronet.
Yet David Graham gives it some old-style stick, raging at the dying of the light like Lear with a hangover. At times, it's magnificent. Mostly, it's hammy. Justin Pearson's script gives little clue where such high antics are inappropriate, no through-line for the drama other than a general morbid foreboding.
Happily, Elgar's noble, muted music fits morbid foreboding quite well, and when the Locrian Ensemble play, with Graham sitting sadly in the half-light, the experience is affecting. There's a charming Salut d'Amour and extracts from the Piano Quintet are performed with polish.
The greatest hits, reductions of Nimrod and the Cello Concerto, are knocked off less thoughtfully, but their swells of controlled emotion provide something the drama unfortunately lacks.
Elgar - Stirring The Spirit
ICA
The Mall, Central London, SW1Y 5AH
