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The Stage is Set for Romance and Comedy This elegant, effervescent production of Shakespeare's problem play has all the markings of a sure summer blockbuster. The testy flirtation and linguistic sparring between avowed singletons Beatrice (Pippa Nixon) and Benedick (Ken Nwosu) is full of romcom energy. The comical eavesdropping that leads to their gulling is such silly fun. The music and dance is simply gorgeous; so are the costumes with their warm palette of pinks, light greys and lemons. A World of Fine Staging and Comedy The production, under Chelsea Walker's direction, is a riot of fine staging, big on comedy, beautiful in sound and optics, adept at shifting the atmosphere, often with the help of the excellent live band (drum-like disturbances and nervy violin). Balancing Light and Dark Themes There is an overarching sense of frolics that convey this play's sense of revelry and romance as Don Pedro (Adam Long) and his soldiers return to Messina from war, with Claudio (Joshua John) fast falling for Leonato's daughter, Hero (Assa Kanouté), and so precipitating the dark turning point of their aborted wedding. A Strong Cast Brings the Story to Life The cast is universally adept, particularly Nixon as the witty and stridently single Beatrice. She makes her part more tartly outraged by Benedick but still physically playful. Nwosu is a softer-edged Benedick with great comic timing, inflecting his lines with arch asides. A Production Worth Seeing It's a world which is abstractly modern and its modernity hangs in the air, not quite of our time in its reverberations around false charges towards women and sexual smearing. But in its charms it is winning: insuppressibly crowd-pleasing, eminently worth seeing.

The Challenge of Translating ShakespeareThe great Argentine writer Jorge Luis Borges, who translated William Faulkner, André Gide, Franz Kafka and Virginia Woolf into Spanish, drew the line at Shakespeare. Speaking of the moment when Hamlet asks the ghost why it returns to haunt "the glimpses of the moon", Borges commented: "I don't think it can be translated. Perhaps the words can be translated. Certainly Shakespeare cannot be translated. 'The glimpses of the moon' means exactly 'the glimpses of the moon'."All, however, is not lost. "It has been said that Shakespeare cannot be translated into any other language," Borges added. "But Shakespeare cannot be translated into English, either, since he wrote what [Robert Louis] Stevenson called 'that amazing dialect, the Shakespeare-ese'." This might not be entirely true, as the translator Daniel Hahn points out in this superbly diverting book. Recalling a hip-hop production of Romeo and Juliet he once saw, he persuades us instantly that "the phrase 'Do you kiss your teeth at me, fam?' proved to be a perfect translation of 'Do you bite your thumb at us, sir?'"Shakespeare Across LanguagesAnd if into English, then why not into Portuguese, or French, or Māori? Hahn's project is to argue that "Shakespeare with every word changed can still be great, and can remain Shakespeare", and to that end he reproduces chunks of Dutch, Russian, Welsh, Thai, Arabic, Japanese, and a dozen other languages, betting that by simply counting syllables or observing alliteration in a language one doesn't understand (as he cheerfully admits, he doesn't understand Danish), one can learn something about the quality of a translation. I wasn't convinced that wager worked much of the time, but the typesetters, as you can imagine, were certainly getting a decent workout, and the gambit does finally pay off when a long passage from Twelfth Night is annotated by boxes mentioning dozens of different translators' choices.Cultural Adaptations in TranslationWhat really illuminates the book are Hahn's conversations with his fellow translators, who can explain their choices directly. In Māori, we learn, Lady Macbeth's question to her husband, "Are you a man?", makes no sense at all, so the translator Te Haumihiata Mason renders it as something roughly meaning "Have you got balls?" – "which is," Hahn notes contentedly, "exactly what Lady M is asking." Meanwhile, Prince Hal's name means "fish" in Hungarian, which would be unhelpfully distracting, so it gets changed to Riki, short for Henrik.Hahn also offers many asides about the annoyances and pleasures of translation in general. "The word 'literal' is annoyingly overused to suggest a sort of 'neutral' translation, which cannot exist," he complains; and he shows that, in many cases, a non-literal choice would be better. When Mark Antony imagines Caesar's spirit to "cry 'Havoc'", for example, the closest Portuguese word is the rather weak-sounding "devastação"; a better choice, Hahn shows, is "matança" (killing), because it's shorter and more easily shoutable.Translating Verse and JokesEach chapter addresses a different question translators face, for example whether to translate into verse (careful: as one French translator observes, you risk making "a genius into a talented versifier"), or how to translate jokes: it's usually best, everyone agrees, to create an entirely new joke – "being faithful to the laugh", as Hahn calls it. In a German Midsummer Night's Dream, to preserve the doggerel rhymes, we are promised not that Thisbe will be in "mulberry shade" but that she will be "hiding like a newt". Translators might even embrace the possibility of a joke where none previously existed – which Hahn illustrates brightly by mentioning that the "sorting hat" in Harry Potter has become, in French, le choixpeau (the chapeau that chooses).Poetic Elements and Title AdaptationsCan you even preserve alliteration? Sometimes, if you're lucky: Love's Labour's Lost received the surely unimprovable Greek title of "Agapēs Agōnas Agonos" ("the struggles of love are barren"). But when no such fortunate tricks are available, you can simply replace one idiom with another: so, in Spanish, Much Ado About Nothing is often called "A lot of noise, not many nuts".There are quibbles to be made here and there. Hahn calls a line from Richard III "irregular" after counting syllables, but it's a perfectly regular line that begins with an anapest (da-da-dum). And when Juliet says to Romeo "You kiss by th'book", Hahn glosses this as her approvingly noting his "formal courtship", but she is surely issuing a flirtatious challenge. And – this being the publisher's rather than the author's fault – the book has been produced, inexplicably, without an index.The Value of TranslationAll may be forgiven, though, for the delight and endless curiosity displayed in these pages. "In Shakespeare, people get sad with precision," Hahn enthuses. And he is cherishably bitchy about certain literary "translators" who somehow produce new English versions of Chekhov or Ibsen without speaking the source language – the process being, as he surmises, "a sort of high-status prettying up of a so-called 'literal' translation". By the end of the book, Hahn has amply demonstrated not only the treasures of other languages, but also the rich and strange inexhaustibility of Shakespeare himself.

The LeadEnsemble Modern and HK Gruber's album "Dancing on a Volcano" presents an eclectic snapshot of musical Germany between 1920 and 1933, capturing a creative era that would be suppressed by the Nazi regime. This live recording features works by composers who ultimately fled Germany, their music deemed "too modern, too jazzy, too Jewish" by the rising fascist power.The Musical Landscape of Pre-War GermanyThe album showcases four distinct voices from this turbulent period. Hindemith's Kammermusik No 1, premiered in 1922, was controversially described as having "a lewdness and frivolity only possible for a very special kind of composer." Gruber's performance embraces its neo-classical spikiness and jazz-age energy with almost cartoonish glee.In contrast, Korngold's 1920 music for Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing represents Viennese neo-Romanticism, which Gruber leavens with a pinch of acerbic wit. Schoenberg's Accompaniment to a Cinematographic Scene, premiered in 1930 under Klemperer, offers eight minutes of existential angst in Johannes Schöllhorn's lean-textured 1993 chamber version.The Historical Context and Cultural SignificanceThe period represented by this album—1920 to 1933—encompasses the Weimar Republic, a time of extraordinary cultural flourishing in Germany despite economic and political instability. The featured composers represent the diversity of musical expression during this era, from Hindemith's modernism to Korngold's Romanticism to Schoenberg's atonality.What makes this recording particularly significant is how it captures music that would soon be suppressed by the Nazi regime. The album's title itself, "Dancing on a Volcano," evokes the sense of living on the edge of catastrophe that characterized this period.The Legacy of ExileAll four composers featured on this album ultimately left Germany and settled in the United States, forced into exile by the Nazi regime. Their departure represented a profound brain drain for German musical culture, as these composers had been at the forefront of musical innovation.The jewel in the crown of this recording is Gruber and Christian Muthspiel's Kurt Weill Foundation-sanctioned arrangement of The Seven Deadly Sins. Wallis Giunta's performance, more opera diva than Weimar chanteuse, delivers no shortage of bite, while Amarcord's male quartet kvetch and wheedle as her rapacious family. Gruber's razor-sharp yet flexible interpretation drips idiomatic venom.Contemporary Relevance and Musical ResilienceThis album serves as both a historical document and a vibrant musical experience. The works featured demonstrate not only the creativity of this period but also the resilience of art in the face of political oppression. By recording these pieces today, Ensemble Modern and HK Gruber ensure that this important chapter in musical history continues to be heard and appreciated.The recording is available on streaming platforms, making this historically significant music accessible to new audiences who might otherwise never encounter these works. In an era where political polarization once again threatens artistic freedom, this album serves as both a reminder of what was lost and a celebration of what endures.

Brendan Gleeson has been named best actor at the Critics' Circle theatre awards for his West End debut in Conor McPherson's pub drama The Weir. He beat fellow nominees including Bryan Cranston and Paapa Essiedu, both recognised for All My Sons, and James Hameed and Arti Shah, the duo who together portray Paddington in the new musical about Michael Bond's bear.The Weir, directed by McPherson, was entirely omitted from the nominations for this year's Olivier awards and is being turned into a film with Gleeson and the rest of the West End cast.All My Sons, a critically adored production of Arthur Miller's 1946 classic at Wyndham's theatre, won in two categories at the Critics' Circle awards: best revival of a play or musical and best director for Ivo van Hove. A new production of Stephen Sondheim and James Lapine's Into the Woods, directed by Jordan Fein at the Bridge theatre, also won two prizes – best designer (Tom Scutt) and the inaugural award for best ensemble or cast.The winners, voted for by professional theatre critics, were revealed at a ceremony at the National Theatre in London on Thursday. Paddington: The Musical, with music and lyrics by Tom Fletcher and book by Jessica Swale, won best new musical. James Graham's Punch, based on the real story of a fatal blow, received the Michael Billington award for best new play (named in 2019 in honour of the Guardian's theatre critic after he stepped down from reviewing). Ava Pickett won most promising playwright for her Tudor drama 1536, which was staged at the Almeida theatre in London in 2025, transfers to the West End in May and is being turned into a BBC drama series.Rosamund Pike saw off competition from Kate Fleetwood (Into the Woods), Marianne Jean-Baptiste (All My Sons) and Rachel Zegler (Evita) to win best actress for her acclaimed performance as a judge in Suzie Miller's Inter Alia. Ruby Ashbourne Serkis was named most promising newcomer for her performance in a revival of Tom Stoppard's Indian Ink which opened at Hampstead theatre days after the revered playwright's death. The award for best Shakespearean performance went to Hayley Atwell for her Beatrice (alongside Tom Hiddleston, nominated for the same prize, as Benedick) in Much Ado About Nothing at Theatre Royal Drury Lane.