The Observer from London, Greater London, England • 31

SUNDAY 17 APRIL 1983 OBSERVER REVIEWARTS 31 National Fine focus niffht by DAVE GELLY ROBERT CUSHMAN on The two Shakespeare productions and a musical. write that line, not exactly, but somewhere he must be wishing he did. On with Miss McEwan comes Michael Hordern as Sir Anthony Absolute. Where she radiates apprehension, he radiates old-gentlemanly lust, inspired mainly by a passing maidservant's backside. He develops this theme when describing, over his breakfast boiled egg, the charms of his son's intended, climaxing in a lecherous gulp, timed with sublime unexpectedness.

On the first night Mr Hordern I beg his pardon and send my felicitations, Sir Michael lacked some of the gusto for the baronet's rages, but every detail of his tyranny was endearingly in Slace. Other attractions include hall Buggy, who as Sir Lucius O'Trigger scores with every line he utters, and Tim Curry, whose Bob Acres is a cavalcade of bashfulness. And then the lovers. Jack Absolute is a juvenile lead with a sense of humour and with the responsibility of knitting the play together Patrick Ryecart discharges both obligations. As Lydia, Anne Louise Lambert languishes wittily.

Edward Petherbridge plays Faulkland as a Scotch man of sentiment, mocking the character's masochism while establishing it as a dark fact in the play. Fiona Shaw's Julia, overripe but genuine, supplies just the right balance. I suppose nothing is definitive, but I cannot see this production being improved upon It ends with a bewitching show of Chinese lanterns A Midsummer Night Dream, transferred from the Cottesloe to the Lyttelton, ends well too in the last scene BUI Bryden's production moulds a folk-play of all moods and all periods, the mortal and fairy worlds thoroughly interpenetrating. The mechanics' STEVE MacMKXAM Sheridan at thm Olivier Mlehaaf Hordern as Sir Anthony Absolut (left), with Patrick Ryecart as Ms son Jack. a sprawling action, and that they provide a pretext for getting Barbara Dickson beck on stage.

She acts the natural mother with great sympathy, though she has little to do but suffer her opposite number is a monster who finally provokes catastrophe by an action so motiveless that Mr Russell has to keep it off stage. There remains his domestic IT'S not seducnWmusic in fact it's quite hard going if you're intent following everything, but the interplay of tenor saxophonist Warne Marsh and pianist Lou Levy rewards the persistent listener. The material upon which they build their improvisations has been common currency in jazz for decades venerable old songs such as You Stepped Out Of A Dream and Limehouse Blues but the harmonies which underlie the tunes are sliding and treacherous, and it is in exploring them that Marsh and Levy demonstrate their mastery. Their performance at the Pizza On The Park on Tuesday night took the form of a dialogue, a conversation between two equally subtle intelligences. A phrase from one would send the other off on a new, complementary tack, a pattern of bewildering chromatic intricacy.

But there was no sense of strain, because they seemed able to read each other's minds. And yet the careers of the two men could hardly have been more Warne Marsh has always been an aloof, rather marginal figure throughout his 35 years as a jazz musician. He has cultivated a style which has never had much popular appeal, working mainly with a small coterie of like-minded players and sometimes dropping out of professional music-making altogether. Lou Levy, on the other hand, has worked as accompanist to some of the biggest names in showbusiness, Act of THE primeval and ghostly scrap of Cornwall called Penwith (to the north of Penzance) has become inundated with threats of invasion by alien forces. Taken together, they could well put an end to Penwith as a designated place of outstanding natural beauty.

During a recent visit, I was told of the National Trust's failure to resist pressures from the Royal Navy air station, Culdrose, to use 32 square miles for military training of naval helicopters clattering above Nancledra of a planning application for scores more caravans, for longer periods, between Travalgan and the sea. I heard of land being divided up into fanning lots as a means of obtaining planning permission to build farmhouses and, most distressingly, I found that people have taken to surrounding land with barbed wire, so that you can't always wander over hills as you used to. All this is bad enough. But the last, twist of the knife is a new road planned to bypass Penzance (objections had to be in by last Monday). If built, it will do tremendous damage to the old, frayed, rural edge of the town, cutting off communities from the countryside and obliterating little parks, lanes, footpaths and landmarks.

Here is yet another threat to the peace of Penwith. Bypasses have a real point when they remove through traffic from town centres. Yet there is nothing of importance beyond Penzance a few scattered villages, Land's End, then New York. This 5 million bypass, said to be financed by part of an EEC grant for the promotion of tourism and described as a distributor road by the highway engineers, would pick up the A30 at Mount Misery on the west edge of the town and go nowhere. A quick glance at a road map of southern England exposes the utter absurdity of this extravagant plan.

notably Peggy Lee and Frank Sinatra. Jazz has a habit of throwing together partnerships of the most unlikely people, and this is a classic case. The partnership showed itself at its peak in a performance of a number called Subconscious a fiendishly intricate line based on the chords of What Is This Thing Called Love Without bass and drums to hold down the rhythms the whole thing threatened to collapse at any moment, but the players kept it aloft like a couple of master jugglers. If you managed to stay with them there was a gratifying sense of achievement at one remove. This is not the kind of jazz you will hear at an open-air festival or star-studded concert It needs the concentration of intimate surroundings, and fortunately there are places like the Pizza On The Park where its subtleties can be grasped.

At a distance of a hundred yards the contours of Warne Marsh's tone would be flattened by amplification and Lou Levy's minute shading would fail to register. Only when you are as close as this can you not only hear but feel a musician thinking, and that, as far as I know, is an experience unique to jazz music. piracy STEPHEN GARDINER, our architectural correspondent, on a new threat to Cornwall. Larger roads mean fewer lanes, less countryside that's common knowledge. The immediate threat, however, is to Penzance.

It's often forgotten that architecture's richness and atmosphere depend directly on a close association with nature, or the way one thing merges with another a house with its garden, a village with its green, a town with the countryside. Haemour, for instance, has its park, a stretch of grass with a lake and streams that lies between a Penzance suburb and an exceptionally beautiful settlement of William and Mary houses. The bypass would go through it, cutting off the footpaths and hills beyond, the suburb from the settlement, the architecture from the countryside. In Penzance itself, moreover, you are made acutely aware of the broader meaning of these natural relationships. On one side there's the harbour for Newlyn's fishing business, the boat to the Scilly Isles and the inner docks built to withstand violent seas; on the other, Penwith's landscape and slopes.

Here, then, is a perfect sequence of relationships. But once it is broken by a tarmac barrier of the width and regularity of a bypass that will gobble up an estimated 50,000 square metres of pasture land, the scene totally changes and the atmosphere vanishes. It is possible that a public inquiry might make the Transport Minister see the senselessness of this wasteful and destructive plan. It would be far better if he were to save all the cost and anxiety of an inquiry and simply cancel the plan outright. on the banks of the Nile.

Michael Gambon as Antony truly looks like an imperial relic, and be rises to every large moment: of fury, generosity, abandon. But he cannot avoid monotony in the long trudge through defeat. Helen Mirren's Cleopatra excels in emotional quick changes, most notably at the end in a full-scale production this might be a great peifuimancT. Bob Peck's Enobarbus is satisfaction guaranteed, though no great departure for him; there is interesting minor work from Penelope Beaumont, Ken Bones and Albie Woodington. Set against this a self-consciously sinister treatment of the Clown who brings Cleopatra death in aspic.

Let's have a quiz. In what musical is the hero, unemployed and with a pregnant wife to support, persuaded to assist in an armed robbery whose discov ery proves his downfall? Who said 'Carousel'? These days that plot belongs to Blood Brothers (Lyric), and it follows on a lot of other melodrama. A Liverpool working-class matriarch gives birth to twins and is persuaded to give one of them up to the barren middle-class lady whose house she cleans. Despite all endeavour, the two boys meet and grow up friends, but are sundered by fate andor economics. As an omnipresent narrator puts it, in speech that takes English dramatic verse back to before the days of 4 Do we blame superstition for what came to passcould it be what we, the English, have come to know as Willy Russell's music starts out ominously well, as do his lyrics if you're not fussy about rhyme, but both run out of steam very quickly.

The only reasons for having the songs are that they lubricate ath THE stage of the Olivier is now wholly occupied by John Gun-ter's dtyscapes. Surpassing his Florence (' Lorenzaccio ') and almost equalling his New York gGuys and Dolls ') is his Bath, fiven today the town looks like a set for The Rivals Mr Gunter has reproduced it so faithfully, but so imaginatively, that to enter the theatre is to feel as though you have just got off the train from Paddington -Black and white crescents turn into black and white drawing-rooms and coffee houses, incidentally marking out a semicircular acting area that is spacious but comfortable. Robert Bryan's lighting takes us meticulously through the single day of Jhe play's action, and lays on a Krticulsrly ravishing sunset, ter Wood directs with his usual accumulation of wit, clarity and showmanship also with the modicum of restructuring and rewriting he usually affords to old comedies. There are dbuble-entendres that cannot be found in the standard editions. Some of the jokes have been spruced up, Mrs Malaprop being allowed ('ah, Sir Anthony, men are all Bavarians ') a final mala prop ism.

If ever a performance deserved to go out with a bang, it is Geraldine McEwan's as a pricieuse a little unsure of her own pretensions. Suspicion is one of this actress's natural modes eyelids flapping, body turned three-quarters towards an opponent in a posture of aggressive defence, she constantly sniffs the possibility of mockery. Somebody, somewhere, is putting something over and if it is nobody else, it must be herself. Each of her verbal coinages is delivered with faultless bravado (die number of laughs extracted by author and actress from what it essentially the same joke is amazing), but each is surrounded by an apparatus of doubt. Am I going to get this right Is that what I meant Didn't I do well? Miss McEwan finds a whole subtext in a verbal tic Nothing could better her delicious confusion eyes modestly sealed, then opened amorously wide when finally confronted by her supposed lover.

the breathes, he will perforate my mystery. Sheridan did not Trying 1M in idea dancer, not a music dancer. Thus spoke the recorded voice of Ruth St Denis (who died, aged 91, in 1968) during one of the programmes at Sadler's Wells last week Even by the Joyce Trisler anscompany from New York. The company attempts to recreate dances made by St Denis and her husband, Ted Shawn, when they ran the Denishawn schools in New York and Los Angeles. The Danscompany repertoire also includes works by Joyce Trisler (who died, aged 45, in 1979) and other modern choreographers.

In spite of Miss Ruth's declaration, all the works given in the two programmes at the Wells were strongly influenced by their music. Amazingly, the Trisler company, in all the nine years of its existence, had never performed to live music before. Sadler's Wells provided an orchestra and solo pianist (Yit-kin Seow) who found their way, with varying degrees of success, through music by Stravinsky, Hindemith, Vivaldi and the variety of classical composers used by Shawn and St Denis. Although the programme claimed that the Denishawn excerpts were created between 1914 and 1931, they spanned only the years between 1919 and 1922 and were by no means representative of the Denish- prose, which still has the stuff; and which enables some good acting to get done. George Cos-tigan and Andrew C.

Wads-worth as the boys are finely contrasted studies in gaucherie though the time spent on the lore and language of school children, engaging in itself, throws the structure even further out of whack. to Kean by VICTORIA RADIN he enterprisingly weaves in Rean's great Shakespearean speeches to show how the actor may have used them to provide a context for his own life from outcast (Shylock) to dubious king of the stage (Richard HI) to jealous keeper of his title (Othello) to grim misanthrope (Timon). Kingsley has a broad and rather idiosyncratic vocal ranee. Booz ing from the necessary back-stage carafe, hopping in the detested role of Harlequin or striking parodies of his rival Kemble's 'sculptured Kingsley creates a small, believable whirligig of passion and malice and obsessive despair. It's the portrait of a megalomaniac and similar to his Baal for the RSC.

I preferred him in that or as Dr Fanstus or Wackford Squeers, but, as recital, this is intelligent and, most wonderfully, never ever camp. At the Bush, Edgar White's The Nine Night failed to tell me anything new, or in a very new way, about being black in Britain But it's agreeable and at moments very funny; under Rufus Col-lins's direction, there's some huzzy acting (and drununing), particularly by T-Bone Wilson as the duplidtousry repressive Dad, Sylvester Williams as his wastrel on, and Janet Palmer as the very London daughter who prefers white boys. Bm Kmtiky can at mm Edmund Kum on I TV tonifht. to recapture the past play is far funnier than before, Derek Newark's Bottom having slipped the leash with no loss of dignity. Robert Stephens's Oberon is more arrogant, less mellifluous, than Paul Sco-field's; Susan Fleetwood is a superb Titania, whose impact on the seasons is thoroughly believable.

There is tome careless verse speaking on the way through though less than in the RSC's Antony and Cleopatra (Pit), which has some small-part playing of school-play standard. Adrian Noble's production has surprisingly little spark characters stand on a featureless upper level gazing determinedly into space. There is intelligent detail, though: an intimate, sycophantic atmosphere to the Egyptian court, and a final implicit clash bet ween the ruthless Caesar and compassionate Dolabella; maybe what Mrs Malaprop meant by an allegory The gentleness of the company style veered into winsomeness in the short, slippery pieces by its director, Milton Myers. Winsomeness is not a charge that can be laid against the flamenco group jperforming Ay Jondo at the Bloomsbury Theatre. Their leader and choreographer, Mario Mayo, tells the story in dance and song of Spain's oppression of its gypsies through the ages.

The group of six are both a tight-knit gypsy community and a band of musicians. In spite of variations in tone and rhythm, there is no relief of tension either in the dancers' bodies or in the Moorish cries of the singers. A powerful but sombre evening. Jonathan Burrows has turned to English folk dancing for his new one-act work for Sadler's Wells Royal Ballet, given its premiere in Birmingham last week. The Winter Play is based on the old Mummers' play that used to be performed (and still is in a few places) in mid-winter, to ensure, perhaps, the coming of spring.

Burro ws makes good dramatic use of the audience's foreknowledge of what is bound to happen. There is a contest to the death between two young men representing the old and the new year. The winner (David Yow, in his first created role) celebrates his victory with quite grasping that what ha thought was going to be a sober BBC interview had turned into a spot of Argy-basbing. Though a Task Force man myself, I found this wretched interview made me uneasy Feedback (Radio 4) the previous day had a listener's complaint about the poor figure that (he thought) Argentina continues to cut in radio bulletins. A man from the news department said it wasn't true.

But it probably is, without anyone intending it to be so. Rebecca West was given a good send-off by Radio 3 with one of its memorial programmes, organised around a conversation that David Wheeler recorded with her a few months ago. Her remark that the inconvenience of not being able to get servants has very often cancelled out the benefits of the feminist movement must have caused a gulp here and there. What fragments of continuity one could grasp from an edited tape of a conversation with a very old, deaf lady confirmed the quality of her talk Writers of the mind she said crossly. A sort of solemnity about nothing.

And she remembered Yeats appearing at a dinner party as if a hearse had Gandhi BEN KINGSLBY is apparently capable of impersonating anyone from an ascetic Indian politician and sage of the twentieth century to a lecherous London actor and paranoid of the early nineteenth. In Edmund Kean (Lyric, Hammersmith) the introduction of a longish curly wig, a flowing black cape and a shirt split to the waist (revealing a mass of chest hair which the makers of Gandhi removed) gives him a surprising likeness to the huge-eyed, magnetic and louche lout who worked Drury Lane while frolicking with whores in the great days of act on. On the preview night, only a few days after the award of his Gandhi Oscar, the audience threatened to go mad with joy. They were applauding the sort of spunk that had made Kingaley return immediately from Hollywood to dare his own reputation in a one-man show. No actor who hasn't faith in his own skills would take on the tragedian celebrated by Byron and by Coleridge as having an affect similar to reading Shakespeare by flashes of Have you ever starved I have he begins, addressing the audience and immediately estab-hahing a bond.

Thereafter, on Martin Tilley's luscious dressing-room set, which converts to a stage-upon-a-stage merely by a shift of lighting, it is almost possible to accept the hoary convention of stage biography as reminiscence interspersed with recitation. Raymund Fitz-Simons's script plods a bit, rarely yielding more than the facts, but includes Valerie Masterson, Felicity Lott and Regine Crespin. Michel Plasson conducts. KENT OPERA (Sadler's Wells 7.30 p.m.): Week-long London visit with The Beggar's Opera Jonathan Miller's production of Fidelio Fri.) and Adrian Noble's of Don Giovanni LONDON SINFONIETTA (Queen Elizabeth Hall, 7.45 p.m.) Anthony Pay conducts a mainly Britten programme the Smfonietta Op 1 Nocturne and Les with Philip Langridge. Plus the British premiere of Preludes 1-10 by the Danish composer Hans Abrehamsen.

PERLMANASHKENAZY (Royal Festival Hall, 8 p.m.) Splendid duo do their bit for the 150th anniversary of Brahms's birth with the three violin sonatas. Rock THE PIRATES (Marquee, War-dour St, Wl, 8 p.m.): Original band from 20 years ago. Part of the Marquee's silver jubilee celebrations. Jazz WILL GAINES TAP CONTEST (Canteen, Gt Queen St, WC2, 8 p.m.): Indefatigable hoofer Games holds open house for would-be tap stars. MODERN JAZZ QUARTET (Dominion, Tottenham Court Rd, 8 p.m.): Classic line-up together again for world tour.

Poetry SECKER POETS (Barbican Cinema 2. 8 p.m.) John Fuller, D. M. Thomas, Alan Brownjohn and Miroslav Holub read from their work. Collage OBSERVER COLLAGE EXHIBITION (Teachers Centre, Wexham Road, Slough, Mon.

until 13 May): Best entries for the 1982 Young Observer Copy-dex Collage Competition. The theme is sport. the rest of the cast, until he realises that he too will have to face the challenge of a new contender. Ian Spurling's set economically reflects the changes of the seasons. His costumes for the men are admirable: those for the women less so.

The women lose ont all round, since the men get the show-off steps traditionally associated with virility. The first half works best, with its stylised fight and the irruption on to the scene of the Doctor (the ever-surprising David Bintiey). His magical dance could equally well be up or Lancashire dog dancing a srjanning of the ages that is far more effective than the intrusion of rock-' '-roll into the mid-summer celebrations that (almost) conclude the ballet. Theatre CALL ME MADAM (Victoria Palace): Irving Berlin musical from the Truman era, with three great tunes and some good choreography. DECADENCE (Arts): Steven BerkofPs hyper-jaundiced view of the upper classes and their serfs.

Last week. MISS JULIE (Duke of York's) Stephen Rea and Cheryl Campbell in Strindberg's deadly duel of servant and mistress. Last week. THE REAL THING (Strand) Felicity Kendal and Roger Rees play the actress-wife and playwright-husband in Tom Stoppard's version of love among the artists. VICTORY (Royal Court) Howard Barker on Restoration England; Julie Covington leads an admirable cast through a succession of dark set-pieces.

WAY UPSTREAM (Lyttelton) Alan Ayckbourn's under-rated comedy, self-directed, about a meaningful holiday cruise Last performances. Gallery guide LANDSCAPE IN BRITAIN, 1850-1950 (Hayward) Weald, fell, coast, vale, brought together in many styles. Last day of this absorbing exhibition's London showing re-opens Sheffield, 30 EDWARD BAWDEN (Imperial War Museum) Bawden's wartime travels, 1940-45, taking him through North Africa, down the Euphrates and up Italy. Clear-eyed stuff. Until 30 May.

THE MOST BEAUTIFUL ART OF ENGLAND' (Whit-worth, Manchester) That's Ruskin's assertion, backed up here by 50 superb watercolours borrowed from collections all over England. Until 7 May. RICHARD LONG (Arnolfim, Bristol): Another manifestation of landscape tradition, here set out in stones, photographs and cryptic phrases (until 7 May) See also Longs at the D'Offay Gallery (Dering St, Wl, until 14 May). AIA (Museum of Modern Art, Oxford): Exemplary display of the aims, ideals, activities and on by JANN PARRY awn repertoire. It is debatable as with most recreations whether what we saw was in fact the original choreography, let alone the original style and spirit of the dances.

The mystery remains did St Denis and Shawn succeed in fooling all the people all of the time Or were they, in the flesh, infinitely more impressive than their latter-day disciple Certainly the girls in the Trisler company did not look like the large-limbed, free-spirited American women who created the St Denis pieces nor did the men resemble Shawn's group of demi-gods What they did show us was the intriguing mix of naivety and artifice in the choreography. The music visualisations' tended to be maddeningly literal, until St Denis's pupil, Doris Humphrey, intervened in the Twenties with the delightful Trisler's own solo, performed by Regina Larkin, had echoes of Miss Ruth in its flowing gestures of yearning and despair. Trisler's larger works suited the women better than the men, with their occasionally finicky footwork and precise arms and hands. by PAUL FERRIS half-minute, interrupted by cries of No, no wait The point was to accuse Argentina of not knowing how much it owed. When the chap was finally allowed to speak, he gasped, million cried Robinson, rounding it up Rebecca Yeats.

West Memories of to the nearest-but-one billion. What have you got to show for Eh 'croaked the poor man. After that it was all slapstick, as Robinson whacked him across the shoulders with questions about factories and armaments, and he tottered around, not Showing no mercy APRIL CLASSICAL CHOICE OF THE MONTH. KarajanatTS. The Conductor of the Berlin Philharmonic since 1955.

"Flawless musicianship and electric intensity." The Gramophone, April 1983. We're commemorating the great conductor's 75th birthday at W. H. Smith, with a superb record deal For the first time, 25 sparkling performances by Karajan and the Berlin Philharmonic, have been made available as separate records or cassettes at only 3.49 each. A selection of the 25 titles on offer.

flA Rgl Af Brahms Piano Concerto No 2GezaAnda. 3aV3aHrr Debussy La Mer L' Apres Midi d'un Faune Ravel Daphnis et Chloe Tchaikovsky Symphony No 6 Grieg Peer GyntAVedding March from Sigurd Jorsalfar. Dvorak Symphony No 9 "New Sibelius Symphony No 5 'FinlandiaVValse Triste. Bartok Concerto for Orchestra. Also on offer this month from W.

H. Smith. Kl A Mahler Symphony No 4TennstedtLPO. dJTfjf Ravel Gaspard de la Nuit Prokofiev Piano Sonata1 vo Pogorelich. Shostakovich Symphony No 10PrevinLSO.

Trisler dancer Precise arms and hands. the whole lesser surviving works of the Artists' International, founded in the Thirties and later softened into the Artists' International Association. Until 23 May. Cinema BATTLE OF ALGIERS (Rio, Dais ton, 18) Pontecorvo't reconstruction of the 1956 FLN rebellion against the French, in a double-bill with a more romantic view of the Casbah, the 1936 Gabin vehicle Pepe le Moko. BEST FRIENDS (Release, PG) Perceptive comedy starring Burt Reynolds and Goldie Hawn as long-time lovers who marry at leisure and repent in haste.

GAINSBOROUGH, PART (NFT): Reappraisal of British studio continues with comedies, musicals and thrillers of the Thirties and Forties, including 'The Lady Vanishes' Carol Reed's 'Bank Holiday' (Thurs.) and the Arthur Askey Charley's Aunt (next GANDHI (Barbican, etc, PG) Never mind the Oscars, see the movie. ONE MAN'S WAR (Edinburgh Filmhouse, PG) Cozarinsky's riveting documentary on occupied France forces us to think again about the meaning of collaboration. THE STATE OF THINGS (Duke of York's, Brighton, 15) In a dazzling film about filmmaking, Wim Wenders looks through a lens darkly and perceives an absence of faith, hope and charity in Hollywood and everywhere else. Music PtflLHARMONIA CHORUS ORCHESTRA (Royal Festival Hall, today, 7 .30 p.m.) Haitink conducts Brahms's German Requiem, with soloists Margaret Marshall and Thomas Allen Plus Haydn's Symphony No 92. THE CARMELITES (Covent Garden, 7.30 p.m.) Margarita Wallman returns to rcstage her 1958 production (in English) of Poulenc's opera about a group of nuns condemned to death during the French Revolution.

Will the piece stand the test of time Watch these pages. Cast PUBLIC figures being interviewed get an easier ride in Britain than in most democracies The idea that reporters are people who put metaphorical feet in doors and expect straight answers to straight questions is mainly fiction. They are less respected here than they might be. Thus the directness of File on 4, just back for a season, is welcome. It has a sense of its own professionalism But there is a fine line between being tough and being rude.

Michael Robinson reported on that financiers' enigma, the vast international debts of South America. From this juicy subject he squeezed instructive and even chilling quotes in Wall Street and Washington. He brought out the core of the bankers' dilemma, that they must conceal their fears in order to prop up confidence, while risking their credibility by appearing so maddeningly nonchalant. It would have been one thing if Robinson had got angry with a commercial banker who had done some of the lending. But most of them kept out of his way.

His wrath was reserved for a member of the Argentine Government, stationed in New York, who sounded like Manuel in Fawlty For him there was no mercy. The first question lasted a full Vivaldi FourSeasonsCarmirelliIMusici. WMSMITM afBP Subject Unavailability. While stocks last. Prices correctat time of going to press 11 1 At selected branches only Offers end 7th May 1983.

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