The Observer from London, Greater London, England • 24

24 THE OBSERVER REVIEW, 27 AUGUST 1972 PUBLIC LOCAL APPOINTMENTS also on GOVERNMENT paga It The Perry and Expressionist onslaught show City of Coventry Education Department RESEARCH ASSISTANT 2,100 to 2,661 fc t.ie forward Planning This is newly established post an expanding section of the Depart ment The Unit has responsibilities in relation to the physica; and resource planning of Educational deve.opments ir City and is closely involved in the preparation o' a corporaie strategy plan for the Corporation The post is mainly concerned with the development and maintenance of the Department's formation system (which wll involve the collect. on and analysis of Education statistics and other data). 3rd with research into particular topics related to the deve'ooment needs of the service. Applicants should nave prev ous statistical training and experience. Assistance wit'i hous'ng and a conditional grant tor removal expenses of up to C200 may be available Application forms anc urther particulars from the D-reclor of Education.

New Council Offices. Earl Street. Coventry. Tel No 25555 Ext 2054 returnable by Stacy Keach in Huston's latest film, Fat City (Columbia). Life with father to days after appearance of this advertisement quoting reference OB lapsr Warrington Mswlown Development Corporation Sherry THE WEEK'S bright point, or giggle-node, came in-the middle, when Sheridan Morley met Peregrine Worsthorne for a languid Wednesday night Line-up (BBC-2) discussion of what Perry might conceivably have meant by his recent article about television in Encounter.

Sherry as always was keen to earn, and Perry undisputed crown prince of the bizarro-loco school of creative journalism never looked lovelier. Illustrating his point that television chat was essentially a con, the province of calculating adepts. Perry told Sherry, You and 1 are which came as a huge relief for those of us temporarily convinced that the two lads were losing their marbles for real. The artificiality of telly nailer. Perry explained (doing an effortless job of profiling his body while presenting his face to camera, a trick Zsa Zsa Gabor still hasn't mastered), is dictated by the fact that it can't really afford the long periods of dullness which a real conversation Doubtless trying frantically to think of a real-life conversation duller than the artificial one he was currently engaged in, Sherry was slow to respond, leaving Perry ample time to elaborate on the thesis that if you wanted somebody to sound as eloquent on the tube as an ordinary bloke sounds in the pub, you'd need to get Bertrand Russell, Neither Perry nor Sherry paused to consider that Bertrand Russell is currently under exclusive contract to a rival organisation.

It was a great bout, boys 15 minutes later, on ITV, Les Kellett pinned Judo Pete Roberts with a body-slam but somehow it was an anti-climax. Back to the weekend, and to business. 'Country Granada's new series based on short stories by A. E. Coppard and H.

E. Bates, got off to a blandly pleasant start with Craven Arms, starring Ian McKellen as Coppard's tail-chasing art master. The rugged stuff will come later (one's particularly keen to see how they handle the breast-soaping scene in Bates's 'Breeze Anstey't, but this first story was a good earnest of the project's essential seriousness. The rival girls were uniformly accurate, and McKellen got television's measure for the first time. McKellen is a young actor who has had an overwhelming effect on even younger actors the tube is literally crawliqg with them, all faithfully reproducing his key trick of letting his lips flutter in front of his dentistry like tent-flaps in a gale.

Grander and less readily adaptable than his epigones, McKellen has so far been essentially a stage actor whose powers of projection can't easily be scaled down to fit the screen for anyone who had admired his Richard ll in the theatre, his Ross for television was Rosalind A) res as Alice in H. E. Bates's The Mill (tonight, 10JS, ITV). over the top like a regiment. With Craven Arms he got his radian! talent tightly confined, and it burned all the more fiercely for that.

A good performance, and a promising series: if the production tonight of Bates's The Mill comes anywhere near matching the ter.l, it'll strip the veneers right off your set. The Vanishing Hedgerows (BBC-2) was a different kind of country matter change and decay in all around "he sees he being Henry Williamson, who for many years has farmed as well as written. 1 hate to say this in my first week on the job, but the programme was a masterpiece, cunningly (how did they get the 'before' footage DEPARTMENT OF THE CHIEF ARCHITECT AND PLANNING OFFICER Planners Planning Assistants New Towns Salary Scales IV Vlf f1f794 3,225) are ovited 'or the above positions in ta Policy ad Qesesrc Section The prrnary -functions of Set io1-! ne forr-n'ation of pol icy concerning such varied slanging nvities ai housing, employTient, "idi 'Stry opd'1 ifi oooulax Of. Applicants so-j'd be uradudte? vv-r" a vvork.g knowledge ry the i ra 1 1 ve rrnfods in planning. T-e starting saiar aid The scaie to be adopted wir be carer according aua'icatipns and expenervce.

time travel?) filing out Williamsons meticulously scripted anger at the countryside's ruination. Having undergone the well-known process of media desenskisation. we're supposed to be pretty blase about the doomwatch routine by now. but with this effort the ecological lobby got its biggest boost since Rachel Carson wrote 'Silent Williamson's farm naled an 1 A during the war and in the ensuing decades flourished under his green fingers like a demon lover it was a perfect demonstration ground for the eco-cycle at its most enchanting. The leitmotiv of the programme was the humble partridge.

There was a time when the haymakers used to drive around partridge nests nowadays the whopping flail-cutters thrash right through them. Five thousand miles of hedgerow are coming down every year, making room for the big new fields that buy their efficiency at the price of wiping out the habitat of many tinv things. Williamson had no trouble linking these depredations to modem disaffection after driving an acre of straight furrow, the erstwhile lone ploughman feh his evening's leisure was honestly earned. None of that today, we could be sure. There is crankiness in Williamson's make-up (he was a tougher Mosleyite than Radio Times let on I.

but his individuality is impossible to deny the case for rejecting the impoverished abundancies of progress has rarely been so movingly put. For the half-dozen camerameri involved, the technical reality of this beautiful programme must have meant darting about with an Arri-flex on your shoulder while pointing the lens at a rampant pipit, but the shots married up with thai convincing harmony you always ge' when a production team knows that it is on to something solid. The Tuesday documentarv (BBC-1) was called Dieppe 1941 and revisited that nightmare turkey-shoot with a bit more aplomb. than the circumstances warranted, considering thai the raid was a monumental cock-up. Taking a crash-course in advanced ihumb-sucking at the time.

I wasn't available for consultation, but am now free to declare that it will take a higher authority than Eail Mountbatten who set the tone and the terms of the discussion to convince the appalled student that anything was learned at Dieppe which hadn't been learned at Balaclava. The programme was riddled with double-think and sorely needed a bitter voice to examine its bad conscience. Mountbatten said he was shaken at the time by the cancellation of the preliminary aerial bombardment. In view of this, it was unsettling to hear it coolly contended that the raid helped make D-Day possible by proving there w-as no point in trying to sci.e enemy -held ports, since they would be rendered useless tbe preliminary aerial bombardment What the Dieppe raid did prove, surely, was the un desirability of unloading men on wired beaches under cliffs densely occupied hy lethal Germans in pristine condition. Wasn't that it that and perhaps a few other things, but basically and ineluctably that Bewildered, the viewer was ahle to take refuge in the Pythonesaue humour provided by a rather marvellous major (w-ho called German tanks uncharitable ') and one of the enemy commanders, who explained how he had ordered a wootine alarm vizzout knowing vot vos plant and was subsequently gratified to find a captured officer complimenting him on having expunged a couple of hundred British troops.

It appears they smoked a chendlemanly cigaredde togezzer. Keeping you from laughing too hard at these diversions was rhe footage most of it German, shot for propaganda purposes when the spilt blood was still warm-and the usual couple of characters who can be relied upon to tum up and verbally supply the atmospherics the bigwigs always eschew the stink of stomach wounds, the cries of maimed men rolling in the waves and the deep-down mem-nienl engendered by being offered up for sacrifice in front of automatic weapons you can't even see. Yes. Eunice, that's where vou went swimming last year. ire pxceer-t housing may be mad will be Payable in appro- Condi of Serv er avai'abe and 'en ova" prate circumstances.

ApDhcatip Pr.errz. which should be returned by 4ih September, 1972, are obtainable irom. The Secretary, Warrington New Town Development Corporation, P.O. Box 49. 80 Sankoy Street, Warrington, Lancashire, WA1 1SR quote reference CAPOPLO cis Ford Coppola, directing with a cool non -involvement, has fashioned a fine, glossily packaged piece of computerised entertainment, never less than smooth and occasionally (the sequence with rhe Godfather menaced in an uncannily deserted hospital) almost brilliant.

If I seem a little grudging about this three-hour bloodfeast sprayed with a heady bouquet of spaghetti and sentimental song, the blame lies squarely with John Huston. The Godfather is certainly a film to be seen, but Fat City (Columbia, AA) is one to see again and again, and will, I suspect, be around for years after the film of the century (I quote) has gone the way of all blockbusters. Reaching back to some youthful source of inspiration, or perhaps leaping forward to a new, assured mastery, it is like the later work of Ford, Bufiuel and Renoir both totally accessible and wholly private, a film shrouded in mysterious nostalgia and so effortless that it hardly seems to have been made at all. The setting is Stockton, California, a dreary wasteland of smoky bars and sun-bleached streets where the lives of two boxers briefly meet, one on the way up. one on the way down.

Neither, you sense instantly, for all their talk of past successes and future glories, will ever know any other world than the back-street gymnasiums and cheap boxing-rings where battered trainers and managers swap coniidences about their ailments, enthuse over their latest discoveries, and dream of success just around the corner, and where in a sad and sobering climax two sick men beat each other half id death for a few dollars and a pint of glory. The clear but carefully understated parallel between the two boxers the older laments the wife who ruined him by running away, the younger marries a girl clearly destined to do the same never runs the 5 lightest risk of seeming schematic because what Huston is concerned with is dreams, not the reality of these despairing lives but the escape-routes they construct for themselves. It is no accident that the main visual motif of the film, stamped overall with a grimy, grainy beauty, is a direct cut from the soft nocturnal haze of the interiors to the harsh glare of the sunlight. For in the soothing glow of a smoke-filled bar anything is possible, even tenderness for a drunken whore and hopes of domestic bliss: and when the illusion is shattered by daylight, in the boxing ring or the fields where sweated labour can cam a few dollars between bouts, the bars still hold their promise of attainable dreams. There is perhaps one false note in the entire him, a shot briefly and quite unnecessarily frozen near the end to underline the meaning of the magnificent final sequence.

Otherwise Fat with superb performances by Stacy Keach. Jeff Bridges and Susan Tyrrell, seems 10 me to be perfection. ONE of the very few operas of our time that will survive is how Michael Gielen. who conducted his first performance seven years agu in Cologne, has described Bernd Alois Zimmer-mann's Die Soldaten. As the operas in his list are LuJu and Moses und that is a big claim, but it is one made with increasing frequency intelligent people in Germany.

Outside his native country, however, Zimmermunn. who two years ago killed himself at the age of 52. remains a largely unknown quantity, and it was both boid and bright of Peter Diamand to have invited the Dusseldorf Opera to bring its justly famed production of a big. demanding work that clearly deserves attention (o this year's Edinburgh Festival. Die Soldaten is a uon plus ultra of expressionist opera and in this sense I sjspect thai it represents a point of culmination rather than a new departure.

It is based on a strangeh impressive play by J. M. R. l.enz, a Sturm tind Drang contemporary of Goethe, about a girl who is destroyed by the heartless philandering of the well-born young officers of the garrison. The notion that whores (for that is how Lertz's Marie ends) are made and not bom is hardly original today.

But in the second half of the eighteenth century it was certainly not a generally accepted notion and the obsessive intensity that I.enz brings to his theme is equally individual. Both in its text and its score Die Soldaten owes a great deal to Alban Berg. Lena's play is cast in the form of a series of brief, photographic scenes that focus on crucial moments in a plot that develops largely off-stage. In this sense Len is plainly a precursor of Btichner, who indeed wrote a fragmentary story about him. It is a theatrical form rhat plainly cries out for music and.

just as Berg was able to leave Bucfiner's Wozrcck virtually unaltered when he set it to music, so Zimmer-mann did little more than prune Die But the resemblance to Berg goes deeper than that. Zimmer-mann's Marie is as plainly a victim of the world she is born into as is Wozzeck. or for that matter Lulu. Must those who suffer wrong live in fear Can only the wrongdoers be glad This is a motto that recurs at crucial moments in 'Die The way in which its short scenes are linked by substantial interludes also owes a lot to the example of "Wozzeck." The use of cinema explores a field that Berg had first entered in Indeed the very accent of Zimmer-mann's rhetoric often recalls Berg's highly charged idiom. But by the time that Zimrner-mann had completed his original version of Die Soldaten in 1 when it was promptly rejected as unperformable fn the Cologne Opera who had commissioned it.

much water- had passed under the bridge. In particular, the revolution had given yet another twist to the spiral of complexity that has beset German music since Wagner. Tn Zimmermann's score all the musical dimensions, and not merely pitch as in are subjected to the rule of the row. Memorable Leonora JOHN COPLEY'S new II Trova-tore at the Coliseum clearly has many of the virtues of his not least some striking designs by Stefanos Lazaridis, Its biggest lest, though, will come when the production is revived with a less brilliant ieonora than Rita Hunter, who on Wednesday turned in a performance of the highesi calibre, marvellously ng and sensitively acted. Hurler nmi ha-, a devoted following in house, and she deserves every heci.

Kach new pan seems to find reserves of stvle and technique in her singing, bui I also have the impression that her oice has acquired a new softness refinemeni since she began to sing Wagner here. No doubt Verdi demands subtleUes of colouring that 'Wagner doesn'l. But power and control are equally essential, and ifs rare to find all these qualities present in a single orce. as they are in Miss Hunter's, tt wasn't to he expected, after her show-stopping Tacea la lhal she could produce anything comparable in D'amor sull'ali iust when most sopranos are starting to flag. But in fact she sang the Act Four aria with no trace of strain and with some wonderfully controlled head-notes.

In every way this was an unforgettable performance. Copley reportedly believes that Trovatore must be staged in the grand realistic manner, as Verdi of course intended. The point seems to me debatable where local detail is built into the action, is naturally quite another matter). But at least he defends his case by doing the ioh espertly. Of its kind the production is efficient and well observed, and Lazaridis's designs blend vividness with economy iquick scene-changes, sumptuous perhaps too sumptuous--costumes, and one marvellous tableau, redolent of Delacroh, for Luna's camp tn Act Three I where, by the way.

we al'o hear the usually omitted ballet musicl. It's a production which will certainly give a lot of pleasure The first performance. Miss Hunter apart, had its ups and downs, with Jon Sydney not the first tenor to find Manrico a rather hectic experience, and Gabrielle Lavigne tending to sing sharp as Azucena (especially in Stride la vampa '). Norman Bailey, though by the high tessitura of Luna's music, sane cleverly and acted with fus usual commuted good sense. None of these sinters made Tom Hammond's new Knplish version more audible than was necessary harles Mackevras conducted with crcal enercv.

bin aho urth consideration for the refinement of one ni erri: he! curH Stephen Walsh And embodying that complexity is a growing elaboration of the instrumental apparaf is. Complexity of technique and resources are part and parcel of Zimmermann's whole approach to opera. What he calls pluralistic opesra is a concentration of all available media, and into the stock-pot of Die Soldaten he hurled ballet, mime, electronic music, collage, cinema and searchlights (omitted at Edinburgh) in addition to the usual components of opera, so that in the last scene the audience is submerged in a vortex of sound, light and movement. He also introduced a notion of pluralistic action, in which the stage is subdivided into separate but simultaneous and inter-acting scenes. Thus in the second act Marie writes a letter of dismissal to her fiance and allows hersdf to be seduced, her fiance receives the letter and swears revenge, while Marie's old grandmother laments the end she foresees but cannot avert.

Yet this conception is less original than it sometimes suggested. For what is it but the resurrection in more complex guise of the much-mocked traditional ensemble, in which a variety of characters each pursue their own train of thought 7 A lesser composer would have sunk under the sheer weight of the apparatus Zimmermann here calls into existence. In fact Die Soldaten packs a theatrical punch that I would hardly have credited of a serial opera. From the moment that the prelude is launched on an insistent D. hammered out on the timpani, while brilliant clusters of sound coalesce and dissolve.

Zimmermann shows that he is no' serialist monk, but a man with a sharp nose for the theatre. His handling of elaborate instrumental textures is masterly and imaginative, and so is his use of collage in scenes in which Bach chorales and jazz are woven into the orchestral tissue. Yet there are also passages of intimate and delicate lyricism, notably in the early scenes. The score abounds in small effective details that serve to illuminate situation. It also has long-term musical pulls that lend whole scenes a strong overall sense of unity.

In short, Die Soldaten is a work of real substance that fires and grips the imagination. It is certainly one of the outstanding operas to have appeared since the war and. as such, is well worth all the effort and expense involved in bringing it to Edinburgh. But is it the masterpiece its admirers claim I have my doubts. In spite of its debt to Berg, the score lacks that quality which is the very essence of Berg's genius an uncanny ability to awaken the heart to human suffering.

Zimmermann hammers away at his theme with expressionistic frenzy, and by dint of the sheer weight of his assault on the sense he is able to shock and horrify. Yet only occasionally does his mellifluous vocal writing enter the emotional predicament of his characters, who as a result remain faceless. True to expressionist doctrine, they are no more than embodiments of types. Die Sotdaten stakes everything on being a masterpiece. Its apocalyptic finale (originally conceived as no less than 12 simultaneous scenes, reduced to a mere three) might have been composed by the hero of Thomas arm's LV Faustus.

But because it lacks the essential ability to awaken compassion thai stems from love and not merely from shock a certain disproportion becomes apparent between the vast means involved and the end achieved. For all its qualities and I do believe it to be an opera of real significance 'Die Soldaten suffers from the too-much ess which is the besetting sin of German art. In spite of its complexity, it lacks subtlety. In spite of its eloquence, it lacks an ability to whisper secrets. The Deutsche Oper am Rhein (to give the Dusseldorf company its official title I achieved miracles in fitting this enormously elaborate work on to the tiny stage of the King's Theatre.

Georg Reinhardl's well-devised production and Hein-rich Wendel's photographic sets maintain the high reputation of this formidable and long-standing partnership. GQnther Wich secured a clearly focused orchestral performance, and the cast was in the main highly competent Though some of her high notes sounded strained. Catherine Gayer gave yet another of her cleverly conceived and unfailingly musical performances in the testing role of Marie. Peter Christoph Runge was outstanding as her rejected suitor. This is a vintage year for opera at Edinburgh, but works like Die Soldaten don't arrive every day.

and a fine revival of Scottish Opera's production of The Troians' will have to wait until until next week. Antics in AS WE should all know by now, the title of the Black Theatre of Prague refers not to gloom or jokes below the belt, but to the darkness against which it performs its dazzling antics. It seems only yesterday that we were welcoming the same troupe to the same theatre. Sadler's Wells. Perhaps it is to become a regular visitor.

If it does, Christmas seems a more appropriate season, for the emphasis in the show is firmly on magic. The extraordinary trick effects, in which objects fly about the stage as nimbly as the human characters, are a form of conjuring, ll is a world familiar to us through animated cartoons, and this entertainment has similar virtues and weaknesses. It is a medium very unsuited for conveying serious comment. The bnHiant inventor and dire-lor. Jin Smec.

concentrates undei-standablv on fantasy, which he extends sometimes to almost mii-realist extremes Violins drink arid fRs dunce. collapse LEICESTER MLSELMS AND ART GALLERY requi 111 itafT KEEPER OF ANTIQUITIES The Keeper ia reapona-irMe (ot che muteum's coIIccuota d( acchaeoloffy and social hLor-. inrj fftr riir stafT nd work of the Antiquities Deparoneni. Cctd'f sate anouij ha a Jcsrce tn archaeology the lpdomat of the MiiuCuno Kxoch. uon a riii ni have wide jeneral in teresu and owkicrb3c eouBeuiK esperjerce (Ref.

71 121 ASSISTANT KEEPER (COSTUME) (new post) A Tit- KranUi Museum Cwmc a ht otered tie ntai fuiur and uie K.jr: kerpt: hr rtj.pr.HMMc for ts ia and for the museum's laJB police; J. on 1 1 c- -loinwhy hat a dtffTCt and or iht Diploma of the MiiMiims iiaLn--n and mi! haf i eood kno ledae of costume history and muse urn ejptrrnLt (Rtf. App "II 9t ASSISTANT KEEPER (ANTIQUITIES CONSERVATION) (new post) I he r-t sim a pr i iJ i cs rv Jiii bJe 1 1. 1 Jie Lonwr-aiiOTi and csiorauor of 4 'A-'f at Candrdrt'ts irvild normflli Jiae i desrec nr (ht Diploma O.moervMKui of thf nsLjt if of a colop sud ust ha ve eri It praxitca i cxpemciKX (Ref. St: App.lT2;1ft) TECHNICIAN, MUSEUM OF TECHNOLOGY (new post) The pci son apporrued ilh the lima i linj transport and repair ftnti -tAioraLvon ol --ide range mauhincry vehicles, e-ic.

ffliiM have extensile cxpeivrJicr a.s a craftwriBn in an appropriate fleJd. fRef. StrAPp.71'111 SALARY SCALE Kctpcr CI. L(HV2 AfiKtani KtCPEi 1 .5 .2.1 fHl lfchrwaJi Ll '1 hor further dttaJli and application forms pteae Tfte to The Dtrertnr of Moieami i nd iirt Ga Rm New WalK, Leleelcr LE 1 bl Qnotlne th appropriate lob referenc. ClosinC da(f for completed appUcatfoo fomw lirh September 1973.

THE FIRST words you hear in The Godfather (Paramount, Universal, Empire and ABC X). no small irony in a film dedicated to the proposition that crime pays very well indeed, ring like an oath of allegiance to Uncle Sam. I believe in America." declares a dapper little Italian, paterfamilias to the tips of his starched collar and mournful moustache. America has made my But the aJI-American boys who beat up his daughter have got off scot-free will Don Corleone, the Godfather, please take steps to grant him the justice he has been denied? As Mario Puzo has pointed out. citing in evidence an article he wrote three years before The Godfather wryly arguing that crime is good for America (hoodlums grow rich, turn respectable, breed pillars of society), there is a strong tinge of irony behind his presentation of the Mafia as a family spreading protecting wings over members who love, honour and obey.

Paradox might perhaps be a better word, since the novel clinches its marvellously lucid description of how the Mafia system of respect operates (in flashback scenes omitted from the film) with the metamorphosis of Don Corleone from young hoodlum to venerable patriarch, a veritable Moses presiding over an Old Testament set of commandments. In a very real sense, the Godfather's justice is more just than that dispensed by the American legal system. It wouldn't be exactly fair to say that all this, the most fascinating aspect of Puzo's novel, has been lefi on the cutting-room floor in the interests of fabricating a straifthtforward action movie 'The Godfather would probably be a better film if this were true. As it is. so many garbled fragments and unexplained characters arc left lying about that the film never begins to match the pure narrative logic of.

say, Gorman's St Valentine's Day The outward manifestations of family loyalty, for instance, are all there, cleverly displayed in a welter of weddings, funerals, christenings and mealtimes; but the inner reverberations and demands of that loyalty are left to take care of themselves. To cite only one example: there is no hint in the film of the complex ripples caused by Don Corieone's appointment of an Irishman rather than a Sicilian as his consigliere. More seriously. Puzo's whole paradoxical point is compromised by the mishandling of the opening sequence. When the suppliant offers to pay whatever justice will cost.

Don Corleone (a striking performance by Brando, though he seemed in imminent danger of spitting out the cottonwool padding from his cheeks) haughtily demands respect rather than money, and purrs approvingly the moment his hand is kissed. At which point, presented with a man wallowing in flattery, the audience at the Press show quite rightly giggled. They should have been awed by a man able to command respect by his mere presence. The film therefore operates on a much more simple level than the novel, and is at its best when it functions simply as a gangster movie, at its worst when it belatedly tries to capitalise on those Puzo ironies. Fortunately such stylistic lapses are rare, and for the most part The Godfather lumbers forward as serenely and impressively as a steamroller, not only tempering its violence with frequent interludes of celebration and ceremonial, but carefully orchestrating that violence to a pitch where the final, horrific holocaust seems like an inevitable flashpoint.

No matter, ultimately, that the film is strictly one-dimensional, shorn of everything but plot. Fran- the dark and take wing, beds arise and walk; there is even a scene where a thought-bubble rises from a tall seated man, floats over to a girl, and I dare not mention where it disappears. All this the programme of three shorts and one longer piece is much as last time provides fine fanciful entertainment of a kind unlike anything else on the stage (Alwin Nikolai's dance troupe conies nearest to ill. To make it something more and the moment for development seems to have arrived it needs less folksy charm and whimsical design, some sharpness and topical references, and perhaps a look at how modern painters have exploited the ambiguous space created by the unusual lighting At present we remain in the delightful hut cramped uiHd of pantomime A hnslmas shim tn rhis company 1 how hnstma-f'arol 'i yould he vmimici bui on I 1 1 Si ncs ihoi The mt-nrsl. Alexander Bland lilt SPORTS Ol 11 STAL PAI.ACF.

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1.. uuas. AR rhe vioc rn mcipa I L.ti I pUfJN Tl iK Oi; I (rRA)L Alt rvr-ar orli niedhk l.O. acJern LEONARD DERNSTEIN If you know about THE HOTEL BUSINESS read on The Observer needs a femaie telephone Sales Executive to sell classified hotel and accommodation advertising. She must be between 22 and 30 Fluency in French andor another European language would be a distinct advantage The salary starts at 123 p.w but can rise to over E1.300 p.

a. after 4 months. There is four weeks patd hoiiday a year. If you'd like to apply tor the job telephone fo.r an application form 01-236 0202 Extn 317, Susan PlUlng, Assistant Classified Manager, The Observer 160. Queen Victoria Street, London, EC4.

Saturdav SYMPH( )KY NO. 3 in T) Minor September 2 CHRISTA LUDWKralto VIENNA ROYS (HOIK Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra from the Munkvereinssaal. Vienna Saturdav THE SONG OF THE KARTH September 9 CHRISTA LUDWIG alto RENE KOLLO tenor Israel Philharmonic Orchestra from the Frederic R. Mann Auditorium. Tel Aviv Presented and directed for television by HUMPHREY BURTON MR HOB as Ol ss rnu PubJincr i StCRtTRV ii Lt 1 Bl.

ptrL r--. 1MLS I.