The Guardian from London, Greater London, England • 8

ARTS GUARDIAN Friday July 9 1982 Michael Billington reviews the People Show's latest extravaganza wSM GATE, LATCHMERE Nicholas de Jongh bably see the show as an essay on illusory appearances: I would simply say it throws a lot of gags and routines in the air and leaves you to form your own pattern. This particular show is probably non-vintage. But anyone with a taste for theatrical vulgarity will enjoy the restaurant-scene where the surly waiter deposits the spaghetti in the customer's crotch and produces dripping lettuce from an old cleaning bucket. And that for me is the charm of the People Show rough theatre mixes with holy, slapstick with surrealism and the rup is constantly pulled from under the participants' feet and our own making criticism as pointless as lassooing a ghost. In proof we see Caroline Hutchison keeling over as she waits for her beloved in Bruiser's Restaurant on the night of the mass food poisoning.

Emil Wolk, her saucer-eyed boyfriend, is framed for her non-existent murder, imprisoned in a series of wire-net cages and, divesting himself of more undergarments than a pantomime dame, turns, into Leopard Man. She, now transformed into Leopard Woman, tracks him down through liana-filled jungles and as we finally see them, joyously reunited, he is about to smother her with a leopard-skin cushion. But only a lunatic would go to the People Show for the story. What you get is a ABC studio spectacular reviews the new rock releases by perfection rc still there in the lyrics, but he sounds detached from his subject matter, with little of the old urgency and desperation. Imperial Bedroom is an excellent and intriguing album, and should stand up to as much repeated listening as Trust, but I hope it doesn't show Costello getting too relaxed about his art.

Franltie Miller Standing On The Edge (Capitol). Ever since he moved from Scotland to London in the early Seventies tj hang around the pub-rock circuit, Frankie Miller has been widely and rightly recognised a a great singer who one day ought to make it. Attempts to help him do so have included him being launched as a hard rock singer, a white soul singer, and being sent down to New Orleans to record with Allen Toussaint. Now, with a change of record company, there's another big attempt underway to give Miller the recognition he deserves. This time he's been sent down to Alabama, to record with Barry Beckett and the Muscle Shoals rhythm section.

Frankie Miller's reputation in America has been helped by the fact that he's admired by Bob Seger, who recorded his Ain't Got No Money. Frankie repays the compliment here by recording a set aimed squarely at Seger's audience, and the American market. Stomping rockers, beat ballads, and sturdy, soaring and romantic slower songs follow each other in predictable succession. There are no surprises once one appreciates the formula, but that doesn't really matter. He's in as good, raw-edged voice as he's ever been, and his songs like Angels With Dirty Faces show he's writing as well as ever.

If you like Seger, you'll like this. I certainly hope he wins through this time. Robert Plant: Pictures At Eleven (Swan Song). The former singer with Led Zeppelin (and so once one of the world's great superstars) goes solo, and produces an odd album that veers between Heavy Metal and sophisticated meanderings. His voice is distinctive as ever, but the material isn't.

The selection ranges from beat ballads like Burning Down One Side, on which Robbie Blunts wailing guitar and Phil Collins' percussion fail to deliver the solid punch the Muscle Shoals crew give Frankie Miller, to grand Heavy Metalpomp rock heavy riff pieces like Slow Dancer. There are gentler pieces like Moonlight In Samosa, and one solid rocker Worse Than Detroit, but it's all something of a mess. songs are never quite swamped by all his attention. ABC will appeal to everyone from night-clubbers to their parents because the songs work well on several levels. They are romantic, crooned, melodic ballads, they are sturdy enough for the dance clubs, and they also include- some dry, tongue-in-cheek lyrics.

Date Stamp, for instance, is a witty piece about love and shopping, dressed up in Horn's production with a girl chorus, lush orchestration and even clinking cash registers. Very clever but can they ever attempt it live Elvis Costello and The Attractions Imperial Bedroom (f-Beat). After last year's excursion to Nashville to re-interpret Country standards, Costello returns to his own songs and his own style but with some modifications. Costello has always dealt in emotion and intensity, using (like Dylan at his best) a torrent of words and a jumble of clever, memorable phrases, to achieve his effect. In country music, of course, the same degree of intensity is often achieved by the exactly opposite method Country lyrics are often powerful because of their no-nonsense stark simplicity.

Those who expected Costello to simplify his lyrics after the Nashville experience are proved wrong the lyrics are splattered all over an infuriatingly difficult to read inner sleeve, and contain the now-expected vicious dissections of the sad or seedy personal lives of the subjects of his songs. He wants to be a fancy man but he's nothing but a nancy boy, he's all pride and no joy" is typical of the mood. What is different, though, is the production and Cos-tello's approach to the material Geoff Emerick, the former Beatles engineer, is responsible, and he's given the songs a relaxed, laid-back and sometimes elaborate setting. The band are now in the background, instead of bursting out all around him, and keyboards and tinkling piano predominate. There are also some cleverly arranged, atmospheric passages, as on The Long Honeymoon, one of the best tracks on the album, where a tale of feared infidelity is treated with piano, moody accordion, and Shadows-like twanging guitar.

The far more elaborate And In Every Home is almost given a Beatles Sergeant Pepper treatment, with full orchestration, trumpets and plucked strings. Costello himself sings, and almost croons, gently through it all, sounding more relaxed than ever. The anguish is I WARM increasingly to the People Show. Even if their latest production at the ICA has little of the music-hall madness of their recent cod Cabaret, they still have a lot going for them. They invent weird and wonderful images.

They are totally theatrical. And they run for only eighty minutes after which, like the Jane Austen heroine at the piano, they have delighted us sufficiently. You can't describe them in terms of plot but their new show (No 87) seems to be based on the proposition that "love is like the improved 10 per cent extra on the Mars Bar it's never really WADDINGTON'S Waldemar Januszczak Jim Dine THE HEART is a motif which Jim Dine has carried with him from his Pop Art days. In comic-land it has been carved on so many trees, it has had so many arrows shot through it, that it has long since stopped feeling much. It is a sure symbol of True Romance but not true romance.

Yet Jim Dine has taken this highly unpromising symbol, this comic-book shorthand for love, and he has personalised it. He has squeezed the comic-book heart so hard, so long, that it has begun to hurt again. There was always going to come a time when even the prolonged adolescence of America's Pop artists would come to an end. You can only believe in Superman for so long. It has taken Jim Dine until recently to stop ducking and side-stepping through the back-streets of late 20th century culture and to tell us something about himself.

The new Jim Dine exhibition is a moody, glum affair, Wagnerian in its darkness, Popeye-like in its subtlety. There is an Abstract Expressionist at work here who refuses to paint abstracts. His anguished tarred surfaces supply the feeling and the heart supplies the focus for them. By repeating it over and over again, in three separate galleries, in all sizes, in several colour schemes, all around you, Dine blots all other meanings from you mind. Everywhere your thoughts turn they see love.

This exhibition is half-art, half-Hare Krishna chant. In Desire, this show's masterpiece, he introduces other rough symbols into his story. On the left of the triptych there's a bathrobe which some invisible female body is filling out in all the right places. In the middle panel there's a tree, phallic in the sturdiness of its trunk, impotent in the confusion of its branches. On the right is a Duck Hunting HERE, as an antidote to the propagandist sentimentality of Alexei Arbuzov, Russia's favoured theatrical export, is the British premiere of a Soviet play which smuggles its message beneath a nco-Chekhovian facade.

Alek sandr Vampilov, killed in a 1972 accident aged 34, has a national Russian reputation on the strength of four full length plays. The Gate's pro duction, despite some failures of direction, offers an engrossing and illuminating comedy of modern manners and character. It is cleverly constructed in the form of a retrospective and in the last, exciting phase advances beyond the point at which the play begins outside the sound of remorseless rain and a grey vista of a modern Soviet housing' block within Zilov, a young married engineer employed at the Bureau of Technical Information, waits for the rain to clear and a duck hunting trip to start. A series of wordless telephone calls, a wreath delivered from friends to mark his funeral, and memories of a disastrous drunken night before, suggest we may be waiting for his suicide. Brief interpolated scenes, in which his mourning friends appear, seem to confirm this.

We are watching the downhill journey of a modern version of Chekhov's Ivanov. Vilov suffers from gross enlargement of the ego, is incapable of responding to other people's needs, yet remains cut off from his own feelings. To his wife's despair he is a compulsive lecher. He invites his bed-hopping mistress Vera home to an edgy flat-warming party. He exploits a young innocent student and ruins his job with indifference and uses his self-pity as a weapon when his wife attempts to leave him.

In a scene, beautifully balancing the pathetic with the farcical, he finds himself locked in a room, unwittingly speaking endearments to his wife and later his latest mistress. But apart from these love problems, the play offers a doleful view of Soviet life work is dull, bureaucratic and imprisoning. Favouritism is a way of securing a flat. The characters go for sex and partying as a palliative for the tedium of life. Duck hunting offers escape to the anarchic and uncontrolled.

Lou Stein's interesting production, with ils understated denouement, has an unworkable, cluttered set, and sacrifices changes of style. The key to success is John Abbott's Zilov who misses the character's anguish but admirably refuses to make him a loveable comedy turn and there are a series of performances by Jonathan Kydd, Natalie Ogle, Irene Marot, Tony Meyer and Neil McCarthy which makes this one of the best acted fringe productions I've seen in two years. Russian food by Geoffrey Beatlestone (available in the restaurant) deserves its own credit. AFILMBYMICHAELRAPAS TOMORROW'S WARRIOR LOUIS MALLE'S MY DINNER WITH ANDRE 606CLARKS PORKY'S, S3 KTVANSZABO'S MEPJHISTOm all ckemas -late nights seedwt press an0ustincs CHARLES CHAPUN'S MODERN TIMES 1 ICA. Picture: Douglas Jefjery string section, for though under Schneider this leaned towards a romantic performance, the stylishness and precision of the solo team James Clark and Elizabeth Wexler, violins, William Conway, cello had one marvelling that youngsters can achieve so much so soon.

QEH Mary Clarke Yamini Krishnamurti THE complexities of the advance programmes for the dance events in the Festival of India are as nothing when compared with the notes handed out at the actual performances. The absurdly glowing and basically unin-formative descriptions of the artists taking part make it difficult for the Western layman to decide which of the many events will prove worthwhile. An instinct acquired from years of experience in reading blurbs (and a little help from Indian friends) led me to Yamini Krishnamurti's recital at the Queen Elizabeth Hall. The programme was in two parts and blissfully short with concise, if sometimes bewildering, accounts of the action being danced given before each item. I still am confused about which items I saw, as they seemed to be about five from the 13 described at enormous leneth in the notes, but I am quite sure that in the first half Yamini gave us a superb display of the Bharata Natyam style.

She has a prodigious technique, speed allied to control, and a strong personality. She's beautiful in a mature way and enormously expressive in hand gestures, bodily movement and the use of her large, lustrous eyes. About the second part I was less happy. She then moved into Kuchipudi dance drama beginning with what was quaintly described as the last act of an ooera dealing, of course, with Krishna and with love. This is a kind of danced monologue in which Yamini is joined by a splendidly garbed musician (how Bakst would have loved his beaded, turbaned get-up) who chants the action with her.

It seemed a debased form of entertainment. Yamini's last dance, in which she displayed a virtuoso technique for performing foot patterns on the edge of a brass plate, was sheer series of images and routines that arouse different reverberations in each spectator. Watching Emil Wolk, with those aghast eyes roving round his head like silver balls in a puzzle-box, in his cage I was reminded of the ICA's own Zoos exhibition with its haunting pictures of staring, captive creatures. At other times, as people dive through solid-seeming brick walls, one is into the ghost scene from any Palladium panto. And as Wolk indulges in running sword-fights on staircases with his captors (pausing only to go to a stainless-steel toilet behind the swing door) it is like seeing an Errol Flynn Robin Hood movie re-shot by the Marx Brothers.

A precious aesthete would pro Emil Wolk at the He is a master of an absorbingly versatile medium. Leslie Durbin: Fijty Years oj Silversmithing, at Goldsmiths' Hall, Foster Lane, London EC2; weekdays until July 26. Admission ree. BALTIC EXCHANGE Edward Greenfield Chamber Orchestra of Europe FOR veteran players it must be disconcerting just how fine young professional musicians are these days. The Chamber Orchestra of Europe, founded just over a year ago, consists mainly of young players from Holland, Germany and Italy as well as this country (the prime supplier).

James Judd is the musical director and Claudio Abbado the artistic adviser, but for this resonantly satisfying concert in the Baltic Exchange (part of the City of London Festival) the American violinist and conductor Alexander Schneider- was in charge, and inspired just as he did when he prompted Pablo Casals to promote his Prades Festival. It was evident enough in Haydn's Symphony No 68 that this orchestra has style as well as polish. This is a work which even HC Rob-bins Landon, our mentor in Haydn, counted one of the most neglected over the last two centuries, but consistently Schneider and his young players brought out the Beethovian vitality of inspiration, above all in the extended slow, movement which with its scherzando manner and sharp contrasts of dynamic links directly with the Allegretto of the eighth symphony. From the purist point of view the Chamber Orchestra of Europe may sport too many string players, but with its precise tuning it was a joy to hear Bach and Handel played with such richness and warmth. The soloists in the Bach Double Concerto for oboe, violin and strings were two brilliant and sensitive members of the orchestra, the violinist Marieke Blanken-stijn, and the oboist Douglas Boyd, both of them deeply expressive, particularly Boyd in the lyrical slow movement.

Handel's Concerto Grosso Opus 6 No 11 gave solo chances for others in the DEMONSTRATION OF THE ARTS WATERPERRY HOUSE Nr Wheatley Oxon 14-18 July 1982 10.30-5.30 3.00 ADMISSION For further details, S.A.E. to Art in Action 96 Scdlescombe Rd Fulham London SVV6 1RB or Tel 01-381 3192 Sponsored by the Art Department of the Fellowship of the School of Economic Science (Registered Educational Charity) 90 Queen's Gate, London SW7 SUMMER I STANDBY i For everyone: low i prices for any unsold Olivier or Lyttelton tickets from 10am on day. See theatre listings for performance details. MY I 7HjwUJ Robin Denselow Flawed IT'S been a great week for Sheffield and for record producers. That may seem an odd combination, but then it's an odd coincidence that The Human League should conquer their American charts just as their local Midlands rivals should be doing the same back home.

Until last year, Sheffield's pop music reputation rested on Joe Cocker, and various Heavy Metal bands the sort of styles that snooty southerners might expectcfrom a place like that. Now, Sheffield bands are in the vanguard of the most fashionable club dance music, and the electra-pop movement that could start a new British music boom in the States. The new-look Human League, now an all-synthesized Abba with their girl singers and dancers (Sheffield school-girls until a few months ago), dominate the American singles charts with Don't You Want Me, a song remarkable for its mixture of "modern" electronic techniques and brilliant production (from Martin Rushent), its trendy dance floor appeal, and a melody so accessible that it can appeal to anyone from teenagers to housewives (and will be guaranteed play on all the radio stations). The very different ABC use a very clever formula blend on their debut, the instantly best-selling The Lexicon Of Love (Phonogram). Singer and writer Martin Fry was quoted last year as saying he wanted to write "the perfect pop and the band's singles Poison Arrow and The Look Of Love showed that this might be no idle boast.

The new album (which of course contains the hits) is of an equally high standard but as with The Human League recordings the credit must go as much as to the producer as to the band. The man responsible here is Trevor Horn; the former member of The Buggies and less happy vocalist Yes. Working with a band that have only been known to have given one live show, he's produced something of a studio spectacular, in which he's as happy to include elaborate light orchestral pieces as jangling funk. Fry and his S-piece band are augmented by extra synthesizers, a brass section, and an orchestra, with which Horn dresses up the dance beat with elaborate textures and layers of music. There are patches (as on Valentine's Day) when he's in danger of over-doing it and making sure that everything is just too perfect, but the SAINSBURY'S SEASON mmsmm Sadler's RSfal lift heart.

It is a crude allegory of crude feelings. Dine has been so clever, so tricky for so long that when he finally speaks from somewhere deeper he gets all tongue-tied. Jim Dine at Waddingtons, Cork Street, Wl, until July 24. GOLDSMITHS' HALL Donald Wintersgill Leslie Durbin THE SWORD of Stalingrad, given by George VI to the citizens to commemorate their heroic resistance to the Germans in the Second World War, is briefly back in this country. It is a highlight of an exhibition at Goldsmiths' Hall, London, of the work of Leslie Durbin.

extraordinary silversmith. Durbin did the gold and silver work on the guillon or cross-guard and on the scabbard, being given leave from the RAF to do the work. The sword was shown in 16 British towns and cities and seen by millions; it was later given by Churchill to Stalin at the Tehran Conference in 1943. Times have changed and Stalingrad is now Volgograd. Durbin was born in 1913.

His father died when Durbin was five his mother worked long hours as a dressmaker to support the family (his sister was an invalid). He won an L.C.C. Trade Scholarship at the age of 13 and was later apprenticed to Oscar Ramsden, who was the most popular silversmith in the country. His output is astonishingly diverse great maces for institutions and new parliaments altar crosses, chalices, and ciboriums; coins, medals, and badges of office model animals and things that fall into no general category, such as a stud box for the Prince of Wales, a polf trophy for Commercial Union. Durbin's designs in the early 1950s were innovative but still had a strong feeling for the symbolic.

His genius has been to accommodate the wishes of patrons while giving his own creativity scope. but book now for big savings! I copies also available from 1 Information Centres) mmm Enjoy all the fun of the theatre at a knockdown price by subscribing with Leeds Playhouse. See 4 Superb shows for as little as 1.50 each SAVE UP TO 40 Season starts 22 September See THE ROCKY HORROR SHOW AlanAyckboum's TAKING STEPS THE ELEPHANT MAN and' I mm UN BRUSH AVEC LEZ GARSONZ Who are Lez Gaisonz? all will be revealed in our NEW SUBSCRIPTION BROCHURE HMO lOLUqUY from the theatre write or call, most libraries ana Tourist -POLKA CHILDREN'S THEATRE and SAINSBURYS are delighted to announce their Competition THE t. till I WAN ofTUONELA PAPILLON 77 pdka L3 3, 4 Sept QUARTETTHE DREAM 5 TANGO'S 6, 7 Sept GISELLE There will be a single prize of 1,000. The winning play will receive a guaranteed run with the usual royalties at the Polka Children's Theatre In Wimbledon in the 198384 Season and will bepublished by MethuenLondonLtd to coincidewith its first production.

Entries for the competition should be submitted to. and arrive at Polka Children's Theatre not later than 30th September 1982. The winner will be announced in October. For details and application form please write to "A Play for Polka" Polka Children's Theatre, 240 The Broadway, Wimbledon, London SVI9 1SB. Sadler's Wells Theatre 10, Sept Eves 7.30pm Sats 2.30pm and 7.30pm Prices: 2.50, 3, 5,6, 8, 9, 10 Family Mat programme CTue 7 Sept, 2.30pm) 2-5 Booking Dates: PostalS'Juh.

Persona! 19Juh, Telephone 26 July Office: 01 -278 891 6 or phone TeledaU on 01-200 0200 1-11 Sept 1982 1 LJL I DUKE OF YORKS.