I couldn’t actually tell you when Delusions And Grandeur began.
We met Karen Hall eating a sandwich.
Then, after she had finished eating her sandwich, the show officially started. At least I think it did.
At first, I couldn’t work out whether Karen was genuinely hungry or whether sitting there eating a sandwich was actually part of the performance. The more I watched the production, though, the more I started to think there was something rather clever about it.
That sandwich broke down the usual barrier between performer and audience before Karen had even picked up her cello.
Delusions And Grandeur is a show in which Karen intersperses beautiful cello playing with comedy and conversation. She finds out some interesting things about members of the audience along the way and regularly looks for relatability in the subjects she talks about. It makes the production feel much more personal than simply watching somebody perform a rehearsed show.
Karen is clearly a very skilled musician, and the cello playing throughout was absolutely beautiful. But something else struck me: when we watch musicians performing in an orchestra, how often do we actually hear their stories?
We see the musician and the instrument, but rarely the person behind them.
Karen gives us that person.
One of the subjects she talks about is what she would do if, for whatever reason, she could no longer play the cello. It is an interesting and surprisingly difficult question when something has formed such a major part of your identity. I got the sense that Karen wasn’t simply telling us about this dilemma either. At times, it almost felt as though she was looking towards the audience to help her find the answer.
And perhaps there isn’t one.
That is where Delusions And Grandeur becomes more than simply a musician doing comedy. Karen’s humour is funny, but mixed amongst the laughs are poignant moments and questions that give the audience something to reflect upon.
What happens when the thing you are known for is no longer there? How much of ourselves do we attach to what we do? And what happens when expectations of success don’t quite match reality?
These aren’t particularly light questions, yet Karen manages to explore them without making the production feel heavy.
It is also quite a difficult balancing act. Combining comedy, audience interaction, personal storytelling and classical music could easily become disjointed, but here the different elements complement one another.
Which brings me back to that sandwich.
By the end, I was fairly convinced it served an important purpose. Karen was sussing us out. She was building rapport and getting a feeling for the people in the room before taking us any further. Whether that sandwich was meticulously planned or Karen was simply hungry, I don’t particularly want to know. The uncertainty somehow suits the show.
The overall pacing of the production was good, it remained interesting throughout, and the music was absolutely beautiful.
Karen Hall is a captivating performer. She gives us excellent musicianship and plenty of humour, but also allows us to see something of the human being sitting behind the cello.
I am very glad I got the opportunity to see this production.
A worthy 4 stars.
★★★★ We see the musician and the instrument, but rarely the person behind them. Karen gives us that person
About the Author
