Malta Theatre & Concert Reviews

Sway is a wonderfully fluid and emotionally resonant work, performed with striking commitment by the ŻfinMalta company. Diego Tortelli knows his art and blends all the elements together – music, movement, lighting, even costumes.

From its first moments, Sway draws the audience into a world of tension, trust, and mutual dependence, a kingdom where every movement feels charged with meaning. It is a work that thrives on physical sensitivity as much as technical precision.

What makes Sway especially compelling is that it never feels coldly abstract; beneath its formal elegance lies genuine emotional weight. The choreography seems to ask how people hold on to one another, how they drift apart, and how trust is built through motion.

Tortelli's choreography is full of shifting balances, near-collisions, and gliding transitions that give the work its distinctive pulse. He weaves the performers into the music and brings out the best from them. The dancers move as if they are constantly negotiating space, gravity, and one another, which creates a powerful sense of vulnerability.

The performers themselves give the work much of its impact. Overall, the dancers' presence on stage is both supple and fearless, and they bring a human intimacy to the choreography that makes the piece feel immediate. Each performer contributes to the ensemble's overall coherence, while also allowing moments of individuality to emerge. The wonderful Mario Manara is unchained and allowed to let rip — he is simply mesmerising. Alessandro Pellegrinelli gives his best performance yet. Lotte La Haye and Andrea Bagioni have delightful cameos and Martí Blanco Romeu's character is brought out well. Tortelli has clearly bonded well with the team.

And then there's the costumes. Fabulous! And cleverly intertwined with the concept. Designs by Diego Tortelli and Laurent Uyttersprot give the dancers a look that channels Rhinestone cowboys (a throwback to the great Bob Fosse) – glamorous, sexy and vibrant. Indeed, the chaps with rhinestone strands galvanize the dancers' swirling and swaying movements and give the piece its title. I have rarely seen costumes so well adapted to a choreographer's vision.

Dali Aguerbi's lighting design is also effective, creating an environment that subtly shifts the emotional temperature of the piece and supports its sense of flow and intimacy.

The cheeky encore was an extraordinary bonus, and emphasised the sense of fun which the work embodies.

What lingers after Sway is its sense of grace under pressure. It is a piece about connection, fragility, and resilience, and it communicates those ideas not through explanation but through movement itself. That is what makes it so satisfying: it trusts dance to do what only dance can do. The result is a beautiful, moving work that stays with you long after the final image fades.

KorMalta continues to go from strength to strength, and offer plenty of fun along the way for audience and performers.

A Madrigal Journey was an intelligently conceived and beautifully executed lunchtime concert. The programme's promise "to explore the art of painting with sound across five centuries of choral history" was fulfilled, as the ensemble traced a vivid arc from Renaissance madrigal to contemporary part-song with clarity and poise.

I just wish more of the intention had been available on the day. Because the programming was highly intelligent. The madrigal was framed not simply as a historical genre but as an "artistic idea: the union of poetry, nature, and emotion," and the performance bore that out in the way each piece illuminated its text, from the sprightly awakenings of dawn to the suspended calm of night.

Beginning with Salomone Rossi's *Con la luce e col canto* and moving through Morley, Monteverdi and Banchieri to Britten, Elgar, Saint-Saëns, Mendelssohn, Stanford and the modern voices of Carmelo Pace, Bruno Bettinelli and Matteo Magistrali, the concert felt like a single, carefully plotted narrative rather than a stitched-together anthology.

An accomplished quintet — Mariette Borg and Alexandra Camilleri Gambin (sopranos), Bianca Simone (alto), Lorenzo Bellagamba (tenor) and Riccardo Bianchi (bass) — proved an ideal vehicle for this concept. Small enough to give the music a vivid intimacy, yet sufficiently varied to accommodate the wide stylistic spread from Renaissance polyphony to Romantic lushness.

Throughout, one sensed the "specific vocal architecture" that the notes highlight paying dividends: the upper voices wove those "sonic textures" that made images of shadow, light and birdsong almost tactile, while the lower parts provided a firm yet flexible foundation.

Interpretatively, the ensemble's priorities were clearly text and affect. The notion of *affetti* — the "internal movements of the soul" — was translated in singing that tracked the rhetoric of each line, especially in Monteverdi's *Sfogava con le stelle* and *Zefiro torna e'l bel tempo rimena*. In Britten's *The succession of the four sweet months*, the overlapping texts and criss-crossing lines never turned to confusion; instead, they created that "impression of time unfolding all at once" that the notes describe, with each voice characterfully delineated yet scrupulously balanced. The Romantic items, notably Saint-Saëns' *Calme des nuits* and Stanford's *The Blue Bird*, benefited from a transparent approach that favoured luminous tuning and long-breathed phrasing over luxuriant weight, allowing the harmonies' inherent colour to glow.

Perhaps the most affecting stretch came towards the close. Stanford's still waters and distant bird in *The Blue Bird* offered one of the evening's most serene moments, the ensemble sustaining the fragile textures with admirable control. Matteo Magistrali's *Goodnight, my love*, written to Paul Laurence Dunbar's sea-faring poetry and dedicated to Bianchi, his family and the friends of KorMalta, brought the journey "into the contemporary world" with a calm, flowing tempo that the performers shaped into something both intimate and expansive. The sense of personal connection between composer, conductor and ensemble was palpable, lending the conclusion a warm, almost valedictory glow.

Situated within KorMalta's broader "season of light, legacy, and innovation," A Madrigal Journey felt less like a one-off and more like a statement of intent: that Malta's national choir can honour historical roots while speaking in a contemporary voice, and can "step into the heart of the music" by placing text, image and emotional truth at the centre of performance.

The Soho Theatre is a super-efficient fringe theatre mecca, churning out multiple shows a day in the heart of London.

In many ways The Theatre Next Door is the exact opposite. Its marketing is haphazard - it is very difficult to find out what is on especially as the email doesn't work. On the night we attended, the one hour performance started 15 minutes late for reasons that were never shared with us. And whilst it claims to be next door, in fact it is really in the middle of the countryside, in a location that causes Bolt drivers to get confused.

Given all this, how was a slick Soho Theatre fringe romp going to work there?

Well it did....up to a point.

String V SPITTA aims to be a sharp, high-energy comedy that turns a simple children's party setup into a gloriously chaotic rivalry between two very different performers.

The first thing to say is the two performers Kiell Smith-Bynoe and Ed MacArthur are incredibly talented. The rhythm is brisk, the jokes come thick and fast, and the performers keep the momentum alive with rap battles, puppetry, magic, and plenty of musical invention.

What makes it especially effective is the contrast between the polished "Silly String" persona and the anarchic energy of Spitta, which gives the show a built-in comic engine.

It works well because this premise is funny, but the writing is a little thin. There is satire around class, privilege, and show business underneath the silliness, but like the comic duo themselves, it never quite lands its punches. Darker themes of exploitation and social tension are hinted at but not explored. This might be compulsory in contemporary London to get UK Arts Council funding, but feels a little superfluous here.

Nonetheless, the performance style is immersive and lively, with the cast working hard to pull the audience into the world of the show rather than simply performing at them. In this world it is Anastasia's birthday, the daughter of a Russian oligarch, protected by her own body guard (poor punter "Dimitri" in the front row was a marvellous accomplice to the clowns' antics).

It succeeds in creating a world of its own. A children's party that has been hijacked by very talented adults. Kudos to producer Jo Caruana for spotting this and bringing it to Malta. More please.

KorMalta's Holy Week concert "Crux" on Wednesday 1 April offered a contemplative, tightly focused evening that highlighted the choir's blend of technical polish and spiritual intent within an intimate setting.

At the heart of the programme stood Rheinberger's Stabat Mater, the work around which the entire evening seemed to pivot and deepen. Riccardo Bianchi, directing from within the ensemble, balanced the dual demands of singing and conducting with striking assurance, his gestures clear yet never fussy, and his own vocal line seamlessly integrated into the texture rather than sitting on top of it. KorMalta unfolded Rheinberger's long phrases with unhurried patience, allowing the harmonic suspensions and releases to register with almost physical weight, and shaping the text with a quiet intensity that avoided operatic excess while never feeling emotionally distant. The choir's control of soft dynamics in the closing movements created one of the night's most affecting stretches of stillness, a sense of collective listening that made the final cadence feel earned rather than merely arrived at.

Bruckner's Christus factus est provided a darker, more granite-hewn counterpart, and KorMalta leaned into its architectural clarity. Here, Miguel Rosales' bass gave the lower lines a deep, steady anchor, lending gravity to the harmonic foundation and allowing the upper voices to soar without ever sounding top-heavy. The carefully graded crescendos towards "exaltavit illum" were exceptionally well-judged, powerful but never forced, and what impressed most was the choir's ability to sustain line through Bruckner's long phrases, keeping the music flowing instead of fragmenting into blocks of sound.

Elsewhere in the programme, Rheinberger's Abendlied offered a luminous moment of repose that lingered long after its final chord, so it felt entirely natural when it returned as the encore. Long-serving alto Bianca Simmone brought a calm, centred presence to the inner lines, her sound knitting the harmony together, while a newcomer tenor added a fresh, bright edge to the top of the chord, suggesting a section in healthy evolution rather than mere continuity. In its first appearance the choir emphasised the piece's prayerful intimacy, with translucent inner voices and a gentle, almost conversational approach to "Bleib bei uns," and in the reprise Abendlied felt like a benediction over the whole evening: slightly warmer in tone, a shade more expansive in phrasing, and sung with the ease of music that the choir clearly loves and inhabits deeply.

Surrounding these pillars were finely etched readings of Lotti's Crucifixus, Rachmaninoff's Bogoroditse Devo, Gesualdo's O vos omnes, Liszt's Ave Crux, Brahms's Geistliches Lied and Mendelssohn's Herr, nun lässest du, each chosen to illuminate a different facet of Holy Week contemplation without disturbing the concert's overarching sense of unity. Together, they framed the Rheinberger and Bruckner works not as isolated showpieces but as stations along a carefully plotted spiritual journey, shaped from within by Bianchi and grounded by a consistently strong core of solo and sectional contributions.

KorMalta goes from strength to strength.

One of the great things about the arts scene in Malta is that it is genuinely international, and in particular taps into two rich overseas scenes – the UK and Italy.

Balletto di Milano is one of Italy's foremost touring ballet companies and a leading ambassador of Italian dance abroad. Since its founding in 1998, it has become known for its vibrant staging and broad repertoire that spans classical and contemporary works. The company is especially praised for its charming, family-friendly La Cenerentola, which reimagines the Cinderella tale with expressive choreography and colourful production design. It is also celebrated for La Dolce Vita, a Fellini-inspired ballet that blends cinematic mood and Italian glamour with fluid, character-driven movement.

Balletto di Milano's production of Carmen is a bold, physically charged reimagining of Bizet's opera that confidently marries classical ballet with contemporary and flamenco-inflected movement. Choreographed by Federico Veratti, the piece reframes the familiar story of obsession, jealousy, and tragic fate as a visceral, modern-leaning dance-drama rather than a strictly traditional narrative ballet. This means whilst it is in the rich tradition of Manon and Boheme, operas danced as ballets, this production is strikingly different. Though as in those pieces, a knowledge of the original is helpful if not obligatory.

The production is described as physically demanding, requiring dancers to combine classical precision with athletic power and expressive rawness. This is definitely the case with the Toreador Escamillo, danced by Gianmarco Damiani. His performance was electric, and the whole show came to life as he leapt in the air. As in the opera, Don José danced with precision by Mattia Imperatore didn't stand a chance of hanging on to the slippery Carmen.

Carmen herself emerges as a magnetic, untamed figure, portrayed with both seductive allure and stubborn independence by Giusy Villarà. Her interactions with Don José and Escamillo are charged with palpable tension, underscoring the triangle of desire that drives the plot. The choreography gives the title character ample space for bravura solos and tightly wound partnering, so that her fatalism and fatal attraction are readable in gesture and weight as much as in facial expression. Giusy can act which is not true of every prima donna.

Veratti's choreography blends clean, lyrical lines with sharper, more grounded gestures, giving structure and rhythm to the opera's sumptuous score while allowing the cast to invest each step with emotional intensity. One new aspect he has added is the character of Fate, a muscly Alessandro Orlando. The result is a show that feels dynamic and urgent, with ensemble scenes in particular crackling with energy and tightly coordinated patterns.

The company deliberately mixes tradition and modernity, framing Bizet's music with a dance vocabulary that fuses classical ballet, contemporary movement, and flamenco-inspired articulation. This stylistic blend suits Carmen's themes well: the score's familiar melodies feel revitalized, while the choreography amplifies the opera's undercurrents of passion and danger. The staging is relatively stark, with giant CGI backdrops, relying on the dancers' to fill the visual space.

It is just sad that as often in the dance world performances were just one day. March 29th.

Sometimes you need a star to carry a show. This was certainly the case at Andrew Lloyd Webber's Sunset Boulevard which arrived in Malta for the first time at the Mediterranean Conference Centre. It was a landmark event, a full-scale, self-produced musical, and Maltese star Talitha Dimech delivered the goods. She was simply superb as Norma Desmond, the faded Hollywood superstar.

Talitha managed to perfectly capture the role's demands of simultaneously being both emotionally fragile and haughty/imposing. She has a surprisingly good voice, and negotiated the score's more demanding passages with assurance, delivering the show stoppers "With One Look" and "As If We Never Said Goodbye" with aplomb. She can also act, and this role certainly needs both skills. Her final descent down the staircase of her mansion was electric.

Cliff Zammit Stevens as Joe Gillis provided a strong counterweight, balancing youthful charm and hard-nosed cynicism. He also mastered an American accent, which not all players attempted, while Talitha had a perfect stagey voice. Neville Refalo brought appropriate dignity to the role of Max von Mayerling, Norma's butler and keeper of secrets. Eleanor Spiteri was a glamorous and touching Betty Schaefer, difficult in a role that is always in Norma's shadow, and the ever present Stephen Oliver this time carried off Cecil B. DeMille.

With its lush almost operatic score and dark foreboding atmosphere, the show lends itself to large-scale treatment, and that is exactly what was delivered by this grand production. Unlike the most recent London version that incorporated video cleverly, but somehow lost the authenticity of the original, this was a more faithful rendering. The set and lighting choices evoked both the faded glamour of old Hollywood estates and the colder, more modern studio world Joe inhabits.

The production was directed by Hermann Bonaci, who I am told returns to the theatre after a gap of many years. He put strong emphasis on the underlying psychological imperatives and the taut dynamics between the main characters.

Musical direction by Joe Brown ensured that Andrew Lloyd Webber's Tony-winning score received the lush, dramatic treatment it demands. The presence of a live orchestra also made this a special production, and added weight to numbers such as "The Perfect Year" and the Act Two finale. Sue Vassallo's choreography was much required in the ensemble scenes. The costumes by Tamsyn Coetzee were simply fabulous — perfectly capturing the era and Norma's flamboyant character.

On the negative side, the first ten minutes were badly flawed by sound issues, at least for those of us in the front of the stalls. I hope something that will not be repeated at future performances.

Overall, Malta's premiere of Sunset Boulevard was both authentic and yet freshly local. I look forward to the next production of a musical classic.

The term 'pavilion' comes from the Venice Biennale, where a selection of countries curate their own pavilions in the general art park.

Here in Malta, the 'pavilions' are in reality 'rooms' around the main courtyard at Fort St Elmo. The spaces vary in size and this can affect one's appreciation. The Chinese Pavilion, "The Realm of Clarity: Ecological Foresight and Civilisational Exchange in Oriental Wisdom", feels somewhat cramped in the space provided, with a lot of works crammed in. Curated by Ying Jinfei and realised by 13 contemporary artists, it weaves a "water culture" narrative through woodblock prints, ink paintings and watercolours.

There are a lot of wordy descriptions in these exhibitions, and a lot of politics. Rather than "didactic eco‑propaganda", the Chinese works propose "harmony between humanity and nature as a slow, almost calligraphic discipline, where restraint and emptiness matter as much as image". In this setting, "ecological foresight becomes inseparable from civilisational dialogue": the pavilion invites visitors to read Malta's harbours through concepts like "nourishing all beings" and "clarifying all rivers", suggesting that sustainable futures depend on mutual learning as much as technological solutions.

So far so good, but one can't help but think that in proposing a "long‑duration, trans‑Asian–Mediterranean dialogue about balance and restraint" the foreign policy of the People's Republic is being fulfilled. The aim to "link Chinese rivers to the Mediterranean Sea" sounds too like an expression of the CCP's "Bridge and Road initiative."

Other spaces are also politicised, but are more generous in what they offer to the curators, and some have sought to interact with Fort St Elmo itself. The French Pavilion, "Facing the Challenge", seems to be channelling the Fort's defensive history as a metaphor for our perceived current protections from what feels like the 'End of Times'. It presents Louis‑Paul Caron's immersive installation confronting climate crisis and generative AI as twin urgencies. Curated by Dominique Moulon, it stages strangely serene scenes amid encroaching fires, using AI‑generated imagery to question responsibility, and technological complicity. As well as our impulse to keep looking, and yet keep ignoring. A series of figures who we view from the back seem to be watching the end of the world in a series of cataclysmic fires. Passively.

Otherwise, for me perhaps the most memorable exhibition was one of the smaller ones. The Armenian Pavilion, "The Sound of What Was Never Seen", is a haunting, slow-burn meditation on erased histories and fragile remembrance. Painter and sculptor Raffi Yedalian, curated by Sona Hovhannisyan, has installed a highly successful mobile with Braquian elements. One of Fort St Elmo's stone chambers becomes a space where sound, shadow and scratched surfaces stand in for missing archives. Rather than illustrating specific events, the work evokes "the emotional afterimage of violence and displacement, asking what it means for a small nation to carry vast, often invisible trauma into a seemingly placid Mediterranean present."

Poland's "Archive of Hesitations" has similar themes, with Weronika Zalewska's work treating the archive not as a store of facts but as a choreography of omission, redaction and second thoughts. I am not sure the grainy black and white images of post industrial Poland are the best advertisement for Poland's tourist industry however.

Overall, this a thought provoking Biennale. Not least because I came away wondering if the very lengthy descriptions of what the art is trying to say, in themselves say something about the contemporary art world. Why does our art require pamphlets? Picasso's Guernica did not need much description. It communicated in itself, like a punch in the face.

Moveo Dance Company, founded in 2008 by Artistic Director Dorian Mallia in Malta, is an award-winning contemporary dance ensemble. Renowned for original productions like "Frida," "Carmen," and "The Other Door," it performs at local festivals such as Malta International Arts Festival and Notte Bianca, while touring internationally with shows like "From Malta with Love."

Their latest show '7 Sins' is an interesting if uneven work. Each of the Seven Deadly Sins is explored, in a supposed underground chamber presided over by a Master Of Ceremonies. This is 'immersion theatre' in the sense that each member of the audience is asked to vote at the end of the piece with a token given to you as you enter, just don't drop on the way to your seat as I did.

The concept is good, and some of the individual sins stand out. A weird exploration of 'Gluttony' with a nun devouring chocolates who turns round to reveal a giant mouse head, and somehow dances backwards. 'Wrath' sees one of the company infuriated as we all have been, to the point of uncontrollable anger by a telephone bot that just won't recognize the jumper he has ordered is supersize. 'Vanity' is also haunting, and well performed.

All of the tableaux are visually charged. They are also weird - do girls really have sexual fantasies about other girls dressed as Father Christmas as in 'Lust'? And the masks in 'Greed' were both visually charged and weird. Nothing wrong with that.

But overall there is just not enough dancing, and some of the pieces feel a bit thin. I found myself losing concentration, particularly as two girls in row B were filming the performance on their iPhones, very distracting in the dark.

I know this young troupe well and I think they could do more. More dancing less acting please.

When I walk along the waterfront of the Three Cities, or spot a gondola (albeit motorized) in the Grand Harbour, I often think that Malta has great similarities to Venice. So perhaps it is no surprise that it should have its own version of that City's famous Biennale (bi-annual) Contemporary Art Fair.Malta's inaugural edition was in 2024, now in 2026 this second edition, under curator Rosa Martínez has a theme "Clean. Clear. Cut." Full stops in the wrong place being a current fad. It runs March 11th to May 29th, across eleven Heritage Malta sites, including Birgu and Gozo's Ċittadella. There will be over 130 artists from 43 countries showcasing works in 29 national/thematic pavilions, as well as numerous satellite events.We will return to the main show later. For now let's discuss one of the best of the satellite events."Entry Denied" is a provocative satellite exhibition at Christine X Art Gallery in Sliema. Best described as small but powerful. It confronts the hidden barriers in the global art world, spotlighting artists impacted by visa refusals. This ties into the Biennale's theme by exposing contradictions in art's supposed interconnectedness. The global art scene celebrates mobility, yet bureaucratic, racialized, and economic hurdles systematically exclude many creators from international platforms."Entry Denied" aims to transform these personal struggles into powerful "artivism," challenging the myth of the unrestricted "global artist." Featuring contemporary artists whose careers were disrupted by cross-border exclusions, the works include documentary pieces like rejection letters and deferred dreams. These pieces resist invisibility, fostering radical empathy and questioning access inequities—who speaks, who is seen? It reimagines a future of justice and reciprocity in culture.For me the standout artist is Dereje Shiferaw, an Ethiopian painter born in Asmara, Eritrea. His paintings are bold, colourful creations that are testaments to his African roots. The works exhibited here feature a black hero figure who dominates the canvases. A real person, indeed a big person, yet one whose creativity is denied, and who the bureaucracy aims to make invisible. In one work, 'Visa', the Visa he has been denied dominates the canvas, and yet it doesn't. His strength wins through.Whilst there is a strong racial theme to this exhibition, its appeal is broader. To all of those, creatives or otherwise, who have faced off against a grim and often unyielding bureaucracy.Christine X Art Gallery, 53 Tigne street Sliema, open Monday-Saturday, 10am-1pm and 4-7pm until April 9th.

This much anticipated production of 1984 is sadly flawed, not the performance, but the writing. This adaptation by Duncan MacMillan will annoy purists and most fans of George Orwell's original work. Nonetheless, the strength of that original shines through, particularly for newcomers. There were some skateboarders, with their boards, at the back the night I attended, and they loved it. Indeed, as ever, the cleverness of 1984 comes across in the multiple reactions which it engenders in its audience, and in its eternal lessons.

George Orwell's 1984, written in 1948, portrays a grim dystopian future in which 'the Party', led by the omnipresent Big Brother, rules 'Oceania' through relentless surveillance and thought control. Protagonist Winston Smith, a low-ranking member of the 'Outer Party' employed at the Ministry of Truth, spends his days altering historical records to align with the regime's ever changing version of reality. Disillusioned, he embarks on a forbidden diary and then begins an illicit affair with Julia, a fellow worker employed to "tend the machines that create fiction" – interestingly Orwell predicted AI here. The two seek fleeting moments of humanity amid the oppression, but their rebellion draws the attention of the 'Thought Police', leading to Winston's arrest, and harrowing torture in the 'Ministry of Love.'

The greatness of the piece comes not least in the differing audience reactions which it creates. One theatre goer thought it was obviously all about the current "Islamofascist regime in Iran", another saw it as a reference to contemporary China with its sophisticated attempts at mind control and continuous surveillance through technology. Both are very valid views.

But we should perhaps look a little closer to home as well. Central to the piece, and indeed our reactions to it, is the new language Orwell invented – Newspeak. This has been introduced by the totalitarian Party to corrupt the very meaning of language and permit alternative truths. In this sense, others see the Manoel production as a reference to the current debate around 'Fake News.' Or, if you like, a posing of the question: is it the Gulf of Mexico or the Gulf of America?

But what is clever about Newspeak is that it is intended not just to permit propaganda, but through its restructuring of language and manipulation of words, to make negative, unpermitted thoughts themselves almost impossible. As such, one final group declares this play to be a clear indictment of the rise of political correctness and the cult of woke. The elimination of gender pronouns in language, or the blurring between singular and plural with the newly required use of "they," linguistic changes enforced to achieve political goals.

That so many people can come away with so many different interpretations is a testament to the golden treasure trove of evergreen truth that is at the heart of this work.

What is most disappointing is that much of the rewriting for this production has corrupted and blunted the original. Winston's inevitable downfall is too clearly signposted (this could perhaps be corrected by the Director). The relationship between Winston and Julia is not given enough room to grow. And the chorus in Winston's head at the beginning makes the first ten minutes of the play very slow.

More successful is the updating of the technology necessary in a science fiction work nearly 80 years old. As are the performances by Edward Caruana Galizia as Winston, and Tina Rizzo as Julia. And the torture scenes are as shocking as ever. This is not a play for children. But perhaps it is one that is important for the skateboarders.

Fauré's Requiem received a sublime, intimate rendition last Friday from the KorMalta Ensemble. The concert took place at the breathtaking Church of St. Catherine in Italy—a venue perfectly suited to this chamber scale, its Renaissance arches and golden frescoes enveloping the music and allowing this performance to seem bigger than it was.

Performed in a rare arrangement for harp, violin, cello, and piano under guest conductor Christopher Muscat, this event in KorMalta's Ensemble Series successfully captured with luminous clarity the work's essence of offering peaceful consolation amid life's sorrows.

Gabriel Fauré composed his Requiem between 1887 and 1890, inspired by personal grief including his father's death. Defying grim traditions for this genre and rejecting judgment and damnation, he crafted a "lullaby of death" emphasising serenity and redemption. Born from his organist tenure at La Madeleine in Paris, movements like "Pie Jesu" and "In Paradisum" radiate the triumph of hope over terror.

KorMalta, Malta's national choir under NAPA, is led by Artistic Director Riccardo Bianchi—who thrillingly sang himself on Friday. Since 2018, the ensemble has elevated Maltese choral artistry to symphonic heights, mastering polyphony, and acquiring new polish in the Island's festivals.

Six strong voices including Bianchi delivered ethereal blend and precision, with the soprano soaring to the rafters in the final movement. The volume from just five instruments and six singers was extraordinary, filling the majestic space with profound depth. Emotional unity from pros who performed as one.

St. Catherine's beauty amplified every harp glissando and vocal flourish, making this Requiem a transcendent balm.

Step into Sailor's Paradise Bar in Valletta's historic Strait Street—once known as The Gut—and you're not just watching a show; you're living it. Udjenza's Sailors in the City: The Strait Street Experience, directed by Toni Attard, is immersion theatre at its best in a bar setting. It whisks you to Victory in Europe Day, 1945. WWII's end unleashes music, mischief, and clinking glasses in this intimate "living museum," where original artifacts whisper tales of Malta's gritty past. Grab the complimentary beer, or even better a couple of cheap but strong cocktails, and surrender to the magic.

As you head towards Paradise Bar you pass a small sign at waist level announcing you are in The Gut. It reminds you of the street's colourful past as the Soho of Malta, teeming with young tarts. One such girl is at the heart of this piece. Violetta, brought to vibrant life across rotations by Hannah Gatt, Tina Rizzo, and Charlotte Formosa. On the night I attended, Violetta's singing was pure, emotive gold. Her renditions of wartime classics like We'll Meet Again and Lili Marlene dripped with barmaid swagger and heartfelt nostalgia.

Her brother Duminku, played outstandingly by Jeremy Grech (who also penned the script), was great fun, and almost stole the show. Bursting with front-line stories, Grech embodied the cheeky sailor perfectly—his charisma, comic timing, and poignant delivery revived forgotten Strait Street characters with infectious energy. He bantered endlessly with us punters, make sure you've had that cocktail, and belted out Roll out the Barrel like his life depended on it.

Gennaro, the accordionist portrayed by Albert Garzia (also the music director), deserves high praise for his masterful playing. His lively squeezes infused the classics with authentic Maltese flair, though at times, it was hard to fully hear Violetta over his powerhouse playing—a minor immersion hiccup in the bar's cozy acoustics, but one that heightened the raucous street-party vibe.

Particularly meaningful, in these bellicose times, this 60-minute gem from Udjenza blends theatre, music, and history into pure joy. Visitors shouldn't miss it—Valletta's past has never pulsed so vividly.

Grab a Blue Label on the house and step back into the gritty glamour of Malta's most legendary strip.

The excellent ZfinMalta national Dance Company had a hard act to follow after the huge triumph of NACAR last week. They offered us an interesting if confusing work.

German choreographer Sita Ostheimar has worked with the Hofesh Shecter Company in London and the Paris Opera Ballet. She describes her work as follows: "the strong physicality of her creations generates a deep connection with each performer's mental state and emotional inner world." The connection with the audience is perhaps less prioritized.

Mortal Heroes is a difficult work to get to grips with, and the creatives' description doesn't help. We are told it is a "visceral exploration of human potential—an odyssey through chaos and love, shadow and light, fragility and force" which "creates an atmosphere both intimate and vast....tense yet alive...delicate yet explosive, aggressive yet tender."

This can be confusing, but at base would seem to be an exploration of human interactions, a strange repetition of attractions and rejections, where "the heroic lies not in perfection, but in vulnerability, courage, and the will to continue." After 50 minutes you just about get it, there are a lot of repeated interactions and movements, to Andrea Casalis's throbbing music.

The intention is perhaps clearest in the occasional pas de deuxs, such as a well executed one between Andrea Biagioni and Mario Manara, and another between Andrea and one of the women — it was hard to make out exactly who with the low lighting.

Indeed the "immersive lighting" by British designer Barnaby Booth plays a big part in this piece. The close collaboration over some years between him and Sita becomes clear. There are dramatic darknesses when the dancers rearrange themselves to surprise us when the lights come back on. But generally the lighting is very soft and adds to the confusing world in which the performers seem trapped to repeat their relationship failures, but somehow keep going.

Holly Knowles' costumes were also hard to get. Loose, flowing, blousy, it was hard to be sure what they were saying, even after 50 minutes. But then again, perhaps that was the point.

Dance in Malta goes from strength to strength. The national dance company, ŻfinMalta, forms part of the National Agency for the Performing Arts and is made up of ten incredibly talented full-time dancers, and two apprentices, hailing from Malta and across Europe. It is producing its own works under the artistic direction of Matthew William Robinson, who earned his dancing spurs as the artistic Director of VERVE in the UK.

The company also produces some very interesting works in collaboration with choreographers from elsewhere in Europe such as this glorious new work NÁCAR. It is simply outstanding.

Paloma Muñoz is a Barcelona-based choreographer and dancer from Extremadura, holding a degree in Choreography and Performance from the Conservatori Superior del Institut del Teatre de Barcelona. She herself has danced with notable companies including IT Dansa, Metros, Ramón Oller, Thomas Noone Dance.

This new work by Paloma "explores a desire to inhabit ghosts; those that survive in images, that persist in our bodies, and call out from the invisible." In this choreography, she invites us to "lend our bodies to the memory of others — to become vessels of presence, beauty, and shared echoes." It is a challenging concept, particularly as the dancing is highly sexualized, but it works.

When the dancers first appeared I noticed that Alessandro Pellegrinelli had strangely red eyes and I though he must have been overdoing it in a club the night before. I then realised they all had them, and that this was in fact all part of Lind Rowell's design theme. Think 'Dance of the Zombies.' She naturally puts the dancers in floaty white costumes.

The dancing is simply outstanding, and all the dancers deserve applauds especially as Paloma's choreography is quite demanding. Such as when Marti Blanco Romeau has to support himself with his head at a sharp angle and the rest of his body pointed skywards like a giant 'L'. Mario Manara is mesmerizing and demonstrates extraordinary flexibility, true star quality.

The music by Alejandro Da Rocha is suitably haunting. A rhythmic drumming like a heart beat. This is a simply "must see" show that I hope will be frequently reprised.

To learn more about ŻfinMalta visit their website. Photos by: Darrin Zammit Lupi

Malta's classical music scene is incredibly rich with deep roots in the many churches and their choral traditions. But opera also flourishes, with a strong emphasis on the baroque thanks to the annual festival at the beginning of each year. Singers are often brought in from Italy or elsewhere, as well as the strong home grown talent. And producers are not afraid of unearthing lesser known works such as this one.

Girolamo Abos's opera Pelopida, was originally commissioned and performed in Rome's Teatro Argentina in 1747. This is the first time in living memory that the opera has been performed in its entirety and in costume, rather than as a concert performance.

It is a richly crafted, luxuriant piece with no shortage of arias. The set is also innovative. Ancient Greece is reimagined as a contemporary sculpture museum thanks to designer Anthony Bonnici.

The plot is as complicated as ever. Exiled patriot Pelopida returns to Thebes to defend its liberty. King Creon, seeking reconciliation, decrees that the former tyrant Pisistratus be restored to the throne. Creon's envoy Egisto brings this command before the Theban council, urging obedience. Outraged, Pelopida summons the citizens before the altar of Mars and makes them swear an oath never again to suffer a tyrant's rule. Complex plots ensue.

Strong performances from Valentino Buzza (Pelopida), Filippo Mineccia (Egisto) and Lorrie Garcia (Aspasia). Giulio Prandi conducts with confidence, and Luke Azzopardi carries the costume concepts well.

All this takes quite some time, and is not for the faint hearted, but this was a highly successful production of a rarely done opera.

The jewel in the crown of Malta's Baroque festival was intended to be The Quattro Stagioni Extravaganza, and boy did it live up to billing. It was an electric evening led by the cream of the London and Maltese music scene, gifted virtuosos like Maximilian Hornung, Charlie Siem, and Carmine Lauri.

Vivaldi's set of concertos depicting the Four Seasons is the most famous and iconic work in the Baroque repertoire and Charlie began by poking fun at "lift music," and telling us not to worry, we would be treated to something closer to the glorious original heard in early eighteenth century Mantua.

He also reminded us that these compositions marked a significant shift in musical interpretation, indeed were quite revolutionary. Vivaldi depicted natural elements such as flowing streams, a variety of birds—each identified by distinct characteristics—buzzing insects, storms, icy landscapes, and the warmth of winter fires. He blended these with human interactions with the changing elements. A shepherd accompanied by his dog, dancers under the influence of alcohol, hunting scenes from both the hunter's and prey's perspectives. Extravaganza properly captures its scope and majesty.

There was quite a jokey rivalry between Carmine and Charlie which pushed both of them into giving perhaps the best performances I have ever seen from each. They are both at the very top of their game and their complex honed talent is a delight to behold.

It is certainly the best performance I have ever heard of the Four Seasons, and I've heard many. It is a feather in the cap of the Festival's organizers that they can capture such big beasts of the European classical music scene for us to enjoy.