Cork Proms review: Opera House hosts enjoyable night of hits from musical theatre classics
The first leg of the Cork Proms 2025 was Epic Icons of Musical Theatre, with soloists Juliette Crosbie, Ben Morris, Claire O'Leary, Shane O'Riordan, and Jacinta Whyte tackling some of the biggest numbers of the genre.
Accompanied by the excellent Cork Opera House Concert Orchestra, curated by Trevor Ryan, and conducted by John O'Brien, the show featured numbers from musicals both old and new, with shows like Chicago, Les Misérables, and Waitress being well-received.
A particular highlight was Crosbie's emotive interpretation of the ballad She Used To Be Mine from Waitress, a soaring and heartfelt tune, while her duet with O'Leary on Wicked's Defying Gravity was a crowd-pleaser, with great use of the stage lights for dramatic effect.
A scene from Epic Icons Of Musical Theatre, part of the Cork Proms. Picture: Celeste Burdon
Another vocally-challenging number is Being Alive from Stephen Sondheim's Company but it is one O'Riordan sang with ease, the high notes seeming effortless as he explored the character Robert's feelings about marriage.
Whyte, who has played Grizabella in Cats, brought her experience to Cork in a strong performance of Memory, and Morris impressed with a timely take on Gethsemane from Jesus Christ Superstar, with one particularly high note eliciting impressed gasps from the auditorium.
A special mention must go to the young singers on the night who delighted the audience in ensemble pieces like You've Got To Pick A Pocket Or Two from Oliver! and Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious from Mary Poppins. Ellie Byrne, Con Curtin, John Gunn, Sadbh Murphy, Emilia O'Brien, and Emma O'Donnell were full of talent and charm on the stage.
The closing number, the stirring ensemble piece One Day More from Les Misérables, seemed a strange choice for a company of just five singers, and while they made a valiant effort, it would have benefited from more voices coming together. Perhaps Do You Hear The People Sing from the same show would have been a stronger choice for the number of singers they had on stage.
Overall, Epic Icons of Musical Theatre was a delightful night of music for fans of the genre, with iconic songs from Broadway and the West End well-represented by a stellar line-up.
The Cork Proms continue on Wednesday, April 23 with The Ultimate Classics before taking on Kings, Queens and Princes of Pop on April 26 and 27. See corkoperahouse.ie
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Irish Examiner
a day ago
- Irish Examiner
Al Porter: "We judge ourselves by our intentions, but we judge other people by their actions"
Not for the first time, Al Porter is riffing on a memory. 'I found this clip of me on Gerry Ryan when I was 12,' he says, going a mile a minute as he recalls one of his earliest roles in a childhood production of Bugsy Malone. 'I listened to it in the car the other day, and Brenda Donohue says, 'Gerry, I've got a young man here from Tallaght, he's 12 years old, his name is Alan Kavanagh, and he's playing the part of Knuckles. Say good morning, Gerry.' And she says to me, 'Can you do that?' I'm obviously nervous. And I go, 'Good morning, Gerry.' And the unbroken little boy's voice.' And here Porter switches to Gerry's booming broadcast tenor. 'And Gerry says, 'Good morning, Alan Kavanagh, what a great part to get.' And I go, 'It is a great part.' 'And I went: 'That's the top of my show.'' The show is Algorithm but, as the Tallaght-born comedian describes the background to his new material, it's clear why the pre-fame Alan Kavanagh is also name-checked: Porter, now 32, believes his writing — and maybe his life — is now more relatable, and certainly more true to himself. 'I almost welled up when I heard it,' he says of the Gerry Ryan clip, 'because of what it means to me. Because the point is that this show definitely seems to be the most firmly grounded in the present that I've ever done.' We're meeting by the seaside in West Cork, down at Dunmore House Hotel, to which Porter has been driven all the way from Dublin by his friend Alan. Looking slim in his blue Oxford shirt and occasionally tugging on a rhubarb-and-custard coloured vape, Porter is gearing up for a string of shows, including a night at Cork Opera House. He's raring to go — 'I need to stop talking, I'm sorry' — but, over two hours of conversation, he springs a few surprises: how despite his love for stand-up, for all he knows, this could be his last tour; about taking on a lead role in a new self-penned play only because the budget isn't there to cast someone else; why he's not particularly bothered about doing a podcast or being on TV; and — no joke — becoming a certified celebrant for weddings, baptisms, and funerals. It seems there has always been two sides to Al Porter/Alan Kavanagh — but now? 'Oh yeah, I mean, they've met, right?' he says. 'I used to think that being funny was a bit of a mask, like a bit of a barrier. And the suit tied into that. I always talk about how I was able to present as composed on the outside but total chaos on the inside. And when I went to college and I left school, I was actually pretty ill-equipped. In my school, everybody knew me. I was 'our Alan'. 'That's our Alan.' 'That's what Al is like.' And everybody knew me for all my quirks. And then when I went to college, everybody thought I'd be fine because I've been such a good student but suddenly I felt totally lost and really exposed, and like really all this anxiety came to a head, and I went, 'I'm not doing this.' Being a 19-year-old, greasy college student with no friends, I'm not doing it. And I invented something else to be.' For the new show, 'I wanted to have that element of loose, rough around the edges, spontaneous,' he says, referencing his conversational, come-here-and-I'll-tell-you style. 'What I like is the idea that maybe you don't know what you're going to get, because humans are messy and full of contradictions. And if you're sitting there and you're going, 'What's he going to say next?' That, to me, is the excitement in stand-up. 'I only chose the name [Algorithm] because I went, 'What am I going to call the show?' And I went through all sorts of names. I asked my followers online, 'What do you think I should call it?' They gave me some pretty mad suggestions, like, 'What about Al Porter Rides Again? Or Al Porter Back On Top?' And I went, 'No.' And so then I just saw Tommy [Tiernan] did Tomfoolery, Emma [Doran] did Dilemma!, and I went, 'I'll just take Algorithm.' It feels current but, as I've written the show and now I'm looking back at the material, there is kind of a theme.' Those themes hove towards the online world but also reflect on the sometimes daft reality of life in Ireland, not least being part of Generation Stuck. Porter only properly moved out of his parents' home last year but, as with most situations, he can see an upside. 'If there's one good thing that has come from Generation Stuck, it is that we got to spend a lot of time with our parents,' he says. 'And at the time, when you're going, 'I can't fucking cough in this house,' you know, 'I can't move, I have no space,' and you feel like your future is stalled… but, in retrospect, I think we're all going think it was nice. 'Being left with your parents as the youngest, you're left with them at their oldest. My sister says, 'Oh, I remember when me and Mam went to Torremolinos,' and I'm going, 'I remember when we went to A&E,' — I got these different parents. But whatever it is, it seems to be getting this heartier laugh. And also, maybe I wasn't that relatable when I was 21, because how many people are an all-singing, all-dancing, suit-wearing 21-year-old, hosting a game show. As opposed to now, where you go, 'He's living in a house share, he's 32, he doesn't know if he wants to get married.' Yeah, that's real.' Al Porter in West Cork. Picture: Eddie O'Hare ALLEGATIONS And here we must talk about that younger iteration of Al, not least because Al will talk about him. Back in mid-2017, allegations of inappropriate behaviour were made against Porter. By November 2019, a charge of sexual assault against him was dropped in Dublin District Court but it was late 2023 before he really moved to return to stand-up and performing. He had gone from absolute media ubiquity to nothing. It was from those dark and confusing years, he says, that he emerged not only sober but intensely reflective about his past behaviour — a personal reconstruction that continues today. 'The joy of it now is definitely not needing it [fame] for validation,' he says. 'And there's only one reason for that, because I, hand on heart, believe I would have become a very strange person and very maybe unhappy person if I didn't drastically change what I valued once I was not doing it any more. Because what I realised was there was nothing I liked about myself and nothing I valued other than other people's opinion of me back then. And then it was gone. 'And so every night I went out there to convince the audience I was great. I was funny. 'Love me, love me, love me.' And if I got that, great, and then I needed the next fix of that, and now that I don't need that, because there are things I value that are to do with personal intention, and that then extends out to family and friends and your God [etc]. So I don't need the audience to like or love me. I don't need it so I don't want anything from them. So now it's even more joyous because it's more generous. 'Because now I go out and go, 'I wouldn't want to be anywhere else than here tonight. I'm going to give you what I got. I hope you like it.' And then I leave, and I really don't worry about whether they loved it or not. Of course, if they fucking hate it, you go, 'Fuck,'' he adds, laughing. It is a serious business, however; the internet never forgets and Porter says he could never have swept everything to one side. 'I'll never forget,' he says, 'I mean, it's not unrealistic to say that, I think about it every single day. And you've got to be careful, because you'll drive yourself mad, to not relive it every single day. I know the mistakes I made that put me in the vulnerable position that I ended up in, you know, in the sense that I know the ways in which I wasn't respectful to other people, or recklessly was inconsiderate of other people, or regardless of intention, because, you know, we judge ourselves by our intentions, but we judge other people by their actions. "But I know the moments where I go, 'I wish I could redo that,' knowing what I know now. But if you relived that, how can you move on and live your life and be a good person? So when I say I think about it every day, every day, I remember, this is how you fucked up. You know how that all played out, and you've got to renew that commitment to yourself, to, as I call it, living your amends, you know — go 'You've got to be the better person today,' again and again.' Given that we live in the age of the spoofer and the double-down, of zero accountability and shameless non-apologies, Porter, at the very least, appears to be reckoning with this past through how he lives his present. He doesn't see people buying tickets to his shows as either forgiveness or as people forgetting, though it could be either or neither; instead, he sees it simply as a show of support. He says his last show was the therapy, and this one is the party. 'You know, one woman emailed me and said, 'I have my own fucking problems. I don't need to come to Al Porter for 15 minutes of you telling me that you're an arsehole.' But I wrote back and said, 'Listen, I think you'll prefer next year's show, because I think I'll be in a better position to say, 'We already talked about that.'' Yet he's still very much happy to talk about that. 'A good thing to do sometimes is to play a game in your imagination and go, 'If 92-year-old me — please God, I get to 92 — could look back at 32-year-old me and say, 'Was I using the time I got in a way that I'm proud of?' I would say, when I play that imagination game, I go, 'Yeah.' I wouldn't want to come back and shake me and go, 'What are you doing?' 'And I feel like if 18-year-old me could have seen 23-year-old me, like a video, he would have said, 'What the fuck is that?' I really think the person I was who was kind of a smart kid, kind of a nice kid, a smiley kid, and you know, would I have liked the 23-year-old, [who was] very caught up in ideas about ambition and in a haze of money and drink and blah. If 18-year-old me could see me now and know what I've got kind of coming down the line, I think they would go, 'Oh, that makes sense, yeah. That seems like me.'' Porter recently posted an old photograph on Instagram, showing a heavier, drowsier-looking Al. It was posted, he says, as an act of gratitude, a way of signposting his path to today, in keeping with attending AA meetings and in the context of an ongoing autism assessment and all the other facets of his life now. But he draws my attention to an extensive exchange underneath the photograph, in which a woman takes issue with Porter, revealing she knows one of the people Porter says he has apologised to, and querying whether what is on display — the contrition, the reflection, the life rebuild — is for real. 'I tried to respond by making living amends. I haven't gone without punishment but I also believe in rehabilitation,' Al reads from one of his replies. 'I'm saying I messed up, and will try to work on myself. You're saying you doubt the sincerity of it. I'll have to keep walking my path, knowing not everyone will accept it. I wish you the best. She said, 'I appreciate your response... and I sincerely hope that your behaviour has changed.' So the conversation was worth having.' Porter seems to be having that conversation with himself a lot. 'The thing about it is that you can perform authenticity but that's not authenticity,' he says. 'I just feel freer on stage. I just feel I'm not trying to be anything other than good. OK, so I have one mission, like I don't have a podcast to protect, I don't have a sponsor, I don't have a TV show. I'm not a culture warrior. I'm not left wing, I'm not right wing, you know, so I've got one job and I'm going, 'It's simplified.'' NO BUDGET Al Porter on stage. Does he miss all that — the shows, the glitzier opportunities? 'Well, firstly, nobody's asked, so I don't want people to go, 'You weren't fucking asked,'' he says with a chuckle. 'But theoretically, if I was asked, no. Because I've learned from experience that I spread myself thin. I thought the more I did, the better it reflected on me, like, 'I can do everything. I can do radio. I can write for newspapers. I can do TV. I can write pantomimes. I can write plays. I can do stand-up, and then I can host.' And you end up on fucking Big Week on the Farm, or, you know, eating a sandwich on The Six O'Clock Show, and you just go, 'Wait, sorry, what? How did I get here? Why am I milking a cow on Big Week on the Farm?'' Porter references class quite often, in terms of writing a Perrier Award-nominated show while also seeking a broad appeal, the kind of Frankie Howerd effect. 'I do have a sentimental streak,' he says. 'I think it's something sometimes that working-class writers have. Sometimes, like any man in a working-class pub that I hang out with, can be a bit like when Eamon Dunphy gets teary-eyed at the end of the night, but there is that sentimental thing of needing broad entertainment, of needing to laugh because you'd cry otherwise.' His play, called The Kavanaghs and likely to receive a big push in 2027, has been co-written with Karl Spain and with Porter's longtime partner, Mike, acting as sounding board. Porter will play a role but only due to budget constraints, recalling how he was told: 'You have to do it, right, because you're going to do it for free.' He is, he says, 'at a crossroads'. 'I don't know if I'll do a standard tour again,' he says. 'But maybe I will. But I'm not trying to do it like it's the farewell tour. I'm about less bells and whistles now. The less bells and whistles the better. I do a stand-up joke about Instagram speak where I go, 'I am delighted to announce that, due to phenomenal demand,' you know, people say this every day, and then I go, 'I am relieved to announce, that due to financial pressure…' 'The only reason that I would say, 'Oh, I don't know if there'd be another tour like this,' is not because I don't enjoy it. I mean, I really love it. I wouldn't have gone back to it if it wasn't that I loved it so much, and it's like, I feel like I disappear on stage.' The stage is a kind of sanctuary — arguably the most exposed type of sanctuary you can get but the one he's rooted to all the same. Any diverting from it, he says, would be because other things will come along, and he's not talking about going back to presenting Blind Date. Instead, it is the possibility of travel, the reality of studying theology, and the actual process, already under way, of becoming a certified celebrant. But maybe, given how he wanted to be a priest when he was younger and he prays before going on stage, this shouldn't be such a surprise. 'This is a faith-neutral place, it's not humanist or secular,' he explains. 'If you're a humanist celebrant, you absolutely cannot introduce faith. Whereas what I would be doing is a faith-neutral, inter-faith course, so if you say to me, 'I'm Muslim, I'm Christian, I'm not really practising, but Nana would like to hear something she recognises, and Dad would like to hear [something]…' I would be in a position to say, 'I know a little bit about that, I know some readings from here, readings from there, here are some poems, let's mix it up.'' He could be available for the gig 'basically, in a year' and, as to the reasons why, he says: 'To be a part of that special moment in somebody's life, whether it is a funeral, a naming ceremony, or a wedding, which is more joyous, but to be there and to be a part of it. I think a lot of it is word of mouth that you get those gigs. Who is going to want Alan Kavanagh to celebrate their wedding? But some people might.' The younger Al Porter seemed to occupy all the spotlight. Present-day Alan Kavanagh has no such issue. 'If I do my job right it'll be more about them than it will be about me,' he says. And, just for a second, he sounds like the kid who's just landed the role, the fella who's dazed and a little nervous about it all. As Gerry Ryan said all those years ago, what a great part to get. Al Porter is at Cork Opera House on August 31. Read More What we know about that couple on Coldplay's kiss cam
Irish Times
2 days ago
- Irish Times
Oliver Callan gets acidic about the Orange Order
He may have a prime time slot on the nation's most popular radio station, but while Oliver Callan ( RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays) has to appeal to a broad audience, he doesn't appear to have had much in the way of cultural sensitivity training. Opening his show on Monday, the host surveys the events of the previous weekend, paying particular attention to the Twelfth of July parades in the North . 'The Orangemen got their only exercise of the year,' Callan tartly observes, 'Loyal Orange lodges, the only thing they might be loyal to is sausage rolls, by the cut of a lot of them.' Now, Callan needn't unduly worry about offending the sensibilities of an organisation whose more dedicated followers celebrate their biggest holiday by burning effigies of refugees . But body-shaming them? That's the kind of thing that sets off alarms in HR. The presenter might want to be more cognisant of the feelings of others, or he'll be in hot water quicker than you can say 'citrus intolerance'. [ 'Isn't it brilliant' a mother says, photographing her children at the bonfire topped with an effigy of a migrant boat Opens in new window ] In Callan's defence, it's the only astringent note in an otherwise jolly week that has him broadcasting from across the northwest. Monday's programme comes from Donegal, where he gives his hot take on the demeanour of the locals. READ MORE 'They tell about three jokes, as dry as a chardonnay, every year,' Callan says, not unadmiringly, before praising natives of the county for shunning anything that smacks of ostentation, 'such as using your whole mouth to speak.' What did we say about not making fun of people's appearance, Mr Callan? When it comes to interviewing his guests, however, the host is benignity personified. He talks enthusiastically about Donegal's All-Ireland football semi-final win with the county's former manager Brian McEniff, who as a hotelier also provides his insights into the tourism trade this summer: 'Not great.' But such downbeat blips are the exception. Another veteran of the hotel business, Noel Cunningham, takes a more upbeat tack, talking up the hospitality available in Donegal. As he travels down the coast, Callan's monologues grow ever saucier. In Sligo on Tuesday, he jokes about catching a 'Yeats infection', while the following day's show from Mayo has him describing the Erris peninsula as a 'geographical Langer'. But again, a breezy mood prevails, with the host at his most chatty as he learns about local attractions such as Blacksod lighthouse, from where he broadcasts on Wednesday. None of this is groundbreaking nor even memorable, but it makes for easy summer listening, the good-natured proceedings enlivened by Callan's flash of acidic humour. It's also notable that he meets several local residents originally from foreign climes such as Australia, the Philippines and America, all of whom he gets on with famously. Happily, Callan has no problem with diversity. It's always a mixed bag on The Ray D'Arcy Show (RTÉ Radio 1, weekdays), as the host moves between items of varying substance. D'Arcy sounds most at ease when the subject is lightweight, literally so in the case of a 3D crocheted map of Ireland knitted by a group of Wicklow women. 'The best thing I've seen in a long time,' he tells Liz Butler of Carnew Community Care centre, 'It's spectacular.' But he also tackles more difficult topics, though the shifts in tone can be awkward. On Monday, as excavation works commence to recover infant remains on the site of the Tuam mother and baby home, he talks to local historian Catherine Corless, who uncovered the lack of burial records for 800 babies at the institution. D'Arcy's admiration for his guest is obvious, the host pointedly remarking that when she first revealed her findings 11 years ago, she was scoffed at by many. Local historian Catherine Corless, who uncovered the lack of burial records for 800 babies at Tuam. Photograph: Dan Dennison Asked how she now feels, Corless replies 'justice has been finally served', though she regrets it took so long for church and state authorities to act. But her account of how the home disposed the bodies of the dead infants still horrifies to the core. 'The babies were literally dropped down, placed on top of each other,' she says. 'The least we can do is give their dignity back.' D'Arcy wisely holds back throughout, leaving Corless to talk uninterrupted – her determination is palpable, even when calling from a train – though he makes one indisputable contribution: 'On behalf of the country, I want to thank you.' [ Tuam is a microcosm for Ireland's history of discarded bones Opens in new window ] The host sounds less sure of himself when speaking to Dublin poet Stephen James Smith. D'Arcy lurches between questions on his guest's move to Wexford, his work with arts and mental health charity First Fortnight, and the difference between a poem and a song. 'Where are we going now, Ray?' an amused Smith asks at one point. But amid it all, D'Arcy makes an admission that, far from suggesting uncertainty, speaks of a deeper curiosity beneath his on-air persona. 'I'm only coming to terms with how poetry can cut through things,' he says. Smith unsurprisingly agrees. 'We often turn to it in important times in our life,' the poet replies, 'It saved my life.' D'Arcy's show mightn't have quite that impact, but it can definitely surprise. Poetic matters are also pondered by Brendan O'Connor (RTÉ Radio 1, Saturday & Sunday), though to unnerving effect, when he asks if listeners can tell a poem written by a person from one generated by AI. 'The question is, if you can fake poetry, can you fake humanity and soul?' The answer isn't reassuring. Galway poet Rita Ann Higgins, whose disarmingly open manner is matched by her formidable literary gifts, reads two poems, one which she wrote, the other artificially generated in her style. O'Connor then invites journalist Mark Little to guess which is fake. Little, like 70 per cent of texters, chooses the wrong poem. Higgins, meanwhile, spots the sources 'scraped' by AI to imitate her style: 'I can see things I said in interviews.' Either way, host and guests – and surely listeners too – are unsettled by the experiment. After all, as Little notes, AI doesn't just play fast and loose with copyrighted content, it uses data based on the worst biases and prejudices of social media. It's not just people who need sensitivity training. Moment of the Week Music lovers of a certain vintage enjoy a flutter of nostalgia on Lyric FM on Monday evening, as John Kelly closes his consistently wonderful show Mystery Train . 'I think it's Donal later,' the host says, 'You're in safe hands.' He's speaking of Donal Dineen, who plays a dizzyingly varied selection of tracks as guest host on The Blue of The Night . 'There was a time when these two shows used to dock at the same station,' says Dineen, referring to the halcyon days when his show Here Comes the Night would follow Kelly's Eclectic Ballroom on Radio Ireland (now Today FM): both programmes brought new life to Irish music radio. It's good to hear the old gang back together again, however fleetingly.
The Irish Sun
08-07-2025
- The Irish Sun
Ellie Bamber's new boyfriend revealed as TV star as they snog courtside at Wimbledon
ELLIE Bamber's new boyfriend has been revealed as a TV star as they snogged courtside at Wimbledon. The Surrey-born actress, 28, has famously taken on the role of Kate Moss in a biopic, 5 Ellie Bamber's new boyfriend has been revealed as a TV star as they snogged courtside at Wimbledon Credit: Getty 5 The stylish pair shared a kiss Credit: Getty 5 Ellie's new man is currently signed to Lindberg Management, which represents Scandinavian and European actors Credit: Getty She was pictured last year looking like the spitting image of Croydon model Kate, 51, in her heyday, finishing off her bod copy-cat look with blue eyeshadow and a slick of nude gloss. Later on in the first look scene, she was captured puffing away on a cigarette as she continued her in-character role. Now, Ellie has been spotted with her new man at Wimbledon, with his identity revealed as Danish actor and model Oliver Overgaard Reichhardt. The actress looked in great spirits in dark shades seated next to her handsome boyfriend. Read More on Ellie Bamber Oliver opted for a light blue shirt, which he paired with chains and a white t-shirt underneath. The couple, who haven't shared a glimpse of each other yet on social media, couldn't keep their hands off each other. Ellie was seen resting her head on Oliver's shoulder in one photo, and in another they were seen holding hands as they got up from their seats. Danish model Oliver was also seen planting a kiss on Ellie's head in another snap . Most read in Celebrity She looked stunning in a grey backless top and matching shorts, with a black bag over her shoulder. Kate Moss debauched 30th birthday party immortalised in biopic starring Ellie Bamber Ellie's new man is currently signed to Lindberg Management, which represents Scandinavian and European actors. He also starred in Danish TV series Salsa from 2023 to 2025, and has worked on short films called The Shepherd in 2023 and Parat in 2022. Oliver's Instagram account includes some of his impressive modelling snaps. Meanwhile, Ellie's last boyfriend was the Bodyguard's A source close to him said at the time: 'They're both absolutely gutted but it was a decision made for the best. 'They were arguing almost daily towards the end and, despite considering couples' therapy, it became evident there were far too many issues that could not be fixed. 'Richard is the toast of Hollywood at the moment, and understandably wants to let his hair down. Ellie is a bit quieter, and wants to focus purely on her work. It felt like their day-to-day lives were increasingly becoming worlds apart. 'They were pretty inseparable from the day they met — and their friends and family had all merged — so obviously everyone around them is gutted too. 'But both Ellie and Richard hope to remain friends.' 5 The actress looked in great spirits in dark shades seated next to her handsome boyfriend Credit: Getty 5 Ellie was pictured last year taking on the role of Kate Moss in a new biopic Credit: Getty
