In case you don’t already know the film (and with a minor spoiler alert), E.T. is the story of an extra terrestrial accidentally stranded on earth when his parents leave in their flying saucer in a hurry. The alien’s one stroke of luck is being found and befriended by a 10-year-old boy called Elliot, who is as resourceful as he is empathetic. What ensues is some of the most magical, most heartbreaking, and most exciting storytelling ever committed to celluloid, with the levels of jeopardy ramped up to nerve-jangling levels by the attempts to reunite the creature with his family in time for him to avoid a much darker fate.
Despite E.T. being one of my favourite films of all time, I arrived at Liverpool’s wonderful Philharmonic Hall with a few questions in mind. Would seeing it at this venue add anything compared to seeing it at a cinema? Would the live orchestral score make any real difference? And – given the pleasant surprise of seeing where we were seated – would there be any actual advantage to watching from a box?
The first of these questions was reinforced by the realisation that the auditorium wouldn’t be nearly as dark as a cinema – which shouldn’t have come as a surprise, really, given the musicians obviously need to be able to see their instruments, their music, and Anthony Gabriel, their energetic and uber-animated Conductor.
My fears of how this might adversely affect the experience were extremely short-lived, as even before the film started, the opening chords of the live soundtrack added a layer of excitement I’d more usually associate with the very best of live theatre. It wasn’t long before I’d forgotten about the ambient light entirely, except when enjoying snatched glances at the virtuosic musicians and their leader in action.
I’ve previously noticed how having a decent sound-bar doesn’t just improve the audio when watching a film at home on TV, but also somehow seems to improve the picture; well, the effect here is similar, but even more so.
It’s tempting to call this alchemy, but with a film and soundtrack this good, the starting material is anything but base, with Steven Spielberg and John Williams clearly being absolute masters of their respective crafts. The effect of the live orchestra is, however, undeniably magical – the excitement, the highs and lows, the level of involvement of the audience – all are turned up to eleven.
Another pleasant surprise is how, despite being at the rear of the stalls, the raised vantage point afforded from the box seats somehow make it feel like you’re closer to the action rather than further away.
I’ve not attended any of the Philharmonic’s previous screenings of films with orchestral accompaniment; whilst I thought doing so might be enjoyable, I was never entirely convinced it would be more than a fun novelty. How wrong I was.
Keep an eye on their up-coming schedule, and see – and hear – for yourself. It’s an experience you’ll likely never forget.
The performance space at The Kings Arms is a relatively modest venue, essentially a large-ish room above a pub that’s well worth
Tulsa is a city that feeds the soul as much as the stomach, and Irish poet Jay Rafferty has captured its essence
Let’s drop the Hallmark card fantasies. Nature isn’t serene. It’s not here to cradle you while you write love letters to daffodils.
The Broken Spine is a poetry and arts collective proudly published on the coastal edge of North-West England. Founded in 2019 by Alan Parry and Paul Robert Mullen – two school friends reunited after twenty years through a mutual love of poetry.
