Hawkswood festival ‘a night of magic’

Press, 1 March 1982, Page 2

Hawkswood festival ‘a night of magic’

By

HEATH LEES

For one glorious week-end, the Muses reoccupied Parnassus. Not - Parnassus, Greece, but the real Parnassus, near Cheviot.

Friday, after two months of frantic preparations, John D. Macfarlane, “J.D.” to all, opened the gates of his farm to the first visitors to the Hawkswood festival. By midnight on Saturday, some 250 people had enjoyed ballet, folksongs, cabaret, and a warmth of country hospitality that would be impossible to equal. The whole area in and around the Macfarlane household was used for the festivities and one could not imagine a more attractive setting, with the Seaward Kaikouras looking as though they had been painted on to blue silk. In spite of an occasional complaint, mostly to do with facilities for the campers and sporadic advance publicity, the event took place with an appearance of order, yet in a spirit of happy spontaneity. Friday’s rain, which had helpfully cooled the place down and made it less tinder-like, stopped about an hour before the performance, and the local contingent, especially the children, had its show after all, in a typically pink Canterbury sunset. Saturday arrived, sunny, warm and still, and during the champagne reception in- the afternoon there was a distinct impression that ;’he gods had blessed the venture, and nothing could go wrong. To reach the main stage we had to wend our way through the bush path, under a tree-lined arch and into an Elizabethan clearing with a stage which had adjusted Nature just a little by means of lights, scaffolding, and canvas.

“Threepenny Folly” offered a selection of folk songs which made for a pleasant, if slightly nervous opening. A mere 20 minutes

later the stage had been cleared, swept, and transformed into something rich and strange as the lights flooded up to illuminate the natural backcloth of trees and bush. Southern Ballet’s ballerinas, fairy-like and charming, danced the divertissements from “The Nutcracker” and seemed entirely at home in the setting. Moths and fireflies acted as unpaid extras, and now and then a momentary breeze would send some leaves drifting down gracefully on to the stage. Two ballets, “Omage” and “Burlesque,” were conflated to produce what the director, Russell Kerr, had christened “Omalesque.” Many of us had seen parts of these ballets before, but ■ never in such surroundings; never like this. The audience was wildly appreciative, yet the dancers looked as though the enjoyment had been all theirs. After the performance it was back to the main grounds of the house where the marquee had been set up.. A huge meal followed, the cabaret began, and we danced until the early hours. Camp beds and sleepingbags appeared as though of their own accord, and in the morning there was chicken and champagne for breakfast. “Daylight and champagne,” said the Bard, “offers not more.” Such a success dictates a repetition. John ■ Macfarlane is already thinking of next year, and talking about the possibility of some Shakespeare, more ballet, perhaps even part of a rock musical. He says his real aim was. to get city and country folk together, and to give all the arts a chance to happen in a different, open-air atmosphere just for a change. Was he pleased with how it had gone? J.D., looking every bit the original Sundowner, was obviously very pleased. “A night of magic,” he said. And he was right too.