At the end of a quiet Jomtien lane sits an unassuming villa that, once a month, becomes Thailand’s most intimate concert hall. With a seating capacity of just 50, Ben’s Theatre is the inspired creation of Ben Hansen, a Dutch photojournalist turned cultural host who now runs his music venue as a charitable venture.
Established almost by accident in 2004, Hansen rolls out a small red carpet during high season to welcome an eclectic mix of nationalities into his living room, all bound by their shared devotion to classical music.
Before the concert, I found myself chatting with two charming English ladies over a glass of white wine (included in the ticket price). Locals and visitors mingled easily, united by the thrill of finding something refined and elegant in a resort better known for its neon lights and noisy clubs.
Such is the intimacy of a concert at Ben’s Theatre that it feels more like a shared secret that hasn’t yet been discovered by the wider world. The atmosphere was relaxed but, once the lights dim, a hush descended. This isn’t a salon where people casually drift in and out — far from it. The discerning audience listened with genuine respect for the performance. Even children sat quietly beside their parents, absorbing the music with admirable concentration.
Central to all of this is Ben’s Yamaha baby grand piano, its polished black frame reflecting the faces of those who valiantly paid for it through a crowdfunding campaign. Rounded yet bright in tone, it fills the villa with both resonance and pride. It’s impossible to overstate the symbolic value of this precious instrument, played by such great talent and maintained with unfailing care.
The concert on Oct 6 was devoted to two of Thailand’s most gifted young pianists. San Jittakarn, whose artistry has been widely recognised in Europe, opened with Schumann’s Arabesque, Op.18. His interpretation balanced poise and passion, his phrasing light but full of insight. Schumann’s lyrical introspection can easily tip into sentimentality, yet his quiet discipline kept it grounded in musical honesty.
San followed with Symphonic Studies, Op.13, renowned as a formidable test of technique and endurance. The opening theme, by Baron von Fricken (father of Schumann’s one-time girlfriend Ernestine), is musically unremarkable, yet from it the composer creates a set of variations which makes so much from very little. This gifted Thai pianist traced their shifting moods with impressive clarity, from martial exuberance to quiet reflection, finishing with a brilliant Finale.
After the interval came Ravel’s Gaspard De La Nuit, performed by Anant Changwaiwit, a pianist of electrifying talent. Maurice Ravel was a master of orchestration and his solo piano music requires the illusion of a full orchestra drawn from a single pair of hands. Anant met that challenge fearlessly. In Ondine, his sound shimmered with fluid grace; Le Gibet was perfectly weighted, its ominous B-flat repeated throughout; while Scarbo erupted with manic joy. It was a performance of rare virtuosity and poetry.
To close the evening, Anant tossed off Balakirev’s Islamey with such ease that it drew gasps from those around me. This Russian warhorse, composed in 1869, may not be particularly memorable music but, as a show of stamina and flair, it was the perfect final flourish to a triumphant evening.
As I walked back down the soi, gravel crunching underfoot, by the time I reached the main road, Schumann had faded and Ravel’s phantoms were almost gone, replaced by the neon lights of bars and the twang of Country and Western. Between concerts, Ben’s tiny Carnegie Hall remains untouched: the chairs still in place, the piano carefully covered and the spotlights dimmed.
In a city more often associated with nightlife than nocturnes, this gem of a theatre stands as a gentle reminder that great art doesn’t always need grandeur. It requires only space, sincerity and the right people listening.