A red leathered stiletto aimed straight at theatrical pleasure centres.
We are so lucky in Sydney to have such dedicated and skilled community theatres. Don’t stop reading! I know “community theatre” can be shorthand for – “I’m not leaving the city”. However, you will be missing out if you don’t get to Rockdale Musical Society to see Kinky Boots, the Sydney amateur premiere. With music and lyrics by Cyndi Lauper and a book by Harvey Fierstein, this production is accomplished, detailed and with an unmissable chance to see a star which is sure to rise. There is no better way to spend an entertainment dollar for a feel-good, clap-along, musical night out.
The excellence begins in the visual … with the set. Flexible, flown and scaffolded, when the curtain rises the setting is exactly what one wants to see. Detailed branding, room to move and, for a bootmaker’s granddaughter, I swear I could smell the leather. It’s a shoe factory and generations of the Price family in charge might end with Charlie if he can’t find a way to save the jobs. My grandfather’s one man business died in the same way, no-one wants quality. A chance meeting with a badly shod drag artiste, Lola, will set Charlie’s creative imagination afire. What if this is a new, untapped, market?
The rising star in question here is William Manukia as Lola in, according to the program, his first musical. Manukia’s big, bold and ballsy performance is necessarily the highlight of the show, thanks very much to the generous work of musical veteran Marcus James Hurley as Charlie. These two are such a good team. There’s a song towards interval about secret son’s business that made me cry and when there’s a rift between them it is heartbreaking but the joy of their friendship will send you from the theatre uplifted.
As Charlie, Hurley gives a real depth of character to his terrific singing and acting. We hear what he has learned from his father: in the aphorisms he repeats, in his commitment to quality merchandise and to his staff, but Hurley does much more than surface characterisation here. Charlie is given to negativity about himself and his behaviours. “Frightened and flawed” is given space in the performance but Hurley doesn’t dwell on that, his performance is bright and exciting with a stage presence and complexity of interpretation to sustain such a huge role. And a lovely voice. Yet he can still to almost nothing as a remarkable scene partner to Lola in ‘I Am Not My Father’s Son’. That’s the one that made me reach for tissues.
Manukia’s Lola is “what you get.” It’s an enormously fun character, delicately moving and the red dress, powerhouse, entrance is audience appeal maxed. With flair and fire, Manukia uses his lower register to considerable effect in speech and song alike to bring together the many sides of Lola. And his dancing is terrific … he must have buns of steel to squat like that in nine inch heels! It would be way too easy to caricature Lola but Manukia is arch and, um, heightened without losing the humanity of this complex creation but with, another um, leading lady charisma to burn!
Lola is surrounded by a bevy of drag beauty. Expertly gifting us with an historically believable tackiness, this septuple of style and strut sure do rock in denim and legwarmers! Plus. Just wait for them to hit the stage in the finale! The costuming (especially the Muncastered Milano catwalk), and footwear, in this production has a professional pride and panache which awes.
Lauren, the down home girl, is played by Kate Xouris with a welcoming and vibrant physicality that is a pure delight to watch and the audience love her performance … yet, she has a practiced way of blending into the background too. When she does step into the spotlight with her ‘History of Wrong Guys’ solo, the audience get Lauren straight away and the wishing and hoping for her begins as Xouris brings the vulnerability gently into the broad strokes of comedy.
Nicola, the fiancé, is played by Liana Hanson and she is perky and aspirational and slightly untrustworthy from the opening and Nicola’s disregard of poor Charlie really shores up our affection for him. That Don is a prick and Craig Winterburn does a great job of being the bad guy. Meanwhile George (Neville Bereyne) has a touch of the supercilious butler about him as the factory floor manager and looks very at home in his final footwear! There are other terrific small roles too with a special shout-out to Luke Antcliffe as Young Charlie and Luca Gigante as Young Simon … dynamos both … you give such a warm feeling to the start of the show.
The Rockdale Musical Society ensemble also do such a wonderful job in Kinky Boots. Not just the complicated choreography of moving the set in the space but the arrival of Lola to the factory is made so engaging by the individual reactions and hilarious responses from the crowd. In ‘The Sex is in the Heel’ it is they who bring the fun and the elation and the joyousness … it’s a killer sequence that one. The time it must have taken to make that look so effortless! The co-direction from the team of Rod Herbert and Carina Herbert really has a tight control over the emotional topography of the show. Big scenes and small they trust their cast enough to bring down the plot and interactions to small moments when needed.
These directors foreground the sequencing for the audience, many songs have sections, but they all pull together as a whole structure in a visually satisfying way. They encourage multiple side-stories to go on in the crowd work behind the principals but it never overshadows the narrative. And I particularly appreciated the respect for gender, identity and diverse sexuality in a show that was written before consciousness raising on these matters was a thing.
The choreography from Tracey Rasmussen also brings a sexy diversity to the spangle of the drag and the flannie of the shop floor in a thoroughly exciting display of what community theatre achieves when done right. For one of the early songs ‘The Most Beautiful Thing in the World’ there are pinpoint lighting cues which allow the cast to thrive and come alive as the ensemble becomes that beating heart of the story. It’s red, red, red this show. The lighting amps Lola’s favourite colour and floods the stage with it often but the use of Intelligents for spotting is also extremely well done. In addition, there is some clever use of how much light the audience is in … times when we are left in the dark with our emotions and others when we are lit enough to share with neighbours and become a cohesive bunch of riotously engaged rabble.
The excellent work from the orchestra is discrete and supportive but there is significant complexity to the underscoring of scenes and to the arrangements which give light and dark to the on-stage action. That pluck and drum for Lola’s entrance and the piano under ‘I Am Not My Father’s Son’ clues in the audience to the mood and emotional content before the chords swell to accompany the important personal and plot points. In ‘Land of Lola’ the tempo is controlled by the drum until the electric guitar bolts free when the song hits peak action and the toe-tapping is uncontained. The percussive hammer choice for the knockout scene just one tiny example of expert music making. (Co-Musical Directors: Anthony Cutrupi and James McAtamney). The audio operation is respectful of the orchestra without bringing the instruments above the voices and even has a few jokes built in … listen out for echoing heels!
It’s just fun! The whole thing! Kinky Boots from Rockdale Musical Society is, in any context, a show to make the spirits soar …a red leathered stiletto aimed straight at theatrical pleasure centres of love, friendship and a great night out.
RbJ Rating: 4 everybody sing yeahs
Production photos: Grant Leslie
The Last Wife
A duel from beginning to end.
In the first three handed scene of The Last Wife, the participants may as well be using epees. The unashamed prod of privilege and wielding of power meets a pale and mere parry of retreat and cower, making for intriguing theatre watching. And it only gets better. The production is a thoroughly engrossing, literate and stimulating night at the theatre which brings us a mesmeric modern take on how a woman’s power was enabled and exerted when she had few rights and less societal agency.
Catherine Parr was the last wife of King Henry VIII and this play, from Kate Hennig, tints the Tudors with modernity. Which period, which setting, loosely establishes itself in the viewer’s individual perception. There’s a damask counterpane and there’s a Walkman, there’s Mess Dress suits and an atonement of emerald dinner gown … and there’s Bess and Mary. The mise en scène is flawless as this reluctant bride rises to wishful heights of influence despite rage and storm and the swinging sword.
The direction from Mark Kilmurry is a knife edge with a French swordsman’s balance in the sweeping, guiding hand. His direction around the small stage will put the bed between them or use a slight wall as an arras for assignation but it is the accessibility of the excitingly detailed and intellectually dense relationships that draw one in. And the skilled technique of this cast … the dressing scene has immensely intricate verbal manoeuvring going on within the real world narrative as, seamlessly, a visual world of intimacy is being constructed. That particular scene is a masterclass of choreographed direction but it’s that first 3-way meeting which absolutely sets Kilmurry’s complex tone for the work. There that crackle of peril sparks simple words into menace. And, somehow, the Australian accent brings it home and close.
Henry, as played by Ben Wood, is rambunctious and petty in his divine humanity; knowing and childlike in one. It’s a stunning performance from Wood who brings the Holbein arrogance, even when compliant or grateful, with a witty capriciousness and reactionary believability. Legacy and primogeniture is his driving throughline and all else is coloured by his desires. His equal and opposite match, Nikki Shiels is Kate.
Shiels is wonderful as the quiet fear of that first meeting grows beyond fright with an organic compassion undercut by tinctures of ambition. She takes Kate to a precarious disregard for the circumstances of her gender with grace and unquenchable savvy, until the thumping reality casts her once again as whore. Hennig’s text applies a rapier to the past, ripping out the guts to interrogate powerlessness and a formerly, essentially futile resistance to male power. Even in where the heart lies.
Kate’s relationship with Thom Seymour (Simon London) is lustful and touching and London gives his character a winning and political demeanour. His Seymourness is there, for we who know what that family has done and is capable of, but London manifests only what Thom wants us to see… expert at court and ardent when courting. Hennig’s text puts Bess in a greater fiction than we expect and Emma Harvie has a full grasp on what this character is not. Harvie’s Bess may well grow up to be golden but for the moment she has open and accepting innocence and immaturity.
Whereas Mary is strident and unforgiving with Bishanyia Vincent’s performance hinting of mental illness to come and a, lightly directed, comic way with the sardonic epithets and the rigidity wrought of experience. Unfortunately, there is a weak spot in the casting of The Last Wife. As Eddie, Emma Chelsey labours manfully to bring Edward VI to stage but the character is unconvincing … a rare misstep for the blending of periods.
Designed with the female gaze ascendant, the production features a regal and period resonance and the exactingly created props echo deliciously the combined eras. The costumes have an equally precise creation. Especially with Kate’s outfits which are indicative of a woman who is self-styled, smart and sexy and body confident. Musically the production is modern and relatable, yet, there is a sneaky use of hand hit drumhead and a medieval tinkle. Even interval swings widely in period for great fun. Personally, I loved the 80s songs. The lighting sometimes washes upstage in royal purple and for one bedroom scene there is a hinted-at washed out blue of a small casement window at night … I loved that so much. And there’s a lighting joke … wait for it. (Set & Costume: Simone Romaniuk. Lighting: Nicholas Higgins)
Because this is a show you should put on your viewing calendar. Stylish and layered, The Last Wife is two and a half hours of duel for any theatre-goer or lover of history to relish.
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ Hand-Smithed Ceremonials
The Last Wife continues at Ensemble Theatre until September 29.
Production photos: Phil Erbacher
Expect modernness … glancing back.
Sitting having some dinner beforehand, I had a bad feeling that the true nature of Chorus, playing at the Old Fitz, had not reached out from the advertising. On a Sunday afternoon the older crowd were excitedly discussing the Oresteia and Iliad. This is not that play. Playwright Ang Collins has cut a modern work from kind of whole cloth and Director Clemence Williams has made it a thing of aural beauty. Not for its entirety, there’s a twenty minute section of gear grinding, but for most of the early play it is the compositional aspects which carry engagement. And in the last half hour of this 90 minute offering, when the narrative really takes hold, Chorus is gripping and emotional.
Agamemnon is the adopted name of a rock star. A new star in the firmament, burning brightly through a tour which takes the world with a warish intensity. She will fall in love with Cass and will return home to make peace with her former lover, Chris. She may still have history and ties with him but chooses this night to try for an ending and a morrow beginning. There are, around, people who see her music and hear the gossip and feel they know her. They certainly know her better than we do. They are gathered as a chorus in the space… to comment and judge and guide the audience in time and mood. They will be close but also projected on the back wall.
As Agamemnon, Ella Prince has charisma to burn but the stylistic use of stillness works against the obvious and innate power of this character; someone whose vibrant stage presence is adored by so many. There is a softening available to the audience when the gendered male/female relationship occurs in flashback but it jars against the staunch queerness of the present. There are, though, some moments that clutch at the heart … “I love you” comes with heartbreaking cost. The past is not quite coloured enough to feel real, however when the text narrows and the visual storytelling is all about Chris, then Prince’s work is everpresent and vibrates with response and secrets.
Jack Crumlin is pitch perfect as Chris. At first alive with the ardently expressed desire wrought of absence and later riven by love and loss, Crumlin is close and closed. There’s an unsaid absence which hits the viewer hard and Crumlin’s excellent technique in video closeup gives the inner life a replete outer expression. Yet when he stands above the women with an inability to move on, Crumlin gives this man a relatability and an organic, understandable, believable, violence of interior tussle.
The notations and top notes of the original works are cleverly floated in the character of Cass, played with presence and an early, flighty impermanence by Chemon Theys. Cass tells the truth on her Instagram ... to those who believe social media and Theys deepens her character as the realities of truth break from her. Theys and Crumlin are also part of the 5 person chorus which is distant from the untouchable Agamemenon.
The voice work of the chorus is characterful and there’s a groupie pecking order evident as the small characters inside the whole sometimes comically, sometimes rancorously, make themselves known. But the musicality of the choral sequences is delightful on the ear, with the aural balance of light and dark voices warm and lyrical. There is, unfortunately, an over-extension of the usefulness of the chorus after the early exposition, before their move in close for the impending of climax.
As time siting, “2 years earlier”, the group is effective and Aeschylean with Collins’ script providing many moments when a theatre history lover sits upright in her seat. It may not be the legendary Agamemnon which the audience I attended with desired, but what Collins’ text does do extremely well is to develop a mystery around Agamemnon and to place, with precision, the audiences’ curiosity. Sadnesses are not what we expect or are comfortable with and I loved that element for its modernity and relevance.
Director and Sound Designer Clemence Williams has balanced the filmic and theatrical levels of performance with meticulous attention to what is being viewed and two blend seamlessly from out front. Williams’ tell-not-show approach to the work is very stimulating. One hears “knocks three times” only to see an open hand held in space; a closeup will show an open visage as the chorus explains “Cass’ forehead crinkles” and the dearth of the literal fires off synapses in the watcher in a warning to the senses to be alert to nuance. Equally, the use of audio for atmosphere is effective as the bass throbs ominously before a higher pitch scales the emotions. Rumbles with a hint of siren underscore the ending.
Costuming works well in the main and the branding detail is especially interesting, most particularly when the Agamemnon floating head logo on a black shirt appears in the lower right of the screen. Video design avoids any MTV or Countdown editing, instead it fills the room with many from few. When tripod images mix with superbly operated hand-held shots there is an added discreet depth to the emotions … we are a TV people and that shorthand is very effective without overt manipulation.
The mythic and untouchable is on display in the set which has a carpeted throughline and a foggy intrusion of Aegean obfuscation in one spectacular scene. And there is a round centre plinth which has the inherent “morning glass mirror” of the text. The orange downlight is very effectively used to make the faces strange and shadowed and the colour palette of the accentuated LED strip lights is muted and cool. (Production Designer: Emma White. Lighting Designer: Veronique Bennett. Video Designer: Sarah Hadley.)
Chorus is somewhat of an exercise in expectation. I knew what I was going to see, my companions did not. The people who spilled out unimpressed, may have wanted something different but hopefully you will be forearmed for a modern take, a beautiful sound and a wringing climax. It’s well worth a look, whether you know the story or no.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ fluorescent ceiling stars
Flawless, Peerless, Timeless
Less is more in Chicago. The production now open at The Capitol is flawless, peerless, timeless. With a starry cast, a stellar ensemble and music to thrill, it is a show to fall in love with all over again. The production is well known, either from the cracker film or the top-notch productions before it, but it never seems to age and each new incarnation enriches the legend.
With two female leads who complement each other, this Chicago is replete with sass and class. Alinta Chidzey as Velma and Natalie Bassingthwaighte as Roxy are a taijitu of talent. It’s an unforgiving show and even tiny imperfections might glare in this simplicity of form. Bare, apart from staired orchestra and a whole lot of stage for the murderous dancing, it’s the dancing that excites the senses at the top of the show but the singing and the across the board, flawless, triple threat, artistry propels the audience into the world.
Velma drops down a register when she speaks and there’s a sexy strut implied, meanwhile Roxy ups the breathy a titch as saucy style flows across the footlights. But the moves, Casey Donovan’s Mama really has the moves, put her alone, spotted in a gentle white, and she commands the stage with brass and brio. Tom Burlinson’s Billy Flynn is smooth and winning and utterly venal. There flash and floom and then Mary Sunshine (J Furtado) stands perfectly still until a wander across the apron close to the front rows. The audience appeal is wonderful here, Roxy and Velma do have a way, but then poor Amos (Rodney Dobson) has the crowd ooh-ing with empathy aplenty. Helped by a tint of red wash on his shoulders from behind!
There is so much raw electricity inside that picture frame set, on that stage with its hidden places, it’s a wonder the lights work at all. But they do, flawlessly. From the choice of a palette, that rich purple and chilly aqua and violent red, which is not glaringly modern down to the minutia of the superb dome work. The irising down to pinpoint followspot is spectacularly good and the pick-ups … oh my! That races my heart more than any spangle … spangles there are galore with the black on black costuming, sultry and tempting. The choreo is classic, of course, and frames the singer and the song with such narrative and atmosphere . The ensemble is needle sharp in the dancing and their individual characterisation swells the stage to bursting with energy and small stories.
The conversations between Musical Director, Daniel Edmonds and his cast have an all-round warmth and a hint of human intertitles, but the conversation between his instruments is even better. The way that muted trombone discusses events with the solo violin! The orchestra is so much part of the show that audience cheers the brass in the entr’acte.
Chicago leaves no chair undragged, no spreadeagle unextended and no jazz unslayed.
RbJ Rating: 5 silver rhinestone buckled shoes
Chicago from John Frost and Suzanne Jones in association with Barry & Fran Weissler continues at the Capitol until October 20.
Photo Credit: Jeff Busby
The Australian premiere production.
The first joke in A Deal sets the tone for this show – intelligent, characterful and relatable. It is a beautifully penned script with a logical but intriguing structure, fascinating characters and considerably less overtly political text than I was expecting. It makes points though, inescapable points, about communism and capitalism and even more discretely, economic imperialism. Brought to Sydney audiences for the first time by USU and Flying House Assembly, the production is a little flawed in its pacing and direction but presented with fully felt emotions and some engaging performances.
Li Su is an actor trying to make it in the Big Apple. She has her Fine Arts degree, but no experience whatsoever. Culture blind casting doesn’t appear to exist and Li Su’s Chinese ethnicity has prevented her getting work to this point but she is now up for a moving and important role as an East Asian character. Not having a Green Card doesn’t help but she does have some strong assets. Li Su obviously has talent and drive but it’s the family support that keeps her going. Her parents, who have funded her degree and her modest lifestyle in NYC, are coming for a visit and to check out a real estate investment they have put a deposit on. The hard currency they bring with them is a symbol of the political themes and differences which are evoked.
There is a very realistically portrayed warmth between the family with Katherine Nheu as Li Su, Susan Ling Young as Mrs Li and Shi-Kai Zhang as Mr Li. Nheu has created a well-rounded character, especially so for those of us who have been in her acting shoes. With a lovely believability, Nheu gives her character an actorly confidence and a hint of desperation which permeates Li Su’s lesser-self choices. When she speaks to the powerful there is a brashness which is subtexted with wheedle and obsequiousness which rings very true; she finds herself surprisingly expert at playing the casting game. As she mires herself deeper and deeper in a morally precarious position, Nheu brings out Li Su’s naivety and belief in fame without responsibility.
Zhang gives a particularly complete performance as the father. His take-chargeness not so much informed by machismo as by his history and Zhang gives a complex rendering of a man who is expected to be in charge. Early on he has a story to tell and despite having told it many times, holds its meaning and echoes close to the present. Young’s interpretation of the mother, conversely, is informed by events which come to light later in the play and her performance comes into its own when sadnesses and longings are revealed.
These three are at the heart of the story but there are several other characters who make appearances to travel the text and the relationships. Simon Lee as Josh is self-centred and arrogant as the writer, Suzann James is completely credible as the Real Estate promoter yet has a subtle and precarious duplicity underlying her character. Edric Hong is excellent as the wry, diminished yet resilient, Peter and his considerable presence as the quiet observer gives added poignancy to several scenes. When he explodes, it is shocking and thrilling.
There are several scenes like that in this very well written play by Zhu Yi. The darkly comedic doesn’t overshadow the narrative and the sequential nature of the text doesn’t feel episodic as there is growth of character and circumstance in each new scene. A Deal also has an intellectually challenging and discreetly complex thought- provoking way with Chinese/ American relations and the play reflects love of country that crosses over borders. This is not an angry work, it is funny and entertaining with elements of silliness that take the audience by surprise in an expression of how attitudes are accrued and not assigned.
In this particular production, on the night I saw it, the pacing of the show detracted somewhat from audience engagement with a slowness inside scenes, and pauses before lines, which felt laboured. However, Director Shiya Lu has conceptualised the show with a savvy understanding of her audience. The work is very accessible to a Western audience with topnotes and resonances for culturally more immersed or aware viewers. There is some clever use of New York songs and muzak in the scene changes, unfortunately the blocking often takes the characters through several distracting light states but, in general terms, the layout suits the wide stage.
A Deal is a very human drama which makes as many points about people as about the governments of those people. Corruption begins in the personal.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ smuggled greenbacks
Photo Credit: Kelvin Xu - Luky Studio
Goodbye, Mrs Blore
A very female intergenerational friendship.
Friday night. Give up a good murder on the ABC and fight the traffic to attend a community theatre event and you really do have a winning ticket! Almost invariability, you will get committed work which respects its audience and works hard to put on a good show. My Friday night involved Hunters Hill Theatre and a performance of the 2000 Australian work, Goodbye, Mrs. Blore, which had all those elements inside a comic and emotional play. Due to a very late change of cast, one of the performers in this two-hander was still “on book”, as we say, but for a theatre which is preparing for a 90th year celebration that’s no barrier to enjoying their work as the cast did an excellent job.
Mrs Blore is a bit no-nonsense! She arrives at Dr Julia Lewis’ surgery with a bit of a unique problem. These pair will refer to each other as Mrs Blore and Dr Lewis for the rest of their almost 30 year friendship... a uniquely female friendship which begins in a professional relationship and grows into an intergenerational bond between women with very different lives. They will travel through each other’s loves and losses from that first meeting in the late 60s to the touching and surprising conclusion of the play.
Picking up the book is Claudia Bedford as Dr Lewis and all credit goes to her choices. Bedford’s doctor has a professional distance and pursed lip confusion which is gradually eroded by the force of Mrs Blore’s down-to-earth nature and Bedford negotiates very incisively the gradual thawing. The moving finale of the piece is very much due to Bedford’s ability to lift the text from the page.
Elizabeth Lynch has a considerable burden as Mrs Blore. Not just in being the actor who is off book but also in portraying such a complex character as the eponymous older woman. Lynch brings a country straightforwardness to her first encounter with this city doctor. She is wary and guarded about the secret that finds her here and another that weighs her down. Lynch is also necessarily the actor who moves around most during the show, displaying a characterful stance and motivated, organic travel. Lynch holds the character close, vulnerabilities lightly touched upon, and never allows her creation to slip into sentimentality or pathos - even in some of the more over-written scenes.
The play is penned by Robert Hewitt and is constructed neatly to give the audience some mystery and several surprises. My friend and I, at interval, both had opinions about where it was going and were both wrong. The relationship also has a strong believability despite one’s reservations about the ethical choice to continue treating someone who has become a close friend. And there is some dialogue that does unfortunately strike a female ear through an uncomfortable maleness. That passes, though, as the story draws one in and the occasional subversive theme, like body autonomy, provides a pleasing and thought-provoking divergence.
Director Casey Moon-Watton is also responsible for the sound design which is evocative and quite fun to listen to as the years going on are reflected in the scene breaks. There are quite a few of these due to the episodic nature of the text and costume designer Jennifer Willison has simplified the changes without losing any of the character or growth. Wayne Chee’s lighting isolates the two settings well and Ross Alexander’s set is quality plus. Being able to see into the corridor is very place-setting and having the Queen age, and the medical warning posters change, contributes in no small part to the overall effect of time passing.
The season for Goodbye, Mrs. Blore continues into next week and it is a chance to enjoy a solidly Australian play treated with committed hard work and respect… so much better than watching the telly.
Photo Credit: Dan Ferris
West Side Story
Have dinner, make it an extra special night out.
Ask me what I want in a classic, large scale, well known musical and the answer is pretty simple. I want it big, classic, and I want to hum the music as I leave. West Side Story has all the elements for a great night out … off to The House, all dressed up, nice glass of wine maybe even dinner, a thrilling first act and a moving second act and finale.
It’s a story older than Shakespeare - ill fated, star crossed lovers kept apart by cultures. The famed musical, and later equally famous film, brought together the genius of Leonard Bernstein, Arthur Laurents, Stephen Sondheim and Jerome Robbins to change American theatre. There’s no doubt about how little has changed and the sectarian attitudes and the racist overtones could be twisted into a modern day relevance. However, this production from Opera Australia, GWB Entertainment and the BB Group stands its ground as a work of its time. And place.
The visual concept of the production is a playground rich with fighting and loving, as the tenement fire escapes roll in and out and the projected backdrops vary in throw, to widen or narrow the view of the mean streets. The direction by Joey McKneely balances the epic and the intimate to give the show a rollercoaster of emotions and a chance to catch one’s breath after the marvellous ensemble dance pieces.
Opening night saw Daniel Assetta step into the role as Tony, sharing the spotlight with Sophie Salvesani as Maria. It is a very successful match, from the perfectly designed white spotlit meet-cute to the pathos of the ending. Their chemistry brings a believable love at first sight and their duets have a youthful hopefulness in the singing and acting. That first lower note from Salvesani in ‘Tonight’ is luxurious and Assetta’s solo work downstage in ‘Maria’ just irresistibly romantic. A star turn also is the fiery and fearless performance from Chloe Zuel as Anita.
The ensemble work is excellent across the board and only gravity will keep you in your seat after the Latin women flounce and flash their barefooted way through ‘America’. That’s a song on earworm repeat as you wander blinking into the night. Conductor Donald Chan has a delightful approach to the music as the universally familiar songs embed themselves seamlessly in the production. The superb fade of the strings at the end of ‘Maria’ and the trombone bray of the bravado in ‘Gee, Officer Krupke’ just two of the many orchestral moments bringing extra emotional and textual depth.
Obviously you won’t leave humming the choreography but it is there, high kicking and swishing and leaping into the lingering thrill of the production. Vibrant, respectful for the purists, and with visually exhilarating moves that don’t diminish or sideline either gender, the choreo has room to move as the rolling set releases the space and the lighting washes the openness. The counterintuitive use of red for ‘Cool’ and the soft appearance of peach over the white glare of that first kiss are fabulous design. As is the blazing colour of the Latin costumery in a tonal culture clash with jeans and satin gang jackets.
This West Side Story is a production designed for maximum enjoyment of grand scale musical theatre and it is a no-argument choice for the sheer pleasure of a captivating night out. One more recommendation, buy a program … you will want to keep it.
RbJ rating: 4 ½ under bridge rumbles
West Side Story continues until October 6, 2019 at the Sydney Opera House.
Photo Credit: Jeff Busby
Playing as part of the 3x3x2 Festival of New Works
Freefall is playing as part of the 3x3x2 Festival of New Works at PACT Centre for Emerging Artists.
Written by Emily Dash, who is also an actor and whose work on both fronts I have admired for some time, the show is insightful and puts on stage quite a few rarely seen or heard ideas. However, even though it has so much to say, the work is devoid of preach. Rather, it is an interesting story, well created, which has, at base, characters through which ideas travel with the narrative rather than being interspersed as diatribe or homily.
We meet Carmen, a wheelchair user, and her support worker Eleni and her girlfriend Millie. There’s a surprise party for Shane, organized by Megan, who is also a wheelchair user and has her sights set on them all having a good time. Carmen is a rational person who thinks deeply about the world and holds a belief in science and reality. On the other hand, Millie is more of a believer in invisible things – a seeker of the spiritual. There are other tensions in the relationship and their responses to a tragic event will make or break them as a couple.
In this incarnation, the stage is a problem for the production. Shoe string budgets are difficult for independent theatre and we are lucky in Sydney that companies like PACT support emerging work. While I did miss some of the story, voices don’t carry that well there and seated actors are hard to see, the work is engaging and the content overcomes the limitations of the venue. Quite frankly, I feel honoured to have seen this work at all.
As Carmen, Emily Dash, is a commanding presence. Dash’s acting has a particularly strong vocal reach but in her use of sightlines and responses rather than reactions, Dash’s Carmen has a very redolent carry. She is well matched by Alicia Fox as Carmen’s lover. The pair have a strong rapport and make a very loving couple and very sensitive pair as they face the challenges of this particular relationship. Fox doesn’t use any airhead tropes when portraying someone who is seeking outside the corporeal. Laura Hobbs, Dean Nash and Liz Diggins also play terrific roles with a great deal of heart in the role of Megan, considerable pathos from Shane and a very nuanced arc of change from an empathetic and caring Eleni.
The script is very funny in places and wryly cynical in others. The advocacy is wise but moderated by character, though I loved the skewering of the condescendingly religious. There are some finely interpolated Brechtian scenes which engage the intellect of the viewer yet the ending is quite emotional and moving.
The production has been created with care and detail. The cues and entrances are directed by Kip Chapman to make the work free flowing but respectful to the material and the mobility of the artists. Scenes are given time to settle in and the use of props is discretely limited so that the world is built without fussiness. The lighting and audio are designed with the small acting area in mind but an eye to a larger space and the audio is especially well sourced. (Design - concept by Lisa Mimmocchi and Kip Chapman. Lighting Design - Frankie Clarke. Sound Design - Emily Moffat)
This is a production which deserves a bigger stage and these are characters I would like to see more of. Thanks to PACT for giving us the opportunity to be introduced.
Freefall plays as part of the 3x3x2 Festival of New Works at PACT Centre for Emerging Artists until August 24.
Photo Credit: Samuel James
Bring Your Devices In Case You Forget
Playing as part of the 3x3x2 Festival of New Works
Bring Your Devices in Case You Forget is playing as part of the 3x3x2 Festival of New Works at PACT Centre for Emerging Artists.
This finely tuned offering from Christie Woodhouse is a TED talk, without words, on the physics of time and matter and it comes with a warning and a plea about environmental responsibility.
Confined by the triangular throw of a projector, by white floor and wall, we meet the protagonist … our guide. Hiker boots and backpack, she pelts in and pulls up short to stand and be wary, alert and still. Her movements for the rest of the performance are steady, are beating and have a precision ascendant without any hints of choreographic or dance lyricism. This is the storytelling of fracture and suddenness as she is joined on stage by … herself.
Prepping for the end of the world is the name of the game and who else can we trust but ourselves? Our selves informed by YouTube and the cult of The End Of The World As We Know It.
When the character is out of our eyeline, the attention is drawn to the starkness of the shadow that she makes. However, when the projections of repetition split the audience’s attention, the overwhelming sensation is awe. There is an earnest homily inserted into the work which may need some tightening as the production moves forward but textually Bring Your Devices in Case You Forget struck me as an intelligent and coherent expression of anxiety about a worryingly common ability to justify self-interest and separate it away from what is inherently right.
This production uses audio as effectively to get its point across as it does the splendidly created visuals. There are cars and traffic and rainsoaked streets before the apocalypse must be prepared for. The synergy between human and projection is stunning and, as a technician I can tell you, the artistry behind the vision is brilliant. Hopefully you will have the chance to see this project at some stage … look for the fact that one of her is slightly taller!
Bring Your Devices in Case You Forget plays as part of the 3x3x2 Festival of New Works at PACT Centre for Emerging Artists until August 24.
Photo Credit: Samuel James
Playing as part of the 3x3x2 Festival of New Works
Hydraulic Fucking is playing as part of the 3x3x2 Festival of New Works at PACT Centre for Emerging Artists.
The brainchild of creator/ performer Cheryn Frost, a proud young Yuwaalaraay woman, the production is passionate and intriguing in its current form. It exists in several different formats unified by a personalised view of the raping of Mother Earth for resources for humanity.
The beginning sequence, which is the most engaging and coherent, uses cameras and screens to hone in on the details of a miniature mining site which becomes the pornographic playground for a life-like dick seeking release in the hydraulics of drilling. The production did smack headlong into issues with the performance space as so few people in the audience could see the screens … I got the idea in the main but the detail was somewhat missing. I really got it when I got it, though, and was very engaged by the acting which is very, very focussed.
The minutiae of that sequence does draw one into the world created for this overarching yet accessible character and the intentions and small motivations make for a slightly mysterious watch… what will happen next? Surely not! The vocalisations are few but very effective and there are quite a few character based laughs and some head-shaking disbelief at the depths of his fetishism.
The front row laughing at something unseen by the back rows leaves one to ponder about existence and trees falling in the forest and the ecological imperative of the show is taken up by Mother Nature in the next sequence as she addresses the audience directly. Hydraulic Fucking’s agenda arrives full force at this point and the fervent truth-telling differs completely in style from the first sequence which is so finely orchestrated for theme and impact. However, it was the metaphor of the first sequence that stayed with me as I left the theatre.
Hydraulic Fucking plays as part of the 3x3x2 Festival of New Works at PACT Centre for Emerging Artists until August 24.
Photo Credit: Samuel James
For anyone negotiating a system …
When we ran a competition for a pass to see JobReady from Big Muscles Sad Heart, there were a great many entries which mentioned the agony of being out of work and looking for a job. The production neatly taps into that experience and the laughs range from guffaws of recognition to whimpers at a familiar absurdities. The show has been crafted to delight those of us who negotiate the system. That means pretty much all of us; job seeking is bad but getting a pension is an equally bureaucratic nightmare.
JobReady has an interesting lead character, a clear narrative and Big Muscles Sad Heart’s trademark physicality in storytelling. The show is running as part of Old 505’s Next Phase initiative and it certainly has the bedrock of a very interesting work. Perhaps it would benefit from some tightening and character re-thinking but anyone on a benefit will laugh out loud in response to this comic, sad and irrationally logical production.
Matte has RSI, not to be confused with RSA, from his off the books waiter’s job and seeks help from a job provider, JobReady, which is an organisation nothing more than economically focused on the self-interest of existing … and drawing public funding. They will put Matte through a series of pointless, occasionally dodgy, activities which have no chance of helping him find a suitable job and with no relevance to his Comm degree or artistic aspirations. And with zero support to his self-belief or inner worthiness.
A show from the heart, JobReady is self-devised by the company of Sabrina D’Angelo, Sarah Easterman, Matte Rochford and Caitlin Doyle-Marwick (who also wrote the show) and the individual scenes ring very true. Beginning with the paths we tread. The performers will often break into mindless walking in squares and rectangles of straight lines and the metaphor is very well placed and deepened by the confines of the narrowly cubicled office. The physical aspects of the work are very engaging. The madcap menagerie, you have to see the show to fully understand, is very cleverly done with a complex characterisation beneath the movement and interactions.
Some of the characters may be overly grotesque but Matte, our guide to the farcicalities of job seeker institutions, is a calm and rule-abiding character who does actually become more employable as we get to know him. He is open to new experiences and as the tyranny builds, he keeps his cool. Though I would give the job to Danielle whose recalcitrance is enormous fun. Of the other characters who appear, Clive, a fast interview is a good interview, and poor perky, unstable Cindy were my favourites.
The movement sequences which are gracefully inserted into the story form a major part of the success of the show. Travel and development are especially well expressed and the purposed randomness is a subtle and visually interesting element. The audio is also well used and one audio cue got a spontaneous applause for its resonant reality hit… even if less tinny than reality. The scene changes have not yet settled into the theatre space and feel protracted but, through very funny and dubious props and some spot on costuming, once revealed, a world is created quickly.
The production has a terrific premise and is conceived with a universal appeal. It also has a subversive agenda which applies to institutions well beyond JobReady. The scene with the close to the bone, intrusive, highly personal questioning and inflexible public sector, vicious, greediness … don’t get me started!
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ spitting llamas
Where Angels Fear to Tread
Charming play of Edwardian mores and manners.
Ever the lover of community theatre, I have a new company to add to my visit list. The Guild Theatre is in Rockdale and I spent a charming few hours in their company. Where Angels Fear to Tread is adapted by Elizabeth Hart from the novel by E. M. Forster and it is a seething story of English manners and mores adrift in a foreign land. A fascinating reflection of its time, the play is well created by the company and thoroughly enjoyable to watch.
The family is snobbish and entitled - that’s as it should be for Edwardian matriarch Mrs Herriton. Appearances hold their society together and when the baby of a deceased daughter-in-law is found to be left in the care of the uncivilised Italian father, noblesse obliges. Her son, Philip, a secret lover of Italian culture, her daughter, Harriet, a waspish chip off the block daughter and a family friend, Caroline, who had encouraged the match, set off to rescue the infant. There will be a surprising villain of the piece as cultures clash.
The enjoyment of this play begins with the setting. With no curtain before the show, one can enjoy the clever use of screens and the period features of the set. When Kassandra Micallef runs in as the youngest Herriton, the space comes to life. Micallef’s Irma is youthful and energetic but sensible when required and Micallef has excellent diction and voice, with every word carrying with ease into the audience. She is joined by Lani Crooks as Harriet. Crooks is strident and high strung with a scant regard for her more relaxed brother. As Harriet is taken out of her comfort zone, Crooks escalates Harriet’s reactionary, killjoy nature as she becomes more brittle and uptight. And dismissive of all around her.
One can see the mother in the daughter; Yolanda Regueira is Mrs Herriton,. However, Regueira balances the stiff haughtiness with a warm relationship with Irma. As Grandmother explains about her half-brother, there is a delightful rapport between the two yet, she is perfectly at home with an imperious sweep in her dealings with her children. Philip is played by Tye Byrnes with a great enjoyment of the archaic turns of phrase and bon mots early on and bringing a deeper and more compassionate man in the later parts of the play. Byrnes is particularly good when Philip is facing a reality away from his privilege, Philip has been seen to be childish previously!
Caroline is played by Jessica Wake with considerable command. Especially the long expository speech early on and, also, the affecting disquiet of her self- understanding later in the play. Her’s is quite a burden to carry and Wake gently explores Caroline’s quiet, take-charge personality. As the much maligned Gino, Douglas Spafford, gives culture shock a real presence. The audience has been waiting to see this villain - as drawn by the first act dialogue. Spafford gives a clear portrait of a man who knows who he is and who clearly adores the child and is not behaving as we, or the characters, expect. The other warm performance is by Jazz Nijjar as Signora Aletti who takes a smaller role with a great dignity and kind-heartedness. It is a terrific portrait of a woman alone, a business woman secure and sympathetic in her life.
Director Jim Searle has given his cast the manners and carriage of the period very successfully but, more than that, he has negotiated the tricky moral territory very well. The audience responds to some of the terrible attitudes and Searle has allowed the ingrained sexism to speak for itself without any modernist interventions. Searle also moves his cast with period elegance, climate discomfort and an organic and motivated blocking.
Searle has also designed the very effective set to show the 3 locales. I was surprised that the stage crew didn’t get a clap as English manor became Italian pensione. Those years of community theatre experience are very evident and what looks seamless from out front requires a great deal of effort. There is a hint of skirting board in the drawing room and of terracotta tiles in southern climes, in the evocation of the different countries. The costumes are very effective as they all fit well and seem easy to move in. But the detail is extremely enjoyable with cravat pins and brooches and matching gloves personalising and giving added character to the people of the play. The lavender dress is especially eye-catching, as is the dour but interesting widow’s weeds of the Signora. The lighting provides a well-designed wash and doesn’t intrude on the scenes. There’s a good choice of nighttime blue which doesn’t jar or look too modern and there are a couple of well-placed sound effects, the boll tolling very well sourced and leveled. (Costume Co-ordinator: Chris Searle. Lighting Design: Roger Hind and Ruth Lowry.)
Rockdale is a bit of a hike for me but well worth the effort to see a rarely done play. Where Angels Fear to Tread is a play about rights and autonomy … the complexity of growth, acceptance of truth and appeasement of guilt and it is a charming way to spend a night at the theatre.
RbJ rating: 3 sweet sherries
The Grapes of Wrath
A production worthy of its forebears
Poetic and graceful, one of the earliest scenes of Grapes of Wrath at New Theatre casts the characters with a dirt-rich orange light on faces and shoulders. It’s evocative and takes the audience into the lives of the people who have been onstage since we entered the theatre. This will be a show with many such moving and powerful moments. A show designed and directed with an appreciation of the film and of the novel’s epic and revered status and which brings a huge ensemble to the stage. There are some unavoidable flaws in this mounting of such a character heavy work but lovers of Steinbeck’s Okies and of social justice are never shortchanged by the production, written by Frank Galati, which reaches out with heart into a modern audience.
Not everyone knows the original work, my companion didn’t, but two central characters will meet as that dust-bowl orange fades into a sun-hard yellow and Tom Joad, freshly paroled, happens upon an ex-preacher, Jim Casy. Tom is heading back to his family on their tenant farm and Jim is searching for meaning in the reality of secular existence. When they find the house empty and the family forced off the land and preparing to go to California, the promised land of fruit-picking jobs, both men will travel with thousands of others away from the new made wastelands of Oklahoma.
This is a polished and focussed ensemble who carry very well the intent and the understanding of the plight of the people in the large scenes. The singing is extremely well negotiated by the cast, and though the small chorus can feel a little modern and over animated, the whole cast work is deeply affecting in the main. The 66 song, chilling in content and execution, and the a Capella goosebumpy.
There are also some excellent individual performances. As Jim, William Baltyn is powerful and conflicted. Baltyn’s work is discreetly charismatic with Jim’s empathy for the people he encounters, contained and loving. As Tom, Matthew Abotomey has an affecting early prison-beaten slowness and unsureness; later Abotomey brings a complex volatility and grit as Tom’s outrage is stoked. Also with a strong presence is Madeline MacRae as Rose of Sharon. On her shoulders will fall the climax of the piece and MacRae creates a character of truth which heightens the audience’s sympathy for the girl.
The Joads will diminish over the two hours of the play and Rowena McNicol’s reserved Ma works hard to keep the family together. Andy Simpson as Pa is focussed on the minutia of money and employment and the physical tasks to get the family to better circumstances and his girl chasing son Al, played with charm by Andy Simpson, also has an evident passion for jalopy mechanics. There are several small roles which give real heart to the work. Floyd’s speech about labour is beautifully done by Angus Evans, James Bean has a roiling pathos in portraying the demons inside Uncle John and Peter Irving Smith as Grampa provides one of the most emotional scenes of the play.
The youngest Joad children are played by Lily Stirling and Loki Texilake and they do great work, especially in one of the death scenes. There are still small stories in the production, especially around the children, but Director Louise Fischer has a very effective approach to the epic nature of this text. She allows the emotion to be foregrounded during the more upsetting and the more joyous events by skilfully drawing the audience into the matter at hand. Led by Fischer’s use of groupings and by her pausing and slowing of the other activity on stage, the audience immerses in the dramatic or heart-warming without conscious thought, allowing an enriched and human engagement.
Before Tom and Jim meet on the dusty, sunset lit road, and with the house lights still up, the audience has been treated to some Busby and Ginger magic on the screen to our left. (Vision Designer: Christina Hatzis.) The projector fails and the ensemble wearily take up well-stood positions waiting for change … in the weather, in the economy or in the government’s recognition of the crisis. No change will be forthcoming and Fischer and her design team have created a set which is deceptively simple storytelling for a play set against the backdrop of the Great Depression.
This is a convincing and flexible set on wheels which allows for jalopy travel and yet box car stability when needed. There is a complex world-building that sites the characters in the various locations and the use of tent like flaps as backdrop is terrific. As a screen they are utilized for occasional images as an adjunct to the narrative. Sometimes, as the cast appears and stands there, the impression of a sheet thrown over a rope to divide a room, for a desperate privacy, harks resoundingly back to the novel. The lighting is also very efficiently used for mood. The modern tint of the night blue is a little jarring but the wash is smooth and the eye is subtly drawn to the important action. The music is mostly live and enjoyable with a distant harmonica is used to fine effect; mournful and sad. Costuming is as effective as possible given what must be a small budget and has characterful distressing and a muted palette which succeeds without losing any individuality. (Set design: Tom Bannerman. Lighting Designer: Michael Schell. Costume Designer: Sharna Graham. Composer & Sound Designer: David Cashman).
The Grapes of Wrath is a production worthy of its forebears. It shines a warm light on poverty and economic injustice through committed performances, a compassionate honesty and a graceful poetry that reaches beyond its time.
RbJ rating: 3 ½ clusters from the vine of the earth
The Grapes of Wrath continues at New Theatre until September 7.
Photo Credit: Bob Seary
Part of the No:Intermission One Act Play Festival.
Scheduling problems mean more writing here about another show at No:Intermission Festival that has already finished. But watch out for a revival of Bleach or, with luck, more solo work from actor Tom Crotty. It’s a stunning foray into the one-person show format for this artist and, with finely considered direction from Rosie Niven, the show is a mesmerising 60 minutes of darkly comic and deeply upsetting theatre. Awful and shocking in places.
There were many gasps from the more vocal of the audience as this queer play from UK playwright Dan Ireland-Reeves pulls no punches in its visceral and realistic portrayal of a young man’s life as a sex worker in London. Tyler is pretty arrogant about it - his success in his “job”. He shows us through his backpack and the items put us in no doubt about the tools of trade. Tyler assumes our acceptance and urban sophistication about his life, with details unspared about clients and practices. However, Tyler also has weak moments where he is victimised by circumstances and a kind of impotence that no blue pill can fix.
Crotty grabs that first sex joke, it’s in the backpack, by the “sweaty member”. It is slowly placed, with absolute precision and he takes his time in enjoyment of the effect. Those gasps, most young female, and the uncomfortable air in the room, mostly older patrons, are drawn from absolute attention to the performance. By this time Crotty has created the character with an absorbing realism. The command of Tyler’s accent sites him, the arrogance of youth is palpable and Tyler’s wry and funny view of his world is attractive. And Crotty has stylistically naturalistic way with the stream-of-consciousness which makes Tyler believable and engaging. we trust his narration because he is open, young and in danger to our way of thinking.
One of the reasons for the power of Bleach is how Niven and Crotty have very successfully trusted the writing. There is very little layered over Tyler’s words and the flashbacks are discrete and shared with a certain stillness. There is also a quite static scene half way through which is terribly confronting, both in execution and in content. It’s a tour-de-force performance from Crotty as the boy becomes man … victim ascending. After, the arrogance goes and the backstory takes shape and Tyler is lesser. Crotty, however, maintains the energy through the emotional troughs and doesn’t falter in characterisation and audience contact.
The audio is cleverly used in this show. The Festival has not been a showcase for tech but on this occasion Georgia Condon’s design really adds atmosphere with well sourced sounds, like the muddied train over bridge, and engineered with skill. The muted disco was particularly excellent in this regard. And the music of ‘porn track’ made my companion nudge me with recognition.
You may get to read this before the show tonight … get along … Bleach is stonkingly good theatre.
A winning wander to the weird.
The dark humour begins early in Wink when you can see a perversion of yourself reflected in the black tiled and mirrored set. The perversity continues when, and I hope you are lying down, Jen Silverman’s play begins, to ‘Sail Away’ on the audio track no less. It will do terrible things to those who look happy and responses other than perverse laughter seem unlikely. This production from Wheels & Co, in association with bAKEHOUSE Theatre Company, is a winning wander to the weird side of the human psyche… both us and them what created it!
Wink, the eponymously named cat, has gone missing and Sofie (Eloise Snape) is bereft – and very suspicious of husband Gregor (Graeme McRae) who openly despises the infinitely despise-able animal. Luckily they are both in analysis and Dr Frans (Matthew Cheetham) is a solid, stable, therapy by numbers, kind of doctor. But, the doctor is about to experience odd and upsetting feelings when there’s an interloper (Sam O’Sullivan), seductive and dangerous.
Director Anthony Skuse has negotiated the tone of this show, from knee-slapping to intimate, with vehemence and stamina; guiding these secretly wild things to the outbreaks of craziness by total belief. There is no wink-wink here, the characters play it straight and the audience fills in the laughs. Skuse’s work in directing the non-verbal moments has a cat-like lugubriousness. Slow, easy and engrossing, the audience are pulled forward to wait for what will inevitably rise and stretch. Yet, tenderness is possible. If the text does slow down slightly towards the climax as emotions stray into realism and a disruptive song appears extraneously, the cast chase forward to pounce running wild on the tornado finale.
As the verklempt Sofie, Snape has a remarkable control over Silverman’s unique take on female disempowerment and fantasy and what could be highly offensive is grounded - and enormous pertinacious fun with a terrible lad. Plus Snape has a piece of violin physicality that is my visual joke of the year! McRae is more of a believe in hate kinda guy and his out of character reaction to the annoying creature is despair tinged with a disheartening awakening of understanding. McRae holds the truth very close and this makes his performance absolutely hilarious.
Cheetham brings slammed down feelings volcanically to the surface, disrobes them if you will, as his responses to the interloper take his bow tie and how-do-you-feel professional distance by the socks. With a lift of the chin and lots of undressing and re-dressing, expertly and characterfully done, Cheetham’s Frans is ultimately vulnerable and empathetic. On the other paw, O’Sullivan is, yessss, a character choice in every glass. Strangely thrilling, O’Sullivan takes an acting school exercise trope and knocks it on the head with an upright performance that coughs up comic furballs with a morph into an obfuscated felinity.
The music adds to the excellence of this little show that could. Nothing says chaos like German punk and how ‘Abide With Me’ seamlessly fits into this weirdness is a joy to listen to. There’s longing electronica, probably on a Roland, and a cat-like wail of clarinet that elides sometimes into smooth piano and brushed drums. The lighting is unobtrusive, narratively excellent in isolating characters when needed and the use of the amber and blue is discreetly warm and cool in textual cohesion. The raised set and fur rug are clever and I just couldn’t control a frission of fear every time dirt comes near the white sofa …
Wink is independent theatre which snarls and hisses in the face of small budgets and low Winter attendances. And if you need proof of its excellence, there are 40 plus quotes from the show in this review … come back after you have seen it, I bet you recognize them all... unless you are not quite ready for this lunatic, loving and tenuously happy production.
RbJ Rating: 4 Topekas
Photo Credit: Robert Catto
Life of Galileo
Advanced theatre-going at Belvoir.
Life of Galileo is advanced theatre-going – plays don’t get much denser. Or more accessible. This is Brecht that you can reach out and touch, but you are well advised not to leave your brain with your hat in the cloakroom. Concentration is required, demanded, by this Belvoir adaptation. It may prove a niche production, however, for those of us who thrill to ideas and their theatrical expression this a chance to revel in its deeply thought-provoking text, engaging staging and simply superb performances.
Bertolt Brecht’s triumphantly alienated text is adapted by Tom Wright, directed by Eamon Flack and designed (set and costumes) by Zoe Atkinson and it is replete with bare, in-the-roundness. Objects do drop in from above, roll in from the tunnels, or are handed around the parquetry floored stage but it is the ideas that swirl. Keeping up with them has an exactness of Verfremdungseffekt which gives the production that tiny frisson of joy before being pulled into the power of the storytelling. Video screens place each world for the audience and the distractors wallop the emotions with a ‘wake up to yourself’!
If I told you about the big one before interval, it would just sound weird but it got a huge spontaneous applause. The interlocution of that modernism might be unappealing to some but the elegance of the time out of joint gave me a huge fillip of enjoyment. As does the … “here, hold this” just one of many laugh out loud fun moments.
The adaptation uses modern speech with effective inclusion (‘thought-police’ is in there) but doesn’t jar with the themes. The use of bureaucratic and corporate language is killer in its avoidance of Inquisitorial challenge! We know the realities of the solar system, yet the precision of the dialogue and speeches around science and rationality, belief at war with cause and effect, corporeal fear and spiritual martyrdom are given an availability of compactness by Wright. Tuts and sighs near us alert the watcher to the audience around them in a very Brechtian way.
Empathy is not the alienation way but, damn, Colin Friels has a lot of lines! He’s on stage the whole time, barely sits and has a way of disappearing when listening so that ideas stand their ground. The recanting is the crux of Galileo and Friels builds the man who will recant, slowly and deliberately. He holds the back the venal yet rages with the carnal delight of moving and being sneaky as the intellectual frustration compounds upon itself. The wash of words from Friels is delivered without braggart water cooler ego making his puzzlement at the status quo backlash even more affecting.
Frustration is expressed with the most brilliant comic timing by Sonia Todd who is just luminous as the Vice Chancellor. The ensemble play many different roles, each with distinction. Vaishnavi Suryaprakash travels a terrific arc as the student who will proselytize for Galileo’s findings. Damien Ryan is warm and sympathetic as the friend yet menacing and icy in a later role. Also warm, yet so conflicted, is Rajan Velu’s friar and his command of his character’s spiritual dichotomy is rich and grounded. The rest of the cast is uniformly excellent, with Peter Carroll almost stealing several scenes… but the direction of the play is too savvy for that to happen.
Flack’s direction foregrounds shapes in the space, the thought-police court scholars defend in a flying wedge and Galileo and a Franciscan sit on chairs to face each other in conversation, before His Holiness commands from a man-made square. The very first scene takes some getting used to for the amount and circularity of movement made by Galileo but as the next 15 scenes arrive, Flack resolves any sightline issues with an organic and motivated impetus.
Red is the instrument of cohesion for the costuming and the detail that one can fall into is sublime... A large gold cross on each lapel for an Inquisitor says so much; as does the tour de-theatre which happens in Scene 13. The workman’s blue coat gives Galileo a craftsman’s truth as if it was actually in his hands. I laughed a lot at the striped shirt, blue suit and red tie! And the shoes and hair… marvellously conceived.
The lighting is straw and steel in the main which gives a range of white from glare to amber and the saturations gently, almost imperceptibly, transpose with ideas and themes and events. The scene changes have a very modern feel in the neon floor fixtures without having any discordant hues or flicks. The audio is delightful with medieval drums and strings in places, brash techno in others and a live mic which gives a quiet verisimilitude to speaking lies to power. (Lighting design: Paul Jackson. Composer and sound design: Jethro Woodward)
Life of Galileo is a wooden orb of intellectual challenge for an audience; a chance to sit in a space as a clarion bell calls for your attention to a production which will affect you and effect a philosophical skirmish within you. Can we trust in a redemptive universe spinning around the sun? Is denial survivable? Would you…?
RbJ rating: 4 gifts of prosciutto and cheese
Life of Galileo continues at Belvoir Street Theatre until September 15.
Photo Credit: Brett Boardman
Part of the No:Intermission One Act Play Festival.
Having seen the wonderful play Broken several times before, including as an in-progress reading and as a big stage version, I was very keen to see it again. The No:Intermission One Act Play Festival has given me that chance and in such an engaging production. The play is by Mary Anne Butler, whose work I simply adore, and it may be that I would have been quite cross if they had buggered it up. Instead, my friends and I were treated to a thoroughly engrossing production which was emotional, narratively satisfying and staged by Director Jess Davis with a nuanced and intimate feel for that wide space of Chippen Street Theatre.
The character of Ham, in this production, often walks downstage very close to the audience as his is the narration which pulls the story together. In three separate spaces, Ham, Mia and Ash narrate toward to the audience, not interacting directly with each other, merely telling us what went on when Ham came across a rollover on a remote Central Desert highway. Ash is the single occupant of the wreck and as Ham helps her, we also see and hear what is happening at home with his wife, Mia.
As Ham, Matthew Taylor imbues his performance with the emotional and logical dichotomy which drives this story and stirs passion and analysis in the audience. The text is written in short lines from each character and the words remotely build the world. Taylor’s character bears much of the burden of lines dropping onto and smashing into other characters’ and his delivery is organic and telling of inner turmoil. Taylor does not have “big hands” but yet the character is large and male yet with a softly conflicted expression of sadness, regret and impotence. It’s a lovely performance from him especially when the text hits the mildly comic and Taylor’s dry underplay is very funny.
Technically the role of Mia is extremely challenging as the first sequences exist as simply a desperate cry of physical and spiritual pain. Samantha Camilleri rises to this challenge with a grounded and visual performance which doesn’t intrude on the other two spaces. Her performance discreetly edges in other elements of backstory; a slight drunken sway, a girlish romantic heart and a loss of agency by acceptance. Directed by Davis with a rise and fall physicality which throws her close to the source of her agony, Camilleri and Davis have also crafted the screams with a cohesive theatricality which doesn’t intrude, merely bears witness.
On the other hand, horror and shock is well used by Davis and Samantha Lambert as Ash. Her injuries are different; sudden, piercing and spliced with precision into the production. Lambert’s is the first and longest monologue of Broken and it is an achievement of diction, empathy and audience pull into the style of the text. Lambert has carefully modulated her work to give the facts, the events, with a characterful logic and Ash’s self-deprecating competence. Where the other characters share with us a life before these events, Ash travels an arc through narrative. Lambert’s development of this woman is animated and loving and the audience feels her heartbeat as Ash brokenly makes choices and comes to understandings.
LADY LIBERTY AND THE DONUT GIRL
Part of the No:Intermission One Act Play Festival.
Lady Liberty and the Donut Girl. It’s a good title! And the No:Intermission theatre festival has some little gems of one act plays to enjoy. This particular outing for the play is somewhat flawed but encountering something new is always an adventure.
It’s a two hander from American playwright Eric Lane and a modern love story despite some older cultural references like ‘East of Eden’. The narrative is sequential but saved from being too episodic by occasional missives from the working class. That would be Erin, who is behind the donut counter at the local supermarket. Erin is somewhat a victim of her circumstances but she is smart, positive and empathetic … and observant. She watches those around her and shares what she sees and feels with us, but we watch her meeting and subsequent friendship with ‘Lady Liberty’ in dramatic form.
She meets Wes as Lady Liberty on the street. He is dressed up as a human billboard for a legal firm. This is not so much a job as repayment of a debt to his stepfather. Despite being a school student, Wes has a quirky way of seeing the world, but he also has a problem with relating to both his peers and family. Will this odd friendship grow into something else as the possibility of romance hangs in the distance between them? How miss is this match and will it become a love match?
This production is conceived well for the space with the various locations well evolved... the park is great fun. And there’s detail i the creation with nicelties like the Jolly Shop logo being especially well designed. However, the play is a little slow in this instance. The two performers Emily Suine and Michael Niven make a good mismatched couple and they work well together but Wes is a little too sadly repressed for Erin’s perkiness to have a suitable foil. Nevertheless, if the downbeat mood works against the tension, the narrative does intrigue.
The cast have obviously worked hard at the accents, the ages are effectively captured and those scene changes are smoothly accomplished. An interesting aspect of Director Fred Pryce’s reading of the text is the foregrounding of the negotiation which these characters seem to do each time they are together. The contemporary implications about consent and autonomy are discreetly given weight.
Though I felt the show, the night I saw it, was underplayed in places, the final sequences of Lady Liberty and the Donut Girl surprised me with how much emotional investment I had made in these characters.
Infidelity & Enlightenment
Part of the No:Intermission One Act Play Festival.
No: Intermission is in its inaugural season as a one-act play festival and it’s a marvellous showcase for this very underrated theatrical form. As a de-gustation menu, the entertainment value for lovers of small and concise work is replete and it’s also a neat way to see some emerging talent.
Such is the case with Infidelity & Enlightenment which is a cracker watch. Written by Sydney based playwright, comedian and performer Lauren Bonner, the script, in the main, just crackles. It’s hilarious, dry, wry and socially challenging. A female teacher has had a ‘thing’ with a year 12 student. Bonner drops us straight in and I loved that about the play … no lingering early mystery. Boom! There it is and the world is built. But Bonner then layers a prevarication on the text. What has actually gone on? Horror mounts! As the teacher’s husband and the student’s girlfriend amble and burst in, one guileless and one knowing, the plot thickens and the infidelity does in fact becoming enlightening.
The fact that we laugh at this matter is in the very well-directed excellence of the performers. (Director: Liam Shand Egan) Nic Westwood is so funny as this badly behaved woman, her vocal work in throwing a comic line and her physicality in responding to the absurdity occurring in her living room is perfectly pitched to the space. A terrific scene partner, James Ong is energy plus and hurls himself around the set with a youthful exuberance and passion which is very tailored to the text by Egan. Ong is great fun to watch.
As is the contrasting character of the lugubrious husband played by Matt Prichard. A bear of a man (it’s on his jammies) he presents a gentle soul who is almost completely rational in this perversity of circumstance. Pritchard doesn’t fade this man’s presence in the non-speaking sections and his listening is excellent without being overdone; nor is his character’s struggle to contain himself in places. He’s a teacher, too, but you just know he is destined for Guidance Counsellor training. Explosively in opposition, Gia Cohen as Jessica, the girlfriend, is angry and Cohen does a great job with the staccato of grief. This character has a monologue which represents a tonal shift in the play.
Still funny, there is a more rational reach out to the audience at this point. Though the relationship origin story does affect the pace of the play; slowing it noticeably as we head towards a resolution which is, however, contrarily comic and emotionally satisfying. There is another outstep sequence in the work which is surprising and explains the use of the pink upstage lights and it is pure hilarity with a we-shouldn’t-be-laughing smack to the back of the head. There’s a lot of that in this thoroughly enjoyable offering.
This will be brief. Mamma Mia is a rip-roaring hit.
Get behind the tiller and rev your sky blue dinghy out to Parramatta by the Sea, for a night’s entertainment which will wash you out of the theatre with joy in your heart, music that will not be denied in your head and the oddest instinct to chat with every stranger you meet. Because they are all laughing too! Uplifting and communal, the warmth of this transplanted Greek island will drive out the winter from your soul.
The adventure of this show begins with those first few bars from Peter Hayward’s orchestra under the stage and that’s about all I can tell you about the music. I was so enthralled by this jubilant production that I forgot to listen. Though, later, maybe I did notice the bouzouki inspired keyboard in ‘SOS’ as it pelted toward the drums kicking in. Haywards’ music weaves the audience through straits toward Kalokairi as the curtain rises on an evoked dock and a superbly rendered cyclorama … just as an aside, that’s a lost art, cyc lights.
Courtney Bell as Sophie enters looking intently down, wishing on the letters that will summon her could-be fathers, but when she lifts her head the huge smile, and perk plus, arrive as the crystal clear soprano rises. Bell is terrific in the role and there are so many other outstanding performances that superlatives will inevitably dry up. With handsome and talented Chris White as Sky, the fiancé, the pair make a stylish and believably in love couple. Despite the concerns of Louise Symes as Sophie’s mother, Donna. Symes is warm and conflicted and her showstopper belting of ‘The Winner Takes it All’ takes no prisoners. The audience knows brilliance when they hear it, there was huge applause.
But Directors Jessica Fallico and Jordan Vassallo keep things moving because Symes is not alone in brilliance. Donna’s two besties are Rosie (Rachael Gillfeather) and Tanya (Debora Krizak) performers who are the real deal. Enormous fun together and apart, Krizak is sex on a stick sizzle in ‘Does Your Mother Know’ with moves that kinda stay with you and Gillfeather has her own way of getting a man’s attention in her hilarious solo ‘Take a Chance of Me’. In that song she gets down and on the way to dirty with Bill, a poor manhandled possible Sophie-dad.
Mark Simpson is great here as he bumbles into love with an inept charm and graceless lugubriousness. All three dads are fantastic and Fallico and Vassallo have very subtly gentled the trio into a very individuated, unit. It’s so clever the way they cohere as ‘the dads’ yet have such distinct personalities. Equally discreet is how the co-directors have fine-tuned Blake Erickson’s scene-stealer performance as Harry.
Never too broad, Erickson’s instinct for a laugh is worth the holiday visit to the west. The third dad is Scott Irwin’s Sam and he brings a charismatic presence that enables the Vassallo and Fallico to place him seated and almost still for ‘Knowing Me Knowing You.’ The sadnesses in the silences - heart breaking. And his partner work, in silence, with Symes heading towards the finale elevates the excellence of those songs to rending.
There is so much to touch the emotions in Mamma Mia and that’s ok because you know it’s going to be all right. And you know that from the burst of life that fills the stage when that ensemble floods in. Filling up that staging which is has levels and charcaters and is solid and flexible and which leaves lots of room for dancing. (Design: Joshua Mcintosh) Vibrant, thrilling, pin-point dancing. Sally Dashwood’s creative and out-of-the-box choreography is breathtakingly well interpreted. There’s a touch of zombie nightmare fear in the title song when it arrives in the First Act, with every bent hand, pointed toe and tilted head aligned to perfection. Yet with individual flair and personality in every stomp and whirl. And the flipper dance from the boys …. waaay too much fun. And don’t get me started on the vivid and free-wheeling costumes designed by Audrey Currie. And the sunburn make-up from Karen Lamont-Barnett. And the acting ensemble in the background … that’s it. I’m out of superlatives!
And my high is crashing. Because Mamma Mia is a natural high that transcends your day. Don’t miss it and for heaven’s sake don’t have a drink at the theatre because that may put your health at risk when you stand clapping for the two encores as we did tonight. Too much happiness to be had on that little white isle nestled in an azure blue sea just a 20 minute train ride west from the CBD.
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ bridesmaids’ squeals
Neil Simon’s semi-autobiographical Tony winner.
Biloxi Blues by Neil Simon. It’s a classic but very much of its period. There’s stuff in it, isms, that jar but Simon does what Simon does and holds up a mirror to the time with equal opportunity slurs and with a redemptive ending. In this production from Castle Hill Players, the text is left untouched and an audience member is able to apply filters as required through the laughs. It’s a funny show but heart-warming, too, and with that truthfulness of moment that Simon does so exceedingly well.
Eugene Jerome is our guide and he speaks directly to the audience. He is stuck in a railway carriage with strangers on his way to basic training at Fort Biloxi - it’s WWII and young men are called upon to go to war and to grow up in the process. The men he is squeezed into the cabin with will be his unit for the next 10 weeks under the no-nonsense NCO, Sergeant Toomey.
As Eugene, Julian Floriano is disarming and sweet. Floriano balances the naivety with a young man’s lust and his worry about the war ahead. His direct to the audience has charisma and well used eye contact and he gracefully moves from narration to drama with an ease that carries the audience along with the concept. He also very clearly brings out the watcher in the boy who wants to be a writer and his character’s growth through the play is lightly applied … until we meet the boy become man of the last scene.
The unit nemesis is a macho grunt, Wykowski and Jason Spindlow, who plays him, pulls off something clever in avoiding the cliches of a role like this. With Director Meredith Jacobs’ understanding of the small, almost invisible, stories inside scenes, Spindlow is able to personalise the character and give him depth without resorting to a vicious bully stereotype. Jacobs has ensured that none of these men come direct from Central Casting and the whole ensemble’s very effective side interactions and non-speaking work is so enjoyable because of the realism and naturalistic interplay between these platoon mates.
As Selfridge, Chris Butel also avoids the tropes of being big and dumb, as written, and he has a quite a subtle comedy, especially in the maths, to make his khaki idiot great fun. Hennesey is played by Ben Freeman as a bit of an outsider. He’s already at the Fort when the rest arrive but he joins in where he can and Freeman gives him a strong moral compass even if that does separate him. Also taking a good role is Daniel Vavasour as Carney. He brings the diffidence without fussiness and just enough longing to make Carney relatable. The women in the cast have a bit of a thankless task. The dated character played by Michelle Murphy is humanised by her performance and the girls at the dance also do the small-stories with considerable verve and skill. Kate Gandy is wry and funny in the role of Daisy and just as charming as our hero; they do make a very sympathetic couple to root for.
Chris Lundie as Toomey embodies the “old guard” in that “old army” way and Lundie has a very humorous way of throwing Toomey’s dry, rule-ridden dialogue. The cast is rounded out by Agustin Lamas as Arnold in such an engaging performance. Lamas engenders real empathy in the watcher and the character is whole-heartedly created. It is Arnold around whom the play’s themes and educations about bigotry swirl and Lamas has great heart and passion here. His latrine speech is moving and deeply upsetting. It’s a compete performance from him.
The cast accents are very smooth and serve to successfully accentuate the otherness of the show, especially in the sergeant whose southern drawl sets him apart. The costuming is terrific and the guys wear the uniforms with a familiarity and evident effortlessness. There is some truly enjoyable music and the varied types of drumming was a pleasure to listen to and well-tuned to the atmospheric rhythm of the show. The lighting gives good coverage, even on the top bunk. It isolates well when needed and I always love a moon box. (Costume: Annette Snars. Original Music: Joshua McNulty. Sound Design : Bernard Teuben. Lighting Design: James Winters.)
The set is divinely created for the space. Detailed, interesting and yet practical and with a personality of its own. The train carriage wobbles as the audio and lighting simulate travel, it’s a lovely start to the show and the scene changes … crisp and proficient. (Settings: Trevor Chaise). At the end of the show, the redemption of this play is replete with emotion and explored by Jacobs in a silent scene which rings with compassion. Biloxi Blues is certainly a play of its time but a modern red pencil would destroy the choice we can make in acknowledging how far we have come. A fun and well created piece of entertainment which, incidentally, makes one admire the physical prep these guys had to do. Pushups galore!
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ plates of creamed, chipped beef
Production photos: Chris Lundie
Generational scarring - still standing.
Table by Tanya Ronder is a play which has tongue & groove audience engagement as an integral part of the theatrical furniture. A melange of characters, places and times over generations of the Best family, the non-episodic script requires one to rationally consider where each scene is and whose story are we watching. But there is much more to the text than just the intellectual enjoyment of context. For me it was a sad story of inherited traits, environmental repression and the struggle to rise above our baser inborn imperatives.
The table is a handmade gift for a new wife from David Best, late 1800s Lichfield. The table will travel through three more generations before we meet it in the near present. It will travel to Africa and be abandoned in Herefordshire then rescued to London and much will happen around it as the Bests, individually and family, live their life in its presence.
Directed by Kim Hardwick, this production has a savvy understanding of the structure of the piece, how the intellect-engaging changes draw the watcher into the four separate worlds in the first half. It is then that the rational and emotional inks are made to narrative and to characters and Hardwick has a busy, mimetic and unfussy ease in the movement with the small mysteries foregrounded and the emotional content slightly held under. In the audience, favourites emerge, wishes for them swirl … and fears!
But in the second half, the mysteries of siting are less and the real themes emerge with vengeance. In the longest and penultimate scene, which is so superbly directed, Hardwick puts the table, the mostly brightly lit part of the stage, between the more dimmed characters. A Best and Another play out the inescapabilty of personal decisions and history. In that gripping, thrillingly created, scene the actors are Julian Garner and Danielle King who rend the air between them with recrimination and regret, tinged with love and revelation. The use of voice and endowment are a masterclass, as is the on-a-dime flicks of time. Theirs are just two of the excellent performances in this very accomplished ensemble.
As second gen Finley, Mathew Lee has a subtle way with the heavily written, tortured and damaged son; a role which might be over-played in other hands. There is also a lovely underplay and restraint in Charles Upton’s Albert, who brings out the gendered cruelty of the times without slipping into modern behaviours. Effusive, loving and thoroughly entertaining is Chantelle Jamieson whose lively, excitable, joyous, Sister Hope lives up to her name in every scene. Stacey Duckworth as Albert’s twin, Sarah, has a pivotal role; a difficult one with some limited textual motivation for some of Sarah’s choices. However, Duckworth brings a fully formed character, whose sudden and unexpected decision which will haunt the end of the play, is delivered with believable impetuosity and her later intractability is heartbreaking.
Table does, though, have some elements which don’t carry as effectively as intended; the 70s commune is rife with the era’s ethos, language and attitudes but struggles somewhat to convince. The required bareness of the staging works against verisimilitude in this scene but is very effective overall with a lovely, bespoke, table for sure. But also with side flats that allow for surprise and sudden entrances and a darkened upstage alcove which provides words from the dark and onlooker niches. The costuming is modern but with a dusty African feel to the palette. (Set/ Costume design: Isabel Hudson)
The lighting is terrific. With white that creeps into yellows and oranges and a single, high, upstage blue that doesn’t jar with any modernity of saturation, there’s a strong naturalism for much of the show. The panels give a structured shape to the side lighting and the use of a floor throw heightens emotion with a slight disconcertion of shadow. One scene is conjured by light-change storytelling… lovely.
The audio is remarkable for this production. From a hummed ‘He who would valiant be’ to the choices of mood underscore, the music holds the production in its gentle hands. The seduction, for example, is light and bold. The recurrence of a wood-block feel in the score is conceptually beyond wonderful and the drum heartbeat combined with ecclesiastical choral out of interval an exciting entr’acte. The singing done by the cast, in English and Swahili, is delightful to listen to also. (Lighting design: Martin Kinnane. Musical direction, audio design and composition: Nate Edmondson)
I expect Table will have you thinking about what your great-grandparents have passed to you... and not just about the tangibly bestowed. As a person with adoption in their background, the impact on me was somewhat different; a chord of longing struck early and stayed. This a production which begins in the head before slowly taking pride of place in a hopeful heart.
RbJ rating: 4 inherited scars
Production photography: Danielle Lyonne
Catch Me If You Can
Flighty, fun and feel-good.
Catch Me If You Can (Book: Terrence McNally. Lyrics: Marc Shaiman. Songs: Scott Wittman and Marc Shaiman) is a crowd-pleasing musical which has flown into the Hayes Theatre with flighty, feel-good fun on its wings. With terrific leads and vibrant direction, it is a show which hits all the pleasure centres for enjoyment of the musical form. Some cracker solos and duets, big choreography production numbers and a well-known predecessor, this is a production to sit back and be taken away.
Deriving from the film of the same name, Catch Me If You Can concerns Frank Abagnale Jr., a con man of some skill and history despite his tender age. He is cornered at an airport by the FBI agent, Carl Hanratty, who has been obsessed with finding him. Frank has manipulated the 1960s banking system to turn bad cheques into an art form and has also passed himself off as a Pan Am pilot, a paediatric surgeon and a lawyer. Dad was dodgy and mum was sick of it and when he is about to be caught it is because of his love for a girl called Brenda. He offers to spill all he knows to Hanratty … in the form of a TV show. ‘Live in Living Colour’.
As Frank, Jake Speer is charismatic with a killer smile and a wry, unhurried way with the audience. Never overdoing the knowing side of his character, Speer is energetic and funny as he captures Frank’s youthful optimisms and chance-grabbing. Speer also lets through just enough loneliness and loss to make that atypical duet going into interval, work very successfully.
Tim Draxl as Hanratty shares the stage with Speer on that occasion and the voice blend is truly beautiful. But Draxl can belt! His work is thoroughly enjoyable especially in the organic way he builds through the show to arrive at the hard-bitten man we meet before the TV version begins. Draxl deftly brings the driven man in charge and his approach to the other agents is enormous fun.
The other pair who are deliciously enjoyable are Simon Burke as Abagnale Snr and Penny Martin as Frank Jnr’s mum. Burke brings enormous pathos to the dad whose self-belief runs out and invests itself in his son’s deceptions. Burke and Martin’s time together on the stage is a slow waltz of delight with these veteran performers really able to strut their stuff in Act 2 as Brenda’s parents. They are enormous fun here with classic scenery-chewing turns which retain a sense of character and a generosity of spirit.
There are several individual elements that make the show worth the price of ticket, the previous is one of them. And right up there is Jessica di Costa’s solo as Brenda. ‘Fly, Fly Away’ is a classic musical theatre song performed with compassion, a superb voice and an emotional range that gives the Catch Me If You Can finale its heart. It’s wonderful.
And Director (and Choreographer) Cameron Mitchell has absolute control over the classic features of this show, he intimately understands its audience appeal. Mitchell has nestled it beautifully into the space and what I appreciated most is his approach to its inherent sexism. He snips and skips right by or he simply owns it. With such a good ensemble to work with Mitchell takes the nurses’ sequence and gives it a brash bravado and excellence uncontained which subverts the perspective. Loved it! (Assistant Director/Choreographer: Lisa Callingham)
Mitchell’s choreography also understands the audience and reflects what Broadway musicals need to take us on the journey. ‘Don’t Break the Rules’ is one of those previously mentioned ticket-worthy songs. It is choreographed with style and presented by a skilled ensemble who hold the shapes with precision and the lines with complete command. It’s important to mention here as well, the replete orchestrations which, despite the frenetic pace of this song, keep the band smoothly upbeat and just under the voices. (Musical Supervisior: Steven Kreamer. Musical Director: Anthony Cutrupi) It’s worth going again for, actually, that song. And for the really unusual recordings through interval … stay in for those.
The audio had a few late mic opens on the night I saw the show but works very effectively for the voices particularly in the duos and with the band, especially the drums and bass, driving the dynamic movement and impelling the music. The lighting has quite a few period pastels in the palette and works very efficiently ex a followspot without requiring split second timing from the cast. The landing light bulbs are excitingly used, as are the throw forwards into the audience. I normally hate these but here, the effect was placed with a timely thrill and contextual veracity. (Sound Designer: David Bergman. Lighting Designer: Jasmine Rizk)
With a pretty bare stage… go-go blocks used to effect and reality distorting reflective elevator walls… to allow for the showstopper choreography, it is up to the costumes to sell the show visually and they sure do. On a discrete black and white, red splodged, underlay, the clothing, and wigs, keep on surprising. Without overdoing the nostalgia feel, though I think I did own that green shot shantung skirt suit, the thin ties, gloves, name badges detail etc just give the wow factor. The variation on the grey FBI suits a real treat for the lover of costume and that cocktail ‘at home’ dress on Mumma Strong … to die for! (Set Designer: Kelsey Lee. Costume Design: Christine Mutton.)
Catch Me If You Can is service with a smile musical theatre which flies you away from the day-to-day into a fantasy world of dance and song. Pure enjoyment.
RbJ Rating: 4 Jiminy Christmases
Catch Me If You Can from LPD and Hayes Theatre Co is currently playing at Hayes Theatre.
Production Photography: Robert Catto
A View From The Bridge
Literal bare boards, passion and cohesive concepts for this canonical work.
Arthur Miller’s canonical work A View from the Bridge is playing at the Ensemble Theatre after having had several outings in other venues. This production is a new incarnation of the original production which sold out at the Old Fitz and what you have heard about it is all true. Gripping, electric and tensioned just short of damaging, this is a production to leave you gasping at its power.
Director Iain Sinclair has created a production so conceptually rich in motivation that audiences are immediately tumbled in the world and relationships of Eddie, a longshoreman. It’s 1950s in sight of the Brooklyn Bridge and this Italian American lives with a loving wife, Beatrice and her orphaned niece, Catherine. Into their world come two illegal immigrants, Beatrice’s cousins Marco and Rodolpho. Catherine, having finished school and at secretarial college, is ripe for romance and the handsome Rodolpho is near and attainable. A liaison disapproved of, in no uncertain terms and for very obvious reasons, by Eddie.
One of the major draw cards of this production is its integrity. Sinclair has avoided any modernising, any moralising, to allow for a timely reminder of how far we have come. “He’s not right” still stings hard and the other themes are gently approached without the overt exhibition we are getting inured to. This is a triumphal expression of simplicity which grasps at the audience through performances which work moment to moment to draw one in closer as the pressures on Eddie irrevocably compound.
With big hands and a low, load-bearing physicality, Anthony Gooley’s masterful creation of this flawed man has an absence of swagger or overbearing hostility in the safe space of home, but you can feel the danger. This is a haven where his is the expectation that all will come to him and they do. The women in his life re-inforce his sense of himself and Gooley’s Eddie puffs with ego strokes in those early scenes, Gooley setting up the audience to be conflicted. As Eddie’s true secret nature reveals his ignorance, repression and lack of self-knowledge Gooley weathers the persona with such touching subtlety inside the bravura. It is a rooted performance of truth and power.
One of those who is conflicted by Eddie’s behaviour is the conscience and narrator of the play, the solicitor Alfieri, played by David Lynch. Lynch puts a trustworthy man on stage, a professional onlooker whose emotional involvement is reliable storytelling and with that ending respectful of the work in every heart-felt sentence.
In a time when women were free to love a difficult man, the truth that Beatrice loves this man is brought vividly to life by Janine Watson. Eddie is the authority figure in ‘his’ home and Watson’s performance resiles constantly to keep the peace while still moving forward. Watson’s work is replete with Beatrice’s history in dealing with him and the familiarity of tiptoe and placation is writ large early. As the drama progresses and the tried and true methods break down, so does her ability to cope with her love for him.
Her counterpart is the uninhibited Catherine whose unshakeable optimism is unabridged by living so long in this household. Zoe Terakes’ Catherine is vibrant and energetic and immature and restless. Yet, Terakes stills her character within his mesmerism and grooming. After her world changes, opens, Terakes develops for Catherine a new language with which to express her helplessness around Eddie and the choices don’t proscribe or resolve, merely reflect an authentic growth.
With a naivety which is carefully detailed as male, in contrast to Catherine, Rodolpho is played by Scott Lee with a love of life and an unfiltered enjoyment of his new circumstances; his protective behaviours balanced with respect for Eddie rather than fear or subservience. David Soncin’s Marco is endearing when we first meet him, a cool hand to Rodolpho’s fevered embrace of America. Marco’s previous lack of agency, his ability to provide for his family, is gently rankled by Soncin who abrades Marco’s celebration of the independence of his new temporary life. There are still strict controls and Soncin nicely brings out the unforgiving old country in his characterization.
In a production almost devoid of lighting and sound changes and set only with a single chair, the tautness of the household relationships is sometimes evoked by distant voices. The show has sited itself in this new space with a closeness and precision of focus. There is both immediacy and implied separation in the staging, a chair between two can mean a chasm or a bridge, and the audience is alert to voices outside the lit space.
Events have a predictability, even if one is new to the work, which makes the storytelling not the basis of this production’s reputation. Rather it is the uncomfortable engrossment in these nightly lived lives, as they squabble and love and react, which makes A View from the Bridge such an intense and rare night in a theatre space. Were it not for the evident repeatability of this production I would apply Lorca’s description duende … it is fiercely heightened, authentic and more than its skilled creation. It sings!
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ wall-lost people
A View from the Bridge continues at Ensemble until August 24.
Production Photos: Prudence Upton
This Bitter Earth
Stylish Millennial modernity at New Theatre
This Bitter Earth is a despatch from the trenches. A well styled trench of queer 20 something Sydney but unescapably with a bit of fight for self-dom at its core. This series of missives begins singularly and then widens out to community with a glimpsing re-creation of the life lead by them. There appear to be problems all over for the characters, yet, there is a celebratory feel to this expression of coming out and settling down and finding people to be with. A play for a modern world, the production rings true and finds beauty and love in sharing parts of itself.
It begins with an intimate story, the beginning of a story really, as a young man has his first in-the-flesh sexual experience. What will follow is a series of scenes, each rich with insight into contemporary gay and lesbian experience and which stands as a collage shared.
Written by Chris Edwards, The Bitter Earth is a new work and has a little way to go if close scrutiny were applied, some parts overwritten and others too slight, but that doesn’t diminish the entertainment value of this current incarnation. It’s very funny in places, with some killer lines which feel natural and trope-free. With the realistically written insight into a world outside most audiences’ familiarity, absolutely fascinating. Some of the characters are penned with considerable emotional range, the first sequence pulls from spontaneous oversharing to an evocation of memory which is entirely touching.
The long-term-relationship sequence has some superior wordplay and several teeth-sucking concepts are raised by the men’s intellectualisation of approach to an essentially psychological problem… nihilism having a practical application of avoidance. There is another scene, which rises contrapuntally to this in having little or no spoken language and it is very funny and directed by Riley Spadaro with a strong understanding of how the rainbow that follows it will impact on the audience.
Another aspect of Spadaro’s direction which is wryly and carefully applied, is lust. In one generically sited section he has his cast remain perilously still for quite some time as the relationships and inter-plays and themes build. But he also chooses the perfect place to animate these five characters and take them from safety and stability. The ensemble cast of Mitchell Bourke, Michael Cameron, Elle Mickel, Matthew Predny, Ariadne Sgouros and Sasha Simon all take multiple roles and do so with clear characterisation and an evident sense of the mood landscape of each section.
The optics of the production give a polished blandness and dancefloor isolation to the characters’ lives, beginning in a grey space with a patchy lighting design that feels like some kind of anonymous country School of Arts. There are quite few archaic references in the text, actually … The Deerhunter and Linda Blair and the microphone’s Ellen metaphor is unmissable. Those 80’s refs are taken up by the audio design which did rather have me at Locomotion on the preshow! When the play moves on from the opening, the design also broadens with the set having a secret and the lighting taking the orange of adoration into the stark whiteness of reality. (Set and Costume: Grace Deacon. Lighting: Phoebe Pilcher)
The final scene of This Bitter Earth is rather a revelation and gives the whole production a coherence which wasn’t previously identifiable with a neat, unforced, satisfying resolution of themes. It’s a fun insight and an enjoyable communique from a community in our midst.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ purple discos
Production images: Bob Seary
Omar and dawn
Theatre to discuss on a cold, windy corner.
It’s a small and crowded room and the watching, the silences not filled, will reverberate. It’s unsure ground which is thoroughly disorienting for the listener who leans in close in an attempt to see and hear more than we are afforded. Omar and Dawn is unadorned theatre which requires we, the audience, to bring a demanding intelligence to the viewing. These characters are living lives without wishing to be observed, lives held by thin psychological threads of being and their painful existences are not designed for entertainment. Or for your compassion! This is a marvellous work of theatre with cultural insight, a rarity of characters and a narrative barely told.
Omar is fostered with octogenarian Dawn who has been at this for a long time. Now too old to foster, her younger brother, mechanic Darren, signs the forms but Dawn does the in loco parentis. Omar will be a tough case. A hard case of a boy who is gay, lost, abandoned, yet he is not without agency or a repressed ambition. Dawn and Darren are not exactly on the same page when it comes to this boy who is used to spending time with his mate Ahmed who is an entirely lost boy living a practical, desperate, hopeful life.
The ensemble inhabits the set for the entire play. Maggie Blinco, Antony Makhlouf, Lex Marinos and Mansoor Noor ignore any others out of their direct engagement but it is almost impossible for the audience not to be tensioned by the extra characters. As they wait what do they feel, what will they be told and what do they instinctively know?
Omar and Dawn builds worlds in front of us as playwright James Elazzi puts this quartet in close proximity to monosyllabism with the natural speech of the guarded and volatile. All will make a reactionary mistake in the play and each will reveal with words after obfuscating with the decision to speak. The light moments only serve to pull the viewer deeper into the characters in a text where the narrative avoids traditional topography. Elazzi merely factually pinpoints a pivot for us to consider. It is highly charged work which denies any dramatic catharsis for the viewer while laying concepts in the gravel at his character’s feet; loneliness, religion, aging, exploitation the density is ours to ponder, as my friends and I did, on the street after.
As Omar, Antony Makhlouf is wound tightly with a locked-in intractability towards Dawn when they meet in the first scene. Makhlouf drags Omar’s alert preconceptions behind him in every small watchful glare, every disguising action and it is there, lurking as doubt, for every advance he makes. Even, evidently, into the close, personal relationship he has with Ahmed (Mansoor Noor) a boy on the make with everyone else.
Noor’s visceral character does not want our fucking pity and it is heart-breaking. A watcher might, though, desire some of the freedom he sees in himself, despite his ignored reality. Hypocrisy is his experience and expectation and Noor underpins every moment with a preparation for it. This is a person we have not seen truthfully represented before; entirely believable and fully fleshed. When these two forcibly grown men stop swearing and breathe out their history to revive the other, it is breathtaking watching.
Maggie Blinco and Lex Marinos have DNA deep histories, too. Marinos’ complexity of response to Omar is entirely coloured by his little-brother fear of a sister’s explosions. His knowledge of her stubbornness, his frustration with it, not strong enough to allow the little boy inside to stand up manfully as he should. His brooding and dissatisfaction when in her sphere informs the man he is outside it and in Blinco’s Dawn we absolutely feel her outward sufficiency and power. Tough words spoken with a hint of impermanence in some rising infections and a weight of waiting in the kitchen she commands. Blinco combs her hair and my tears came unbidden in the silence as director Dino Dimitriadis allows for how the text builds empathy.
It’s a spare story made sparser by Dimitriadis’ direction and his choices of timing and siting. He allows no character to serve another, or the story, simply giving each their own existence in a Venn diagram of overlapping need. Here he is aided by the production design of Aleisa Jelbart who puts the four on an insubstantial footing which reveals every move forward or back and which creaks with silence in places. With the hard and unforgiving audio from Ben Pierpoint and a superb lighting design from Benjamin Brockman, the indoor is amber warm and the outdoor is noisy, steel and cold. And a truth is told in glare.
Omar and Dawn will give you no answers but as you huddle outside, spitting distance from misused people, what the fuck will you do with what you just watched?
RbJ rating: 4 ½ palm hit tyre irons
Van de Maar Papers
Will there be the will to publish?
It’s an unsettling offering, Ratcatch’s Van De Maar Papers. Absurdist yet logical, it has a new spin on secret lives and thoughts, industrialists and the machinery of capitalism, plus a nasty insight into human corruption and its role in corporate reach. The show is very entertaining and balances its original stylings with a delicate storytelling heart.
Van de Maar has died and his last wife is left to deal with his nine kids and 16 grand-kids, when greed is the order of the day, as she doles out gifts to keep the pack from attempting to split the big, wealthy company. Then there’s Frank who is trying to get out from under the name, with little success. Very little success anywhere for this would-be solo businessman. Into the bequeathed mix is a set of papers, written by this pillar of the community in secret moments, and which he mandates, will-wise, to be published.
As Christine, the wife, Lucy Miller has all the imperiousness of the late comer to privilege. There is a kind of corporate droit de seigneur without any hint of noblesse oblige. Something went very wrong in that marriage and Miller, in her lifted chin and solid crossed armed stance, gives us a Christine who is ambitious and tenacious for reparations. Allied with this is an extended length in Miller’s delivery, giving very clear implication of calculation and consideration with a hint of mysterious agenda.
Frank, played by Simon Thompson, has the effort of ‘looking directionless’ clearly included in his characterisation with a flattened blandness which nevertheless continues to be intriguing. There’s no effacement or disappearance merely a lack of competence, too much control and vague ambition outstripping ability. But beware Frank, there’s avarice about.
The two other narrative characters are the publisher, Ron Huck and illustrator Sarah. Huck has the portentous exaggeration of lost dreams and Terry Serio lifts him hilariously off the page. Dramatic, ponderous but with a plan ... his specific use of the physical comedy of this crazy and eccentric failure is very funny. Laugh-out-loud funny! As is his assertively misplaced belief in his own self-worth. And it’s a very nicely drawn relationship with Nathalie Murray who has a wry and watching approach to dealing with her boss while embracing the guy’s fun and frivolous ways. Murray has a neat way with a comic look and wittily placed comment and in some ways stands as the moral spine of the play … without sentimentality.
There are four other characters as well, listed as attendants in the program, and these ghoulish, mythical creatures are a fun insertion into the play. They seamlessly become all the extra characters with the choreo of their absurdities exciting in places and hilarious in others. The plonking porn in lovely sea blue is great watching. Their presence and purpose is quite open to debate, for me they are apparatchik survivors of merciless imperialism. But I would see it that way.
It is here that the writing from Alexander Lee-Rekers and the direction from Camilla Turnbull mesh into a highly original way to tell a story. A style which allows the audience to see what they may. There are sections dripping with directorial skill, the moment of Christine’s silent reading being one of them. There is such an assured sense of the absurd inside the narrative and the language is great fun to listen to. The script has figurative fun with the porn elements while there are earthily light and comic sequences.
The costuming is part of the excellence of creation here. The range of Huck’s nauseous patterned ties and the fact that he is the only one who changes costumes yet doesn’t change who he is. The other characters transform in ways and grow emotionally but remain stuck in the same outfit! The set has space when needed and a defined separation that raises the narrative elements yet doesn’t maroon the characters. Christine overlooks the chaos she put in place at the end of Act 1 through Act 2. The ‘drenched in white’ line is taken literally by the set decoration and lighting. The ambient audio also gives important clues to place and style; the courting sequences especially good in this regard.
There are a few mountains to climb and Van de Maar Papers like the Van de Maar papers is in need of some red pencil. However, despite the need for a drink after uncle faun, the show has delightful silliness enough to make it worth seeing in its current form.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ beach views
For those who choose to look back.
The Relative Merits of reviving this play at this time are open for debate, however, there is good work on show in this, a new production, playing at El Rocco. The play is set in the early 90s and was initially produced 25 years ago. The themes are a living memory for many in the LGBT community. Dealing with gay men in sport, HIV at the height of media vitriol and a plethora of other issues around these themes, Relative Merits, may open old wounds in the community and certainly allows for others to pull out the hurtful old words and phrases.
Football star Adam Grant has announced his retirement at the height of his popularity, just as it happens that his brother, Clay, by virtue of a sexual indiscretion with a girl at home, arrives from the country. It’s been a while since the boys have seen each other, Adam being estranged from the family. Clay breaks into his brother’s apartment and orients as we do to the atmosphere... the phone is ringing constantly as the media thirst for more info and Adam is no where around.
When Adam does arrive home, the sudden energy as the brothers collide is very well explored by director Porter James. The night I saw the show it was a bit loud when shouty but there’s not a lot of that, rather, the physicality appeared naturally placed and unaffected. The tentativeness is also approached with complexity before the relationship opens out. The use of a traverse stage often splits the boys to each end of the space and makes an audience choose ... it’s subtly used.
Samuel Walsh as Adam has a softer vocal expression than his boy-out-of-country brother but the complete absence of stereotyping goes a long way to redeeming the more dated elements of his character’s text. Particularly strong was Walsh’s character choice to bring out just enough naivete about his situation and the public’s response. The brave face of a man used to prevarication has longing and hope all through his work, especially in the very well-acted phone call.
There’s some pretty awful things said and done by Clay. Isaac Broadbent gives the role the nuance required for that to be understandable. His conflicted behaviour and speech are drawn with a clear understanding of the relationship with his brother and his lack of appropriate education. Broadbent also handles the redemption arc without sloppy sentimentality and one can see what happens when his mother exerts influence, even at a distance. Particularly well moderated are his direct to the audience passages where his enforced maturity creeps in over time. It reduces the pain of the play when one can admire the work.
The lighting copes well with the space, unfortunately I had a light in my eyes bouncing from the mirror almost the whole time, lots of head waggling but I think I was the only one. The staging has an immediacy to the danger of violence and of exposure and it’s a good choice for that space, best I have seen it used in fact. The audio recordings are well created, echo nicely in the tiny theatre and pull the audience into the story.
Directorially there is some equally fine work. I was especially impressed with how the reality check of the piece is tastefully handled. However, the play is dense with museum ideas and what were once important, yet passing, attempts at consciousness-raising. So many matters in Relative Merits are now single issue discussions but, if the text did not speak to me at this limited distance, at least it is in safe, respectful hands for those who wish to be reminded.
RbJ rating: 3 been said befores
Relative Merits continues until July 25 at El Rocco Theatrette, 154 Brougham St Kings Cross.
The Cripple of Inishmaan
A darkly comic place.
It is the minutiae in which The Cripple of Inishmaan by Martin McDonagh begins that is ultimately so attractive about this production. A world away from our own, here small matters are important and change treads softly on the lives laid before us. It is not the one challenging event and its consequences which stirs empathy for the characters but, rather, it’s the wee story which invites immersion. The quirks and repetitions of this tiny village become as interesting and intriguing to us as to them.
Billy is different to the others on this island. In the way of small places he is labelled as less than, because of his difference. Orphaned as baby and brought up by two assumptive aunts who run a store on one of the Aran Islands off Ireland, he is bookish and prone to stillnesses. It is 1934 and on another island some way away an American film company is making a film. Billy longs for escape from his circumstances and plans for a future he believes possible.
The humour of this play, so carefully negotiated by director Claudia Barrie, hits early when the aunts, in their little shop, appear on the stage to speak of everyday things. Dour is very poor adjective to describe the lack of goings on in their world and the small talk of spinster sisters who live in the same house. Megan O’Connell and Sarah Aubrey are hilarious in places as they snipe and agree and are bonded in their affection for Billy, but one doesn’t sense malice. One wry and pinched, one more effusive, Barry often has them standing the same way, arms folded and stern but the difference elegantly wrought by intent and response. And their reprise phrases have the audience expectantly laughing before the thought is done.
As Billy, William Rees is very effective as a people watcher. All through the production Barrie has a gentle command of stillness over her cast, there’s little extraneous wandering, instead there is the solidity of relaxed conversation between people who don’t need to look at each other. And here, Rees neatly fits in a boy who people dismiss, thereby allowing Billy to watch with impunity and he brings considerable depth to what Billy feels about what he sees. Billy’s frustration, acceptance and presumed passivity are clearly expressed in Rees’ work and we can see his initial good humour fading inexorably away in the first act.
Helen, by contrast, is a loose cannon, careening around in the town with an explosive presence which can intensely focus in when she is roused. It is a marvelous creation from Jane Watt and one just waits to see what she will do next. Savvy direction from Barrie, though, keeps her outrageousness within the limits of this impoverished society with a utilitarian, hard-scrabble edge which is sharply defined. She is ‘awful fierce’ in the way of misfit iconoclasts.
As BabbyBobby, John Harding has a believable swallowed anger to his monosyllabism around some other villagers and contrasts that with a chatty warmth around ‘crippled Billy.’ His terse, practical nature sometimes at odds with a sneaking softness. An equally clever taciturn turn from Josh Anderson as Helen’s put-upon brother, Bartley, who has a very comic scaredy-cat bravado. In one extremely funny scene Anderson has a Buster Keaton stoicism which is deadpan at its finest and consequently draws huge sympathy for this dolt - a human face to passivity, indecision and cowardice.
Sympathy also for the Mam of the piece. We meet her son first and the old fella is the closest the community has to a town crier. Played by Laurence Coy with a twinkle in the eye, this devilish rogue has a mean streak. His manipulation and machinations again tightly controlled by Barrie to show his motivations, neediness and belief in his public news service. His mother is also quite the manipulative old bat, too, and Jude Gibson effortlessly inspires headshaking and laughter. It’s classic work from Gibson.
A superb music score (Kailesh Reitmans) evokes and presages mood and atmosphere and sound effects are lightly, effectively, used for landscape and ambiance. The quiet flute behind Billy’s aspirational mirror scene is subtle and charming. While overtly Irish music is avoided, the drum and strings give a jaunty air in places and the almost martial, almost marching, tempo of the first scene change is an energetic introduction to the production’s live change style.
Intriguing and curious are the several changes as the cast deconstructs and deploys the set to create a new place in the same place. There’s a windswept feel of slate and sea touched by oars and privation and the locations are designed with a cohesive look and sound; the visual interest piqued by sustained characterisation as the island unfolds - Helen hurls stuff around even as the villagers team together in the effort. (Production Design: Brianna Patrice Russell)
The lighting (Ben Brockman) also reflects the greyness and there is some evocative use of single beam white light, especially toward the end of the play with the bank use of a white pulsing throw perfectly created for the film sequence. The costuming is so good in this production. (Emily Brayshaw) One can see the history of a coat in which patches match and the distressed arse of the corduroy pants just exemplifies the detailed approach to character and world creation.
This is a meticulously detailed world in which a slender narrative has the power to elicit a shared humour and where small mysteries beckon and absorb. A stage where events are predictable, conversations bring little that’s new and characters behave within expectations; a place of stone not sand. The Cripple of Inishmaan envelops an audience with a love and humour that foregrounds the small courages of seeking potential. A joyously funny, soothing and moving production of dark eccentricity.
RbJ Rating: 4 cans of peas
Production images: Marnya Rothe
Jack and the Beanstalk
Sharing the traditions of pantomime with the whole family
There should be a warning about Bonnie Lythgoe’s Jack and the Beanstalk, it’s a gateway to more theatre! Your children are going to love it and then want more and you are going to have a giant of a time, too. With all the tradition and spectacle and brilliant performances we expect, this is a production for everybody to love.
With no available kids to come with me, I took a grown-up. My friend is from another culture so an explanation was in order. There will be a Dame, I explained, and a cow and a he’s behind you and a yeeees it is; no it isn’t and there will be tongue twisters and switcheroos. The list went on for a while as I relived my childhood and hoped that some of my favourites would be on the stage. Imagine my delight, then, to have the whole package laid out for hours of fun in a grand old theatre.
Sitting waiting for curtain-up was a chance to enjoy the splendour that is the State Theatre and also to be aware of the excitement of an audience who were engaging with each other, with their grown-ups and with the wonderful space. No screens apart from selfies, no surly parent hating just love and laughter. All for something live!
Nothing beats live and this seasoned and skilled cast bring to the stage an experience that is immediate and responsive. Lucy Durack fits the bill perfectly as Fairy Crystal and her appearance gets huge cheers from girls and boys alike, and me. Jimmy Rees is also an immediate favourite as he talks directly with the crowd and has the little ones up and doing the floss and Old Macdonald … there is such an art in giving that many people exactly what they need for instant joy. It’s a terrifically happy show.
One doesn’t get a better dolly than Malcolm Lord who invests his creation with all the belief and elegant stagecraft that makes this particular tradition transportive watching. There’s the very handsome and wonderfully voiced Lachlan Dearing as Jack, whose energy and character bring out the aspiration rather than the dim-wittedness. One can see the attraction for a very modern role model in Anastasia Feneri’s Princess Jill. These two make a glorious couple and their duet work is blended with such charisma that the children are totally absorbed in their story. The whoops for that lovers’ kiss says it all.
There’s some abject silliness of the stage, too. Those boys, Peter Rowsthorn as King Crumble, Richard Reid as Bumble and Luke Joslin as Flesh Creep, know how to have a good time and their comments and asides to each other and improvised bon mots are so much fun for the adults without being naughty! The Dame can get a bit salty at one stage, though, but it went over the younger heads.
The script (Christopher Wood, who is also the designer) is prepared with care and I especially liked the poetic use in places, it’s traditional without losing of the show’s narrative impetus. Kids do love rhyme and there is also just enough singing to keep them bopping without getting bored. Rick Astley and Kylie do make a surprising appearance in the music!
And while the small audience members may not notice, the production values are part of the overall excellence of Jack and the Beanstalk. They do, however, get terrifically amped when a mirror ball bathes the venerable theatre in light to begin the show and they definitely know when to get their 3D glasses on. I don’t want to say too much about Act 2 but to enjoy watching the kids around you have that experience of laughing and being scared at the same time is a priceless memory. The costumes are vibrant, Mrs Potts’ are classic and hilarious. And with the replete detail in the outfits -ribbons on Princess Jill’s costume and the satin lining of Bumble’s herald coat to Fairy Crystal’s jewels and a puffing teapot- the stage is animated in every moment.
And here a big splat of kudos for the children dancers, so impressive from you guys. When that phalanx of youth performers danced their way downstage during the carnival scene the crowd went nuts. To see young people like themselves up on the stage doing a professional and talented job is just one aspect of how live theatre enriches imagination. The choreography and staging all round is enormous fun and the cow … fabulous.
You won’t be sorry when you take your family, including Nonnas and Poppys, because the conversation on the way home in the car will be one to treasure. Jack and the Beanstalk is family entertainment to sing about. Heed the warning, they are going to want more and a video is just not going to cut it … be prepared!
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ magic beans
Bonnie Lythgoe’s Jack and the Beanstalk continues at the State Theatre until July 22.
Production Photography: Robert Catto
Once won’t be enough, you will want to go again.
Production photos: Robert Catto
Once from Darlinghurst Theatre Company is just so stonkingly good. It’s a stomping great hit with a thumpingly talented cast and thuddingly good tech - a show which impresses on every level. The full house standing ovation on the first opening night was inevitable from the first song. Once is a warm, grown-up love story with genuine soul in its text and execution. And chock full of tissue- needing black Irishness.
Guy is giving up on music. He pours out his poor broken heart and goes to leave his loved guitar on a Dublin street. This won’t do for Girl who sees him … really sees him. She’s Czech so she is not going to let him get away with that kind of waste. As they fall in love through his songs and her drive, their circumstances might keep them apart. Once, from playwright Enda Walsh, is based on the movie of the same name by John Carney with music by Glen Hansard and Markéta Irglová.
The cast, the music makers, are around the auditorium and onstage as we enter and take in the dark wood of this storytelling setting. A pub for all intents and purposes, the frost-glass windows keep us inside away from the cold as the dark-hearth floor makes a perfect sound for chairs to thump and instruments echo. Guy enters as the musicians fade away and his pain escapes, a little, through his guitar.
Jeyus … but Toby Francis is mesmeric in that solo. Francis and Stefanie Caccamo are a couple to fall in love with here. Caccamo is spirited and wise and the way Girl talks with her hands is completely charming. And funny, Caccamo inflects and places the comic lines with an elegant lightness of touch. However, she also allows her creation a distance - and a motivational altruism to combat it. Francis’ Guy, by contrast, wears his perplexed heart on his sleeve and negotiates optimism with disbelief. The blend of their voices is heaven and their solos are longing, hopeful and sad.
The musicianship from this ensemble is compelling listening. Orchestrated for variety within the well-known songs by Musical Director Victoria Falconer-Pritchard, who also performs, there are constantly new instruments appearing as the ensemble work is both on display and backgrounded. The whole cast guitar sequence is unbeatable for technical excellence and the rhythm of hands on wood is luxuriously infectious. And the men’s a Capella is not to be bettered… the added echo of that sequence beautifully mixed by the way. Rousing, vibrant and toe-tapping songs merge gently with the more romantic and melancholic.
There is a further precision instrument at work here in the direction from Richard Carroll who shapes the relationship between guy and girl with infinite subtlety. No plucking at heart strings, simply a slow build of acceptance of attraction. The ensemble have so many little stories going on that the stage is as alive and exciting in the big numbers (Amy Campbell, Movement Director) as it is aspirational and characterful in the small. Each of these gifted artists brings fun and engaging characters to the stage. None more so that Cameron Daddo’s Da with the warmth and wariness of a father’s love … then Carroll tucks him seamlessly into the collective.
Carroll’s use of slight light on the musicians who are accompanying the solos gives a depth to the immediacy of live music and is very respectful of their contribution to the mood and harmony of the piece. The lighting from Peter Rubie stays with white realism in amber and steel, until a star-touched scene on a bluff and a blue of acceptance. The door crack creation for ‘The Hill’ where the audience has glimpses of Girl’s passion and conflict is stunningly conceived. The costuming from Hugh O’Connor, who also designed the gloom-where-needed set, is tightly created with small flourishes. Sweet embroidery flowers and a guitar-pick storage watchstrap or textured tights and floral head kerchief.
There are surprises all over this production. A pancho moustache and in-line skates and a bow-played saw just some of the neat little moments of pleasure, but it is the depth of emotion that will bring you to your feet. Once is a show to pierce an armoured heart and fly you out into the night with romance in your soul.
(Ensemble: Joe Accaria, Brenden Dodds, Conrad Hamill, Drew Livingston, Abe Mitchell, Rupert Reid, Alec Steedman & Joanna Weinberg.)
RbJ rating: 4 ½ hard sláns
Period charm in Genesian’s latest production.
Production images: Craig O'Regan
From the red flash explosion of the battle opening to the imagined fireworks of the closing scene, Persuasion from Genesian Theatre is a completely charming watch. With more humour than I was prepared for, polished stagecraft and the company’s trademark rendering of period work, the production is a warm and romantic night at the theatre.
Playwright Tim Luscombe has taken Jane Austen’s passionate characters and placed them on a stage while retaining the superb prose and mannered interactions which make the novel so beloved. We meet Anne, one of the Elliot daughters. Seven years ago she accepted a proposal of marriage from Frederick Wentworth but was persuaded to break it off by various forces and circumstances. She obviously still bears a torch and when she hears that he is about to return, feted and wealthy from the Napoleonic Wars, her simple existence is thrown into turmoil.
The play, as does the novel, necessarily relies on the charisma of its heroine and this is such a good performance from Rose Treloar as Anne. Her command of the language shines as brightly as her silent interiority. Words like ‘ameliorate’ are smoothly offered as are the emotional moments when she is quietly withdrawn and watching without malice or judgement. It is a very strong leading lady stage presence from Treloar. Capable of taking charge when required, Treloar’s Anne displays a fine intelligence and, superbly directed by Trudy Ritchie, her feminist speech is kept so much in period as to be a real insight into the mores and morals of the time. I really appreciated that lack of modernist intrusion in the ending of the play.
By his own admission, Frederick Wentworth can be a bit of a cad and Kendall Drury does a very good job with his character’s inconstancy of behaviour. Drury makes an excellent first appearance as a military man capable of daring and who knows his own mind. On land, these qualities are lacking and his reserve in the face of Anne’s enthusiasm and evident renewed ardour is just tragic for the onlooker. Drury shows a man torn between desire and duty in the matter of Miss Musgrove.
The whole ensemble does a terrific job in this grace-filled production. I especially loved the relationship between Anne and her influential aunt, Lady Russell, played by Jodie Sibley. They were comfortable in each other’s company and Sibley’s performance gave her character a genuineness, a maternal love and responsibility, which eschewed any manipulation. As Anne grows away from her advice, there is no rancour; she may feel relentlessly right but that is tempered by her being a loving aunt who merely wants the best for her charge.
Another relationship that was extremely well wrought was the fractiousness between Anne’s other sister, Mary, and her husband. Angela Johnston’s highly comic, dramatic, talk to the hand but never over-the-top performance is a highlight of the production and Nick Fitzsimmons’ Charles is a man truly put upon… driven to drink! These pair recoil at each other’s touch yet there is one scene where romance is rekindled and they revel in a renewed enjoyment of each other … before the war breaks out again. That scene was so heart-warming and one of the little details so evident in Ritchie’s direction.
As Anne’s father, Sir Walter, Tom Massey makes the rudeness of the man by today’s standards both funny and palatable with pompous pride and ego in every utterance. Her snooty sister Elizabeth is played by Natasha McDonald with a haughty disregard for her sister’s delicate feelings and a perfectly placed bitchiness. When she gets girly around William, it’s a compelling comeuppance. Charles’ sister Lousia, from Charlotte Robertson has a bird-like silliness and Robertson gives her a chatty vacancy which men of the period probably adore. It’s a performance placed carefully in the story and period from Robertson.
There are also some delightful performances from Elias Parker as the bereft Mr Benwick; Rod Stewart as the fussy and forgetful Admiral Croft; his adoring and supportive wife – such a lovely character from Catherine Waters; and some outstanding work in dual roles from Vitas Varnas, whose Mr William Elliot is an outstanding supercilious villain – a very nasty creation! Loved it!
Director Trudy Ritchie has a very firm hand on the textual elements of the play. She allows the implications of the archaic ideas to speak for themselves and, with her blocking Ritchie makes merry with the freedom of movement which women had at this time, compared to the men in their layers and stiff collars. The quadrille is a perfect example. Bless Jane Austen for giving Anne strength and a final courage and the same for Ritchie who has fashioned a faithful play of romantic agency.
There is some clever use of lighting right from the incoming explosions of the naval battle to the soft bathing of the cyclorama in pastels. The red of the memory scenes and its return later in the real-life scenes took me by surprise and was a luxurious contrast … the red juxtaposed with her blue dress was just lovely to look at. As is the stage set which works so well considering the impracticability of having so many disparate settings. The standing triptych upstage gives the impression of chapel windows and great drawing rooms, the ivy evokes hunting in the forest and the raised area is a multi-purpose method of separating characters in overlapping scenes. The soundscapes which have been created for the production further enhance the audience’s identification of place. The war is urgent and the sea and birds are discretely cacophonous of bay and breeze. ( Lighting and Sound Design: Mehran Mortezaei)
From Costume Designer Susan Carveth comes the richness one desires of this type of period work with her choice of colours giving a beautiful feel to the visuals. The use of grey for Frederick’s first remembered entrance is deliciously subtle. The gathered bodices and skirts at the correct length are practical to work in and the theatre scene was particularly rich with tiaras and pearls and brooches. I must say I was a little taken aback by Anne’s bonnet, a touch of Atwood in there to the modern eye, and a further reminder of women’s place in this society, thereby giving Anne an extra fillip of empathy from the audience.
Persuasion is a gentle way to pass a couple of hours in the company of adored characters. If you love Genesian’s work don’t miss it, if you love the novel don’t miss it and if you want to see how far we have come … definitely don’t miss it.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ after dinner strolls in the garden
The Happy Prince
Photo Credit: Robert Catto
“High above the city, on a tall column”. Thus begins Oscar Wilde’s fairy story about friendship, altruism and co-operative action. Little Ones Theatre have taken a sad and sweet fable and made it anew - losing none of its inconsolable poignancy. The Happy Prince is a production to touch the soul with unbearable beauty.
As the gold breaks through the fog we can see the prince re-imagined. She is blocked in by cement walls and framed in her aloneness. As she comes into view, the pathos of her loveliness transforms with a smile into the inherent courage of the powerless. The leaden weep gives way, when the prince moves, to the despair of a dragged sword. When the swallow arrives, flighty, fighty and intrigued … she is we. The view out towards the audience is what the prince sees …. as she brings it to the swallow’s attention as we also hear the description.
That is my favourite part of this mightily conceptualised production, the truthfulness to text. The prose was conjured so well in my mind that pen and ink crossed consciousness several times and the unsaid words “dead bird at the feet” brought tears of remembrance to a little girl who loves the story. And the conversation with the women behind me as the house lights came up was about that recollected tale. One also hears, loudly, the prose in the silences. This is Wilde respected and adored.
Conceptualised with both stasis and movement in complex and lingered harmony, the sequences are controlled by Director Stephen Nicolazzo to tell the story by reverberating with the emotional inner. The audience is pulled forward into the moment of peace for the sleeping bird and the smitten statue … their bond developing in silence. When lips touch where other lips have touched - before fingertips linger. The sensuousness absorbing and encompassing.
As the swallow, Catherine Davies endows a split tail and a curiosity of spirit. Restless in places and tired, lost, in others, Davies has a standing, stoppered stillness in flight. She never loses the bird-brain silliness but focuses in on how love changes us. The swallow gathers agency to herself as she divests of attire and Davies elides the change with intention and foreknowledge of consequence. Janine Watson’s sinuous performance of the prince also harnesses the grace of letting go of earthly coverings. There is an ancient gathering of the skirt, a rustle of the metallic material as choreographed as any dance, to her movement and Watson lifts the arm with such sublime beauty when she points to the ugly events of description. Together, Davies and Watson create a world which glows with achievement before all is done and the frost sets in.
The audio and lighting are seamlessly in concert with the story. A heartbeat of desire in one place and an echo of the inconstancy of swallow’s affection in another. The music chimes and is plucked and struck to echo the travel and the change and to evoke an ethereal lightness. The lighting pervades the smoke of high places in blue and gold to bring an audience to intimacy and to shape the bodies with waist high throws. (Set and Costume Design: Eugyeene Teh. Lighting Design: Katie Sfetkidis. Sound Design: Daniel Nixon)
The Happy Prince is a quick read, it nestles in at 50 minutes, and it bears the name proudly with a queer sensibility which foregrounds the orgasmic joy of altruism and resolute nature of unexpected desire.
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ sapphires as blue as the great sea
I Hope It’s Not Raining in London
On tour from Bearfoot Theatre, Newcastle.
Having watched Newcastle’s Bearfoot Theatre from afar for several years, I was very keen to see some of their work at last. I Hope It’s Not Raining in London is on tour and is currently playing at PACT here in Sydney. It’s a terrific work of theatre … engrossing, mysterious and stylistically elegant, the show has a full-hearted quality that tightens the themes of love and loss into a small, intense space. Bloody but not brutal, it is a thoughtful production which you should go out of your way to see.
We meet two people, one has just arrived, half naked, into this black and white floored room. Have they just been born? There is another person there, solicitous, an old hand who seems to know the ropes. Aided by apparitions in black these two will be guided into a memory play, the purpose of which is initially, possibly inevitably, unclear.
There may be two main actors here but this ensemble work from Nicholas Thoroughgood, Cassie Hamilton, Daniel Cottier and Zoe Walker and it is skilfully envisioned and controlled by Director Riley McLean. The black garbed creatures impassively, ritualistically, provide physical objects for what may be a journey. They also direct the travel and events of the other two by appearing as remembered characters. Movement in the centre of the space is free, emotional and with a pervasive mystery. The latter, extremely well written by Thoroughgood. The space exterior to this action is mechanical and purposeful.
What emerges is a play which keeps the audience guessing, shocks us in places and delves into the intersection between love and loss and what happens next.
With the visual imagery detailed and defined by black and white flooring inside the larger traditional black box, the implications of this production’s hand-held style impact on an emotional level. There is low wattage lighting, covered occasionally by colour, and the use of torches to make the shadows grow and to be flexible in any space. The production is, after all, on tour. The audio makes a similar impact with a low intrusion into these characters’ existence.
Running at a taut 60 minutes, I Hope It’s Not Raining in London, is a work that should be seen. It’s new work by a home-grown writer who has stepped out of naturalism while maintaining the humanity of the themes and interactions. Additionally, the production is from a company which is committed to experimental work. The fact that Bearfoot Theatre is youth managed is worth mentioning but somewhat irrelevant given the quality and reach of this particular offering. This is, simply put, an inventive, absorbing production which experimentally combines narrative and design to reach an undefined audience. We thoroughly enjoyed it and look forward to seeing more of Bearfoot Theatre’s fine work.
Themes to trouble easy travel.
Production images: Prudence Upton
Watch where you step after seeing Diplomacy. This is a play, and a production, to take you out of your body into the realm of what-if. It’s dark on way to the train or car from Ensemble Theatre and minds distracted by great considerations can lose their footing. Recent events loom large when we consider, what if there was no La Ville-Lumière? Diplomacy begins with this idea but as the protagonists dance rather than war with each other, the inherent nature of diplomacy imprints on one’s after-show musings.
In the Hotel Meurice at the end of German Occupation, General Dietrich von Choltitz, Military Governor of Paris, is making plans for the destruction of the City of Lights. Explosives have been laid, the monuments and buildings will fall, the Seine will flood the rest of the city. Choltitz will be the only voice to give that command, his is the power. From nowhere comes Raoul Nordling, a Swedish diplomat with an agenda to save the city he loves. Both these men existed but the events are fictionalised by playwright Cyril Gély (This incarnation translated and adapted by Julie Rose.)
As Choltitz, John Bell (who also directed; Assistant Director: Anna Volska) has gravitas to spare as the soldier’s dedication to his job portends disaster. There is an almost actorly way about this apparatchik of the Reich; he is aware of appearances and for good reasons. His softenings are slight until one becomes aware of the façade. Bell relaxes his character somewhat when behind the desk where there is a physical barrier between him and his conscience and, in the Nazi way of things, paperwork to focus on.
Outwardly calm, John Gaden’s Nordling is loose and light. No hint, however, of any manipulatory smooth and winning behaviours, merely relaxed and certain of his mission. But there’s a tell in the tic of his adjustments to his attire. One can almost feel Nordling’s thumping heartbeat under his double breasted suit! Gaden has a granular regard for the importance of this man’s focussed agenda and how to achieve it. There is no surprise at the result but the motives, the method and the humanity of the outcome is gripping, mesmeric theatre.
While these two are the story, the supporting cast are the context. Three other characters (played by Genevieve Lemon, James Lugton and Joseph Raggatt) enter the room to lessen the singularity of interaction between Choltitz and Nordling. The text is also lightened by Nordling’s composed and everyday wryness and there are surprising laughs to be had within such a grim narrative.
With a setting which is as immersive as possible, the production draws an audience to the physical place and time by the use of a gigantic map; behind and below. Notre Dame catches the eye, and, mention the Tuileries and the mind slowly takes that trip across from the tower to the gardens. But along with the practical and emotional is the thematic. Are the haphazard lines a palmic indicator of how our brains function? Are the wide streets just easier, or are the back alleys and dead ends an inevitably of human growth? In the lighting are the same questions. What means the dark? Forced upon one by the explosive shelling or discretely paralleled with the obfuscation of our chosen moments of contemplative absence. The audio, too, evokes and shocks at a perfectly operated level. (Set design: Michael Scott-Mitchell; Lighting: Matt Cox; Composer and Sound Design: Nate Edmondson; Costume Design: Genevieve Graham)
In the end it is not rationality which wins the day but intelligent self-interest which is brought gently to consciousness. In other words … an out! And for reasons which appear to have their roots in genuine good. But little in diplomacy is genuine and it is the complexity of that which will go with you from the building. Diplomacy is a production to wear sensible shoes for, boots for preference, because imagination and intellect will roil within and each step from the theatre will take your attention away from the witnessed story toward the moral implications of acceptable deceit, courage and power.
RbJ rating: 4 ½ Croix de guerre avec palme
Diplomacy continues at Ensemble Theatre until July 14.
Girl in the Machine
Much to debate on the drive home.
Production photography: Noni Carroll
Seeing Science Fiction on the stage is such a rarity that there’s an immediate attraction; add into the mix that there’s a Black Mirrorish technological fable involved and I am doubly intrigued. This National Theatre of Parramatta’s production of Girl in the Machine by Stef Smith does successfully blend these attractive elements in its story. Perhaps with a little too much textual derivation but with a decidedly live immediacy. This, despite the detachment of encasing the characters in a Perspex box.
Inside the room are husband and wife, Polly and Owen. There’s an occupational imbalance in their life. Owen is a nurse and driven by a personal agenda to be a carer; Polly is a lawyer, on the ladder up, and with a new promotion. She is very stressed; he has the training to take his stress in stride. A new tool for calm and clarity has arrived in the health system and Owen has brought one home for Polly to try. There’s a touch of Ashley Too here as the ‘black box’ gives support, guidance and time out.
The reflectiveness of the setting has a very well achieved disconcertion built into it and the performers’ voices through microphones also distance the audience from events but as the emotions scale up, perspective is both welcomed and required. The themes around humanity and technology cry out for an intellectual interrogation even as the narrative lies piteous on the floor before us.
Claudia Barrie’s direction gives her cast a pinpoint physical expression of the context and mood. In bringing the characters to the floor quite often, Barrie initially educes a relaxed domesticity and later a squirming helplessness which is very powerful storytelling. The sightlines are a very accessible aspect of that theatre and Barrie’s use of levels allows for hikikomori and claustrophobia without feeling cramped or forced. There are many stylistic directorial touches in the production which serve to give detail to such a simple setting. Particularly well used are breakbacks - where a character steps backward rather than turns and, equally, the development of ritual around the black box. Barrie also uses the scene changes to effect and her avoidance of comic strip simplicity in the silent, sudden sequences is excellent.
Chantelle Jamieson and Brandon McClelland play the wife and husband and give admirable performances, particularly towards the end of the play when the narrative is all about tension; about what might happen next. However, I struggled to feel the warmth between the characters, despite the happy marriage verisimilitude. Plus the underwritten nice-guy dialogue felt unrealistic in the early stages when the relationship felt quite suspect to me. When the story does head toward the climax, both actors do terrific work in bringing out the confusion and destructive seduction of the piece.
Lighting of the space is deceptively simple. It avoids too much colour, staying with high spectrum blue and a rich red, and skilfully, without being too glary, can make the box opaque. The audio score rumbles through the feet as you enter the theatre but eschews any heartbeat or whoosh. Opting instead for orchestral lift and flight with the fractured sentences of the black box very evocative in their subtle mechanization. (Lighting: Benjamin Brockman; Set/Costume: Ella Butler; Sound: Benjamin Pierpoint)
Running at the length of a TV episode, 50 minutes, Girl in the Machine will bear a significant weight of comparison but, really, nothing beats live. There is much to consider after seeing the show and your trip home, like mine, may be filled with in-depth discussions about the unexplained minutia, the possibility of sentient tech and above all … about conspiracies.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ Trojan gifts
Only good can come from seeing this show.
Production images: Clare Hawley
If it were only the remarkable performance of Jamie Oxenbould as Trevor, this would be a glowing review. However, be prepared for opalescence because the whole production is a moving, energetic and timely comic gem … the excellence of which is an understated whack-over-the-nose reminder about the other sentient beings who share our planet.
Written by Nick Jones, Trevor is a chimpanzee who has been trained and raised to work in the entertainment industry but he’s facing the inevitabilities of such a fickle existence. He’s no longer little and cute and the jobs aren’t coming his way. Living with his owner, Sandra, in a domestic situation, in a small town, is confining for a smart boy like Trevor. The new neighbour, Ashley, fears him, and local copper, Jim, has known him all his life but has concerns.
Trevor can speak to us, we know who we are in Trevor’s world. However, he does have trouble understanding humans, so if the cheap seats spoke back he might only get a few important words. He certainly knows what Hollywood means and knows that he is not getting the right noises out of the ringy dingy thing where jobs come in. Oxenbould addresses the audience with pitch perfect endowment and his physicality is loose, prehensile and climby without over-characterisation or jarring anthropomorphism. And so funny! Yet threatening, even as his first scene puts us alone with this sweet, rather charming, creature.
But other humans alter our view. Sandra (Di Adams) teaches us compassion for Trevor as they sign with each other in a respectful mother/ child communication. Adams delicately balances Sandra’s delusion with the audiences’ understandings and goodwill. It might be, however, that Trevor needs a bit more discipline and Ashley (Ainslie McGlynn) may well be right to be afraid. McGlynn’s performance is built of small moments, in one moment swayed by Sandra’s excessive, incessant positivity and apology and the next, able to assert her own instincts.
In fact, there are look away times when the audience fears! This is complex and detailed performance by Oxenbould; he has but to stand upright and look off stage and a prescient shiver runs down the spine. Next, he relaxes down to leap off a table and hurl himself on the sofa with a floppy adorability. So superbly are the tonal shifts inside the narrative gently evoked by Director Shaun Rennie that the audience is immersed in the narrative while the themes are embedding themselves in the subconscious. The climax and final few scenes are confrontingly thought-provoking. Rennie also has a deft hand with the satire which swings from perplexed head shakes to outright guffaws.
This ensemble also includes Jemwel Danao who is so practical and compassionate as the animal behaviourist. Danao also brings a sophisticated interrogation of how ‘experts’ lead emotional and intellectual responses in the viewer. As the police officer, Jim, David Lynch is empathetic and wise, possibly with a subtle agenda around Sandra, but a commitment to his town. Eloise Snape and Garth Holcombe bear the fantasy brunt of the play with complete aplomb and hilarious OTT silliness.
The two level raised stage is very effective for variety of travel and acting areas and the kitchen has enormous detail in the homey stability that we would expect. And the costumes are character setting, I loved the reformed leftie feel to Sandra’s outfit … just a waft of youthful alternative living about her look! The lighting rig plays with fantasy and reality with some fun colour choices and an open white constancy where needed for the reality to play out. There is also a very understated audio score which has a just-there quality under emotional events until it pulls out the bass and rumble in the feet for climactic heart racing. (Set/Costumes- Jonathan Hindmarsh, Lighting – Kelsey Lee, Sound and Vision – Melanie Herbert)
It’s pretty easy to ignore animal rights ads on TV or people doing consciousness raising in Newtown Square but write a brilliant play, produce it with skill and sit Sydney-siders down in a room with the consequences of apathy and minds may be changed forever. Trevor is a lifestyle-challenging production which stands as a highly entertaining, gemstone polished, force for good.
RbJ Rating: 4 scribbled signatures
Anatomy of a Suicide
Excellence in its DNA!
Production images: Kate Williams
It’s a striking opening to Anatomy of a Suicide by Alice Birch. Three women. Three doors. One home. These lives will be flayed open as a barely mentioned abuse echoes and reverberates through the walls of this house. Often they, and the men and other women in their lives, all will speak at once; together, apart or alone. Yet these people are, almost as often, held in a tensioned silence when the words are too hard to rip from their heart. This production is a marvellous work of intricacy and intimacy which simply does not allow the watcher to sit back in their seat.
Upright is the only option as Birch divides the space into three to introduce Carol, Anna, Bonnie… it is their story at root but others grow from that base. John loves Carol, Jamie loves Anna, Bonnie is also loved but none of them love themselves. Their stories will intersect as people pass by and the audience is bolted upright in almost constant, often micro, decision-taking about who and what to watch. Thereby, on reflection, learn about themselves by their choices.
It is directed with such precision by Shane Anthony. And not just the complex scene changes which further drive the narrative and impel our engagement with the characters and which are detailed down to a finger snap or a female makeup check in the faux window glass. The precision is in the placement of personality, growth and silence. When I interviewed Jack Crumlin who plays Jamie, he told me that they had approached it initially like a musical … “about rhythms and what’s in focus” and it shows.
It’s clockwork without the coldness of machinery; with the acting in the silences between the women, replete and filled with expectation, emotion and lack of control. All of which are absorbed by the audience above any words. Where will you look? Whose story will you follow? Will you be looking over at Anna Samson’s rending physicality as Carol, or needing to look away from Andrea Demetriades’ fragility as Anna, or ready to give Kate Skinner’s Bonnie a finger wag of tut? And what will you miss as a human’s limited capacity for parallel storytelling forces anguished selectiveness despite this extraordinary ensemble cast?
But true to life there are moments of lightness and joy and profound wishing. Sometimes it’s the music of Anatomy of a Suicide to have you bopping suddenly in your seat. In other places the audio is blurred and blended so skilfully as to cross time. It will take you on a journey also, through the years and through the interior lives of the women. In one beautiful scene about love the audio vibrates with romance, gently fading before thrumming into a different mood almost immediately. The practical effects such a baby’s cry are perfectly operated for levels and sourced with skill.
The whole tech and set is designed for the space with tall white walls and three small shelves building a home and a history and costumes which elide periods and relationships. The open upstage area allows free movement between spaces and the wide openness downstage has room to move and to reach out to an audience. And the lighting is just as elevating. The cross to amber for the filming scene replete with the warmth and darkness of shadows … just beautiful. As are the practical lamps in their orange shades and the coloured pools that discretely define the three spaces until ownership becomes expansive.
Anatomy of a Suicide is a remarkable production on all levels. When you book, book twice because this is a play of infinite depth and excellence and curiosity will drive you back. Standing on the pavement afterwards asking your companion why they gasped at a time when you were laughing won’t satisfy. But even a second time, nothing will prepare you for the heart- breaking whimper of the ending – it’s a burden many women would bear had they the courage.
RbJ rating: 4 ½ fish gifts
Murder on the Wireless
A nostalgia trip back to a near forgotten hey-day.
Production images: Prudence Upton
The star of the show is not the star of the show in Murder on the Wireless and that’s as it should be. This is a production of terrific cleverness designed with a commitment to nostalgia and its re-creation. Now, it’s worth saying that I am hardwired to love this show having grown up as a radio brat. One of my first memories is in Dad’s booth at 4MK learning how to score a record … tee the needle up so it starts straight away. Put booth and live sound effects all on show on the Ensemble stage and I am in heaven!
The production from writer/ director/adaptor Mark Kilmurry takes place in a radio studio at the height of the wireless era. The cast will interact with the studio audience, that’s us, and perform two plays with live sound effects... Foley. The plays are The Solitary Cyclist, a Sherlock Holmes Mystery by Arthur Conan Doyle, adapted by Kilmurry and The Dead(ly) Wives Club, a new work which has been written especially for the show.
He is the warm up man, too. Lovely and warm actually, with a delicate turn of phrase in exhorting us to switch off uninvented electronics and a heads-up on how to respond with oohs and laughs and the occasional boo. It’s a genuine interaction which brings the crowd into the conceit and tunes them into the listening as he is joined by the stellar cast of Daniel Mitchell and Georgie Parker at the microphones. There is a lot of listening and though the cast are expert at vocal interpretation it could be ‘deadly’ boring to jaded modern ears.
That’s where the star arises. Foley is the art of live sound effects and Katie Fitchett is the Foley Artist live on stage and what a smooth and skilled command she has of the art. Not only that, but Fitchett has created such a funny, deadpan, disgruntled character that she is a constant source of those ahhs and laughs. Some of the traditional Foley makes an appearance; cellophane fire and a thundersheet. The window closer is a genuine artefact by the look of it but there are also some uses of a hotwater bottle and a clacker that are quaintly revived. And coconut shells - there has to be coconut shells. The space comes to life with increasing furiousness as the stories climax when she is kept zany busy.
There are down times, however, when the weight of speaking does overburden the show and I was disappointed not to hear the effects louder in the speakers. There is also well designed recorded audio as adjunct to the live effects and the setting is detailed and attractive to look at. The stage manager is also the operator and is in a booth off the raised stage. Perhaps, one does wish the Foley stage at the back was a bit more visible as the preparations for the next thwack of noise are great fun too.
Murder on the Wireless is quite a trip back in time and all’s well in the world when one can sit in a darkened space, return to a superbly created yesteryear and bask in a swell theatrical event...on the radio. Get the telegram boy to cycle round to cronies and make your visit a group outing … it’s the bees’ knees, especially when shared with friends.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ pebble boxes
Things I Know to Be True
Catharsis of the kind theatre was created for.
Production images: Heidrun Lohr
In a big back yard which has seen endless games of cricket, innumerable Christmas barbies and immeasurable family time, we meet this particular family. Four kids, grown now and moved out, except for the youngest who is travelling. A tough love mum and softie dad. It may not be our family experience, but Things I Know to Be True begins with an intimate, relatable simplicity. The family will change as many families are given the dynamic societal environment of suburban Australia. From playwright Andrew Bovell and directed by Neil Armfield, this a production of infinite gravity and sublime jest which homes a particular kind of empathy … a non-judgemental, against grain understanding and acceptance.
It begins, though, as a typical family where parents work to give kids dreams and slightly resent the loss of their own. Dad is a gardener of the type we know well, Mum still works as a nurse with thirty years of professional distance very evident in her treatment of family. Both have favourites and the kids know it, family dynamics like that are not far from experience.
The style of the play leans towards monologue with several sequences where one of the children will explain what they feel or felt, and why. These are delivered with such grace - and a crystalline storytelling. The other characters may be on stage with a wry understanding of their place in the speaker’s drama. Other times the dialogue and events are more traditional and carry the narrative on revelation and reaction. What I loved best was the simplicity of language, it’s everyday, not heightened, not particularly descriptive. I was doing the house.
In the mouth of Helen Thomson as the mum, the plainness of the phrases are wielded with an easily accessed love, cynicism or tiny cruelty. It’s not the conversation I wanted to have either she says ... we’ve all said it. But the joy of Thomson’s performance is that we forgive her because one can see that love, tough love admittedly, abounds. Well I do, growing up with a don’t bleed on the carpet mother who had been an army matron, I just get her.
My friend grew up with a green fingered dad, the lady in front is currently coping with a divorcing child; this is not our family on stage but we get it. As Armfield takes the audience into the bosom of early domesticity so he prepares us for later watching without judgement. The parents have moments that should cause outrage but we have been gently guided to acceptance of their motivations and responses. Challenge is all around for these parents.
This is especially true for the dad. All the men will be undone in some way and Tony Martin’s performance balances Bob’s cultural instincts for fatherhood and maleness with a man who is challenged to accept the changes happening around him. The other men of the family Mark (Tom Hobbs) and Ben (Matt Levett) are portrayed with a very keen moderness in contrast to dad’s generational fussiness and rigidity of view. Both sons are lost in their own way and as they grasp for truth in their lives the themes of the play densify. Especially discrete is Bovell’s injection of class into the mix of pressures on the family.
The women’s concerns are equally political and visceral as younger daughter Rosie (Miranda Daughtry) and Pip (Anna Lise Phillips) also struggle with generational issues. The burden of being the favoured youngest and the equal weight of being the next incarnation of family is at the emotional heart of the play. It’s a splendidly cohesive cast in whose performances each history with each other and their parents pervades the life they live now. Stylistically there are sequences which cement and garden the siblings’ growth as events, realistic scenarios all, appear.
It’s a realistic setting also, with the prized roses, easily carried plastic furniture and implication of the house within. From our engagement with these characters, we just know what that offstage house looks like. The wide backyard effectively allies with a warm lighting design, blending ambers with low cool blues, to bring out the faces. The use of floor lighting, which is so reminiscent of solar pathway lights, brings in some superb high shadows. There is also a use of the house lights which is discretely controlling and the large, pooled white centrestage is infinitely absorbing. There are many splendidly designed moments of background silence in the show. Times when those single voices or dialogue are alone on the stage, at other tunes the pluck and struck strings cascade through the speakers in an excellence of gentle thematic support.
Very funny in places, Things I Know to Be True is riveting and completely consuming, with a climax before interval and at the end of the piece, which brings tears washed with affection and a standing ovation. As resonances and little mysteries of personality and situation drive the narrative, what emerges is a play of exceptional truth and emotional impact. A catharsis of the kind theatre was created for.
RbJ rating: 5 rainy day revelations
The Astral Plane
90 minutes of advanced silliness!
Production images: Clare Hawley
Rollicking good fun going on in the basement of Belvoir! There might rats but they are royal rats, it is self-absorbed humans who bring the ugly. The Astral Plane is a tale to justify veganism wrapped in a fable about our secret, better, selves. It’s a furry feast of funny with a tasty side dish of mousetrap quick one liners - a riot, end to end, with occasional breaks for interspecies soul searching. Big, big, fun in a tiny package.
The rats in question live in a different dimension where they talk and understand that there are portals in the mountain caves. The most dangerous is Austral Plane and that is to be avoided. However, a brave runt and his sister-in-law, the queen, go illicitly through to human land in search of the missing king who may have been considering a species coming together of sorts. Meanwhile, a pair of humans seem to have nothing in common, despite him bringing her on a lovers’ surprize retreat. That plan is not going to go too well either.
Playwright and director, Charlie Garber takes his hilarious script much further than just miscommunication. His text builds a believable world and populates it with appealing characters wildly out of their comfort zone. With a cast as adept at holding a pose to allow a nutcase moment to kick in as they are at rapid fire comic dialogue, the show is bizarrely logical in its storytelling. It just seems to make sense despite a farfetched premise - a real indicator that Garber has tapped into some weird, deeply metaphorical, search instinct.
The show has some cracker entries and exits, takes finger pointing to an artform and has farcical antecedents in its DNA. As the runty prince, Michael Whalley is balled up rage looking for love. His timing is perfection and his hang-dog face is very awww inspiring. He’s getting zero sympathy, though, from his sister-in-law, played by Emma Harvie, who is on a mission and a ball of comic energy. It is the relationship between the lovers (Imogen Sage and Eden Falk) that makes for some very funny reactionary comedy as he has just about had it with her chattering nonsense. Sage hits her character’s full self-indulgence immediately and Falk gives his disillusioned lover a sweet sadness early on. Great performances from Ella Scott Lynch and Julia Robertson round out the crazy cast of this crazy world.
A world of blue on blue. The dappled through the cloud and trees, high above the earth, setting has room to move and fall and double take. There’s a lighting design which brings a bit of the unearthly without pouring on any existentialism and a terrific audio design that chooses its moments to transmogrify. The costumes work very well, especially the rats… they rate!
The Astral Plane is 90 minutes of advanced silliness that will blow away the cobwebs and transport you to a magical place where a head shake chuckle and full bellied laugh can all live in comic harmony.
RjB Rating: 4 ommms
Overcoming a conscience explored at the New Theatre.
Production images: Bob Seary
Collaborators by John Hodge currently playing at the New Theatre is an oddly enjoyable production. Oddly because it deals with some very intellectual themes, some difficult modern history and a darkness of humour that drops occasionally into despairing. At the same time, the production has excellent ensemble work, a smooth but complex direction and a stellar lighting and sound design to guide the way.
Mikhail Bulgakov is a playwright in Stalinist Russia and his new work is about to be staged … he’s informed by those around him that it is brilliant. Enter two mysterious, sinister, government enforcers. Bulgakov is informed that his play will never be seen unless he writes, very quickly, a hagiographic play about Stalin for the leader’s birthday. Bulgakov thinks he may have a way around the system but it will impact on all around him, his wife, Yelena, his writer friend, Grigory, and the motley collection of characters with whom he shares his State allocated apartment.
Andy Simpson does a very good job helming this production as Bulgakov. He gives the character a complex arc such that the audience is swept along with events, even his reasoning for his more questionable actions being emotionally available and he has a contagious laugh early in the piece. The, difficult to convey, adjustment of attitude by Bulgakov when he is seconded into being an autocrat is especially well expressed. A strong asset to his work is a very well evoked love match with his wife Yelena played by Audrey Blye. This relationship puts the more human and caring face on the intellectual mind games he plays with his conscience. As does Joshua Shediak’s interpretation of Grigory, a warm and sympathetic character who also suffers the extremes of the regime with an incomprehension and purpose that is well communicated to the audience.
Admittedly I was late to the ‘Party’ as the show has been playing for a while, but the night I attended the show had considerable polish and professionalism. The ensemble works very well, with each character clear and defined and the group scenes expressive without pulling focus. The work of the two actors in the ‘Young Joseph’ play within a play(Dominique Purdue & Ben Brighton) are very engaging and David Woodland as the creepy Vladimir hits the tone with great skill. His hale fellow joviality is horribly excitable … you can just tell the enthusiasm he would have for all aspects of his odious job. His silent henchman, Stepan, played by John van Putten, is equally ominous and proves the adage about no small roles.
Distressed and very workable, the sliding door especially efficient and the blurred parquetry most suggestive, the setting allows enough room to move or narrow down to intimate scenes while maintaining the privations and decay of the period. The use of flag red in the set and costumes is clever and provides some uplift from the economical money-strapped brown clothing. The dinner scene, however, is sumptuous and carries the theme of the sequence with impact. (Designer: Colleen Cook)
There is a very good audio design here from Patrick Howard who resists the martial until needed, foregrounding instead the more discreet themes with cello and balalaika solos and some moderate modern choices. There’s also an imminent peril which creeps in occasionally. The coldness of whoosh which arrives with Stalin’s every entry is a very well sourced effect allying with the low industrial hum that sits just below the voices at stages. Levels are very well operated, as are the pinpoint lighting cues. This is a white, yellowing, analogue lighting rig that reeks of entrapment without being overly defining or difficult for the performers to stay within. (Martin Kinnane) The slash of apparatchik engineering up on the ceiling is a masterstroke as are the various uses of entry definition. The floor instruments give added eerie shadows and sometimes presage the threatening character arrivals.
I found this quite an unnerving show as Director Moira Blumenthal brought out the precarious nature of Bulgakov’s existence. Her complex direction of scene transitions does a great deal to successfully move the audience to the next place and there are quite a few laughs to be had. However, the play does textually feel somewhat heavy handed toward the end as the ripples caused by Bulgakov’s actions become waves of reality. It is hard to find the humour later in Collaborators when talk of the purges and interrogations and doublethink emerge from the text. However, Blumenthal brings out the narrative aspects and injects a subtle mystery through Act 2 as we wonder how this will all end.
It ends with an inevitability and a thump of warning. Despotism is not gone from our world and the seductive possibilities of power still corrupt absolutely. Vigilance is required and Collaborators serves to remind us.
RbJ rating: 3 ½ deepest red workers’ flags
The characters seem to see themselves as on the way to somewhere.
Production photography: Clare Hawley
Gloria from Outhouse Theatre Co and Seymour Centre is a play of two halves. The first, being very funny and, in places, quite moving: the second, very moving for the most part, yet quite funny in places. It’s quite a spin around and director Alexander Berlage has negotiated his cast through the difficult emotional and comic terrain with focus and precisely imbedded characters … each cast member plays several. Despite this duality of experience, the production is extremely successful in its entirety and provides a thank-god-it’s-not-me night at the theatre.
The text from award-winning playwright Branden Jacobs-Jenkins has delicious precision in the way the language is used and how the reactions inform meaning. Set initially in the cubicled office of a magazine publication, the characters seem see themselves as on the way to somewhere despite the realities. Dean has an impotence despite his constant eye to the main chance, intern Miles is learning zero from being around these supposed mentors who send him on snack errands, Ani floats along on with any whim that comes her way and Kendra is just awful to them all in her aggressive uselessness. In the next office, and seemingly actually working, is Lorin, who is well out his depth. And Gloria? Well, she is the saddest case of all since she has been there the longest. The stench of failure and loss of agency is all over this office.
Rowan Witt has created a character which carries very successfully across both halves of the show. Witt draws Dean with subtlety and a discrete aesthetic which informs some his more speak-to-the-hand behaviours, especially to Miles. Dean just flips into that mode when bored! Meanwhile, making Dean so alert to any diminution of his responsibilities in a job that he doesn’t seem care about, gives added frisson to the themes of thwarted ambition which recoil around the room. There is a sweat and twitch about Witt’s second act work which is wonderful to watch.
Kendra’s name is misspelled on her coffee cup and you just know how she has berated the barista to correct it, such is the complexity of Michelle Ny’s creation of this character. Ny has a considerable weight of monologue, much of it vituperative and she and Berlage have tuned the movement and tone to pitch perfection. Some of the more single speech text from other characters in Act Two is not quite as successful but still holds the attention as Berlage entrusts his cast by keeping them still.
A considerable quiet time for Justin Amankwah in various roles where he achieves a very present performance which serves to enrich what we are seeing. Annabel Harte also gives her less vocal characters a rich state of being. Ani is quite fun and Harte gives the audience their strongest empathy with her bright and busy character. Later, Harte will effectively shape a Valley Girl to a vacancy which is merely capable of gossipy animation… a fun character. As the beaten and bowed Lorin, Reza Momenzada adds great humour on every entrance and his work in one particular rapid mood change section is expertly done. The cast is rounded out by Georgina Symes who plays two different characters with great delineation. One with powerful fragility and the other replete with a self-absorbed egotism barely masked.
The detail in Gloria is thrilling if you can take yourself away from the performances: red Xmas cups; Dean’s argyle socks, the pulled thread on Gloria’s worn cardie. The set has similarly been cleverly created for detail and verisimilitude … and the height of the pinboard dividers is a design triumph. As are the banks of hanging fluoro lights, the watery opaqueness of the walls and the, unique for this space, installation of an act curtain. Muzak operated at the perfect level, Vivaldi at interval and an earworm to go out with you, make for a fine audio design also.
Gloria is a show which inspires an audience’s involvement in these shallow lives. It’s enormous fun right up until the point that you really have to think about it. Is change possible? Are people moulded with too much primal self-interest or are we capable beyond our pre-cast selves? The characters don’t help us much here, instead Gloria double whammies the audience with our judgmental instincts and with the inevitability of our baser selves. Quite a conversation, quite a play!
RbJ Rating: 4 Strawberry Explosion Iced Frappes
The Cherry Orchard
A respectful, accessible, interpretation.
Photo Credit: Clare Hawley
When, early in The Cherry Orchard, currently playing at Chippen Street Theatre, “zone out” hits the ears, we know that the authenticity of the production is not going to be in the dialogue. This new version by director and designer Victor Kalka displays respect for the original work yet contemporises the speaking to bring the play to a new audience. The revolution of style which made Chekhov Chekhovian is no longer the raison d'être for mounting his work. Kalka and his fine cast bring the characters and their story forth as an imperative while allowing the audience to negotiate the somewhat archaic themes as they choose.
It is turn of the 20th century in Russia and Lyubov Andreyevna is returning to the cherry orchard her childhood home, somewhat reluctantly, having been rescued from a difficult domestic situation in Paris by her daughter Anya. A spendthrift and fantasist, her return coincides with the imminent sale of the estate to cover debts. Her brother Gaev has been pretty incapable of running the lands and her adopted daughter, Varya has kept it going to this point. As these failing aristocrats face reality, the peasant and servant classes are rising above their allocated lots to develop aspirations and to acquire hard earned wealth. The tensions are rising as the class system falls.
There are some terrific performances in this production. Suzann James as Lyubov, takes command of the open stage and without any fidgetiness brings a restlessness of wandering underpinned by a denial of her interior demons in the exterior vivacity. Also wearing a mask to hide hurt is Dominique de Marco’s Varya. Despite being practical and hardworking, Varya has little agency and de Marco brings out the reactionary explosions and the disappointments of love with considerable impact. The relationships are equally well expressed, especially between Varya and Anya (Caitlin Williams) who bring a genuineness of caring and love to the non-blood sisters.
And family resonances are well explored by the cast as we see Lyubov’s attraction to unsuitable men in Anya and Martin Bell gives Gaev an exaggerated echo of his sister’s unrealistic and impractical nature. You just know that he won’t keep that job in a bank. Bell and Craig James as Pishnichik provide much of the humour of the piece with well-dugin characters despite a changing world. The changes are personified in Lopakhin. Zacharie di Ferdinando successfully communicates the conflicted nature of his character. Pride of achievement is at war with the arrogance of having achieved.
The servants are also well delineated into old and new. Some clever costuming at work here also. Garreth Cruikshank as the elder manservant, Firs, pulls the required audience empathy without which the ending would not work and Laurel McGowan’s Charlotta is both watcher and a flamboyant entourage hanger on. Dunyasha, played by Alannah Robertson, and Yasha, played by Harley Wilson demonstrate the difference between the working and the moaning working class.
One of the most engaging aspects of Kalka’s direction here are the entrances, there are great many characters coming and going and each has a physicality and insertion that attracts an audience’s engagement specifically. Benjamin Tarlinton’s self-effacing Yepikhodov and Martin Quinn’s Trofimov a case in point. The former brings a very comic attitude and the latter espouses the more overt themes of the play with a well-modulated youthful enthusiasm for a cause.
The themes are not contemporary… the nature of work and class and the rise of the bourgeoisie no longer directly absorb our day to day political considerations but are still valued by this polished and well-directed production. The setting takes a small plot point and makes it large giving an open and useable space, the lighting in this difficult 3 sided arrangement doesn’t jar and there are some well sourced, discreet, sound effects.
This The Cherry Orchard is more of a gateway to an historical rendering of the work which an audience, inspired by its accessibility, might seek out. Rather, it delivers a rich storytelling with laughs and class in equal measure.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ blossoms falling white
Thrones - The Musical Parody
A Dragonglass sharp homage!
Production images: Prudence Upton
What the fuck is wrong with this show? Helluva way to head out to interval. What the fuck is wrong with the English language? !!! are not enough to explain the gloriously dodgy! The infinitely trashy! The sublime, shocking, bloodless schlock that is Thrones!
So exclamation points don’t do it justice let’s try … ellipsis. Clever … funny … adroit …
That’s it. I’m out.
There really is no descriptor or grammar fall back here. Emoticons, I guess, might help. Dashes?
Thrones - The Musical Parody is an evening of – tack – tack – tack. And I’m not talking about the Iron Fleet in a headwind. This production playing at the Sydney Opera House is part of a world-wide phenomenon where Game of Thrones aficionados are bonded in love for the 8 season TV show, melded by hate of the despicably poor ending and forged into a standing ovation wildling cheering and whooping for this production.
It’s so well done but admittedly not quite bedded down in the Playhouse yet. Some of the backstage chaos seeps onto stage, mics are late to open and some seriously shitty light cues catch them with their doublet down - but who cares. The music is mixed awfully well and the lighting, especially when it irises down to head sized throws is dagger smart. The war with the Wight Walkers is knowing beyond measure and unites the cognoscenti in despair.
The script Needles in on what we love and love to hate, and crossbow skewers what went so terribly awry with the final season by slicing the air of disappointment and thrusting possibilities into our eager, grasping golden hands. The cast of six are brilliant. They rule the stage with their makeshift, often bathroom based, costumes and props as they teach one of their number about the show. In finest detail for the true believer they take it waaay too far toward the Grassy Sea and hurl it back across The Vale to thump headfirst against The Wall.
And the songs pay their debts like a Lannister in gold coin delivery, Greyjoy choreography (not just the bonking) and a Stark contrast when the mood becomes reflective. As the door is held, not a movement in the crowd as a superior voice and superb staging holds the audience in thrall … breath is bated and silence fills the Great Hall. That three minutes alone is worth the price of admission. This is not a production which Tyrion-changes its fans.
There’s considerable changes in the geography of the songs with a ragtime feel to Ramsey and Joffrey’s duet, a Beyoncé feminist strut for the four main females, a Littlefinger brothel-ish sleaze to some R & B and the, never forget, reddish work of a Wedding Rap. And they pay well out as a knife drops to bind us all … opps … slipped off message. But I can be forgiven as JRR and George RR are both there; Harry makes an appearance; The Wire is there. And yes, Brienne, there is a dragon …
Thrones - The Musical Parody is an axe wield, giant killer of a show which pisses off the edge of the world into the space between what was seen and what might have been.
RbJ rating: 4 #Aryashouldbeking
Thrones - The Musical Parody continues at the Sydney Opera House until June 30.
Writers: Chris Grace, Zach Reino, Albert Samuels, Nick Semar, Dan Wessels .
Director: Chris Grace
Cast: Eric Michaud, Leslie Collins, Jordan Stidham, Ashley Ward, Mary Lou Kolbenschlag, Albert Samuels
An excellent performance helms a play of ethical questioning.
Image Credit: James Balian
The word keeps coming up. ‘Safe’. But there is no safety for Poppy, the young woman at the centre of Normal. Not from the adults around her, not from her close personal friends, nor from the on-line community she goes to for help. This production is an examination of the tenuous ties that bind societies together until self-preservation snips the bonds. Affecting and emotional, Normal haunts with instinctive reactions which reverberate with ethical questions.
Poppy has ‘sparks going off’ in her head and she has developed a twitch, a spasm, a tic of some sort. With little variation, yet little predictability, this may have been brought on by stress, or something environmental, or an unknowable physiology. However, answers seem not to lie in psychology, site testing, invasive physical examinations. Perhaps the answer is more Jungian as other girls in the town, acutely aware of what is happening to Poppy, begin to be similarly afflicted.
Having met the present Poppy at the top of the show, an audience has a curiosity piqued about why this has happened to her and the short scenes of the play do take the viewer from origins to current narrative with ease. Normal is written by Katie Pollock and it impresses initially with the way in which teenagerhood is captured. There’s an importance of trivial things, eternally strained interactions with parents and a girl-fight competitiveness. The text is replete with loneliness as Poppy becomes not just isolated but abused and Pollock also has a sharp way of skewering other social issues; class, for example, is dealt a stunning, one sentence, blow early on and compassion killing bureaucracy receives several offhand slaps. The infectious bigotry of religion and a creeping loss of youth agency are also dynamically addressed by this play.
The audience is brought into the story by the excellence of Alexandra Morgan’s performance as Poppy, a high schooler attracted most by science class. Morgan handles the physicality of the role with an exceptional truthfulness and unengineered irregularity and her work in creating that visual allows the audience engagement beyond any obsession with the acting. As Poppy becomes fleshed we can see the adolescent contradictions in her but there is also a bedrock logic in her trying to understand and solve. The emotional and the rational are not at odds in Morgan’s portrayal but successfully blend to create a young woman of moral strength and growth.
Also searching for a place is Poppy’s bestie, Sky. Finley Penrose endows the character with an early sensible pragmatism which goes a long way to explaining Sky’s story arc and Penrose carefully draws the conflict which will disrupt their relationship. Penrose also expresses the intensity of caring that teenagers are known for in collision with the desire for acceptance that Sky craves. Poppy’s mother has had aspiration beaten out of her by life and abandonment and Cecilia Morrow brings considerable empathy to cash strapped and time poor Heather. The cast play several roles and Chika Ikogwe gives a variety of embodiments to her characters, especially the odious Mrs Porter, the sanctimonious mother of one of the girls.
Director Anthony Skuse has carefully interrogated Normal for relationships … textually the community members are all interlinked… and discreetly wedged self-interest into the pencilled cracks. His direction moves the cast through the complexities of the play’s structure with a narrative throughline; the quick, interlocutory dialogue of some scenes fitting seamlessly. The individuation of search for solution, science to religion, brought out in the staging... when Penrose sits in the semi-dark as the distant, agenda-driven psychiatrist the production’s subtext is given form.
The bare set serves to carefully isolate Poppy as fewer and fewer characters join her on the raised stage of the centre. The other characters lean and stand around when not directly involved and their watching is as indicative of Poppy’s circumstances as their direct engagement. The audio has the echoey bleed and tunneled distance of metallic, hit industrial pipes which has a repetition and resonance of aloneness and peril. The simple lighting plot has a palette which reflects inner turmoil without overstating its existence. The colours in the calm sequence and yellow of walking home, especially mood setting.
Normal is a gripping work, expertly realised, which raises ethical and personal questions about young people’s safety and future well beyond its 75 minutes of storytelling.
Is confrontation enough?
Last time I saw Mercury Fur by Philip Ridley in a rehearsed reading at the same venue I had a similar reaction. Not just the two hours is too long to sit response but the who is this for query. This is an unrepentant play. It doesn’t care if you wiggle or wonder, it simply barrels on without any real redemption despite a conclusion which can, if you choose, be taken as such. And despite several excellent performances; and despite a director who does, obviously, get it.
The play, and brilliantly in this production, begins with world-building. Darren and Elliot have come to an abandoned apartment in an abandoned tower block in an abandoned place to prepare for a party. It’s a dystopian world, something wide reaching has gone terribly wrong here. They are surprised by the fact that there is resident in the building. Just down the hall is Naz, a man-child alone. Despite talk of a Party Piece and of a VIP Party Guest there is a malevolence impending.
Director Kim Hardwick has created the environment with precision. There is menace upon threat from the very first entry, in the way Elliot infantilises and abuses Darren. It’s an excellent performance from Jack Walton as Darren, his eager to please, addled, character never taking eyes off Elliot, desperate for an opportunity to please. In a late pivotal scene he will take brief charge and one realises how he has been diminished by society and family. It’s a loving portrait from Walton. As Elliot, Danny Ball has the brutality of received learning, the origins of which become evident towards the end of the play. The possibility that there is a better self is communicated to the audience without loss of believability by Ball.
As Naz, Meg Clarke gives a mighty performance. There are many similarities between Naz and Darren but skilled directing and powerhouse characterisation bring a differentiation. Empathy is stretched in two equal directions which allows for the complexities of the climax of the piece … only a cold heart would not invest in these two.
The implication of violence is personified in Spinx, played by Michael McStay who has command of his scenes and a simmering volatility which is unsurprising when it erupts. As Lola, the ancillary necessary to the men’s plans, Janet Anderson gives a layered interpretation of the wearing down of resistance.
The production has an accomplished set, lighting and audio design. It’s dim, not dark, with a sophisticated understanding of light levels on the eye and the decay of the place is evocative. As is the interesting metaphor of what order means in this chaotic world. The audio never intrudes on scenes and the operated levels, perfection for this venue.
The metaphor extends as Hardwick makes order, and an appreciability of narrative, from the text. The ending, though, is a blunt tool for the theme of the production as discussed in the producer’s note in the program (Danny Ball) - however, there’s an emotional accessibly to meaning if one chooses to rise above the violence of the previous hours. The company is to be commended on their attitude to warning patrons of the content as this a confronting production not designed for easy watching. Confrontation overwhelms any call for change or exhortation to action and, for me, the why and who-for lies unanswered on the bloody stage.
RbJ rating: 3 ½ cardboard covered windows
Peace out with this expert and exhilarating production
from Willoughby Theatre Co.
Production images: Grant Leslie Photography
My friend who saw it before me sent me an email with one word … repeated three times. RAVE, RAVE, RAVE. Allow me to add my own opinion. Sheesh … it’s so good! Sweet Charity from Willoughby Theatre Company is a psychedelic, life affirming trip back to a world of wacky colour and sweet aspiration. With a talented, charismatic, triple threat lead, it is a production alive with colour and nostalgia; all done with WTC’s trademark skilled stagecraft.
Charity Hope Valentine is a dancehall hostess with a naivety about men and about her circumstances. Her hopes tend to revolve having a fella but she is not the only one but the other girls are a bit wiser to the little cruelties of the world. Nickie and Helene help her through each let-down but they are not averse to a bit of tough talk. It doesn’t help! Charity will meet, in a dire setting, Oscar and there’s a possibility it might work out … everyone, including us, is willing it to be so.
Sweet Charity is a bit of a talky musical. Lots of chat and not so well-known songs interspersed between the raucous show stoppers. Luckily, we have a radiant Charity to keep the energy pumping and the story rushing on like a subway train. Amy Curtin is real deal here and has created a Charity to root for. It is such huge role and Curtin maintains a constant character, is endearing and sympathetic and highly skilled in bringing us the impressionable, irrepressible, little girl lost. Impressive high kicks, high notes and high energy, she also has a lovely way with the audience.
Director Janina Hamerlok has taken a very personal approach in that way, the characters are deliberately out to the front and then pulled into the intimacy of conversation with no diminishment of engagement. The characters of Nicki (Taryn-Lea Bright) and Helene (Kathryn Harradine) are especially well drawn in this context. Bright has steel and compassion in equal measure and her dancing is filled with extra flourish and verve. Harradine is a great match for her, the positive realist is so well evoked. And their voice blend is superb, individually masterful yet indicative of how the women are bonded.
As Oscar, Jack Westbury-Driscoll brings such a loveable character to the stage. The chemistry between he and Curtin is delightful and their scenes together are warm and genuine. The chased-by-a-cop scene especially well handled by him to show the take-charge care that rises in Oscar as he grows in his confidence and love of Charity. There is such longing in Westbury-Driscoll’s creation and when conflict arrives his sadness spills across the footlights. His solo ‘Sweet Charity’ is so enjoyable as all Oscar’s best qualities come together.
The supporting cast is also terrific. Jon Emmett has killer top notes as Herman, Guy Webster brings the pink and groovy as Daddy and Matt Hourigan and Dylan Hayley as Vittorio and Ursula rip the stereotypes right out of a Visconti potboiler with enormous panache. And the ensemble? Brilliant, as usual. WTC constantly brings committed, detailed and finely rehearsed work to onstage and off. The show stoppers are faithful to the text but presented with precision and a thrilling flair in the dance, and, Daddy, don’t get me started on their choral work at the Church ... all those little character touches and relationships are lively and full of story.
There are several famous scenes in the show and the quality is stunning in this production. A lot of it will take you by surprise so I won’t spoil it but let’s hone in on the black and white at the Pompeii Club. The wigs are defining and completely stable despite some percussive choreography, complete with headshakes and little, perfectly executed, jumps. The costumes are a feast for the eyes, and the almost impossible task of having the same achromatic visual impression in all the blacks is genuinely impressive! Have a look next time you see two black shirts together, black is not just black. Adding to the visual splendour, the cast are needle sharp in the poses and the grimaced faces express a mini-theme about conformity and rictus. (Choreographer Melissa Ayers and a kick ass Costume, Wig and Dresser Team.)
Visually, the excellence of this production begins with the many screened back wall. There, Mondrian modernism melds with titles and cute hearts in boxes to add dimension and mood. It’s bold but never garish and has some lovely subtleties. Like the window, door and post slot in the background of the girls’ apartment … I felt a real pull of empathy when I noticed that! The set design from Simon Greer has a go-large-or-go-home quality which is highly entertaining and often has the audience gasping with pleasure - but there is heaps of room to move and there are several fun pieces flown in or smoothly gliding from the wings. Similarly, the lighting does a great job and the designers, James Wallis and Matthew Lutz, resist psychedelia in favour of nice contrasts and inspired colour combos … the orange and purple for Vittorio’s apartment my favourite.
It is in this scene that Musical Director Harrison Collins’ really lets his orchestra fly too. The power of ‘If they Could See Me Now’ with that brass pitched perfectly is almost immediately soothed by the lush and romantic strings for ‘Too Many Tomorrows’. It’s a terrific orchestra and there are some lovely arrangements which do justice to the big and uplift the less dynamic elements of the score.
Sweet Charity is an unusual musical as the audience looks forward to the huge numbers and falls into the small. Willoughby Theatre Company have tapped into the rhythm of life to take us away from the humdum outside and drop us into an effervescent world which vibrates with hope.
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ peace symbols, baby!
The Little Mermaid
Watching the kids is as enjoyable as watching it yourself.
Image Credit: Grant Lesley from Perfect Images Photography
It must be rewarding for an artist to hear a loud yell of “wow” from a four year old audience member at an early high note … followed by lots of adult laughter and applause. Going to The Hills Musical Theatre Company is like that, I always look forward to their shows because of the family friendly atmosphere. The tables become picnic spreads, the brothers and sisters in the audience sing along because they know it now, Mum and Dad and Poppy and Nonna can have a wine and … it’s always a great show. The Little Mermaid, though, has something extra special. A kiddie mosh pit!
And LauraJoy Bunting, with all the charisma and style of a leading lady, knows just how to work that mini crowd. Bunting is perfect in the role of Ariel - she is a wonderful wearer of the famous clamshells. Bunting has created such an endearing character. She speaks with a soft youthful wilfulness and confusion which is very sympathetic and she sings with a honey lightness of tone inside her stellar soprano. Bunting also has excellent stagecraft as she looks inclusively at the little ones at her feet and yet still throws to the crowd and commands the attention of the whole audience in the solos. Her performance is a magical affair … so enjoyable, especially when she is surrounded by so many other wonderful characters.
The love interest, Prince Eric, is a sweet portrayal by James Warren-Smith who brings a lovely expression of rebellion against the constraints of his responsibilities and some very fine lower notes in his solos. There is also a handsome portrayal of the growth arc for the boy who must become more than fancy free. There’s some odd characters in Prince Eric’s life! Will Turner makes an imposing pilot for Eric’s seagoing adventures; Jonathan Barons’ plays Grimsby with a paternal, tough love, comedy while Jeremy Barons as Chef Louis is having way too much malevolent fun and probably making vegans of the kids who are squealing with delight.
Bridging the ocean and shore is Brendan Goodwin as Scuttle and he knows how to make a flying entrance. It’s a very warm character from him as the worried seagull and his energetic beginning to Act 2 is bouncy opening. Undersea there’s some fishy business going on. Those older sisters are not very nice to our heroine and the storytelling of their work gives the show a real depth in those scenes. We can see the individual responses even in their chorus voice work and all their singing benefits from a delightful blend and some superb solo parts. (Bella Andrews, Phoebe Atkins, Marni Collier, Emma Davies, Courtney Hayhow, Cathlyn-Rose McKellar
As King Triton, Dom Augimeri is regal as he empathetically touches the audience as a lost single parent, worried for his youngest. But he can be menacing when needed. That is very nice audio choice for him in that pivotal scene, by the way; great design assisted by the fact that all the audio is well operated and mixed. There is lots of excellence from the large cast and crew in this show - like Rodrigo Medina Noel’s cheeky charm and genuine conflict as an OTT Sebastian … his sideways exits never failing to get a laugh and nice work from Melia Bloch who is an always attentive and watchful Leeward.
As the villain of the piece, Marika Zorlu has very enjoyable grasp of the vocal demands of the role with the squeaks and belts all done with an evil laugh and conspiratorial vocal depth… before some well-judged high notes which give her character a very nice nastiness. Her hench-eels, Caitlyn Morales and Jasmin Sarkis, are really a nasty lot, too, and very clever on those wheel heels. As Flounder, Elizabeth Sarkis does a cracker job with that rolling movement too. And she has such a wistful character, good flipper movement and an engaging stage presence in the role.
Her vibrant costume and punky hair look great too. All the costumes are delightful to look at and there was a visible gasp from the audience at the glam of Triton’s court. My favourite was the seagull spats! The wigs, especially Ariel’s, really stand up to the rigors of the show and the uniformity of hair dressing is the kind of cohesion which adds subtle quality. In fact, all the costumes (Co-ordinator: Samantha Mancuso) and choreography (Gai Reckless) work very well together. The choreo is not just on display during the big numbers; the fish hand movements keep the undersea magic alive.
While up above water, Grimsby’s seasickness is made so much more comic by the heave-ho dancing behind it. And the 20 tapping seagulls was a real highlight … it’s such a thrilling thing to see and hear that kind of dancing! The set also has star quality as the constant changes, expertly delivered, keep coming and the design ensures that the smaller members of the audience know where the action is happening. Not only are backdrops expertly painted (Maureen Cartledge) but they shine a light on the expert backstage expertise of HMTC. That first change drew a loud appreciative “ah” from the audience as the lush court appears in the great wide blue.
Musical Director Matthew Herne has done some very apposite arrangement for his orchestra in the changes, too, and he guides the mood either continuing or morphing through a change into the next scene. Herne also conducts his players very well for volume - Triton’s solo is beautifully enhanced by the orchestra sitting just under Augimeri’s voice. So often their work slides gracefully into a supportive role, yet there are moments when the tempo kicks up a notch, like for the chase scene, and these are surprising fun. ‘Under the Sea’ was bright and fast and loved by the crowd.
It’s a difficult space to light but the colour use is not too bright or garish and the use of white for some of the solos was very effective design. And veteran director Director Jan Mahoney keeps her cast away from the downstage. With the raised set upstage a great help to sightlines, Mahoney also utilizes centrestage to good effect, especially in emotional solos. Mahoney controls the emotional rise and fall with considerable skill. The meet cute is impossibly romantic and has mums and dads comforting little girls who are worried for Prince Eric and the scary elements are quickly moved on from.
Hills Musical Theatre Company’s The Little Mermaid is not just for the kids, though. There’s jokes for the grownups about Pisces and sashimi and ... lawyers! But find a kid to take with you because watching them is half the fun. And look out for the Chip joke, it had me in stitches...just lovin’ those gulls!
RbJ rating: 4 orange seagull legs
Photography by Keith Mahoney
Blood On the Cat’s Neck
Montague Basement at The Bordello, KXT
Photo Credit: Zaina Ahmed
Committed performances, a clever use of space and a terrific audio design give Montague Basement’s Blood on the Cat’s Neck an intrigue and luxurious immersion that works well to mitigate the time out-of-joint theme of the production. Mightily original when the work was first produced, there is a considerable diminution in its impact today. It is an honoured and much copied argument for the fallibility of humanity; thirty years ago the film Being There won a slew of awards for almost the same thematic rendering. Yet re-entering a seldom-done classic, especially as stylishly as it is done here, has its charms.
And this offering is stylish and elegant with a focused cast who are waiting when the audience arrives in clumps. Almost the best part of the show is tumbling into the space in one of the first lift loads to explore who is frozen and where. Then guessing what character they inhabit. What becomes clear quickly as one waits for the rest of the audience to be conveyed here, is the brevity of human curiosity… those around you waive off into a discussion of domestic, more pressing and entertaining matters, ignoring the still figures and other patrons around. And that is rather the point.
Rainer Werner Fassbinder’s absurdist play asks us to reflect on the trivial yet subsuming nature of our lives by breaking his work into three pieces. We meet the characters first in monologue and they are a pretty loathsome lot. We also meet Phoebe Zeitgeist, an alien just landed and who hears but doesn’t understand the language (the play is sometimes subtitled Marilyn Monroe vs. The Vampires.) and who is taking time to absorb.
Next she will move around, peeking in and invisibly interacting, soaking up dialogue and narrative. In the final sequence, Phoebe will regurgitate their nonsense as they resolutely refuse to accept any reality or resonance, mistaking her for insightful or drunk. Her vampiric appropriation, bringing the play to its conclusion.
The cast have pin point timing in this wide space around which the audience is free, encouraged, to roam. There is seating if you get tired, though. A series of lampshades light the way to attention as characters are bathed or shadowed and voices echo from various places in the red curtained bar. The placement and operation of the lighting is terrific, as is the use of audio. Some repetitions are amplified by microphone and some are swallowed, audible only for only those who have ventured near. The wide variety of recognizable music under the series of vignettes hints at the characters, provides context and pokes the absurdity.
It is an absurdist work still, but Director Saro Lusty-Cavallari has avoided non sequiturs. Instead he has compelled a narrative in the first two sections, thereby giving a greater conversation to the skewering of the characters in part three. He also avoids shock value, excessive volume and excess movement and dialogue. The cast travel with purpose to their next sequence and wait upon their moment in time.
Blood on the Cat’s Neck has a laudable digital program in which the director writes of the many modern recurrences of evils that Fassbinder had foregrounded by work such as this. His logic is sound and the production’s intelligent design and motivated ensemble give an absurdist and emotional rendering to the contemporaneity. In our shallowness we should be grateful that this play is no longer breaking new ground on these issues.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ dark deeds in dark corners
Buy tickets before reading this. It will sell out for sure.
Some proselytizing is called for here. On the face of it, hearing one actor, 100 minutes, minimal lighting and audio, virtually no set and … new Australian work, might make you equivocate. Stand by because here comes a “knee shaking, head spinning” advocacy for Prima Facie at Griffin Theatre. But before you read, log on and get tickets immediately.
A bare space, save for a chair, until Tessa confidently strides into view. With an equine analogy she explains how it is with her when she is in court. Led by her instincts, personal history and impulse to overachieve, Tess is a barrister to be reckoned with. With the bit loosened she will share each tiny second of success with the audience. How she reads the witness, soothes them before pouncing and does a sexual assault victim a sisterly solid by going easy on her … if she gets the testimony she needs. Laughing and using her razor wit, Tessa will charm with her easy laugh and her killer honing of a lawyers’ craft that she fervently believes in. Adversarialism works!
World view and self-esteem are a construct though, and her absolute belief in the legal system and her mildly conceited knowledge of her own ability will be assaulted. At first, without any detailed bloodshed then, with a gouging savagery that each right minded watcher cannot fail to be appalled by.
Prima Facie is written by Suzie Miller and it is triumph of elegant simplicity. Colloquial and chatty, the language is focused and personal, exhibiting the inner monologue vocabulary of Tessa’s socio economic roots - not the ‘I put it to you’ gloss of her professional training. The audience are her confidantes and director Lee Lewis captures the conspiratorial and confessional stream of consciousness with motivation and compulsion in every moment.
What gets Sheridan Harbridge through this performance? Hearts are surely not designed for such shattering. Harbridge’s Tessa begins with a pride of accomplishment which jangles the nerves and provokes dissention in the minds of her listeners. Then with a wicked wryness she touches the elbow and walks us slowly, with her creation, to vulnerability. This is a play of two distinct halves. A ‘tonal shift’ is the expression the playwright uses for Act Two and Harbridge, here, endows Tessa with a diminishing as her ordeal continues and the diminution of her belief in the law fills the small space. It is a small theatre so get tickets now, for this transformative, agile performance will be spoken of for years to come.
The raised stage of this production (Designer Renee Mulder) is also home to some stellar lighting and audio. Trent Suidgeest’s rig is simplicity itself; it never glares but lucidly widens to expose and narrows to concentrate. The hinting at ice blue of the assault relation is just perfection in colour response to the emotion and environment. Similarly, Paul Charlier’s audio discreetly heartbeats and distorts with the mood.
I fully expected to be wreckage by the end of this show as I experienced its building to an apogee of blistering indictment but instead, I came away energised by the power of theatre to respond to systemic injustice. And deeply zealous on Prima Facie’s behalf in calling for a gentle #metoo show of hands at the end of every performance.
RbJ Rating: 5 rallying cries
Image Credit: Brett Boardman
Made to Measure
A play with lived experience in its heart.
Production images: Lisa Tomasetti
The indisputable talent of Megan Wilding continues to grace Sydney theatre with Made to Measure, the latest play from prolific playwright, Alana Valentine, directed by Tim Jones. Wilding is on stage as we arrive in the space where the stage is dominated by elegance and style, yet she is absorbed on her phone on the steps of the bridal salon. When she eventually notices the audience, the openness and generosity of her first monologue is remarkable and endears and educates in equal measure.
Made to Measure is a production drawn from lived experience and what it has to say is important. Perhaps though, in its current form not enough of us will experience this production. Valentine’s research rigor has somewhat fallen into the script and the didacticism has got slightly away from the drama.
Only a bit, though, because there are two central performances of excellence to bind the audience to the production. Wilding is Ashleigh, a woman of “very generous shape” to quote Monica. Monica is a high end couturier and Ashleigh is seeking the wedding dress of her dreams. What follows is an invitation into the realities and fantasies of fat women and the way the world is for them, and can I say here, me. Monica has a seemingly sympathetic yet vaguely ambivalent attitude toward her larger clientele and Ashleigh becomes confused and defiant as she tries to understand what the artisan expects of her.
As Monica, Tracy Mann is Wilding’s equal in grace and power and the ups and downs of their relationship are beautifully portrayed in beautiful surroundings. Their attitudes to each other change constantly as each woman, and we, get to know the other. Mann commands the stage as she tells stories of clients past and reveals a little of her own circumstances and her ability to negotiate the constant movement of a dress-designer, measuring, pinning, choosing, gives the production an impressive verisimilitude. Mann also has a very attractive conversational quality without any reduction of vocal carry and there is sarcastic edge which is razor sharp.
Wilding has an equally impressive skilled expression of the monologues of the text and a way of showing that Ashleigh is watching herself from outside; a self-monitoring for any perceived slight or insult. Though somewhat distracted by Monica’s entertaining burble she can react badly, aggressively, when roused. That first monologue, loving and sharing with audience, is turned completely when she is challenged. There’s the instant aggro and defensive posture of a fighting spirit. Wilding gives Ashleigh a decisive strength of character despite intimidations. These come in the form of her inner critic, who bounces in to be live on stage with her… very live. Sam O’Sullivan plays these incarnations with an energetic swarm and charm.
From Melanie Liertz comes a stunning set design and whether you actually see her costume work, the dress, will keep you guessing through the show. David Bergman has designed some very subtle and evocative music and his lightness of touch is sweetly foregrounded behind the “pretty” speech. The lighting (Verity Hampson) also stays in the background with a gentle use of pastels on the white folded fabric and some narrowing in for extra effect in the monologues.
Made to Measure is a little modular in its interpretation of the themes, one would love to see the free flow of a beautifully draped gown but two talented female performers in a play which has things to say that you won’t hear elsewhere is definitely worth a look.
RbJ rating: 3 hand sewn beads on a revealing décolletage
Made to Measure continues at the Seymour Centre until June 1.
American Psycho - the Musical
A “flirt with a hard body” .
Photo Credit: Clare Hawley
American Psycho – the Musical playing at Hayes Theatre has a reflective set. Take your seat and just try not to look for your face in the crowd. Patrick Bateman, narcissist and swinging dick, might own that revolving city but we get to watch! There’s book and a film before this 2013 penning, you may or may not have encountered them. This particular production, directed by Alexander Berlage, is a rumble pak of a show. Pulsing with bass through the feet and thumping with talent on stage it is designed with a driving tempo and unqualified bull market of style.
Patrick works at a Wall Street Bank as the 1980s close out. Fuck knows what he actually does except make money to burn on expensive décor, suits and entertainment. He has a mercenary, merciless attitude to inferiors … and who isn’t? A murderous attitude to vulnerability is part of his charm.
A charm that Benjamin Gerrard hurls at you with considerable homicidal intent. He helms this production with a power which manhandles the audience into Patrick’s disordered mind. His physicality, the crotch display, the hands in pockets thrust of the NASDAQ god, has a well-placed effortless about it. It’s incarnate and chillingly mesmeric and when he bares his aggression in a toothy grin the comic collides with the graphic. His tussles for attention satirically include his asides and direct to the audience and his little boy tantrums and peevishness when he doesn’t get his own way.
Staying out of his way, or obsequious in getting him what he wants, is a stellar ensemble who bring depth of characters to their, often, slick and quick arrival and departure. Those who take him on do so with brash and flash which doesn’t overshadow his supremacy. That is a neat trick of direction from Berlage. Paul Owen (Blake Appelqvist), the snake above on the greed ladder, and Evelyn (Shannon Dooley), label driven girlfriend, may bash their tiny fists against his rock hard abs but nobody gets to him. Not even long suffering secretary, Jean (Loren Hunter).
It’s exceptional ensemble work here and the choreo from Yvette Lee is superbly interpreted. It is hard to think of a better men’s sequence than ‘Cards’ then Lee backs it up with the women’s pose and walk of ‘You Are What You Wear’. The dancing busts with 80s moves and has the waft of self-help aerobic tape inside their insertion into the songs and exciting orchestrations from Andrew Worboys; sound design by Nick Walker. The aural background of the production abounds with skilled panache … the heartbeat peril of Jean in Patrick’s apartment - ratcheting!
The audio mix during the show I attended sometimes lost the lesser voices but there’s always context here. And it is visually splendid and I don’t just mean the stunning grey haired woman in the second row on the left. The 3 spaced wedged set has a Trivial Pursuit feel and I know exactly how difficult it is to get speed of a revolve right. This is perfection! Berlage has form when it comes to revolves. Which brings me to the extraordinarily good stage management. Silent whisking with absolute precision including terribly heavy velvet theatre seats. Gasps from the audience at the efficiency.
Berlage also designed the lighting which is as glam as one would expect and with very clever colour choices including a subversion of Christmas red. Much of the audience seems inclined to whoop and clap at the brilliance of this production, however, the scene before interval will shut you up. It’s rather what we might be here if we know the previous incarnations of American Psycho and worth the price of admission on its own. If the second act becomes more interior and slows, it is lifted by ‘A Girl Before’ from Jean which has been directed with a condensing of emotion and the attraction of a soulful voice in a still space. The homily of the finale doesn’t quite hit home but since most audience will have seen the film that is ok … it’s a “flirt with a hard body” this show.
American Psycho – the Musical, is a cut-throat snort of high adrenalin excess to be greedily devoured.
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ slaughterhouse plastic strap curtains
Book by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, music and lyrics by Duncan Sheik and based on the novel by Bret Easton Ellis Presented by BB-Arts & Two Doors Productions in association with Hayes Theatre Co, American Psycho – the Musical continues until June 9.
The Poor Kitchen
A warm place to be.
Photo Credit: Clare Hawley
With an Italian farmhouse beautifully evoked as you enter the small theatre, the warmth of wood, used and practical furniture and the domesticity of jar upon jar of food staples suggest a production with real heart. And a story to tell. The Poor Kitchen is having a return season. Now nestled into the intimate space of Limelight Downstairs, the production, written by Daniela Giorgi and directed by Julie Baz, does have terrific storytelling at its heart.
Elle has inherited this property despite the fact that she lives in southwest Sydney and her father had not seen her benefactor, his sister, since they were in their twenties. Currently living in the house is Giulia, who cared for the elderly aunt, and her husband, Carlo who tends the olive orchard. He has an environmental agenda and is constantly criticised by the family solicitor, Vittorio, for bringing the farm into disrepute with his companion planting and no pesticide practices. Elle is on her way there with selling and quitting her insurance job on her mind.
Baz begins the show with a clever conceit by putting Elle (Amy Victoria Brooks) in the seats with the audience. Brooks gives Amy a nice mix of Aussie hands in the air it’ll be ok, and a woman with plans to have a better, fuller life. Her use of politeness is quite funny. We then meet Anna (Taylor Buoro) the farm’s neighbour. She might have an agenda but is all open-hearted friendliness and Buoro has a way of listening to the others argue which exudes compassion. Guilia (Wendi Lanham), Vittorio (David Jeffery) and Carlo (Myles Waddell) are the arguers in question. Loudly and, unfortunately, way too boisterous for the space, Italian passion or not.
Lanham comes into her own in the later scenes when her stridency is mollified by an epiphany and the wolf scene is very well placed for emotional engagement by Lanham and Baz. The latter endowing her cast with a trusting stillness. There is, after all, a tenderness underlying that marriage despite all the strains on it. Jeffery has his character speak with his hands which can make for some lovely comic moments but there’s a cacophony to his performance which distances the Vittorio from the audience such that the nuance of his behaviours is somewhat lost; the effect of the table thumping emotion points landing especially badly.
The character of Carlo may be a much easier task textually, but Waddell gives such a truly engaging performance. His Carlo is rich with belief, has “crushed sunlight” in his soul and his espousing of conservationism is realistically passionate. As is Carlo’s confusion about the gap between himself and his wife. All the relationships in the production are actually very well drawn, both by the script and the direction.
Giorgi has written a play which has a very human core, she avoids clichés of greed or aggression and has several theatrical interventions which allow for complex storytelling. I wouldn’t like to spoil the surprises of the show but one of my favourite techniques is the way that the bi-lingual three-way conversations are such enormous fun to watch. It keeps the audience on their toes. As does Baz’s movement around the set. The entries are used well and the direct to the audience scenes are cheerfully intimate. Baz also has a sharp eye for the pacing of the show with the reveal very well judged.
The production is enhanced by a practical and effective lighting design and a terrific audio plot; the eruption being extremely good and a lovely interrogation of text apparent in the interval audio.
The Poor Kitchen is a good watch. A good story told well.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ family meals around a kitchen table
The Poor Kitchen continues at Limelight until May 26.
Horrible. Complex, gripping, brilliantly horrible!
Between her psychologist impassivity and his shut down monosyllabism, Cyprus Avenue by David Ireland begins in emotionless, white walled, institutional quiet. She is trained to calmly repeat for clarity and he just quietly repeats as his mania searches for belief and truth. What will follow is a bizarrely logical progression of events, told through relation. Events that have put him in this place.
From Empress Theatre, playing at the Old Fitz Theatre, this is a production to rip comedy from tragedy and gouge an audience’s understanding of irrationality with belief. Then hit with a climax that defies sanity through the logic of escalation. It’s stunning theatre - heartbreaking and headshaking.
Eric is British, Protestant and a Belfast Loyalist and it appears that his daughter, Julie has just given birth to a daughter who is Gerry Adams, the Irish Republican. Something has happened, somehow Eric has run out of options for dealing with the situation and ended up in this room. His patriotism is boundless, unquestioned and extends to his socks … his dogmatism finds no place to soften as his world view is assaulted. The audience can perceive what his doctor thinks has gone on before the events of the story. How the boy, young man and family man came to be inside the affect-flattened patient we see in front of us.
Roy Barker gives a remarkable, tour de force performance here. Never switching off Eric’s absolute belief, only squashing as deep as it allows him to, Barker gives Eric an early bewilderment. As we hear his relating of events we are drawn into his mind, we laugh at him … Eric is a funny bloke when he wants to be. And if the premise wasn’t so flawed we might travel with him; it’s hypnotic and it shows in his relationship with Slim… he could just be a man pushed too far. After he meets Slim, as his mind skitters beyond logic, Barker pulls his creation into a freneticism which is in complete contrast to the wreckage we met at the top of the play.
As Bridget, his doctor, Branden Christine is perplexed but her training overtakes her curiosity and, almost, her outrage. Ostensibly the professional clinician, the woman surfaces despite herself. Christine’s watching as replete as her spoken acting and the audience is aware of the duality of response to his intransigence. His wife is Bernie and played by Jude Gibson. Bernie is confused and scared and Gibson brings a weight of historic hurts to the role as we see that she lacks the compassion of her daughter, Julie.
Amanda McGregor gives the Julie a responsive empathy and an inherent bravery that is very welcome as he insists on his delusion. Her sensitivity, however, is challenged at every bruising encounter with her father and McGregor brings considerable complexity to the torn young woman. The final character is Slim. Little or no complexity in him. He is brash, violent and single minded but given dimension by Lloyd Allison-Young who gives the buffoon the twitchy, easily manipulated vulnerability of stupidity.
Director Anna Houston has made the old Fitz stage even smaller as she traps these characters in Eric’s world and her use of physical distance has the emotional markers of the relationships silently uttered. The setting is all white, an implication of padding on sofa and walls, but the floor no longer as it must have been intended … a difficult choice to have painted it white. The lighting rig is simple and unfortunately a bit patchy in its use with an uneven wash and cues which interrupt the flow rather than focus attention. The blue booster does give a somewhat industrial feel in places without, however, accentuating the blandness and depersonalisation implicit in the design.
Houston’s direction interrogates the themes with an avoidance of metaphor… this is a specific set of circumstances evoked with a purity of place and politics. In the same way, her skilled guidance of the cast enriches the relationships by avoiding endowment, giving Cyprus Avenue a precision of interaction and clarity to the personalities involved.
Cyprus Avenue balances comic and horrible to make an audience consider what we might do in the name of belief, it’s exciting theatre which reminds us of the power of words to build and destroy.
RbJ rating: 4 ½ roads lined with leafy delusion
Campfire tales emotionally bring women’s experience of culture, love and belonging to the Belvoir stage.
Photo credit: Brett Boardman
The choices that women make. Winyanboga Yurringa, currently playing at Belvoir, is a delicate inquiry into this. That the women are indigenous brings enthralling dimension to that exploration and these creatives and cast gift the viewer with a powerful and moving drama. This is an enfolding work as history, spirit and love shine from the stage. I reached for tissues and I wasn’t the only one.
Neecy, an Elder matriarch, is fluttering to get things ready as she digs in the sand on the banks of a river. She will be joined by family with some fishing and campfire on their mind. At the moment, though, she must feel burdened as Neecy is getting very little help from Chantelle, a surly teenage recalcitrant only interested in seeking signal on her phone. She will be joined by Margie, who has a fun way of seeing the world and Wanda who bears a weight of world in a grumpy, unyielding way. Carol is torn between worlds as her profession in an essentially white museum collides with her heart and culture. This multigenerational family will become six when an outsider, Jadah, arrives. Never without her camera in hand, she is there to document an event which is intimately and emotionally shared with the audience.
Written by Andrea James, this play has its roots in her experience of watching the 1981 ground-breaking TV series Women of the Sun, Winyanboga Yurringa is the translation. James has crafted a play in which modern women will confront modern problems… inappropriate men, sexuality, belonging, and the crutches we choose for ourselves … denial, alcohol, anger. James brings their antecedent antiquity to the fore, whether they know it or not, as Neecy guides them toward a deeper cultural belonging. James will unapologetically place barriers in their way, however. Exclusionism and bigotry, historic hurts and the rush of judgement will all play a part and director Anthea Williams guides her cast brilliantly in a journey of joyous overcoming.
Even the dogged and driven Neecy will falter at times. This character is brought vibrantly to life by Roxanne McDonald. She has some serious moves and a physicality which embeds in the sand and dust that arises as she digs in it. There’s a weariness, though, to McDonald’s interpretation and the realism of a hard lived life is implicit. Also doing it hard is Angeline Penrith’s Wanda, who is a tough as nails creation; one you would not want to meet in a pub after a few bevvies. Penrith tempers her only slightly, despite revelations, and she is very hard to love in an intelligent fight for audience empathy.
Wanda flares often but is able to soften, especially around the inescapable, knowing laugher she shares with her sister, Margie. Dalara Williams is wonderful as Margie. She brings a stable and grounded character who brims with compassion and love, who wears her fear gently and her pride with considered grace. Despite style and a distinct whiff of gentrification, Tasma Walton’s Carol lacks the comfort of grace. Walton gives her strength of character, professional drive but the conflict inside Carol shudders with despair.
Rounding out the cast in exceptional performances are Tuuli Narkle as Jadah and Dubs Yunupingu as Chantelle. Narkle’s performance is quiet and watchful and her stillness is telling in every instance. Yunupingu by contrast is always moving, twitchy when engrossed with her phone and feet always longing for escape. Their story is the beating heart of hope for a new generation.
Thematically, the production is anchored by the set, lighting and sound design which reflects both landscape and the commonality of the Australian experience. The narrow iridescent horizon painted on the wall glows with morning blue as the dawn chorus wakes the women from their sleep on dots which have widened to circles - women’s symbolism, ringing with the ancient. The almost complete darkness at times heralds ritual.
A ritual of power and gifted to the audience by a production which draws the watcher into a matrix of comparison. Why do we choose … the clarity lasting well beyond the settling of sand dust and a ghostly fading of circled women. Winyanboga Yurringa is an achievement of outreach, understanding and the commonality of women’s experience on a sacred bedrock of First Nations’ storytelling.
RbJ rating: 4 mighty rivers to rest beside
A musical force for good from Lane Cove Theatre Company
Production Images: Lachlan Bradbury
When you see Bare from Lane Cove Theatre Company, and I am going to suggest you do, look out for the lexicon of hand holding that directors Kathryn Thomas and Isaac Downey have created for the production. There is a lot to watch in this vibrant and entertaining pop musical about invisibility and belonging - many little details of character and of thematic expression. But that one is especially telling. Bare has many emotional moments which are brought to the stage by both nuance and whole-hearted, full contact, exuberance. It’s a well-rounded watch for any audience.
Music by Damon Intrabartolo and Lyrics by Jon Hartmere Jr, Bare has an LGBT story as the main narrative and it’s obviously important in that regard. However, the show vibrates with contemporary resonance as all kinds of issues affecting young people just finishing school are foregrounded. Body image, sexual double standards, drink, drugs, absent parents all get a nod. And much more as we first meet Peter.
They are in their final year of Catholic co-ed boarding school and Peter has been in love with his best friend, Jason, for a very long time. Their relationship is secret but Peter is finding an increasing need to come out. There are lots of pressures on Jason who is a jock and adored by the girls. His fame comes with privileges! His sister, Nadia, is completely different and they seldom communicate in any meaningful way despite her obvious intelligence. Nadia, you see, has a bit of a resentful obsession about Ivy, who is the genetically blessed girl about town. This little cadre of malcontent is rounded out by Matt who wears his ever hopeful, unrequited heart on his sleeve for Ivy.
Peter is a character created with empathy and warmth by Mackinnley Bowden. From his first step out from the masses, there is a charismatic genuineness to the performance and his command of the complexities of confusion and betrayal are very good storytelling. Bowden’s singing suits the role with a soft and whispery timbre and a sweet higher register. His relationships are finely considered and clearly elucidated and the boy becoming man is lovely to watch. Bowden has many wonderful moments during the show, none so poignant as the emotional phone call.
This scene is shared with Kristin Kok as his mother, Claire. Kok rips into hearts as she draws into focus every parent’s aspiration for their child and her work to indicate the fear of failure is very moving. Some of the catalyst to Peter’s decision to make that call is Jason, played with a bedrocked loving persona by Matt Shepherd. He’s sexy and just a tetch sleazy with a distinct whiff of untrustworthiness. And seriously conflicted. Shepherd brings both jock and joy in equal parts to a role which is, as written, difficult to sympathise with.
As is the role of his sister, Nadia, a character played to perfection by Lucy Koschel. With sass and sensitivity Koschel captivates the audience. Her reclamation of body image is absolutely wonderful and the acting and singing of this talented artist brings together the less evident themes of the work. Her ability to sell a song is at its potent best in ‘Quiet Night at Home’. Additionally, she negotiates the redemption arc with finesse; as does Edan McGovern as Ivy.
Ivy is a tricky character. To play bad choices and still maintain a compassionate, misunderstood identity is a huge challenge and McGovern nails it. She can capture the attention of the room without being too broad in the role, the direction helps there, and one can see when Ivy is playing up to her reputation. Yet the girl/child is evident in surprising ways … a downcast headshake or pull at a midriff top. In a song like ‘All Grown Up’ McGovern’s Ivy is positively waifish. She brings a girl disappointed and her characterisation of the pleading is nicely judged, as is her silent work during the duet with Jason.
The stage is populated with a young cast who impress, not just with energy but in how they bring fun and emotional content to the ensemble scenes, each with a clear character and with lots of little stories to tell. Carmel Rodrigues as Sister Chantelle has such fun with the front row and it seems effortless… some very amusing work from her. In a fantasy sequence she has the assistance of three personality + backup singers and their singing and dancing is thoroughly enjoyable to watch... love the posing! In among the side stories, Adrian Sit does a drug rap that is weirdly enjoyable and Anthony Mason elicits audience understanding despite the Priest being such a dogmatist and hardliner. Also doing a great job is Christopher O’Shea as Matt who, without judgement, endows Ivy with many of the attributes the audience needs to see. He is lost and love-lorn and another of the overlooked invisible ones.
There are, however, some flaws in the work as written, with the invisibility case overstated and considerable thematic repetition but Lane Cove Theatre’s Bare rises as a production of relevance and a force for good. Even a gentle education in places. And one of the biggest assets of this show is the chance to enjoy un-engineered voices in all their glory and inexactitude. It is very seldom in this production that the excellent music overwhelms as it has the potential to do. The upstage voices can be a bit lost when they drop to conversational, but that is a small price to pay for having the pleasure of voices unmiked. The music is varied and swings easily from pop and Shakespeare to youth anthems and the orchestrations from Musical Director Steve Dula are very responsive to his cast.
Technically, the lighting works for the space and despite the operators being a bit noisy in the wrong places, the cues work reasonably well with the large cast picked out for focus in the crowd scenes. The occasional, rather than an overuse, of red, works extremely well for scenes such as the 30 second hit during the early bullying. The rig is easily seconded to isolate or wash and the throwforwards stay out of the audience’s eyes while lifting characters from the deep set.
It’s a simple setting, just risers, but the directors and choreographer (Emily Dreyer) have really utilised the openess. The groupings for the after-rave misery very effective in this regard and the staging of the phone call home visibly illustrating the gap between them.
I thoroughly enjoyed the choreo and the excellent dancing from the cast. That first stomping, bible thumping, movement is such an energetic beginning. Particularly after some impressive gentle descant work from the massed voices. Their work in the rave, where the movement is contrapuntal to the thump, created real atmosphere and vibrancy of the clappyhappy out of interval sets up Act Two for audience engagement. The push and shove of young men is realistically portrayed, too.
The costuming doesn’t overwhelm and that is an exceptional choice when a contemporary musical could become a fashion show, rather it is done with a calibrated consideration of text and visual impact. Look for the killer detail of Claire wearing black in a pivotal scene.
Thomas and Downey have created a show with dignity, bravery and commitment all over it and the cast have enthusiastically brought to light a story which calls out secrets in a lesson for us all about truth and fidelity. A big ‘well done’ to cast and crew and the LCTC Committee, this is now my favourite show since I have been attending their productions.
RbJ Rating: 4 school ties
Boys will be … adversaries.
Production images: Noni Carroll
No-one can hurl an insult like a sibling and Felix Nobis’ play Boy Out of the Country pits the two brothers against each other almost immediately. It feels irreparable, as if too much damage has been done. However this play will pick at the scabs of shared history and memories to show the possibility of undamaged love beneath. Whether Hunter and Gordon care to see that will form the emotional tension in the play. The narrative tension is all about real estate! From Company of Rogues comes a production in which the boy has taken himself out of his birthplace countryside for seven years .
Hunter has been MIA for those years, on the rigs he says. In his time away from Cradletown much has changed. His mother, Margaret, has been moved to a self-care unit and the family home is being eyed by the developers of a housing estate which is set to devour the area around his childhood home. The rest of the town seems to have sold and Gordon is keen, desperately so. As is his wife, Rachel. Separating the boys as he has done all their life, is local copper, Walker
The brothers are very different. Hunter is small and aggro and Gordon is tall and sneering and the argument pretty quickly extends to shoving and pushing when Gordon gets on-message straight away. As Hunter, Tom Harwood is restless and trapped by a past he walked away from. Harwood brings a complex character and his command of the variations of speed in Hunter’s first speech serves to both drive the story and bring Hunter’s motivations to our attention. His lack of economic ambition closes his mind to what Gordon sees as family advancement. Gordon (Jason Glover) is wired for avarice and it’s evident very early. However, Glover doesn’t one-note his creation. We also see Gordon’s obvious affection for his wife and love of his daughters. Equally the audience is aware of his poor behaviour towards his mother.
Actually, both boys are guilty of that and Boy Out of the Country somewhat dares the watcher to picks sides. Rachel, played by Amelia Robertson-Cuninghame is part peacemaker in this situation. She is buttoned down, arms folded and uptight … and explosive. She takes charge when she arrives at the police station and holds on tight to her emotions until she is pushed too far when sarcasm becomes her weapon of choice. Robertson-Cuninghame also indicates the nature of her self-entrapment in a universally understandable way.
The police offer, Walker, is played by Stan Kouros with a well-placed and subtle agenda and an inkling of kept secrets. His hail-fellow lackadaisical attitude covers an astute way of solving problems, he has after all, a shared history of knowing what these two are like, as boys and men both. The cast is rounded out by Jeannie Gee in a finely judged performance as Margaret. Her speech concerning her accident is especially moving as are those moments when she is confused or cross with Hunter. And her changes of state during the play really bring home to the audience the difficulties of old age.
Boy Out of the Country has a plot with quite a few twists that one doesn’t see coming and events and their consequences are surprising. Director Erica Lovell navigates the flow and changes in the dialogue with a sensitive hand and uses the complementary duologues to add to the complexity of the narrative by drawing out the shared experiences and memories. There are many lyrical moments as one would expect from a play described by the playwright as a form of vernacular verse and there are also sections of text which are very clever. The exposition of the real estate situation to Hunter, and us, a case in point.
Boy Out of the Country extends its reach beyond a discussion about siblings and takes the audience into thinking about how cities nibble into the grass of our rural places. There’s an inevitability in that growth - Hunter may not understand, but a city audience is guaranteed to be torn by the implications.
RbJ rating: 3 ½ IGAs
Never Trust a Creative City
Too Rude clowns close out the Batch Festival
With some well-placed singing, superbly dodgy dancing, props and costumes of abject silliness, discreetly well created tech, a wry view of the world and an obvious camaraderie, Emma McManus and Maria White, performing as Too Rude, have hit on a winning formula for getting some salient points across. In Never Trust a Creative City they are cheerfully expounding on the theme that culture has to prove its worth monetarily and it’s an hilarious homily.
Just terrific fun from a pair of clowns who know their stuff. There’s enough of a storyline to hold it together and draw empathy in the final scene, but enough chaos to travel the show at speed. The stillness and softness are very well built into the show too. Say VIVID and no one needs to speak … now that is a noisy silence! They begin with a jellyfish laden visual representation of creativity and then travel off into an Ikea attracted land of commercialism rising… with sea levels. The relationship will strain and noiselessness will fill the space but all will be well.
There’s a slim aesthetic here which has the purest hits of excellence. The secrets hidden around the stage are budget draining but extremely well done, the acapella songs give extra light to the enlightenment and they bring teetering into a new art form. You can’t keep your peepers off them.
There’s some excellent tech here as well, the audio skilfully inserted into the performance and the visuals well created. The formula relies heavily on the chemistry between the two artists. There were several instances when I saw the show when they assisted each other for lost lines in a humorous pick-up. It’s a fast paced show and ebbs and flows with interesting facts, especially for those of us in the arts, and sympathy for the personas they bring to the stage. The craft of the creation is sneakily clever as the audience gets to experience a full range of well-chosen idiocy.
Overall, the show is zany stream of consciousness with an intellectually rigorous naivety … you sorta have to be there for a complete explanation. Watch out for any return season because Too Rude wins at the art game.
RbJ rating: 4 massed jellyblubbers
The Brothers are but Believers
This remarkable production only had a short run in Sydney but it’s worth seeking out.
If my youthful indiscretions hadn’t brought me to the attention of certain authorities, I must have popped up now. After experiencing The Believers are but Brothers I have been googling with phrases like ‘roots of modern jihadism’, ‘defensive jihadism’, ‘trumpism’. It’s that kind of show. This is a production for seekers – of knowledge or clarity or increased awareness. It’s created by a gifted seeker and formulated to embrace all in a spirit of enquiry. He wants to explore “the world of online extremism and anonymity” and understand why young men are drawn to it.
Javaad Alipoor is the performer and writer. Brought up Muslim and with an impressive theatrical resume, he shares directing credit with Kirsty Housley for this show which is a theatrical distilling of his research and reaching out for answers and interactions. Created as an interactive production (the audience receives messages and responds via What’sApp) there are three young men who form the centre of the narrative. Two from England drawn into the Middle East conflict and a boy from Orange County attracted into right wing activism.
These three are explored by the theatre maker as separate sections. There are also rolling sequences, such as a root look at the conflict and its imperatives and the presenter’s interactions with the young men he is trying to speak with. There is also a very cleverly articulated sequence of feminism; in case women think this production is one for the boys. Really not!
The staging allows for a physical representation of the various sections, the English boys at a mic on downstage left and the US young man over on the right. The other dedicated area of the stage involves a large see-though screen above a partner desk which dominates and we can see the technician working on the other side. The screen of the presenter is facing us and he is playing Call of Duty when we arrive.
Essentially oblivious to the audience coming in, sound effects ally with his screen and appears to be live. When he turns to the crowd after he signals for house lights down, he doesn’t speak then either but just gestures to his phone. For a few minutes we are all heads down as the performance begins in text. After that simple introduction there is a gradual overwhelming of input. Not freakishly upsetting just disorienting and leaving you scrabbling for clues about what to focus on. At any moment you may need to choose from: people posting on the app; Alipoor’s storytelling about the boys or the river of blood that flows mesmerically on the big screen.
Which is the point – that mind screw is the takeaway. “This is going to get quite mad quite quickly” Alipoor says of one sequence, and it does. Which rather explains why it is so easy to grab hold of an easy concept and fall, holding it as if real. There are other sections where Alipoor speaks to the audience with his back turned and the image is skype-ily projected. In fact, one of these makes the biggest gut punch of the show, when, at the end, he simply allows a recorded offering to take his place as he goes back to CoD slaughter on a different screen. The metaphor is now complete … and scary.
The messaging during the show is technically so well achieved, as is the complexity of the visuals and some icy blue and eerie green lighting which gives a computer bunker feel to the space. I spent a lot of time going over that chat after the show, horrified at the reality exposed there and wondering who I might have been in the room with. Unlike Alipoor I have not “been on the internet my whole life” and having been a bit of a bad girl when young, one can only worry about how the cacophony of anonymity might have channelled poor behaviour into an inescapabilty of decisions.
The Believers are but Brothers provides few solutions but many answers. It is neither angry nor strident; the performance is honest and genuine and the production has a pragmatic and truthful intent. An eye-opening insight into a fearsome influencer of a world we know we don’t understand.
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ “riled up young men”
If warmth has a human synonym it is Genevieve Lemon in this production.
Production photo credit: Phil Erbacher
It’s subversive in its way, this show… and not just for a smoking nun who is not averse to a few fibs or an ‘alf of Guinness. However, the play is also highly predictable and it’s possible that is its greatest strength. There’s a warmth of inclusion implicit in the expectedness of some events, a way for the audience to immerse in the production with the good will and good wishes we hold for these characters. If the three people on the stage in Tom Wells’ Folk are brought to harmony by a love of sharing music, the viewer is also swept up in the cheery inclusiveness of tapping feet.
Sister Winnie seems to have a tough part of an East Yorkshire town as her patch but this Irish nun is up to the challenge. With an empathetic nature and a forgiving heart, hers is a practical calling. But she doesn’t mind a Friday night of rest to be spent singing with her friend, Stephen. On the evening we meet them their music is disturbed by the intrusion of Kayleigh, a waif from the harsh streets. Folk music might be the only common language here.
If warmth has a synonym, it’s Genevieve. From Genevieve Lemon’s entrance she reaches out with genuine compassion and love and a wry comedy expression of rebellion. Her stagecraft is exceptional, a slight turn of the body, a listening tilt of the head or a revere of an eyeline and the audience is brought into the small home and nestled among the many cushions. And her easy relationship with Gerard Carroll’s Stephen is a delight to watch.
Carroll brings a quiet presence and a disquieted concern to Stephen. In this modest and satisfied man there’s the honest settling of a repressed but comforted soul. He has a speech toward the end which eloquently sums up the man we have seen, and encourages a sympathy for Stephen we might have withheld. Carroll perfectly places the lyricism of Stephen’s music into that speech as it captivates the audience - and sails right over the head of the youngster, Kayleigh.
As the latter, Libby Asciak makes the age of the character work well, a later revelation bringing a gasp from the audience. Her smooth delivery of such fractured dialogue makes the youthfulness work without being jarring and Asciak has a terrific command of the restlessness. Her feet are always in motion, a lovely shorthand for the audience’s appreciation of her fight or flight circumstances.
The emotional elements of the production are delivered with comic intent by director Terence O’Connell who orchestrates the various focus points of the production with considerable delicacy. For example, the stillness of Stephen’s speech is finely calibrated for absorption. For the quietly religious, O’Connell has foregrounded the fun of the patron saint jokes here and the light moments and charming songs have the “flourishes and grace notes” which pull the audience into the room. Never ignored, though, are the humanist themes which give the proudction its depth.
The setting blends a wooden stability and soft fabric friendliness, and the hint of sedition on the wall is great fun. As are some superb lighting effects; operated with sensitivity. Look for the single narrow spots on objects; especially as you leave the theatre… I felt a catch in the throat. Or the way the lighting gently narrows in during the songs. And the whisper of blue on the spoons… oh my!
Which brings one to a discussion of the music. Of all of the splendid aspects of Folk that embrace the audience into an old fashioned Irish Kitchen Party these are they. Presented with skill but with a characterful naïve joyousness the songs insert gracefully into a production which is just the intimate theatre ticket for respite from a cold and windy night outside.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ conversions of Genesius
Never Let Me Go
It’s time… this play will become an important reflection of then.
For me, the timing is right. Now, with more love than pain we can remember the boys, the men, that we lost. We weren’t the only community that was more than decimated, many grieved. But we took the brunt. Never Let Me Go could be a horrible production, it could be terrible again to witness how AIDS affected this city. But in this offering, part of the Batch Festival, the past is in respectful, gifted hands.
Writer/performer Adriano Cappelletta, Director Johann Walraven, a multi-talented cast of five and an inspired creative team, have taken truth and created art. By taking a timeline approach and creating characters to root for, Cappelletta has bedrocked a genuine and moving narrative. He has then glammed it up with carefully inserted music, great singing and a joyous wit that wallops us in a reminder of what all our souls have in common.
I loved the show and I fell deeply in love with it early on. The singing and dancing, phalanxes and alleys on the small stage, are a “vast and bold” opening and the humour and humanity rise quickly. The jokes are cracker … there’s a blowjob zinger that needs a patent! We all love a clever queen but Walraven avoids making these characters representational, instead, this talented ensemble have crafted a sweetly innocent love-ish story set against a background of fear and shame.
In the background the emotional chords are struck, but ever so discretely. I bought tissues specially but this is not that show, its power is strength. Cappelletta has gentled into the story an acknowledgement of where Australian society came together. Stepping into occasional first person narration he warmly explains how people reacted and one can’t but be but proud. His text doesn’t ignore the dissension inside the community or the hatred outside it. Neither does it gloss over the importance of lesbian women in the response and health workers and government … and the secret agenda of those nuns. I loved some of those women and their I-just-won’t-tell-the-bishop approach.
The show has several layers, as any reflection upon a time period must have. Some of us were there, some endured a different of tragedy, some are too young to have borne witness. This is a production for all right minded people. I may have got stuff that the couple next to me didn’t (like the health club before the extra Ks) and but they were just as swiftly on their feet as the whole house rose in a well-deserved standing ovation.
It’s a work in progress but do what you can to see it while it is playing at Batch. There’s a terrific audio track with some very ethereal moments; there’s a couple of entirely earthy costumes and any show that has lighting which hits with purple with green or aqua with lilac has my attention.
Never Let Me Go will become a great work as it grows. See it now so you can say you were there at the birth of a great Australian play.
RbJ Rating: 4 Patches and Shifts and Taxis and Kins … and Rubys
Small Mouth Sounds
The most expert bad mime ever!
Photo: Robert Catto
Populate the stage with actors of this calibre and an audience simply doesn’t know where to look. Give this troupe of motley silence as a tool and the watcher is bereft of aural clues about who is doing the most interesting thing: the most narrative; the most interpersonal; the most moving. The funniest. Small Mouth Sounds is a headscratcher of a play. A what-did-I miss experience which travels you with laughs over its 90 minutes and completes your journey with the power of love as you wander away.
Set in a silent retreat, we meet six people. Each entering the tacky meeting room, with its folding chairs and bland walls, with purpose and with deficit. Only occasionally will they speak to each other but we will understand what is missing, what has brought them here and how they hope to be changed.
The ensemble cast of Small Mouth Sounds is each thoroughly watchable and entirely captivating and that is where Director Jo Turner comes in. To look for it would spoil the fun, but the fine precision of attention-getting is brilliantly pulled off by this production. Turner, and the elegantly replete text from playwright Bess Wohl, has superb command of needle sharp intricacies in focus and fade which provide for a group and an individualised immersion in the silence. Though, a revisiting might be required for full illumination!
The characters arrive without shortcuts. Some clues are there and an audience may perceive arrogance in Rodney (Dorje Swallow) and diffidence in Jan (Justin Smith). A disorientation is clear in Ned (Yalin Ozucelik) while recalcitrance arrives with Alicia (Amber McMahon). Scepticism is folded up in Judy (Jane Phegan) and desperation is rising forcefully in her partner, Joan (Sharon Millerchip). In the hands of this extraordinary ensemble each of the six will strike out on a different path, not really guided, more instinctive and reactionary but movement can be its own enlightenment. And on the road will be some of the most hilariously expert bad mime I have ever witnessed. Often though, the physical comedy is deliciously allied with an unexpected fling into empathy, heartbreak and the poignancy of the unspoken.
Each detail of the movement and atmosphere is available to the audience and the eye is just as easily drawn to Ying Yang toenails as to hysterically portrayed disobedience to rules. The setting manages to give a pedestrian feel in a plain and impersonal institution and having the stage raised really brings the characters close, imperative when the means is the method. Even the secret garden is made for TV in its lush, boring manipulative calm. The scene changes tell you about the characters if you look closely and the light changes are discreet; neatly foregrounding the textual action. From birdsong to drumsong the audio sets scenes and helps site the play as we hear what the characters hear.
I was perched up the back for this show and watched the waves of head turning in front of me as the audience roamed the exquisite choices that Small Mouth Sounds offers. Ultimately, though, the production is balanced to provide laughs in abundance and pathos aplenty. And the wafting linger of time well spent.
RbJ Rating: 4 navels
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat
BTC brings their usual flair to this multi-coloured musical.
Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat (Andrew Lloyd Webber and Tim Rice) from Blackout Theatre Company has such a warm beginning and the goodwill of the cast shines through until an ending that says it all - about how community theatre enriches both watcher and participants. It begins with a children’s chorus which is just uplifting. Well done to these 12 children who have disciplined singing, can even sing softly when required and are obviously interested and engaged in the show as they sit and watch. And their voices add so much emotional power to a production which takes the audience on the roller coaster of Joseph’s journey.
These young performers have some warm and loving stewardship in the two narrators, Angela Therese and Annastasia Denton. A major innovation to share the role and these pair work brilliantly together, their dynamic energy giving an extra dimension to the production and they are welcoming and personal with the audience. This is just one of the sweet touches that directors John Hanna and Katie Griffiths bring to this much loved show.
James Carter as Joseph does a mighty job here with a confident performance and quite a charismatic stage presence. He also brings good relationships, a winning smile and an understanding of the mood changes for the character. He uses his vocal range well too, especially in a song like Close Every Door where his rich lower notes gave variety to song which is static by necessity.
Griffiths and Hanna have seriously considered some of the less rousing songs and added variety in the form of dance and extra complexities into the music. The orchestrations from Musical Director David Catterall never grandstand and provide a sensible bedrock to the singing, even the excellent drum work is held to a supportive level. It’s subtle and skilled work from them all round and we do have the particular chance to enjoy Catterall’s orchestra during the scene changes when the arrangements allow for both reflective and upbeat atmospheres. There are some songs when the tempo really bolts along and the fine conducting ties the singing ensemble’s work together.
This an exuberant ensemble who are directed into characterful creations and groupings by the directors. The brothers are funny and cohesive as a group and when the whole cast comes together for the big numbers, it’s whole-hearted fun. They look so happy to share those many hours of rehearsal around day jobs or study or family commitments with the audience. The above the head choreo as the cast came into the audience at the end of Act One was thoroughly enjoyed by the people near me, there didn’t seem to be a still hand in the crowd. A contagious joy and pride in their performing.
The dancing in the show is choreographed with an eye to the performers’ skill levels and the large space that is provided by an open, well-constructed set. (Tamara Scamporlino) The lovely wheat dream ballet contrasts nicely with the jazz steps of the plotting brothers in the next scene. The can-can discretely inserted was great fun and the variety of styles in the show has thoughtfully structured movement - and steps which are strutted with style.
Also evident in the directorial concept are the little surprises which keep the audience on the journey. Too many to count actually, but I was especially taken by a soprano in blue during Angel in Heaven who was fabulous. As was the solo dancer in Those Canaan Days. Then there’s Matt Harter. This lively performer knows how to work a crowd and his performance as Pharaoh just strikes such an enjoyable note. He has the hip action alright and is Elvisy and over the top to the perfect level.
On the downside, the performance I attended did have quite a few lighting and sound problems but one does have to view community theatre with a bit of sensible understanding. There are times when it works very well, though. I was very impressed with the way Joseph’s voice was foregrounded among a chorus 50 strong during Joseph’s Coat and the reverb on the children for Close Every Door really added to the emotion of the scene. The lighting also had some good moments, such as the disco state before interval which added extra excitement.
Considering how limiting BTC’s budget must be, the costumes are terrific for this show. (Angela and Ann Hanna) From the women’s Middle Eastern inspired, yet blingy, market scene costumes to the imposition of gorgeous, shiny colours onto a white palette for the Egyptian sequences, the costumes are great fun and wonderful to look at. There’s subtleness too, I loved the colour coding of the bothers and wives.
Overall the show is testament to hard work, a love of performing and sharing and Joseph and the Amazing Technicolour Dreamcoat is a warm and happy way to spend a night at the theatre and to leave with toes tapping and earworms wiggling.
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ refreshing date palms in the desert
A tour de force production which frights with the contemporaneity of its warning.
Photo of solo performer Dale March by James Hartley.
It’s not that first huge jolt which tunes an audience into the production. It’s the tiny shocks that come after. The betrayals, the obfuscation, denials and backtracks are what bring a shake to the head and a tut to the lips. This is Animal Farm - ringing as true and clarion as if new written.
From the State Theatre of South Australia, the show has a short run at Riverside Theatres and it is a remarkably conceived work. A single actor embodies the characters while also acting as narrator. Adapted and directed by Geordie Brookman, from the George Orwell classic, the 70 minutes of its length leaves one astonished by the relevance of the work and with a foreboding discontent that being forewarned is not enough.
Dale March gives a tour de force performance here. Hardly ever still or silent, his focussed inhabitation of the animals is quite mystical. For audience perception there’s a shorthand in physical changes - a modification of stance and hands and voice as the cart-horse Boxer’s great physical presence seamlessly becomes the trotter pointing tyranny of top pig Napoleon or the neighing, twisted breathiness of Benjamin the donkey’s scepticism. However, it’s not just the physical which makes great acting and the richness of March’s emotional and personality shifts make absolutely clear who is speaking. Sometimes the inhabitations are tiny and telling… Clover struggles with her reading, faltering yet questioning in her way.
With the waste of naming phrases circumvented, the density of the text has more room for detail in the terrible story and events. Brookman’s adaptation stirs outrage at the ruling animal’s treachery to the farm, of the toadies and of the placated masses and there are many moments when the audience gasps in unison. Aphorisms mount as mass executions are described and death is all around. Thoughtcrime and doublethink begins to make an appearance and it is only a few years until Oceania will be at war with Eastasia. Horror at Squealer’s slimy and annoying obsequiousness inspiring breath held horror around the watchers. A collective ‘Huh’ when the elite move into the farmhouse. And then come the laughs; the sheep are hilariously maligned.
Brookman also has a powerful understanding of the emotional topography of the story and his direction leads in waves to that climax which is so disorienting and affecting. Sometimes March’s narrator is conversational and matter of fact but as the story speeds up so does his morphing between characters … until the big fight. During this relation, March is hands in pockets and the presaging and impelling music takes control of emotions.
From the boom rising of the 7 Rules to the single notes behind the burial, the music travels the story and reaches out to influence mood. The low frequency of the egg rebellion just one of the moments when the music completes the creation. The setting is as simple as the basic story but it, too, holds secrets and flares with allegorical import. And pathos, as our empathy for the harnessed workhorse who stubbornly refuses to see is manifested in heavy rope.
March has room to move up and down the black wedge of raised set to teeter toward us down on the forward section … several times on all fours. Or he can cower against the back wall away from the violence. Only occasionally alleviating the wash of white light with limited colour, the lighting design punctuates events with its use of narrow focus and discrete alleys of path; the throw coming both eerily from the side and spookily from below.
The lighting and audio combine for some of the shudders experienced by the audience of Animal Farm but the quality of the production allows for a greater engagement than merely physical. This play is an opportunity to immerse in a great fable which speaks to us still … with warnings implicit.
RbJ Rating: 4 workers flags half-masted
Tonight is your last chance to see Animal Farm playing at Riverside Theatres .
At interval it could be any one of them.
Being around a family of Masonic men (I don’t think you are supposed to tell but …) I got the references straight away. The play begins with a gloved hand full of them. Sherlock Holmes and the Ripper Murders, written by Brian Clements, was first produced in 2015 but it has all the ghostly period features anyone could want in a Victoriana mashup of the fictional and the infamously real. So much is known about both the Whitechapel murderer and Conan Doyle’s seminal detective and this play successfully merges information and theory and characters and events. The inclusion of real protagonists like Sir William Gull in the story gives an extra frisson of authenticity.
Narratively the show is a bolter and pacing of the production is deftly handled by director Jess Davis who gives the audience time to appreciate the hints being loosened and the build of solution perhaps. Will Holmes successfully solve the crime and apprehend the greatest felon in world history? Because of our familiarity with the real-life murders, the names and events echo with half understandings and much of interval is spent with companions discussing the possibilities. It could be any one of them at that stage.
As Holmes, John Willis-Richards has an entertaining haut and imperiousness. He tackles the role with vigour afoot and commands respect and attention. But Willis-Richards also uses his vocal skills to considerable effect with a richness of bass and a softened, lighter tone for his weaker self. He has a strong feel for the language and rhythms of the character, the hidden music of the suspense. And the relationship between his Sherlock and Peter David Allison’s Watson has a truthful and supportive air of male friendship.
This Watson is benevolent and dash-it-all. Wry in his responses to Holmes’ petulance and not averse to some bachelorly behaviour around the ladies. He will confront Holmes and pull him back to reality when that is required. Also doing a great job is Zoe Crawford as the clairvoyant Mrs Mead. Crawford strikes the deranged, unhinged note perfectly, mysteriously, before becoming somewhat wide-eyed as she tosses in her lot with Sherlock and loses her aloofness.
Mrs Hudson, as played by Sandra Bass, is maternal, gossipy and no-nonsense with a school marm correctionist way around her man/boy lodgers. The other men of the story are suitably shady. David Stewart-Hunter as the aforementioned Gull and James Charles’ Sir Robert Anderson are steeped in the old boys’ network, masonic rituals and one-upmanship. Mathew Carufel has belligerent menace as John Netley and Peter Bertoni is empathetic as the wounded visitor who deepens Holmes interest in the case.
The play’s settings are very well evoked and the staging seems easy to use. The long experience of the Genesians is evident in the choice and shape of the set which allows for scenes both indoors and in the narrow lanes. Adding so much to the atmosphere of a period piece, the costumes express class and power with an instant recognisability. There are some very well chosen audio effects including the distant ballroom; with the bubbling music behind the clairvoyant sequences especially mood setting. In concert with the pea-soupers and terrible events, there are lighting effects to enrich the mystery and impending peril. Particularly impressive was the chosen tint of yellow in among the blue of the evening states; moonlight or gaslight it touched shoulder and hair with added dimension.
So, yep, my brother, nephew, father and grandfather et al might not agree but I reckon the Freemasons were mixed up in it. From that very first scene it does make you wonder how it all happened and whether a detective of skill, daring and the right connections just might have made a difference. Sherlock Holmes and the Ripper Murders is a grand night at the theatre with an intriguing premise inside a well-crafted speculation.
RbJ Rating: 4 squares and compasses
New Theatre excels with this classic work.
Photos © Bob Seary
Pygmalion from New Theatre is in the language of “Shakespeare and Milton and the Bible” … and George Bernard Shaw. It is a production which respects the audience’s inherent reverence of this classic text without being overawed and needing to resort to contemporisation. As they say: all the right words in the right order! The story travels beautifully on replete performances, a cohesive vision and a genuine love of what words can achieve. This production is complete pleasure to watch, hear and take Shavian social questions away with you.
Director Deborah Mulhall has chosen a Steampunk aesthetic for the show, hitting the industrialism head on. I feel Shaw would have approved but that’s not the cleverest aspect of her vision. Mulhall has created a mise en scène to plunge into at first - there’s eye-catching artisanal detail everywhere. Then this director, also costume designer, stays the design train, leaving it puffing gently at the station. Not over used, not taking attention away from the story or performances just quietly evoking and cohesively tying the show together thereby allowing the wit to be foregrounded through the thoroughly engaging performances of her cast.
Emma Wright as Eliza is a complex, aspirational character who uses all the tricks of a learned socialisation and artificial simplicity early on but who grows into the intelligence that underlies her former choices. Aided by a simply stunning costume design, Wright steps up one rung at each appearance until she can stand toe to toe with Higgins. In the first drawing room scenes they are often across from each other, each with hands on hips, but when the density of intellectual themes gears up in Act 2 they move in to match each other at close quarters. She is just as brisk and he just as arrogantly relaxed but the change in circumstances is crackling.
Steve Corner gives Higgins a lounging, flopping haired, insouciance and his throw of the famous lines is fresh and funny. “Deliciously low” and “guttersnipe” are still comic in his rendering and Corner’s breezy misogyny, racism and classism require little remarking upon as his delivery allows the audience to choose their own outrage journey. His gentling is equally well handled by Corner, even if Higgins doesn’t stand for such poppycock.
As Pickering, Shan-Ree Tan strikes a lovely balance between hardline social bewilderment and emphatic male imperialism. Never pompous, yet with a community naiveté that puts him squarely in the old fashioned, confirmed bachelor mode. Prudish rather than priggish. His well matched by another other divinely expressed character in Natasha McDonald’s Mrs Pearce; a maternally stern figure who imprints Eliza. McDonald maintains a servant attitude but her fearlessness in taking on the beast, when required, informs Eliza’s growth of spirit and her vocal cadences turn up occasionally in Eliza’s speech!
As Alfred Doolittle, Mark Norton is not perhaps as big or devious or ultimately ensnared by convention as we would like from the character but Robert Snars’ Freddy is sweet and soppy yet still manful and charmingly ardent. As Henry’s mother Colleen Cook has considerable Shavian text to impart and does so with style and an interrogated understanding of the historic and ongoing perspectives.
From Tom Bannerman comes an exciting open set with steel and silver metallic hues resolutely striving for permanence despite the gaps where darkness creeps through. Those colours picked up in the limited furniture. The tower of a gear arc overhead looks imposing and a ramp of bookcase ladder gives Mulhall extra dimension for the subtle use of status. Mullhall’s costumes are breathtaking with metallic champagne colours and period russet and racing green and millinery that fits. All accessorised with screams of mechanization and the whirring of wheeled teeth.
Technically this show has excellence all over it. When entering a theatre and hearing a sound effect filling the space, one may hold some fears that it will be unnecessary and limit hearing of the voices. The mechanical rings and dings give way to an extended rain for the first scene and what a marvellous operation? The levels perfect to my ears at the performance I attended. (Audio Design: Patrick Eades). The lighting similarly begins with cause for concern. It has the potential to be patchy until that first scene when the skulking in the shadows and evocative use of textual obfuscation fit right in with the environment created by the production. Also of note, is blended brilliance of the downstage left wall. So difficult to light that area successfully while still bridging a blend into the whole but superbly done such that a pivotal scene late in the play gives full light to the two actors’ faces. (Lighting Design: Mehran Mortezaei)
Pygmalion is quite an achievement from New Theatre. It is a production where the visuals don’t overwhelm the literary, where the story voyages successfully with the socio-political import and, most importantly for me, the wit and humour of the great man stays nestled in Victoriana for our delectation on all levels.
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ bunches o' violets trod in the mud
Pygmalion continues at New Theatre until May 25.
Absolutely, categorically, phonetically recommended.
You won’t know where to look.
Production photos from Alan Roy
North Shore Theatre Company’s latest production is a searing and incendiary indictment of the political instability inside the economic-industrial complex across the contemporary landscape. Nah! Just kiddin! It’s Avenue Q and it’s very, very naughty. Very!
It begins with an exhortation to present yourself immediately to front-of-house staff if you have accidentally brought a child. This is an adults-only musical … with puppets. And it is great fun. Naughty, fluffy, weirdly heartwarming fun.
When Pete Davison arrives on stage with his puppet, Princeton, in cap and gown and new English degree his first song brings a warmth and charm to the space that stays with you long after the end of the performance. Princeton will find a cheap place to live on a friendly street called Avenue Q. Here he will meet Kate Monster (who is a monster) and the two will grow to like each other … in that way… under the watchful eye of Christmas Eve, benevolent human matriarch, her fiancé Brian, also human. Puppet roomates Rod and Nicky and assorted other misfits including oddly, Gary Coleman if you remember him, populate the Avenue.
Director Peter Meredith stamps the production early as he carefully eases the audience out of the cognitive dissonance which puts words in static-faced puppet mouths when we can clearly see the actor … acting. He does this by developing the relationships. As each new character appears they slide right into the energy and story and the audience comes along without resistance as the groupings and movement around the stage absorbs each new furry face.
And some of the acting is terrific here. Davidson and Laura Dawson who plays Kate Monster are such an appealing couple to root for. He brings a sweet disposition to his character and negotiates the disappointments and wrong turns with a genuineness of throughline. His Purpose song sets a great deal of the tone for the production and it is very well performed, puppetry, singing and acting all merging in a very entertaining way.
Dawson brings a Kate who is feisty and unsure of herself by turns but never loses the inherent dignity in her creation - or her defiance. Her range of facial expressions work terribly well to inform the puppet behaviour and her cheerfulness and smile, while maintaining a wistfulness and sadness, is just lovely. As is her singing voice. The ‘he likes me’ sequence is supremely good vocally with a clear soprano that elicits a huge applause from the audience.
The human characters of Brian (Kris Fenessy) and Gary (Stephanie Gray) sit easily aside the puppets and the two performers have some great one-liners thrown with a light and perky touch. Issac Downey as Rod, has quite an emotional arc to travel and he successfully brings his character through some nasty behaviour to an uplifting self-awareness. His ‘My Girlfriend Lives in Canada’ has a heartbreakingly fine line; trod between vulgar and comic. Equally well done in this respect is Cam Ralph’s Nicky who despite his reduced circumstances retains a humanity and a worth in his heart.
Also puppeteering is Luka Bazic as the Trekkie Monster and Jake Severino in various roles and they are busy and skilled in all their appearances. Call me perverse, but my favourites were the Bad Idea Bears played by Hayley Driscoll and Josie Lamb. These two were having a fine time and their contagious silliness was such a delight. Delightful also was the choreography from Laura Beth Wood. There’s a kickline folks! Arms and legs and fur and flesh (and some cardboard boxes) all working together.
The ensemble works so well in this production as puppets are operated one and two handed, cooperative or solo, with inserts and with guide sticks. The physical creations are terrific with great eyes, especially the dead ones, and cute costume elements. Loved the pearls and the dressing up for the wedding. Outstanding though was the costume for Miriam Gonzaga’s sex on a stick Lucy. Making that particular furry assed bitch sexy with a sashay and pout is quite masterful. Enormous fun and leads me to a discussion of the puppet’s intimate moments.
The kissing was hard to watch but then they double downed and I admit to having been so embarrassed during the sex scene that I didn’t know where to look. My companion gave me a very hard time at interval when I had this unusual craving for a cigarette. Naked puppets oh dear! Such is the skill of the operators that I couldn’t look at them either because their enthusiasm was hilariously wrought.
It’s a funny show on lots of levels, one of them being the Asian character of Christmas Eve, played with verve and comic skill by Suzanne Chin. But here we get to the only major issue with the production, the audio. It’s both the hardest thing to get right and the most vital and on the occasion I saw the show, both artist and operator needed to work better together. Because there is so much to be said for a performer who tackles the tropes of orientalism head on to become a huge crowd favourite that the performance should be able to be fully appreciated.
Otherwise, the show has quite a bit of technical excellence. The on-screen animations work well, the lighting is simple but well chosen for colour and focus. The followspot operation, especially the iris changes to include up to three characters were very smooth. And there are some very interesting orchestrations from Musical Director Philip Eames which are entertaining in themselves. The flute is used with particular skill when bringing the melancholy of There’s a Fine Fine Line before interval and is very evocatively arranged behind the Empire State scene. The bass impresses during the scene changes when the energy keeps pumping and there’s also some sexy cymbals and elegant drum rolls. It’s a great job by all the musicians.
Avenue Q is a romp. A street to leave your worries about the political instability inside the economic-industrial complex behind and revel in the skilled singing and puppetry and a love story to invest in. NSTC have a hit show on their hands here, literally!
RbJ Rating: 4 don’t know where to looks
You’ve Got Mail
Advanced silliness and a cheeky blast from the past at Batch.
The stranger who fell asleep on my shoulder may not agree, but I quite enjoyed You’ve Got Mail which is playing as part of the Batch Festival. It fits neatly into Batch … it’s fresh… it’s inventive … it’s wild. No, not really wild though. More, um, mild. This is a romance after all. And Meg Ryan is at the heart of it.
Oh Noodles but Ella Prince is perfect as meguderscoreryan in a romp of production that makes episodic a virtue, hurls old popculture at you at an alarming rate and uses pained silence to quite an effect. The show, co-created by Sarah Hadley and Ang Collins is a work in progress and will benefit from future fluffing around the motherboard but kept my attention in its current incarnation.
I followed along as our two mismatched heroes fought and fell in love in a sustained meetcute where the comedy of waiting piles upon itself in a gosh darn rendering of more innocent times. An era when the whine of a dial-up modem could make you ‘too horny to function’ in a blonde, gracefully wavy haired wig kinda way.
Prince is Mary Jane-ed priceless as she manages to be disarmingly engrossing, pathetically open mouth, perplexed and potty mouthed with absolute command of the material old and new. That grin, giggle and grimace are killer! Christopher Ratcliffe is helmet headed and has some very funny reconstructed Hanksian macho moves. His bit with the fire had me in stitches. I got the man-ref! The show is full of groaners, both hourglass spin long and connection severed short. Some miss but the ones that hit land with spunk.
The live music from Benjamin Freeman has mood and melodrama with spontaneity and pluck and punctuation. The live vocal stylings of Sophia Campion range from lovely singing preshow to bitchy controlling Hal-ish, lesbian subplotted, off the grid, chatroom parental controlled creepy. There’s a paperclip knocking on the screen there somewhere! She’s often in the dark but listen out for her great work, if you don’t nod off. 10pm on a Friday is late if you have had a crafted ale in the foyer.
So just say no (that’s for us who are over 35) to the traditional and say hello to retro for a show to take with a pinch of indulgence and goodwill.
Summary in ASCII = ٩(^‿^)۶
RbJ Rating: 3 ½ natty ways to adios the props off set.
Go … argue.
Burning House is to be congratulated on the boldness of their vision in Ajax. However, this is not an easy production - defiantly not a play for everyone. Unequivocally not a play for me, though many in the audience were pulled forward in their seats. War is the context and the assault on the audience is real in an unmitigated and unapologetic confrontation of violence and grief. Unrelenting, loud and visceral.
It is a production created with care and deep consideration of the themes with acting of commitment and emotional intent. The context has an acceptability of modernity. Co- adapted by Jonothan Graffam and Director Robert Johnson, after the Ancient Greek text by Sophocles, the story is transmuted to the Middle East as the protracted war continues and the howling of a fallen hero echoes the wail of women and children left behind.
The play begins in a cacophony which does not modulate. It is voice and recorded audio that wears down an audience over a long period and reduces the effectiveness of the performances by its cruelty. Intimate interactions are attempted but ineffectual and the anguish, overwrought - even with its historical precedence. As is the blood.
As Ajax, Seton Pollock is a volatile and damned character and his performance is present and available. His counterpart is Chad O’Brien as Odysseus. O’Brien is sturdy and some of his scenes in the aftermath ring with truth. Michelle Robertson brings a very strong empathy to her character of Ajax’s wife, Tekmessa and her powerlessness is affecting. There is also a child actor, Leikny Middleton as Eurysaka, who is given very difficult work to do and her presence alone is powerful. One fears for her but trusts Burning House implicitly.
Johnson has considerable investment in the production taking on many production roles and his understanding of the material is faultless. However, the balance between stillness and propulsion, between intimacy and universality, between implosion and detonation sat uneasily in my viewing. That first twenty minutes of loudness works against the voices and the extension of scene breaks and darkness does not merely unsettle, which may have been the purpose, but increasingly irritates.
There is still some lyricism and beauty available… the lovely blue and aqua of the lighting and some of the text. The "sweet breezes of the air" speech is effective and the sequence which evokes a discordance of electronic muezzin is blindingly clever … to me. My friend disliked that most of all.
Ajax will divide audiences. Go … argue.
RbJ Rating: 2 ½ bloody balls
Frida Kahlo: Viva La Vida
It slowly creates a portrait before you.
The inhabitation is seductive in Frida Kahlo: Viva La Vida. With the name in the title, we understand before the assumption of outward appearance, who we will meet. And immediately the script leaves the audience in no doubt who we are. It is dia de los Muertos and Kahlo is speaking about her life with the random dead - intimately, personally and with candour.
By Humberto Robles, adapted from the Spanish by Gaël Le Cornec and Luis Benkard, the production layers meaning and theme in the small space. The text gives the facts of a life: accident and consequence; unfaithful husband; men of acquaintance; creative drive; weakness of flesh and inevitably of spirit and these events flow easily for one unfamiliar or someone aware of the story beyond the pop culture. Underlying that, however, is a depth of response to the facts which absorbs and inspires one to know more.
Kate Bookallil commands the role with a brittle awareness of brevity and a fragile fatality. Her work in the closeness of the audience is well executed and she maintains a clear character through the emotional turmoil, nothing slips into theatrics. There are quite a few sequences where Bookallil is on the stairs, out of view of much of the audience and her voice work carries the story and mood successfully. She is expert also at allowing the front row to pick up on her clues for action, the audience on Opening Night adeptly picked up her superbly guided cues. There is also a friendliness and lightness of touch that warmly appeals.
Director Anna Jahjah expresses the inevitability of this work with curiosity and some well controlled dramatic tension. There are some tricky moments that could fall flat, the manipulation of the skeleton as death being one, but these flow with energy and purpose. The dance with Diego is particularly well handled by both director and actor and a highlight of the show. Quiet moments are explored with subtlety but the pace of the production doesn’t flag as creation serves to drive Frida’s travel and movement round the simple but detailed set.
The lighting makes use of red without overdoing it and the clash of bright colours evokes the paintings. The audio choice for pain is well chosen and would be abrasive enough for the context and impact without being so loud. However, the projection is extremely effective for building the atmosphere and drawing the audience into the perspective of the show. What works exceptionally well in this production is the costuming and strokes of makeup. These construct even as the play deconstructs.
This production doesn't rely on verisimilitude, instead it slowly creates a portrait before you. A living work which is painted by the threads of events which have been shared. Knowing little of the life, being aware vaguely of the events or steeped in the sadness and achievements of a unique artist one bears witness.
RjB Rating: 4 crayon and brown paper artworks
This is the review published on Arts Hub. Not exactly what I wrote but enough for you to get the idea. Bloody good show.
Recommendation? As they say in the play “Get up on this!”
Alice in Slasherland -Last One Standing Theatre Company & Red Line Productions at Old Fitz Theatre.
Photo by Clare Hawley
This production will feed the spirit and send you humming out of the theatre.
Production images - Grant Leslie
The paradox is, despite the subject matter and story, the production of Les Misérables from Manly Musical Society is a real pick-me-up. Detailed and brimming with hard work, this production of the sorrowful, classic musical has magnificent ensemble work, inspired performances and the very best of what community theatre can bring to a stage. It was a delight to watch, tumbled me out humming and with spirits uplifted by what grassroots energy can achieve in the arts. A wonderful night’s entertainment and I can’t congratulate the company enough.
It starts, of course, with the direction. Director Rod Herbert has led his cast with an eye to the small stories inside the epic. The groupings and interactions are faceted to add depth of background without pulling focus from the narrative throughline. His ensemble cast respond with fully created characters which gives the production an appeal beyond the well-known music.
Acting or singing, changing the set or creating the mood and atmosphere around the principals, this is a fantastic ensemble. With a choreographer of finesse behind them, they are disciplined, talented and equal to the task of such an ambitious work.
Many of the ensemble songs are cut by gender and the women are having a glorious time. Their work as Fantine is being interrogated is such good storytelling and the whores at the wharf reclaim the women from tropes and powerlessness. So good! And the men’s sequences bring the drive and alpha to the student rebellion and to odious customers. Put this talent together in the inn and you have hilarious goings on, then fill the stage with the misérables toward the end of the show and their acting provides the perfect emotional tone for the themes to climax.
The principal cast bring consistently good voice and performance to every role. Marcus James Hurley as Valjean has an expressive range which guides his character through the complex dilemmas and choices. His work in the early scenes has vigor and pain as the physical demands of the role cement our understanding of the character. His transformation from thiefdom is particularly well expressed and informs the more spiritual songs toward the end of the show. During the latter when he is seated and still, his vocal work is on show and his expert use of timbre and fade in ‘Bring Him Home’ is exquisite to listen to.
Herbert trusts his cast and it is evident in moments like this when they are blocked to be alone, often still, and the centre of a storm. One particularly affecting example involves Sam Hamilton as Marius. Having broken our hearts with the genuineness of his performance in the love-struck scenes, his grief reaches across the footlights in ‘Empty Chaos at Empty Tables’. Hamilton is terrific in this role both vocally and in his acting.
As Javert, Joshua Rogers has gravitas and a black and white throughline which well explains his final decision. His stance and solidity, the speed and clarity of his singing all stamp an authority which makes his ending even more poignant. Also emotionally charged, is Elizabeth Cornwell’s performance as Eponine. With the pathos of resignation she inhabits the sadness and bravado with very moving consequences. Her ‘Little Fall of Rain’ has the whisper of snowfall and mist.
The performance of Keira Connelly as Fantine is an unmissable treat. It’s no mean feat to take such a famous song as ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ and make it your own. With some excellent orchestration, a voice which soars with disappointment and a performance which vibrates with loss, it is a highlight in a show with many such.
Other highpoints to watch for are Garth Saville and Sally Redmond’s scenery chomping as the Thenardiers. How Herbert managed to get these two down to the exact right level of scene-stealing is a mystery of the director’s craft. Isabell Kohout is also sweet and with an inner strength as Cosette and Reece Lyndon has an exciting presence and potent vocal command as Enjolras. A shout-out also to a really talented Harrison James as Gavroche, much of the mood of the battle relies the audience investment in this character and James is winning and alive and exciting in the role. Also excellent are a sassy Emily May as Young Eponine and a resilient strength in Little Cosette from Amelie Rose.
The costuming is sourced, adjusted and created with real attention to movement and themes. The clothes just fit and look easy to work in. In just two examples of excellence: the wedding is sumptuous and the nun, exactly right. The layering of costume is so evocative of period and the dull palette is alleviated with just enough blood red.
This show has one of the best lighting plots I have seen in quite a while. Putting aside some followspot flobs which will improve as the run continues, the cue plan is excellent. Particularly as punctuation for the early episodic scenes and the use of colour motifs is rendered with discretion and flair. When the colours informed the spot on each character during the opening of ‘One Day More’ I was in heaven. The swear-by-the-stars reprise for Javert gave me chills and the textual understanding that places the finale of ‘I Dreamed a Dream’ into the starkness of silhouette is stunning work.
It was in this scene that the orchestra was really foregrounded also. The plucking feel to the score here was placed with considerable beauty. There are some imperfections in the orchestra but Musical Director Anthony Cutrupi has orchestrated this unrelenting score with a focus on supporting the voices and obliging the emotional topography. Little musical details abound … the spinet-like embrace of Cosette is lovely.
The audio ran into some opening night problems with slow opens and slow upfades but the generally smooth operation kept the orchestra from overwhelming the voices and gave the principals the required carry. A mix which added some bass rather than elevating the sopranos at times like the barricade would have been appreciated but some of the design works extremely well. The reverb for Valjean’s conversion was perfection.
There are no bad seats at Glen Street and that allows a fuller use of stage and especially of floor work and the physical stunts which are carried off so seamlessly. The props work incredibly well from all those tankards to the stained and torn student map and the roughed bottles of the right shape. The flys are used to grand effect and there’s a solidity to the trucks and stairs and especially the bridge. Javier’s end is a wonder of theatre magic.
Les Misérables from Manly Musical Society is a marvelous night at the theatre. One can sit back and immerse in the live experience of a musical of grace and weight or pull forward into the story and performances. Go out of your way to experience it.
RbJ Rating: 4 Tricolour Rosettes
From Fledging Theatre Company comes a production which brings a modern sensibility to the aftermath of a great work.
The production flames with it. Appropriation that is. The politics of state pushes full force, but in the personal of populace we merely see recalcitrance, fuming resentment and inaction. Set after the Danish court has been littered with Shakespearean corpses, stabbed and poisoned, this play from Paul Gilchrist rages around the space with a roaring impotence of power in swaying the people. Designed with access to small intimacies, the production effectively brings a modern sensibility to the aftermath of a classic work. It is a complete production with performance and text allied successfully with space and bare-boards design and well worth an audience’s immersion.
Prince Fortinbras has hit several walls in his assumption that he can add Denmark to his Norwegian homeland and his other conquered states. Despite his name being on the dying Hamlet’s lips as successor, the Danish King is an elected position; the Danish Treasurer is stalwart; the Danish citizenry nationalist and Fortinbras is not known for his hearts and minds approach. His personal affairs are testament to this and there is rebellion in the hearts of all around him.
While Appropriation may have Fortinbras as the character whose will guides the narrative, each of the other characters is drawn with detail … despite their cower of story. No performance here short-changes the faceted depth of creation - it is an ensemble of carry and concentrated cohesion who react and respond with individual nuance informed by group throughline. Director Chris Huntly-Turner has interrogated the themes of disempowerment, gynophobia, geopolitical machinations and historical inequity with a spare and focussed direction which avoids excess movement. There is rampaging when rampaging is required, though.
The large cast of 12 come together for movement sequences but the production most often, wisely, focuses in on the personalities involved. The small cast scenes are excellent standalone pieces which inform the story and enrich the themes. They are dense though, and wordy, and the production’s length could be a source of discussion despite each of these well-constructed passages being engrossing and challenging. But with Huntly-Turner’s investment in the audience as much as in the cast, most watchers stand to be pulled into the emotional topography.
Played by Nick O’Regan in a toxic and rampaging turn, Fortinbras is clearly created, such that the finale of the piece doesn’t jar and the intimate lovers’ scene is very effective. Sometimes too loud by far, O’Regan exhibits every possibility of growing into the verbal control needed and his physical expression of the character is excellent. Unapologetically volatile, oversexed and vile, O’Regan and Huntly-Turner have built this lead character on a bedrock of understandable relationships. When they are on the floor, joined by bedsheets, his boyish enthusiasm for his lover Astrid fits neatly into how we understand him.
Astrid is played with great dignity and intelligence by Shannon Ryan who gives a surface gloss of passivity and imperturbability in her unforgiving circumstances while endowing Fortinbras with a charm he doesn’t have. Her contrast in status is Fortinbras’ wife, Gabrielle (Sonya Kerr) and their relationship. Referred to in the most venomous misogynous terms … ball breaker and poisonous bitch being a couple of the least offensive … Kerr gives us a present woman who has real power and a subtle understanding of how and when to use it. The quiet word confronts his raucous bluster and her regal intimidation is poised and purposeful: a resonant modernity in this queen of spin. Their one-on-one meeting is very well performed and the slight percussive heartbeat behind the words is one of the better audio choices.
It’s a new space and one brimming with possibility. The stage is raised, and placed so sight lines are good and the bounce works very effectively for the more whispered of voice work. The studio atmosphere is harnessed well for the live music and ambient audio and dirty deeds can still happen offstage in the dark. However, in this day and age it is unacceptable to have lighting which glares into the audience’s eyes. That requires immediate correction. When it does work, the lighting does have evocative reach, especially when it reproduces the poster on the back wall in reddened shadows. An Ikea sponsorship for cushions would be appreciated in a show which started late and had an extended interval.
The text has a special fillip for the committed theatregoer in the discussions around what theatre is and can be... the struts and frets of playing and storytelling.
RbJ Rating: 4 Fiord Suckers
Destined to become a classic, this world premiere is part of the HiJacked Rabbit season at Kings Cross Theatre.
Production images from Clare Hawley.
It’s a new voice. It’s our voice.
The stunningly written A Little Piece of Ash is playing for its first outing at Kings Cross Theatre and it will be a modern Summer of the Seventeenth Doll. The voices are absolutely recognizable, eh?
Brought to life by a terrific cast, writer Megan Wilding has reproduced not just cadences of the Australian vernacular but the rote and familiar phrases that we say when lost for words; the shiver of charm when gifted a little word from an indigenous speaker and then she has layered meaning onto the rituals of our shared language.
With the redoubtable Wilding also taking a role and directing, the show is cohesive and playful, funny and painful. It elegantly brings grief onto the stage while exploring the individuation of the closest left behind. The words are not comic words, but Wilding’s instinctive direction gives a phrase such as “lied there” or a word like “experiment” an hilarious intent as her cast deftly lifts them from the page.
Lily is mum to Jedda (those of us old enough to remember get that particular reference). Jedda chain smokes and Lily disapproves. Jedda drinks crappy wine and Lily is a lifelong tea drinker. Mendy, Chuck, Ned and Eddie are part of their lives, too, and will make sequential appearances – each with their own brand of a nice calming cuppa.
Wilding is brilliant in this role. A stationary figure for most of the show, her voice work is breathtakingly good. Hardly ever rising above a midrange volume, every utterance is clear and warm and fills the traverse space whichever side you are on. Her listening replete and never drawing, with Lilly’s wry sensibility interpreted with reliable candour.
As Jedda, Stephanie Somerville does such a good job of expressing the stagnation of such pain and her resistant growth from heartache is realistically portrayed to give this central character the gravitas of chilly numbness without audiences disengaging. Luke Fewster as Chuck, however, is her explosive opposite. With a cowlick tousle and head tilt, he swatches a patina over their shared language. These two speak in reprises of comforting phrases, tics and flippancy, and the recognisability of that allows words which simply are not funny to be hilarious in context and execution.
Different again is Alex Malone’s Ned who is all secret agenda and cringing helpfulness in the silliness of repeated and easy quotes and snorting self-deprecation. Less loquacious is Moreblessing Maturure’s Mendy, who has our questions in her mouth. She plays a twisting comedy of embarrassment in a wired, well elucidated way. The cast is rounded out by Toby Blome as Eddie in a performance full of pathos and dignity. His “schmick” is so well done.
The production design clothes the cast in coherent colours and repercussing florals with a Wilson Green and yellow palette on a sunset orange cliffed wall and the campfire feel of painted milk crates and laden table. The colours of the lighting are simple and restrained with open white or light amber warmth for the most part, a nice blue to highlight hair and shoulders and an occasional, glorious, ghostly steel. The music brings the country western hits we love, and Dolly gets a gong pre-show too, adding to the campfire feel. Well placed sound effects such a birdsong and thunder enhance the production without intrusion.
A Little Piece of Ash is wonderful theatre and the people who had their tissues out for the final revealing sequence would tell you of its moving and emotional impact. While I might have reservations about the number and length of some interlocutory sequences, the power of this production in its premiere form is not to be diminished. For … here is a production which gives voice to our Australianness, the best of our respectfulness and mateship. A Little Piece of Ash is a contemporary classic in the making.
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ Jolene, Jolenes
Satire with a queer eye in a well conceived show with some hilarious sketches.
The Sydney satire scene is in good hands if the UTS Queer Revue’s A Queer is Born is anything to go by. With a queer agenda ranging from hardly noticeable to flamingly relevant, and a queer eye for style and politics, this revue show was great fun for any audience.
Asked early on for a show of hands to join the Straight People’s Mardi Gras, there were some mums and dads to, sometimes reluctantly, make themselves visible. It turned out to be a diverse audience and the skits and scenes and dances and songs were also miscellaneously inspired, universally expressed and encompassing.
The boot went in where required. To Ellen and to that woman who does infomercials and to baby chinos. The tropes were trashed … I loved the HSC Drama scene and the pearls and heels; and the flannels at dawn and the Bears in the ARQ. Lockout laws, semaphoring festival cops, and an hilarious insurrection at the ‘assisted checkout’ tapped into in-common pet hates. A sneaky socialist agenda shot through the ‘arts aren’t labour’ skit and that all singing, all dancing, anti-vac Busby Berkeley phalanx of mums killed! The Gap Year song was especially comic and clever but what the feck is Frosé?
Love in common was all around with Harry Potter and a sexy song at a wedding and the interactive crab fiesta sketch. That one, in particular, foregrounded the thought and clarity of creation that was on display during the show … and the committed and focussed acting too.
There was some serious skill at work behind the hilarity: scene changes flowed very smoothly considering how many little scenes were in the show; the video was spectacularly effective; the minimalist props spot on for relevance and audience key-in… the signs around the necks of the dying children, pretty ironically full on. Plus, the content was terrific. The writing of the seconded songs was witty and having the lyrics on the screen gave the audience a chance to really appreciate the quality and if some skits didn’t hit the mark nothing was laboriously long.
The choreo had pump and flair and was obviously well rehearsed and there was some hysterical physical comedy … don’t chest bump a girl! Plus Olympic level ribbon work at one stage! There was just a subtle polish to the show which didn’t diminish its undergrad roots or put on any pretensions. This was a uni revue with an agenda … for inclusive entertainment. With a sneaky political side!
RbJ Rating: 4 Sensible Shoes or Sparkly Heels
Grab a grand-kid or a grand-dad and treat the family to a romantic re-telling for all ages.
As the overture lets the strings loose in the large auditorium and the dimming lights pull our attention towards the stage, there’s a collective air of excitement. This, after all, is a story we all know and as the before-curtain airs float there are other moments of recognition. That song comes from this musical? Rodgers and Hammerstein’s Cinderella is being presented by Hornsby Musical Society and it is a romantic and fun night at the theatre for all ages.
A wistful beginning as we meet Cinderella. Played by Erica Penollar, Cinders is a sweet- natured and aspirational young woman who is aware of her weaknesses and content nevertheless. Penollar never gives in to petty emotions, instead she is bright and happy and coping with her lot. Her first solo ‘In My Own Little Corner’ is just lovely with skilled expression of perfect high notes reaching out to the audience with yearning and hope. All her vocal work is confident and with a lilting musicality. There is some very fun silliness around her, but Penollar gives her character the elegance befitting a princess as she builds, with a smile in her voice, a willing investment from the audience.
The nonsense around Cinderella is provided by her two step-sisters, Grace and Joy. The stepmother is played by Rebecca Demary with a mix of avarice and exasperation at her preferred offspring … and her girls are a handful! The irony of the daughters’ names hits home early as Melissa McPhee and Ashley Roberts bring on highly comic characters who chew the scenery and rule the stage. Their generally poor behaviour to our heroine is big and broad and they are obviously having a very infectious helluva of a time. But with the sure hand of Director Eloise Plant, McPhee and Roberts never overwhelm the production and the pathos of their later song ‘Stepsisters Lament’ … every plain girl’s cry … is very moving.
Equally well placed is the comedy of David Emerson as Lionel, the royal steward. With attitude to slow-burn and an unruffled insouciance, this is a lovely comic creation who has real heart and a practical goodness. And his voice is very well used - with the final note of ‘The Prince is Giving a Ball’ getting a well-deserved spontaneous applause from the appreciative audience. Emerson can sneer and throw a snappy one-liner when needed but has a genuine love for his prince and very well constructed relationships with the King and Queen.
Love abounds in the work of Fiona Eskbank and Nib Brattoni as Prince Christopher’s parents who are compassionate characters with a thoroughly enjoyable on-the-same-page cohesion. A loving pair, their duet ‘Boys and Girls Like You and Me’ is touching and full of wisdom. They are worried for their boy. Prince Christopher is played with charm inside his frustration by Andrew Mulholland. It’s an engaging portrayal of boy into man which never dips into sad-sack despite the burdens of his position.
Penollar and Mulholland as a couple are delightful with a vocal blend that makes the times when their voices come together very pleasant to listen to. All the singing is well handled and some scenes are especially enjoyable for the character who is behind the words. This is especially true of Alyssa Porteous as the Fairy Godmother. With a no-nonsense character, a look-at-me entrance, a Jewish Grand-mother vibe and a wide and welcoming physicality Porteous is the maker of magic.
The transformation of Cinderella is glamorous and impossibly romantic in this production. With excellent choreography and Director Plant’s understanding of the audience’s need to be surprised, it is a marvelous moment in a show which has detailed and well thought through production values. The settings work successfully with plenty of room for the dancing and having open-curtain scene changes not only moves the show along, but allows time to enjoy the fine work of the orchestra.
Cinderella is a musical on a grand scale and having a large orchestra which can fill the imposing auditorium with French Horn flourish and swelling strings adds immeasurably to this enjoyable show. Jeremy Kindl has taken on the lush orchestrations with added flair. The violins and flutes star as romance blossoms and the regal use of the brass section is particularly enjoyable. The show has a very good audio mix which gives an encompassing discreteness to the musicians’ work.
The choreography (Lauren Oxenham) is leaping and graceful by turns. In the market of Act 1 the cast use bounce and high energy to fill the space with boisterous joie de vivre and set the tone for the joy of performing that is so evident in this company’s work. But later, at the Ball, they are stylish and beautiful to watch as they glide and whirl in a waltz. The costumes evoke a period feel, aprons and satins and feathers in the hair, and there is a visually sumptuous use of the lighter spectrum of the colour palette in the ballroom scenes that really impresses. As does the restrained colouring of the lighting. Blues and purples with an occasional green and a saturated and dreamy pink. Generally I am not a fan of flashing lights but designer Evan Jones has created a surprising and effective midnight toll which strikes the audience with a heart in the mouth excitement despite how well we know the story.
It is, of course, a story for all ages and Hornsby Musical Society have created a show which everyone can enjoy. Grab a grandkid or a granddad and treat the whole family to a night of fairy tale dancing, singing and acting from a community theatre which will lift the spirits in these jaded times.
RbJ rating: 4 Glass Slippers
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
“Little Eggs rely less on a symbolic rendering than on a viscerality of intent which piques the curiosity and pulls one into the narrative” Here is the write-up I did for Arts Hub.
Promo photo by Jasmin Simmons
An unkindness of aging for Bette and Joan in this stylish offering.
Bon mots and a brittle bonhomie float on the surface of Dark Voyager from the Castle Hill Players but the real journey goes on below. There, in the depths of the human heart, is an undercurrent of booze. It sweeps egos clinging to past successes and conquests into a fight for survival over a blistering, bloodless two hours of woman on woman violence. It’s gripping work from this respected community theatre, with well controlled action and well researched creations in stellar surroundings compensating for some unfortunate textual deficiencies.
The stage is peopled with characters we think we know. It’s Hedda Hopper’s home we find ourselves invited to, 1962. Joan Crawford and Bette Davis have skipped the premiere of What Ever Happened to Baby Jane, convinced that Hedda can salvage their reputations from the guaranteed savaging that the film is heading for. Not getting along with each other has become an art for these two and precariously adding Marilyn Monroe to the mix will force the aging divas to consider a peace.
In the program, Director Annette van Roden cites a love of the lore of film and it shows in every aspect of this loving work. The script is by esteemed local playwright John Misto and, while the conclusion of the play is overly convoluted and lengthy, for most of its time Dark Voyager drips with witty dialogue and insider gossip. Van Roden has skillfully pitched the work at both the audience who know only of the legends and we others who really revel in the period and place. I wasn’t the only one laughing with recognition at odd moments, shaking my head with gossip reminded and furling an arched brow with delicious secrets emerging.
Van Roden has a terrific cast here who inhabit rather than mimic their iconic characters. Hedda, played by Annette Emerton really is a poisonous old tart. The vitriol rolls off her tongue as easily as the starry names and she holds herself in a lordly puppet- master fashion.
Faith Jessel brings a Bette who struts and sashays and smirks with a lovely recognisability of character and her Channingesque implication of Davis’ abrasive vocal tone is placed with care. When she leans back to laugh, Jane Hudson style, it is especially entertaining. Leigh Scanlon as Joan Crawford, meanwhile, is regal, imperious and knowingly aware of every shape she makes. With an ever-present exterior gaze, hers is the falsity and assumption of stardom in every visual. Even when she sits and crosses her long legs to enjoy Davis’ destruction of a new target, she has a languid bemusement that is also reflected in a dismissive air when throwing those sweetly toxic lines. The director also plays with their height difference in some very amusing ways.
Van Roden has very smooth control over the movements around the set and nothing feels forced plus there is considerable physical comedy. Not just in the huge amount of liquid consumed … I hope there’s a porta-loo backstage … but some of the entrances and silliness are great fun. The brunt of these are borne by Adam Garden as Skipper, Hedda’s butler.
Garden has so much stage business during the show and it is handled with complete aplomb and a lemon twist of added superciliousness. He skulks and snoops with snooty authority and his gooey, lovey moments are also well achieved. The object of the latter is Marilyn. Played by Jacqui Wilson, this is a very well thought through performance. She doesn’t have much to say but it is done with the hint of the whisper and giggle and an excellent use of timbre and speed; pauses well engaged and a physical wobble which teeters spectacularly.
The setting for the production is very neatly designed to sit inside a symbolic darkness and the costumes are evocative and lovely to look at. The use of jewellery for character, especially on Hedda, is an art in itself here. The lighting works well and some of the cues are very effective to isolate characters and focus attention. The limited sound effects add value and it’s worth staying in at interval to sing along with the classic songs from the era.
Dark Voyager is a barbed and slanderous tale which surprises and entertains in equal measure. With an attention to detail, great styling and unfussy direction which effortlessly glides well created characters through an ocean of self-interest, it’s a thoroughly nostalgic night at the theatre.
RbJ Rating: 4 J Edgar Hoovers
Barbara and the Camp Dogs
A richness of representation for those who know; authority in the material and mastery in the performances for those who need to know.
“Superlatives fail” was my headline the first time I saw this show and once again I am smited dumb by the power and integrity of this work, but having seen it a few times I am also newly poleaxed by the detail and craft of ‘Barbara and the Camp Dogs’. It is a production which speaks to many from a few, with a universality and humanity which never diminishes the specific pain and consequences. A full pelt, full on ride which entertains and educates with complete dramatic and musical authority.
Barbara and her sister Renee are singers lost in Sydney. Originally from the top end, these two will embark on a forced trip back to country where hearts will split open and the old wounds, when aired, may have a chance to heal. Renee is practical, loving and sexy as. She knows a gig is a gig and no matter how different to her own style, lounge singing puts bread and beer on the table. Barbara is scrappy, contrary and lookin’ for a fight. Any fight will do.
Uproariously volatile, Ursula Yovich explodes onto the wide stage after she and Elaine Crombie as Renee smooze a brilliant opening number. Their sister-tensioned relationship is there in the penning and performance of every line of that first song, a statement of rock and roll intent. What begins in this thumping track, however, will end in country infused blues as Yovich lays bare the bravado soul of her character with complexity, empathy and the richness of a singing voice which weeps in its lower register.
Crombie on the other hand, walks Renee taller through the show as Barbara implodes and becomes smaller. Hers is a replete portrayal of a woman with a moral compass which has compassion, self-worth and family as its true north. Crombie endows Renee with clear motivation and a slow to anger expression of frustration, with singing of emotional reach and pure musicality. These two are a peerless team, searing through the production.
And there’s a damned impressive three piece band (Sorcha Albuquerque, Jessica Dunn, Michelle Vincent) who are fun-loving and silly early on but who gracefully fade into the background later in the show. Marcus Corowa is also excellent in support as the roadie tech and later in a pivotal role. Unfortunately, there were some issues in the vocal audio mix on Opening Night when, in the louder sections, the words were muddy and their impact lessened. However, the audio was more settled as the play darkens and draws in.
Written by Yovich and Alana Valentine and directed by Leticia Cáceres, the production has tight control over those transformative elements. They are powerfully fashioned without any need for sentimentality in the music or dialogue, but relying on soul shredding performances. Vibrant and fast paced, Barbara and Renee’s comic adventures when we first meet them inspire absolute goodwill toward the flawed and fierce Barbara as we travel her journey with her. While I retain reservations about the ending, the dénouement is shattering and pointedly personal after its framing in a political context… historical hurt haunts down the generations.
‘Barbara and the Camp Dogs’ is an accomplishment of many hands and its cry of ages is theatre that reaches out to hold us close in the joy and sorrow. A wind in the hair ride!
RbJ Rating: 4 ½ Snaps and Snarls
Saturday Night Fever
The dancing is the star of this open staged, mirror ball blitzed and finely calibrated production. See the write-up I did for Art Hub here.
RbJ Rating: 5 Boogie Shoes
Photo by Heidi Victoria
Hot Room Theatre have remounted their fun and disconcertingly apposite 2017 production.
The independent theatre scene in Sydney is alive and kickin it when a little play like Monopoly can brighten up a Monday night with some fun, some home truths and a wicked take on the capitalist in us all.
Four friends have gathered for a board game evening and the hostess, Angela, has invited Simon, with whom she works. Fitting into a tight group of friends is hard and Simon makes absolutely no attempt to endear himself. He is boorish, an insufferable prig and his views about how to make money are very unwelcome at the table. Especially to Jen who has a streak of social consciousness and can barely stand him. Even easy going Adam is ticked off and poor Emilio is past being affably amused. And that’s when we meet them.
Over the next 75 minutes writer/ director Steven Hopley’s text raises the stakes as it explores the personal politics of real and fake money. It has quite a few clever puns, the Water Works is a good one, and the cards drive the themes as money is taken away and given by invisible forces.
It’s a pretty polished technical feat for those performers to get all the counting and moving seamlessly inserted into the play. There’s a couple of cracker bits of trivia and some dodgy rules. I thought you couldn’t collect rent while in jail … but I was wrong. I looked it up! It’s the sort of show that does that to you. You keep guessing about purchasing houses and over extending and interest free loans. And, of course, who you want to win. But it’s definitely beyond the pale to gang up and create a cabal.
It’s a very cohesive cast. As the hostess Alison Lee Rubie is pretty no-nonsense and confident, with a motherly streak, but she will run the gamut from “poor hon” to “drop dead”. Emilia Stubbs Grigoriou’s Jen is snarkey and reactionary and increasingly frustrated before she commits to a pretty hefty by-in. Played by Danen Young, Emilio is settled with his lot, quite the optimist and Young brings a real warmth to his character. As does Benjamin Kuryo as Adam who has the additional props challenge of being the banker, too. He has some lovely pauses for funny reflection.
These four work really well together and you can see why they are friends and at the table. So, it’s very clever ensemble that expresses so clearly the outsidership of Jasper Garner Gore’s Simon. Gore is abrasive without being repugnant … otherwise the major plot point wouldn’t work, and his entitlement is subtly articulated. This is a cast who can also listen with intent and, as there is very little action, it would be a very static watch if they were not so lively in their engagement.
Ultimately though, it is the themes that really got me in. Is intelligent self-interest noble, acceptable, infectious? Are we all susceptible to falling under the spell of a charismatic individualist who could talk us around our values?
It’s a dense little play with some good laughs, lots to think about and several take-home dilemmas. I have seen it twice now, once before in 2017, and I say … go and see it. Because it’s good but also because they are obviously on a shoestring and it deserves a bigger stage than perched precariously around a full grand piano. Independent theatre needs your support.
RbJ rating: 3 ½ Scottie Dog Game Pieces or Top Hats or Racing Cars etc!
Noli me Tangere
This is a new musical with a wonderfully diverse and committed cast and a standing ovation from the supportive Opening Night audience. See the review I did for Arts Hub here.
Photo of Susana Downes as Maria Clara and Miguel Castro as Ibarra by Shakira Wilson.
JackRabbit Theatre is deep into their Hijacked Rabbit Season at KXT.
Production image from Clare Hawley.
This is not the kind of humour everyone can get behind: there were some serious grumpy gusses in the audience across the stage from me. Traverse stages tell all! Admittedly, it’s a tetch too long but ‘Leopardskin’ has audaciously arch characters in some trope-alicious wacky spoofery, and … a weirdly coherent plot. Some excellent physical realizations and a habit of taking alliteration’s good name in bespirchment rounds out the fun.
It begins in lethally luxurious leopardskin lessons in larceny as Luka leads Val into a life of crime. She obviously adores him and he is a cad. Constantly arrested by bumbling Officer Beaks, he attracts the attention of a Senator, a Sergeant and an Undercover Operative. As rich people with dubious charities vie for a valuable clock which will be given away by multi-billionaire, Guiseppe Monteverdi, these three attempt to entrap the heretofore lucky Luka.
The writing from Michael McStay has wit and satire behind it, yet allows for an audience to follow a story and engage closely with these loveable rogues and clueless marks. It overstays its welcome a bit after the first hour but this is the work’s first outing and its never boring. Well, maybe to the two guys across from me. With Director Samantha Young keeping her cast well short of grotesque and some counter-intuitive choreography so as to keep lovers apart and secrets shared across space, the busy bits land very pleasingly.
Guy O’Grady as Luka slyly steals outrageously from the ‘Bad Acting and How to Do It Handbook’ and Zoe Desmond’s poor Val presents the rational clearly, allowing the overwrought intelligence to shine with perk. Ella Watson-Russell has the politician’s ingratiating quotient amped and a seriously killer stink-eye stare. Emma Kew takes her police character past the point of return with some crazy physicality and a wholeheartedly wired demeanour. Nick Gell coped very well with a moustache mishap which would be enormous fun to keep in. And Travis Jeffery is absolutely hilarious as the child-like, smitten Guiseppe. See the show soon because that gorgeous man is going to be 10 pounds heavier after the run.
The costuming is leopard on leopard and the set is gold lame with room to move and slide under. The lighting uses Martin Kinnane’s favourite blue and some restrained red and green and purple in concert with the orange; the sound effects and music hit the spot and Doink Doink their own jokes in places.
Those of us who did enjoy ‘Leopardskin’ seemed to laugh out loud at all different times and yet we all had perplexed goofy smiles in common at the end of this tearaway caper. And by the way, even if you don’t get it … at least clap. Just sayin’
RbJ Rating: 4 Sweat Unstuck Moustaches.
What our ratings mean: 5- Definitely don’t miss this. 4 - You’ll be sorry if you miss this. 3 - If you are not interested in the topic, give it a miss. 2 - You can miss this unless you’re keen. 1 - Definitely on the miss list.