The Rocky McLaughlin Show

I shivered with antici…. 

... pation as I sat in my seat (in the back row), awaiting the latest production of The Rocky Horror Show. I was curious as to how Craig McLaughlin would interpret the role made famous by Tim Curry, and most recently delivered to Sydney audiences by the divine Iota. I was clearly not the only cat in the audience; the crowd began cheering at the first familiar base thumps of Sweet Transvestite, eager to greet the man who brought us Mona (which prompted an hilarious aside later in the show). In fact, the applause was so loud that the first lines of this iconic piece were completely obscured, leaving us to wonder for a bit longer what kind of voice McLaughlin was in.

I needn’t have worried – vocally McLaughlin delivered the musical elements of his role well, if occasionally too theatrically. But it was clear this performance was not so much about the singing and music as it was a vehicle for McLaughlin to deliver every hammy cliché he could cram into his fishnets. This is not necessarily a criticism – McLaughlin’s Frankenfurter is laugh out loud funny and immensely likeable. But subtle? I'm afraid not.

Whether intentional or no, this Frankenfurter is reminiscent of the ‘villains’ from Commedia del Arte – brash, loud, pantomimic, scene-stealing and naughty to the point of vulgarity. His comedy is delivered both orally (through frequent asides and ad-libs) and physically (utilising props such as a conveniently delivered microphone to simulate his, er, enthusiasm).

But unlike the Commedia productions of old, this was not an ensemble performance. This show is McLaughlin’s, almost to the point where you can’t help but pity an audience who sees him on an ‘off night’. The other players appear more as set decoration, providing back-up vocals when required. 

Bert Newton promised much, but sadly did not deliver as the Narrator. And whether it was the director’s or the actor’s choice that he leave the stage while still delivering the last line of each scene, it was a bad choice; my drama teacher always used to warn me about walking and talking and now I see why. Kristian Lavercombe deserves a mention for his enthusiastic portrayal of butler and side-kick, Riff Raff, but he could have/should have been given greater room to exercise his talent. Jade Westaby (Magenta) and Angelique Cassimatis (Columbia) all but blend into the background (except for a very random ‘outburst’ from Westaby who humps an ottoman and then promptly exits). Brendan Irving, while a very attractive Rocky, is disappointingly thin (and I’m not just talking about his physique). Stephen Mahy and Amy Lehpamer (as our ‘heroes’ Brad and Janet) try their best to bring something new to the roles, but sadly miss the boat. They’re not nearly so frightened or innocent as their costumes would suggest.

Musically the band does an admirable job, although I felt some of the numbers could have been faster. The one moment of a-capella is delightful but as previously mentioned, this feels like a musical that is not really about the music. This could have been because I was at the back of the dress circle, and a little disengaged from the action, but given its current billing as ‘the rock n roll musical’ I couldn't help but feel a little short-changed.

The set design is bright and cartoonish (matching the live elements of the production), but is not overly inventive. So much more could be done to revamp this show – I feel like this was a bit of a missed opportunity. The lighting, which another reviewer observed was reminiscent of a rock concert, was a clever addition. Sue Balne’s costumes meet the brief without breaking new ground. Again, there is a certain cartoon style here.

Overall, the production was fun and generated the requisite laughs. But as a part of the canon of Rocky interpretations, this one will probably drift from memory like artificial smoke from a stage. In an era where the marriage equality debate features weekly on our news casts and the issues faced by transgender individuals are detailed in documentaries and sitcoms alike, surely there was an opportunity for the deeper issues to be explored with fresh, more tolerant, eyes. Instead, this is a production lost in time, and lost in space… and meaning…

DetailsViewed: 15 May 2015
Venue: Sydney Lyric, Star Casino
Author: Richard O'Brien
Director: Christopher Luscombe
Production Company: Howard Panter for Ambassador Theatre Group and John Frost

But What Does it Mean?

We’re not beginning to… to… mean something?

Mean something! You and I, mean something! Ah, that’s a good one!

If there is a quote that sums up Beckett better than the above from ‘Endgame’ then I haven’t heard it. Just when you think you’re starting to make some sense of the seemingly nonsensical dialogue-driven, physically challenging theatrical diatribe that is the hallmark of Beckett’s work, the author changes direction with barely a twitch and you’re left once again puzzled and inadequate. Make sense? Absurd!

Which is not to say that his plays are not enjoyable. You don’t need to understand something in order to enjoy it. But it’s usually advisable.

With this in mind, I wittingly attended Sydney Theatre Company’s production of Endgame, starring Hugo Weaving as Hamm. ‘This won’t make sense half the time,’ I kept saying to myself. ‘Just treat it like modern dance – admire the physical form of the performers, the way they deliver the message persuasively even if you don’t know what it is, appreciate the moments of humour.’

I was right; it didn’t make sense half the time. But wow! What a performance!! Trying to explain Endgame is like trying to put a leash on a pug – be prepared for wiggles and squirms and snorts. I know because I tried both this afternoon. For the purpose of this review, though, it is vital that you understand that the play centres around Hamm, an elderly gentleman who spends the entire performance sitting centre stage in an armchair with wheels, his legs immobile and his eyes hidden by blacked-out glasses.

Any actor that tackles this role is already facing an uphill challenge – how do you deliver a compelling performance without the ability to pace the stage or convey emotion with just a look? Add to this a script that turns back and around on itself, making learning it (let alone creating meaning from it) a seemingly interminable task, and you have some idea of the position Hugo Weaving found himself in.

So I would already have praised any actor attempting this role, even if their performance was mediocre, due to sheer force of will. But no – Weaving was far from mediocre. His Hamm was measured, controlled, playful, thoughtful, charming, and undeniable. His gestures were superbly rendered, both large and small, bringing humour to a character that could easily be pitied. His vocal delivery was flawless, with volume and aggression applied sparingly, interspersed by lip smacks and fillers that brought realism to the absurd.

In fact, Hamm could very well have been my father, viewed in a future where his body is failing, and he has only his overactive but befuddled mind to keep him company. A writer, yes, but more importantly a storyteller, who delights in demonstrating his professorial knowledge of everything, despite perhaps no longer really ‘knowing’ anything at all. Weaving delivered him to us perfectly.

His fellow actors, also bodily restricted, gave strong performances. I have always loved Bruce Spence, and his face (the only part of his body really visible throughout Endgame as his character Nagg is confined to a bin) was suitably elastic. Sarah Peirse (Nell) was delightful, conjuring her youthful love affair with Nagg so vividly through only her eyes (again due to her position within a bin). Tom Budge, in his STC debut, delivered a comical, controlled Clov, which reminded me of some of the best physical theatre I have seen in my time. His was the hardest character to ‘get to know’, but I doubt this was Budge’s fault (although as this is my first live viewing of Endgame it’s hard to tell).

Nick Schlieper’s set and lighting design was really the other star. Using the height of the Roslyn Packer Theatre (previously known as Sydney Theatre) to his advantage, Schlieper delivered a cold but strangely comforting tower, with viewless windows, stagnant water and a sense of a world without life. The lighting was subtle but superbly done, focusing the audience’s attention at the appropriate moments without overwhelming the restricted cast.

In place of a picture of director Andrew Upton in the program is a photograph of some of the key props from the production, arranged comically about Hamm’s armchair. Sitting on the seat is The Dog (a mangy, matted toy, missing one leg, used to tremendous comic effect during the show). He is wearing Hamm’s glasses and at his feet rests Nagg’s biscuit. This image perfectly reflects Upton’s treatment of this play – set the pieces perfectly but let the man in the chair tell the story.

A real treat.

Details

Viewed: 28 April 2015

Venue: Roslyn Packer Theatre

Author: Samuel Beckett

Director: Andrew Upton

Company: Sydney Theatre Company

Boys Will Be Boys - But Should Girls?

Can women ever really play in a man’s world?

This is the premise of Melissa Bubnic’s Boys Will Be Boys – a play about a female stockbroker who believes she is taking it to the boys, and beating them at their own game.

Having spent most of my working life in the finance sector, I, along with my fellow theatre-going party, saw a familiar world unfolding on stage. We had come from an early dinner, during which the four of us discussed our respective workplaces, with two of our group noting their firms were currently recruiting women for senior management roles. That’s right – in order to meet their gender equality/diversity quotas, two major finance institutions were under strict orders to interview only women for the open positions. We were eager to see how our reality was going to be portrayed on stage.

Bubnic’s play takes us into the fast-living, fast-selling world of broking, where clients are pawns to be manipulated, careers are based on who not what you know, and the big deals are won and lost in the back rooms of strip clubs. The lead character, Astrid, has wriggled her way into this world, seemingly on her own terms. She takes on a junior, a girl named Priya in whom it appears Astrid sees something of herself. Together, they navigate the boys club, adopting the old line about Ginger Roger’s as a mantra: ‘She did everything Fred Astaire did, just backwards and in high heels’.

The cast is all female – a decision which forces the audience to examine their own attitudes towards ‘working’ women (in all senses of the word), and sexism. An uncomfortable early scene featuring an almost naked Zindzi Okenyo (who just five minutes earlier was playing Harrison, the son of a wealthy client who is bullied by his new employers) made me question my own feelings about the female form. Would I have felt as embarrassed for this actress if there were no men in the audience at all? And when Tina Bursill crossed the stage in a skimpy blue leotard, breasts thrust forward, did I, like many women in the audience, give her a subtle murmur of approval, acknowledging her bravery? When women use their bodies to generate influence – or to make money – is it empowering as Priya suggests, or simply perpetuating the idea of the victim?

The actors spent the majority of the show in tailored pant suits – the three supplementary characters in bold green, blue and peach, standing out against the white and grey of our protagonist and her protégé. This choice was no doubt made to help the supporting cast demonstrate their masculinity, juxtaposed against their occasional forays into sequinned leotards. The only hint of femininity about our leads was the shiny black heels they strutted the stage in. But in reality, the business women of today, particularly those in senior positions, opt for bright colours, prints and strong but feminine statement pieces. It’s not uncommon to see bright pink pencil skirts, silk blouses, bold floral patterns printed across knee-length, structured dresses and heavy knit bolero jackets in white or cream. I wondered if our leads could have benefited from a more womanly look, but in the end this did not detract from the overall design of the show.

In the Director’s Q&A, featured in the program, Paige Rattray talks about how she dealt with the challenge of staging the piece, which slips regularly from boardroom, to strip club, to hotel bar – as the narrative unfolds - to cabaret theatre in which we hear Astrid’s ‘inner monologue’. “Basically, we had to try to create a space that we could shift between those two worlds really quickly,” Rattray explains. The end result was a wide, sparsely furnished office space, complete with fluorescent lighting tiles and likely-fake pot plant. Astrid’s cabaret moments are treated in situ, with the addition of a microphone, mirror ball and fog machine at varying intervals. Personally, I think the transitions could have been done more effectively by actually introducing a cabaret set to a small corner of the theatre, most likely downstage; this would have permitted the audience to more easily forgive Astrid’s crude but flirtatious dialogue and passable singing voice.

That is not to say that Danielle Cormack’s performance as Astrid was flawed – it just could have benefited from more polish around the vocals. Perhaps this will come over time – the play had only opened two days prior. This also meant that the cast tripped over their dialogue occasionally, a blemish easily forgiven. Otherwise the performances were strong, and all parts well-cast. Cormack’s Astrid was both hard-arsed and likeable, with just enough subtly that you could believe she was neither victim nor villain. Sophia Roberts as Priya was perhaps a little rigid and naïve, but this was as much to do with the script as her interpretation.

The most interesting character was Isabelle, played beautifully by Meredith Penman. The high-class hooker tells Astrid straight up that she’s not in ‘Pretty Woman’ and there will be no rescuing, and it is through her eyes that we see just what playing in a man’s world can do to a woman. This is not because of how Isabelle makes her living, but due to her treatment at the hands of Astrid. The iron-clad exterior Astrid has assumed makes her somehow more masculine than her male colleagues; a character trait made worse because we feel she should know better.

The script has potential, but perhaps needs a little more time to reach its goal. Why, for example, have Priya tell the lamest, tamest jokes to the delight of her male clients while they downed liquor ahead of the expected floor show? Similarly, why are those same nameless men portrayed as clowns, buffooning around an office party (Christmas?) like naughty boys? They are not sinister, nor realistic. Was Bubnic trying to avoid victimising men, or was she saying they are actually quite harmless? Or was the intent to play down these interactions so that they did not take away from the main game – the relationship between Priya and Astrid? Either way, I was not convinced.

In the real world, a woman is afforded perhaps a little more credit for her success than was shown to Astrid, but then again, there is absolutely a ‘behind her back’ conversation that goes on between men about their female counterparts in the finance sector. I have witnessed the blokey attitudes, the drinking culture and the innuendo-laden laughter first-hand. So do I think a woman can play in a man’s world? Perhaps a better question is – why should she want to? If I have to turn a blind eye to behaviours that make my stomach churn simply to succeed in a job, then I have to question why on earth I would want to do that job in the first place? If I wanted to be a broker, why couldn’t I start my own, female-only firm, with only female clients? Why not play on my terms, instead of someone elses? Instead of trying to beat men at their own game, why don’t women start their own league, with their own rules – ones that suit their particular strengths and abilities? I thank Bubnic and the team from STC for challenging me with these questions. 

Details

Viewed: 22 April 2015

Venue: Wharf 2 Theatre

Author: Melissa Bubnic

Director: Paige Rattray

Company: Sydney Theatre Company