Filthy Fun

You are not your phone

In this period of YouTube celebrities, reality TV starlets and Kardashians we have to keep up with, it can be challenging to relate to theatrical characters. Audiences are regularly plated-up a plethora of classics, complete with over-the-top performances and melodious and fruity language, contrasted against edgy, overly dark interpretations of long-lost fables, presented on stark stages that we struggle to comprehend (but laud nonetheless). Wouldn’t it be nice to see something closer to our own reality?

Thankfully, this is what Dirty People by Charlie Falkner delivers. Set in a nameless Sydney bar in a parallel universe where camera phones are soon to be banned, Dirty People is a cheeky comedy about the ‘selfie-generation’. A young woman takes a seat in the bar, pulling out her phone. She is joined by a young man. The play ensues. Yes, unfortunately it is difficult to say much more about the plot because what makes Dirty People so engaging is the slow reveal. Best just to say you won’t be bored, and you’ll definitely laugh out loud.

Falkner’s characters are very well drawn, and each has their own distinct voice, easily recognisable but falling thankfully short of caricature. The script is pacey, sharp and very, very funny. Perhaps the only fault comes towards the end, where Falkner tries a little too hard to bring a moral to the story. The character’s monologue is a little laboured and sits at odds with the speed of the rest of the dialogue. But ultimately this is a clever new work that will hopefully receive the attention it deserves.

Bringing Dirty People to the Depot Theatre stage are a company of captivating and committed young actors. This is more than just clever casting; from their mannerisms to tone of voice, you are convinced these people are the real deal.

Perhaps in the case of the character of James this is no accident, as he is played by the author, Falkner. However, there is something very likeable about his fidgety portrayal of a young man who is constantly at a loss as to his purpose. His resemblance to the late Heath Ledger aside, Falkner is utterly watchable and his timing is excellent.

Charlotte Devenport is Lucy, an aloof bitch who has absolutely no problem if you don’t like her – in fact, she seems to revel in it. Charlotte’s face tells the story here – flat and un-emotive in a deliberate way. Her performance contrasts delightfully against Falkner’s almost frenetic style.

Rex, the wannabe-yuppie with anger management issues, is played with control by Sam Devenport. He is a ticking time bomb, and his explosions are bodily and hilarious. Playing his girlfriend Tina is Zoe Jensen. A lesser performer could be tripped up by this character, jumping superficially onto the childish dialogue to deliver us a simple, ditzy blonde. But Jensen has done her homework and her interpretation is nuanced – beneath the curls and the bling and the “Babe!”s is a feminist force to be reckoned with.

Rounding out the cast is Sam Delich as Fred, the bartender (and later Ted). Beginning his performance with just a little too much enthusiasm, Delich soon settles into the rhythms of the 21^st century little Aussie battler. His accent and intonation are well practiced, if occasionally a bit hammy, but in context this is not really an issue. Again, his mannerisms are effective and true-to-life.

Director Michael Abercromby has embraced the spirit of the play. He demonstrates a clear understanding of each of the characters and the world they inhabit, extracting excellent performances from the whole cast. He handles the logistically challenging script with ease, and with thanks to Thomas Moore’s sound design gives us well-timed phone calls and suitably muffled voices from another room.

Abercromby shows an aptitude for comedic timing and has not shied away from the physical elements of comedy. While not quite slapstick, the actors literally throw themselves into the gags. Watch out for the chair which takes a starring role in the second act!

The set is dressed well – I expect I’ve probably been in a bar just like this one in the last week – and the restrained use of furniture (there is just one table and two chairs in the centre of the stage) gives the actors plenty of room to move. Lighting is simple but atmospheric.

Overall this is a deliciously funny play brought to life by a gifted cast and keen-eyed director. At just 75 minutes with no interval it’s definitely worth tearing yourself away from MTV for!

Details
Viewed: 4 May 2016
Venue: The Depot Theatre, Marrickville
Author:Charlie Falkner
Director: Michael Abercromby
Production Company: Doonbrae Productions in association with Jackrabbit Theatre

First published on The AU Review: http://arts.theaureview.com/reviews/theatre-review-dirty-people-the-depot-theatre-sydney-performances-until-8-may/ 

To Be a Man or Not To Be - That Is The Question

Poetry and motion and what it means to be a man

The subject of masculinity and what it means to be a man in today’s Australia are skillfully explored in Darlinghurst Theatre Company’s production of Savages, written by Patricia Cornelius.

Opening with a blast of light and sound, we meet four thirty-something Aussie men, about to embark on the ‘trip of a lifetime’ aboard a cruise ship. While we never know what bonds these men together, they are instantly recognisable as a pack, growing more animalistic as the play goes on.

This is a production that fully utilises all the elements of theatre – sound, lighting, set, script, and physical performance. What’s more, they work together smartly to create a cohesive, slick production where nothing is redundant.

Production Designer, Jeremy Allen, has captured the feeling of being on a cruise ship brilliantly without giving us anything too literal. The portholes that run the length of the back wall imply the nautical theme, as does the wooden decking used to cover the stage. But the set really works because, just like passengers on a ship, the actors are confined to a finite space – in this case, a platform which is only one third of what is available on the Eternity Theatre’s stage. They are ‘imprisoned’ for the duration of the play – pacing like caged animals staring at the space beyond.

Complementing the set is Sian James-Holland’s lighting design. Full of bold colour, the lighting guides us as we traverse the ship from morning to night and night club. The strongest element of the design is the use of the portholes to disguise directional spotlights aimed into the auditorium. Through this device, the audience becomes a participant in the production. Targeted by blinding lights, the stage disappears from our view. We are caught in the spotlight – as if to say, yes, you too are a part of this. You’re also to blame. As a woman, this lighting state had the added, chilling effect of making me feel as though I was the prey currently being stalked, even though the actors’ faces were hidden. Unsettling yes, but a poignant dramatic choice.

There is a poetic quality to Cornelius’ script which takes a little getting used to. It’s a bit like watching Shakespeare for the first time in a while, where the initial dialogue jars and confuses the ear, until you settle into the rhythm and rhyme. There is an interesting juxtaposition between the lyrical style of the script and the vocal cadence adopted by the actors. These are blokey, Aussie men, who generally speak in monosyllabic sentences, dotted with profanity. Cornelius has managed to capture this characterisation while still giving us a melodious script. It shouldn’t work, but it really does.

Helping to bring these two contrasting script elements together is the cast – Yure Covich (Craze), Josef Ber (Rabbit), Troy Harrison (George) and Thomas Campbell (Runt). Their rehearsal clearly shows in the frequent unison moments and pacey, inter-connected dialogue. Similarly, their movement has been choreographed superbly by Julia Cotton (Movement Director) to take into account the limited space, and the progression towards an animal state. Pushed too far, this stylised movement would be laughable and distracting, but thankfully Director, Tim Roseman, has brought a subtly to the performances of his cast.

There are no standouts here, but this is not a criticism; this is in every way an ensemble piece and all four actors bring their A-game. We see their individual characters emerge only occasionally, reverting quickly back to the safety of the fraternity.

At the heart of the production is the question of what leads men to behave in the way they do. How much influence do mates have over one another? What does it mean to be a man? What role have women played in emasculating the so-called stronger sex? While not ever really answering these questions, Cornelius’ script and its excellent treatment in the hands of Darlinghurst Theatre Company certainly gives us food for thought, particularly against the backdrop of lock-out laws, one-punch murders and rising domestic violence. This is an insightful portrayal of men trying to come to terms with their socially-derived captivity.

Savages defies classification – it is funny, poetic, and political. The boys’ cheeky banter draws many laughs, but there is also something menacing unfolding here. An underlying threat that you just can’t shake. The comedy brings us back from the brink a number of times, but the jokes can only hold out so long…

Details
Viewed: 6 April 2016
Venue: Eternity Playhouse, Darlinghurst
Author: Patricial Cornelius
Director: Tim Roseman
Production Company: Darlinghurst Theatre Company

First published on The AU Review: http://arts.theaureview.com/reviews/theatre-review-savages-darlinghurst-theatre-company-eternity-playhouse/

Challenge Accepted

In one of my regular ‘inspiration sessions’ (translation – sitting in a coffee shop catching up on my online reading) I came across an excellent commentary on the state of arts criticism in Australia. In CringeFestival, published in Kill Your Darlings’ online theatre and performing arts column, Jane Howard bemoans the proliferation of unpaid reviewers that clog our media, observing that few writers are actually fulfilling the brief of ‘critic’.

In summary, Howard believes that the current practice of paying reviewers in tickets alone has lowered the standard of our critical culture. Reviews have become less a platform for unpacking performances and prompting deep pondering, and more a tool for promoters to pimp their productions. Potentially problematic – yes indeed.

A similar view was articulated by Andrew Stafford in his blog (and later as a column for Mumbrella) back in November 2013. A music journalist of 20 years, Stafford confided in his post that he had turned down a role as music writer for The Daily Review, despite his adoration of the site’s parent publication, Crikey. Why this decision? The monetary compensation offered for the position was zero.

Stafford argued, and quite rightly I would suggest, that a journalist of his experience and renown should be appropriately remunerated for his skills. He would bring eyeballs and a level of quality to the then fledgling online magazine; surely these would be things The Daily Review would consider worth paying for? Apparently not.

Aside from the obvious reason (needing to put food on his table), Stafford said he felt that working for free would make him ‘complicit in undermining’ the careers of his peers and colleagues. He felt that media outlets which purport to provide quality content should be able to afford to pay the people best qualified to do the job.

I myself am operating on the ‘will work for tickets’ model right now. Having eschewed the corporate nine-to-five for an as yet to be determined career in the writing field, I naturally looked to write about what I know. And as a graduate of theatre studies from QUT, and a some-time amateur actor, I thought reviewing theatre could be a good first step.

Once I started digging, I uncovered numerous online publications who were prepared to ‘pay’ me to publish my critical thoughts. I have signed-up to write for a few of these sites, and so far have been treated to a number of free nights out. But in much the same way as I did when I worked as a finance trade journalist receiving regular invitations to media briefings in five-star restaurants, I have realised that such invitations have the potential to cost me my integrity. We’ll give you a five course meal with matching wines, provided you write up our latest product. Or, we’ll give you and your partner a free ticket to opening night, provided you say how fabulous we are. Power corrupts, and all that.

However, I would like to think that within this new world, where everyone literally can be a critic, those who genuinely have something to say will rise to the top. We pick and choose who to follow on Twitter, because we are entertained and interested by what they have to say (in a few short characters no less). We can select our favourite news topics or publications on Flipboard. And we subscribe to bloggers whose words resonate through the noise of our daily lives. You can build your own audience – provided you know who that audience is.

As any good marketer (content or otherwise) will tell you, there’s no point shouting your story from the roof-top if your target audience resides in an underground tunnel. In the same way, not everyone wants to read an effuse opinion piece with obscure 1940s pop culture references which challenges their very hipster existence; some people just want to know whether something is worth the price of admission.

I do think there is an audience for the kind of critical commentary for which Howard laments. Kill Your Darlings is one rallying point. The Australian Book Review is another. But I also think that those of us who are working for nix need to do our bit too. We need to push ourselves harder, polish and edit our own work. Write often, sure, but write well. Engage with other commentators, share their thoughts, even (or especially) if they differ from yours. Build your own audience, one which truly represents the people you want to speak to. And spread the critical word.

Thank you Ms Howard – challenge accepted.

What's Wrong With Playing it Safe?

“He says his aim is poetry. One does not aim at poetry with pistols. At poets, perhaps...” 

One of the things that I often notice when watching a theatrical comedy is that there is always one actor who doesn’t quite get it. Timing is, as they say, everything, and there are some actors who can’t quite pick-up the rhythm. But I am delighted to report that this was not the case in STC’s latest production of Tom Stoppard’s Arcadia.

Not only did every single cast member held their own in the comedy stakes, they also managed to convincingly deliver both the poetry and convoluted mathematical concepts that riddle the script. Even Wil McDonald as Gus Coverly and Augustus Cloverly, who spent the majority of the show in silence, drew many the snicker and giggle. 

The standouts (because there are always one or two) were Ryan Corr, who delivered insult after insult with genuine relish (particularly as they flew over the heads of their intended) and Michael Sheasby, who’s portrayal of Valentine Cloverly was delightfully geeky. He handled the complex theoretical monologues with ease, and he evoked in this reviewer a genuine desire to run up and just give him a big hug.

Julie Lynch deserves an award for her beautiful costumes – it’s lovely to see period clothing in its rightful place for a change. Michael Scott-Mitchell’s set design received criticism from some because of the extremely long table which extended over the majority of the stage. However, I think the table worked to create a strong contrast between the arm’s length nature of male-female relationships in the 1800s and the cosy familiarity within which we engage with one another today. I also think he deserves credit for Plautus/Lightening, the tortoise who all but steals the show.

This was a well-produced, well-cast, well-designed show. You would think that should make an audience happy – particularly when the play is a comedy – but I couldn’t help but feel that last Wednesday night’s audience was a little faint with their applause. In the same vein as a Ron Howard film, you can’t really fault it, but it’s not something you’ll be talking about forever and a day. Maybe that’s a fault of the script, which effectively predicts the demise of the world as we know it (a bit of a downer), or maybe the Sydney theatre-going public have grown too used to controversial, out-there design and incomprehensible directorial choices. Whatever the reason, I felt alone in my admiration of the experience. Perhaps I just appreciate the pleasant change when a director plays by the book, literally.

I do have one criticism though – how come the tortoise didn’t get a bow?

Details
Viewed: 9 March 2016
Venue: Drama Theatre, Sydney Opera House
Author: Tom Stoppard
Director: Richard Cottrell
Production Company: STC

Too Giant an Undertaking

Power tends to corrupt, and absolute power corrupts absolutely

A complex, wordy play about the inner machinations of the Australian Labor Party in the early 80s may seem like a risky choice for the first outing of new Belvoir Artistic Director, Eamon Flack, and it is a risk that fails to pay off.

Written by Australia’s Stephen Sewell, The Blind Giant is Dancing follows Allen Fitzgerald, an ambitious member of the ALP who is plotting to overthrow the capitalist right of the party and lead Australia into a brave new democratic socialist world. All the while, Allen is grappling with a failing marriage to a Jewish feminist who has taken a female lover (from the Liberal party) and a staunchly Catholic father who has worked the mines all his life. Who’s confused already?

Adding to the minefield that is the premise, the play jumps between scenes with increasing pace, to the point where some of the scenes in the second act are a mere two lines long. Despite this, the run time of the whole shermozzle is over three hours.

Faced with these challenges, Flack and the Belvoir team have given us a production that tries hard but fails to deliver a clear message.

Set Designer, Dale Ferguson, has presented us with an interesting concept, working closely with Lighting Designer, Verity Hampson, to place a floor-to-ceiling LED light wall centre stage, leaving the remainder of Belvoir’s black box stage empty. Unlit, the wall provides a transparent backdrop for the main scenes, behind which can be seen the upcoming actors. When alight, the wall replicates the sun drenched high-rise windows of Sydney’s CBD. The device is also used to project the setting at the start of each scene (useful given there is very little else to differentiate the surroundings). Some audience members may find the blinding they receive when the rig is fully lit a bit hard to take, but on the whole it’s not a bad design effort.

Set changes (such as they are) are managed by the actors in what is becoming a bit of a theatrical trend. But I do worry that some of the props the performers are required to carry on and off stage are a trifle unwieldy and there may be some mishaps during the run.

Speaking of the performers, Dan Spielman does well as Allen but could have benefited from a greater sense of purpose. The character has so much backstory that it would be hard for any actor to wrangle it all into their performance, but Spielman doesn’t quite hit the mark. There’s a lot of dialogue delivered but not so much deeper meaning.

Yael Stone as Allen’s wife, Louise, is one of the most convincing characters, and there is definite chemistry between the two (probably because they’re married in real life). The same can’t be said for Zahra Newman who plays Allen’s potential love interest, journalist Rose Draper. Rose speaks in riddles and is deliberately cagey about just what she’s doing here (on stage, in the political mix, flirting with Allen). Unfortunately, Newman’s performance lacks conviction – I’m not sure she knows what Rose is trying to say either.

The strongest performance comes from Geoff Morrell, whose portrayal of Allen’s political target, Michael Wells, is delightfully realistic. His accent is delightfully ocker but he delivers his lines with a subtle sense of power (something which Julia Gillard never quite managed).

To really enjoy this play you need more than a passing understanding of the concepts of socialism, Marxism, capitalism and communism. Sewell is also student of Australian politics, and the script goes into tremendous detail about the operations and direction of the ALP in the 1980s, which for my dad would no doubt be fascinating, since he was involved in the ALP himself at that time. Sadly most of us are not so familiar with party politics, and this makes for a confusing night out.

The other story here is about what it means to be a person – what gives us our identity and how we represent ourselves to others. What does it mean to be a wife? A Catholic? A socialist? A lover? This is a more universally appealing thread, but it gets lost under the weight of the narrative. A fault of the play, sure, but if a decision was made by the creatives to present this as the key message the production may have resonated more strongly. To this end, the scenes between Allen and Louise are a distraction, despite Stone’s performance. Even the climactic moments, which call into question family loyalty and cultural morality, fail to deliver a punch.

This production lacks a clear identity. In the hands of a different director, the play may deliver a powerful message, but Flack seems to have tried too hard to follow each of Sewell’s threads, leaving the audience to puzzle through just what it all means. The play clearly has a special place in his heart, however, and he should be commended for attempting such a tricky piece on his first outing.

Details
Viewed: 16 February 2016 (Preview)
Venue: Belvoir Upstairs Theatre, Surry Hills
Author: Stephen Sewell
Director: Eamon Flack
Production Company: Belvoir

The Secret River Second Time Around

This play does more to 'close the gap' than any Government report ever could

It’s not very often that you have the opportunity to attend a theatrical production that you know is going to be great – actors, directors and scripts can often promise much but significantly under-deliver. However, as I had seen the original season of STC’s The Secret River I knew that the repeat run would make for a brilliant night out. Having previously subjected my bestie to an absolutely traumatic previous theatre experience (Belvoir’s Wizard of Oz), I couldn’t wait to show her that theatre can be both art and entertainment.

The Secret River follows William Thornhill, a London thief transported to New South Wales in the early 1800s. Earning his freedom, Thornhill settles himself and his young family on what he believes to be unclaimed land on the edge of the Hawkesbury River. But the land is already inhabited by the Dharug people. What unfolds is a compelling and at times confronting story that has been played out hundreds of times in our nation’s history.

But it is the creative team who make this production truly memorable. In the same way that Julie Taymor transfigured the cartoon world of Simba in her production of The Lion King, Director, Neil Armfield, and his designers (Set Designer Stephen Curtis, Lighting Designer Mark Howett and Sound Designer Steve Francis) have given us a staging that is both practical and brilliant. The backdrop is at once a towering escarpment and an ancient gum, its branches stretching out of sight. Smouldering sticks dragged over the sandstone-coloured floor give us territories and boundaries, easily erased by childish play. Lighting transports us from river to bank, and the sounds of the bush are recreated by mouth, bucket and spade. This is theatrical play at its best.

Listing the production highlights to my friend – the brilliantly clever design elements, the interweaving musical soundtrack, and the profound performances – I saw her face slowly fall. She politely declined my invitation.

What I failed to understand in my enthusiasm for the production is that I am white. My ancestors were free settlers who built the foundations of what is now Hobart. Sure, there may be some political prisoners in my distant, Irish past, but on the whole, my family have had it pretty good. My friend, however, is descended from the Wiradjuri people, the largest Indigenous Nation within New South Wales. For her, the story of Australian colonisation is not entertainment. It triggers an anger and sorrow that I cannot adequately describe, something she was not keen on bringing to the surface.

Armfield recalls a similar encounter in his program notes, describing how Indigenous actress Ursula Yovich knocked him back twice when he asked her to join the original production. In a letter to Armfield, Yovich wrote:

“The play brings up a lot of hurt. We all know the history, what comes next. The hurt comes from the knowledge that the actions portrayed at the end of the play (although so very long ago) have had a huge domino effect, even to this day… The trauma is so deep that we believe our own worthlessness…”

Yovich did eventually relent and her performance in the first run of this play was superb. One of the reasons behind her change of heart appears to have been the sensitivity she knew Armfield and his team would bring to the production.

The strongest example of this empathetic hand is the voice that playwright Andrew Bovell has given to the Dharug people. In the original and critically acclaimed novel by Kate Grenville, from which the story is taken, the Indigenous people are kept at arm’s length from the reader. We see the events almost entirely through the eyes of Thornhill; a victim of circumstance and class who now has a chance to obtain the status and respect he covets.

In Bovell’s script, the Dharug characters are not only named, but given prominence. They open the play, letting us eavesdrop on a casual fireside conversation. They appear again at regular intervals, giving us some insight as to how they interact with the land and these strangers who have come to claim it. Through these vignettes we see that they are not so different from the whites.

We also see a vision of what could have been, of partnership and shared knowledge, depicted through the actions of the youngest Thornhill, Dick (Toby Challenor/Heath Jelovic), and the ‘first’ river settler, Blackwood (Colin Moody). Dick has yet to be indoctrinated into the world of savages and gentlemen; his innocent, child’s eyes see people who know the secrets of the land and how to work it to their advantage. Blackwood declares that his Indigenous partner is more of a wife to him than his first ever was, and suggests that Thornhill learn the principle of ‘give a little, take a little’.

But this is not a story of triumph over the wilds of the land – this is a war for territory between two tribes and we already know who will be victorious. It is easy to sit back in judgement of these early settlers and criticise their actions, but the beauty of this production is the mirror it holds up to its audience. In Thornhill (played with strength and subtlety by Nathanial Dean) we see how easily a man’s morality can shift when he has something to believe in and defend. Can any of us really say we would have acted differently? More importantly, how little of this story do we actually know?

I hope that this production triggers something in its audience – a guilt, and a profound sense of inadequacy. We should know more about these first people. We should understand their language without the need for surtitles (which I am delighted to report the production does not resort to). We should acknowledge the wrongs our forefathers committed, no matter how innocent their motives. We should be teaching this history in schools. We should be honouring Indigenous stories in our museums and galleries.

I thank Armfield and the STC for taking Thornhill’s story to another level, and my friend for helping me see it through different eyes, which at the conclusion of the play were this time filled with tears. 

Details
Viewed: 4 February 2016
Venue: Roslyn Packer Theatre, Walsh Bay
Author: Kate Grenville
Adapted by: Andrew Bovell
Director: Neil Armfield
Production Company: Sydney Theatre Company

Epic Aussie Tale Challenges Notion of Otherness

I hope you had your weetbix this morning!

I’m sure when set designer David Fleischer pitched his concept for the Sydney Theatre Company’s production of The Golden Age he could not have helped but throw in a pun (or two) about actors getting their hands dirty. Why? Because almost the entire stage used to present this revival production of a Louis Nowra classic was taken up with a great big pile of dirt. Simplistic in concept, the design actually worked wonders for a play which traverses years and continents (and throws a little Greek tragedy in there for good measure).

When Nowra wrote the script, he likely envisaged set changes occurring behind the proscenium curtain. With no such luxury in the Wharf 1 theatre, Fleischer and Director Kip Williams instead employed the actors to set and remove a small array of props to denote each required location. Intriguingly, the prop carriers did not merely walk on and off stage in semi-darkness, hoping to go largely unnoticed by the audience. Instead, each scene change was carried out as a purposeful action; the branches representing the Tasmanian wilderness swayed gently in an imaginary breeze, the fence posts surrounding the sanatorium were driven violently into the dirt. This direction helped to maintain the pace and momentum of what is a very long and challenging work.

It is not just the staging that kept this production afloat, however, as all the cast members did an admirable job of keeping up their energy and commitment. You see, this play is an epic. Beginning in Hobart in the late 1930s, we follow two young men (played by Remy Hii and the supremely talented Brandon McClelland) into the West-Tasmanian wilderness, where they happen upon a small collection of motley Europeans who appear to have abandoned the trappings of modern society. The tribe has their own language - an odd mix of Scottish, Irish and Cockney English – and mythology.

Driven by curiosity (and unlikely love) the youths bring the strangers back to ‘civilisation’, and what follows is an exploration of insanity, the construct of war and what it means to be Australian. Did I mention this was an epic?!

McClelland does a bang-up job as the play’s leading man, effectively connecting past and present. But it is the characters of Ayre (Sarah Peirse) and Betsheb (Rarriwuy Hick) that are by far the most challenging in this work, not least because most of their dialogue is delivered in the tribe’s provocative and nearly-nonsensical language. The complexity of these Shakesperean-like roles was no doubt a joy to master, and Hick’s performance, in particular, had the audience revolted and enamoured in equal measure.

A special mention also goes to Ursula Yovich, who brilliantly inhabited the physicality of Elizabeth Archer (a genteel woman accustomed to dinner parties and theatrical fundraisers). Her mannerisms so perfectly mirrored those of my late grandmother (herself the perfect society hostess) that I was convinced they must have met.

Composer/Sound Designer, Max Lyandvert, brought a cinematic quality to the soundscape, scoring much of the play and Damien Cooper’s lighting design was subtle but played a strong narrative role.

Overall, Williams has done well to convey a very convoluted, and perhaps overlong, story. I questioned the need for the nudity (of which the audience was forewarned, along with the smoke effects and gunshots) but felt overall the play was in good hands. In his program notes, Williams said he was particularly conscious of how the play speaks to Australia’s national identity. Attended by this reviewer a few days out from Australia Day it was not hard to uncover this deeper meaning. Perhaps a concept further challenged by the casting of Indigenous actors in traditional ‘white’ roles.

But I believe the play speaks more strongly to the issue of mental illness and whether ‘crazy’ also means ‘dangerous’. With the story told against the backdrop of World War II, you are pushed unrelentingly towards the notion that people who do not operate according to society’s conventions are inferior to others. Many may not be aware that, during his reign, Hitler not only culled thousands of Jews, but also the mentally ill, deformed and homosexual. Today, we continue to persecute the non-conformists, through our laws, service funding and our attitudes. And we’re still participating in ugly wars in foreign lands, sacrificing our young in the name of protecting a nation and its shared ideals – whatever they may be.

Thought provoking and challenging, I congratulate the STC for taking on such an epic. It won’t be for everyone – but ironically doesn’t this play prove that there is no ‘everyone’?

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

Our land is girt by sea

In honour of Australia Day, I thought I'd write about my favourite Australian plays. Not just ones written by Australians, but those that tell something of our country's story. Sadly though, I came to realise my experience with true 'Aussie theatre' is painfully limited.

I could always blame the theatre-makers for failing to produce new works. But I think that's not necessarily the problem - there are numerous new plays being written and performed across all of Sydney's theatres. I was lucky enough to get to see Keating! on its third return season, and laughed hysterically, in spite of only being a mere child during the majority of the period presented in the show. I do however believe it resonates in Australia, rather than of Australia. Could you tour this internationally with the same success - doubtful, although the songs are certainly catchy.

I also got to see the brilliant Deborah Mailman in the equally brilliant premier of 7 Stages of Grieving, which she co-wrote with Wesley Enoch. It was the first time I had ever seen Indigenous Australia represented on stage. I remember crying, laughing, crying and generally being in awe of the extreme talent of the woman in front of me.

The good news is that the Aboriginal voice has not disappeared from our theatres. Look at Belvoir's determination to bring the Aboriginal voice to the stage in last year's Buried City, Don't Take Your Love to Town and Beautiful One Day. And this year will give us This Heaven, Coranderrk and The Cake Man.

And the Sydney Theatre Company are kicking off their 2013 season with The Secret River, based on the award winning book by Kate Grenville (which I hear is brilliant, more on this when I finally get to see it in February), and finishing with an adaptation of Storm Boy.

Plus, moving away from just the Indigenous angle, you've got the team at Griffin, who's website proudly claims to 'lead the country in developing and producing great Australian stories'. And the increasingly long Short and Sweet festival.

So what about existing work? This is probably more of a concern. Last year I watched Summer of the Seventeenth Doll at Belvoir, and fell in love with the play that had seemed fairly boring to me in high school. It was especially refreshing to hear the Aussie accent used in its appropriate setting, rolling over words like 'bloke', 'blue' and 'up North'. (Not that I'm criticising the artistic choice of many local directors to insist upon their actors using their natural voices but it don't always work so good, eh). What I like (now) about Doll is that there's a desperation to the characters - a little of the Aussie battler in all of them. Interestingly, though set in Melbourne (or Sydney depending on the version), I can't help but picture  Pearl, Olive, Emma and Roo in an outback town; the dusty streets, the single pub, the falling down shack of a house. But probably the strongest pangs are drawn in picturing those 16 kewpie dolls, with their hideously made-up plastic faces, painted on hair and spiky skirts providing the poor dear with zero modesty. It's been successful in that it is part of the school curriculum, but it really didn't come to life for me until I saw it staged. Thanks Belvoir for introducing this classic to me for a second time.

But I can't say I've seen a lot of other 'classics' from the Aussie library. There are countless Williamson's, Enright's and Nowra's that remain on my 'to do' list, and regardless of the fact I heard more about it than any other play at university, I'm still to see a production of Away, by Michael Gow. University can also be thanked for introducing me to Blackrock and Cosi, and Stephen Sewell's Sisters (which I think is sadly un-lauded) but only to scenes, rather than whole productions. I guess the lesson is that the classics don't come around too often, so make the time to see them.

And memorandum to own-personage: see more new Aussie theatre, lest it never get produced again!

Review Review - Peter Pan (Belvoir)

When I picked up our Peter Pan tickets from the Belvoir box office last night, I asked the girl behind the counter if it (the production) was any good. Dressed in a bright red Belvoir t'shirt, with a comic-strip-patterned skirt, yellow high-tops and large, red, apple earrings that perfectly matched her shirt (and lipstick), she gleefully said: "Yes! I want to see it again! And again!! And again!!!"

Quite a review! And not being one to spoil my theatrical experiences with reviews (perhaps it was silly of me to ask in the first place) I entered the theatre with some trepidation. What would Belvoir do to this children's classic?

As TimeOut Sydney says so eloquently in its review, Belvoir's production of Peter Pan "... captures the way that children dream when they play."

The corner stage was transformed into a bedroom straight out of my childhood, complete with board game classics like Mousetrap, Connect 4 and (as my partner excitedly pointed out) Test Match. Uno also made an appearance. And just like my formative years, each item in the room took on a new identity as the story unfolded. I won't share too many of the transformations here (as Lloyd Bradford Syke does in his review) because they are all the more delightful for being so unexpected, but watch for a very funny fishing rod-cum-ship's mast and the clever use of a blanket to represent water (haven't we all dreamt we were drowning only to find ourselves buried under the covers?). Props (in every sense of the word) to both Set Designer Robert Cousins and Director Ralph Myers for letting their imagination run wild.

And so to the cast who are given full reign to play in the space. Often I find that one or two casting choices leave me perplexed, but not so with Peter Pan. I disagree with TimeOut who suggested that Meyne Wyatt (in the title role) lets the side down - I thought he was the epitome of an adventurous boy. Dressed in his sporting attire and jumping fearlessly from one piece of furniture to the next, Wyatt brought depth to a character who is often simply thought of as merely a child. Sure, Peter never wants to grow up, but isn't there something in that idea that all adults could benefit from? He seeks out a regulator for himself and 'the boys' (a mother), and desires structure (he needs to find out what happened to Cinderella at the end of the story, for example), but refuses to be confined by the usual parameters of life - school, office, and such like. A challenging role indeed, and one which Wyatt owns.

He does, however, lose some limelight to the comedic talents of the ensemble, who steal more scenes than is usually recommended. But again, Myers allows the actors to play, rather than simply act, and this brings a sense of fun that is sometimes lacking in today's performers (particularly those working on a show that they clearly loathe). Notable mentions go to Charlie Garber as the ad-libbing Captain Hook, who "turns the pantomime up to 11" and the delightful, Harriet Dyer, whose "giggly Twins (either and/or both), sunbathing mermaid and succession of doomed pirates are unlookawayable" (well said TimeOut). I also loved (as I usually do) John Leary's performance as Nana (the dog) - very Wilfred-esque.

There were so many moments that made me smile, and even more that made me laugh out loud. But I think the main reason my cheeks ached all the way home was for the sheer brilliance of the production elements. I hope I'm not spoiling things too much by sharing that Tinkerbell is perhaps the cleverest creation, in that she appears as flashing lights, darting across the room to the sound of bells rung by the cast. Congrats to Damien Cooper, Lighting Designer, for realising this tricky character so effectively.

As Tomas Boot explains on theatrepeople.com.au, "this is inventive theatre at its best, with director Ralph Myers crafting a taut and hilarious work... The delight comes not just from the comedic ensemble, but the ingenuity of the entire machine, as it were."

In some ways it was made all the more joyous an experience as it was the first time we (my partner and I) had taken his mother to this beautiful little Surry Hills space. Needless to say, she loved it. Wept tears of joy, in fact, a phrase I don't believe I've ever had the pleasure of needing to write before.

I simply cannot wait to see it again! And again! And again!!!

Review Review - Private Lives, Belvoir

Firstly, a word of explanation. I don't like to read reviews before I go to see a show. That way my view of the show is not tempered with a preconceived idea of what that production may be. Instead I prefer to form my own views and then go back and look at what others have said. So this is my review of the reviews of Private Lives at Belvoir.

Safely ensconced in the back of a cab on our way home from attending Private Lives at Belvoir (til 11 Nov in the Upstairs Theatre), my partner made an interesting comment:

"I really enjoyed that, but I can tell why some of the reviews said that if you were a traditionalist you probably wouldn't like it."

I was intrigued.

Private Lives, written by one of England's most revered playwrights, Noel Coward, is set in a hotel in 1930, where two couples - Elyot and Sybil and Amanda and Victor - are enjoying the first night of their second honeymoons. Enjoying, that is, until Elyot and Amanda, who were married some five years before and have since divorced, discover that their honeymoons are to be spent in adjoining hotel rooms. Despite assuring their current spouses otherwise, sparks ignite between Elyot and Amanda and they run away together to Paris, leaving their partners to team up to find out just what went wrong. The synopsis alone gives rise to a smile, and yes, this is very much a farcical comedy which thrives as much on witty dialogue as it does slapstick.

And yes, it is true that Belvoir's Artistic Director, Ralph Myers' Upstairs directorial debut is very much in keeping with the Theatre's boundary-pushing style. The three-acter has been condensed to just one, a 90 minute onslaught of dialogue and door slamming. Instead of toffee-English accents, the actors are encouraged to use their natural voices, and the lavish furnishings that typically dress a play set in France in the 1930s are replaced with a stark, white, near-naked set. And the musical choices are eclectic and travel between the decades without blinking. But do these artistic choices make the production unlikeable?

Overall, I have to agree with the majority of reviewers who have concluded that the production is a good one. It is as entertaining a night out as one would expect from a comedy at 'the little theatre that could'. But it does have a few flaws that prevent it from truly attaining the heights that I, and others, have come to expect from Belvoir...

First, lets address the absence of accent. "With this sacrilegious move he's revealed that Private Lives is a delightful, clever play and, in order to amuse and entertain a 21st century audience, it has no need of sepia-tinted reverence for things past... The humour and wit don't need on comic plummy accents to generate laughter - it's actually humorous and witty anyway." So says Diana Simmonds in Stage Noise (26 September 2012). I could not agree more. True, there are one or two odd words that jar the ear and distract the audience for a minute or two while they ponder how much the English language has changed ('I love the world to be gay' anyone?), but on the whole, the use of natural voice allows the text to shine.

So too does the extremely talented and very watchable Toby Schmitz, who's take on the usually pompous, sarcastic Elyot is assured and cool. Described by Simmonds as "tall, urbane, and good looking", Schmitz steals the show, and rightfully so. Schmitz delivers his punchlines quickly and cleanly, much like a 50's (M)ad-man, who drinks for amusement and never quite seems to be totally present (as if he - the character - would much rather be elsewhere). The only question mark over his performance relates to the issue of violence - it is a little hard to believe that someone so charming could be violent towards women.

Schmitz is matched admirably by Zahra Newman, who plays Amanda, the ex-wife who is oft overshadowed by her ex-husband. But Newman's take on the part is best summed up by Lloyd Bradford Syke as "a modern woman: strong; strident; self-assured; go-getting; assertively sexy" (see Syke's well-written review for Crikey on 1 October).

Unfortunately I cannot agree with Simmonds and Syke on their assessment of the other two main characters, Sybil, played by Eloise Mignon, and Victor, given to us by Toby Truslove. While both Simmonds and Syke give props to these two Belvoir regulars for their 'gifted' and 'skilled' performances (Syke even goes so far as to say Truslove "has set a whole new comic high-water mark"), I felt underwhelmed. I'm afraid I didn't truly believe Mignon's naive, girl-in-love Sybil, and felt perhaps the performance was a little one-dimensional. And while Truslove gave plenty of dimension to Victor, bringing his usual laid-back, hands-in-pocket, downtrodden-love-fool style to the role, it was the wrong fit for the play. A more awkward, stuffy, too-nice and too-uptight interpretation would have given the character play more balance.

And speaking of off-balance, while he is known for his design cred, Myers lets his Director-self down with his set design. This play calls for a number of doors, driving the action throughout. But just because the doors are the most important part of the set doesn't mean the rest should be thrown-out completely. Myers has gone with a single flat, white wall at the rear of the stage which houses the two afore mentioned doors, and a third entry/exit - a lift. The floor is the kind of awful stone-look lino that you seen in hospital corridors. By using the minimal approach, Myers has addressed the change of location from hotel to Paris apartment that is normally managed through an intermission or long blackout. But it just doesn't work with the action and dialogue.

"The absence of set creates some distracting problems for the actors to solve: where to put the cocktail glasses? What to do with the mattress?" says Jason Blake on Eight Nights a Week. The mattress he mentions is used playfully in the 'second act' by Elyot and Amanda as they rekindle their romance. It is dragged onto the centre of the floor in front of the elevator (which of course is in the apartment scene because the set hasn't changed). At the climatic end of the scene (apologies for spoilers) the elevator opens to reveal Sybil and Victor, who stare incredulously at Elyot and Amanda, rolling around the floor in throws of violence. Well, that's what's supposed to happen. The night we saw the show the problematic mattress was pushed too close to the elevator doors which caused an amateur-like set malfunction leaving one half of the lift open and forcing a slightly ruffled Truslove to await an unscheduled blackout.

The other key problem with the set (and the small number of props that are used) is that they do nothing to help the audience determine the era in which the action is now set. It could be 2012, but who listens to records in 2012? It could be the 1930s, what with the dialogue and references to telegrams and trunks, but then how does one explain the use of Phil Collins in the soundtrack (a moment which I will not go on to explain because it is by far and away the funniest moment of the entire show)?

Alice Babidge's costume designs don't help either. They're actually well suited to the characters and their situations, but other than placing them sometime in the late 20th Century don't do enough to truly 'date' the action.

Simmonds sums up the issue best when she says...

"The thinking behind all this is deeply unfortunate and if the cast and direction were any less than sparkling, could have led to disaster. As it is, the packed Sunday afternoon preview audience (I'm overseas for the opening) absolutely adored it and so did I - but I did passionately hate the set and the bicycle."

I couldn't agree more. An enjoyable evening, marked by a fantastic performance by Schmitz, in a production which showcases a great playwright. But I did hate the set! I guess I'm just traditional that way.

Heaven Helpmann the Aussie Musical

The Helpmann Award Winners were announced this week. Television news coverage of the event was, of course, limited, but what did manage to make the 6pm reports was the winner of Best Musical. A Chorus Line.

 

My first thought was – really? 

 

To give some context, I saw this show with my ‘theatre group’. The group is made up of my partner’s mother, sister, sister’s best friend, and aunt, so it is really a family affair and I wouldn’t necessarily call us the most discerning, critical group of theatre goers (and ‘theatre’ generally translates just to musical theatre). However, when I saw that A Chorus Line was coming to Sydney I couldn’t wait to pitch it to the group as our next outing. 

 

Why was I so excited? Well for one, I’d never seen the show performed live. I had also sung a few numbers during my period of regular singing lessons (Dance 10 anyone?) and knew that it was musically very entertaining. Plus, as a fan of dance I had high expectations for a show taking its name from one of the most well-known dance ‘moves’ ever.

 

We booked our tickets months in advance, such was my enthusiasm, and when the day finally rolled around I was so enthusiastic I arrived an hour early (but I bought some killer heels while I was killing time so it all worked out for the best). Program in hand, and safely ensconced in our stall seats, I braced myself for the leotards, chorus shoes and kick lines I’d been dreaming about.

 

Admittedly we did see a matinee, and it was very early on in the season, but I left feeling very disappointed. 

A case of too much anticipation getting in the way of objectivity? No, I don’t think so. Here’s my critique (such as it is being several months after the event)…

• The Director’s voice-overs were terrible. He sounded flat, bored, and for the first part of the show I actually thought they’d been pre-recorded. There was no engagement in the dialogue, and it sounded as though he could care less about the answers to the questions he was asking. I guess maybe he was cast for his dancing ability and not his acting.
• The choreography was dated and formulaic. I realise that the choreographer was one of the original A Chorus Line performers and she was drawing on history but in this day and age I thought a dance show could have benefited from some new ideas and fresher moves.
• The Music and the Mirror dance number was below average. The song is all about how great a dancer Cassie is – so you expect a dynamic, captivating performance. I thought instead that the performer was holding back (perhaps like me she has difficulty keeping balance in chorus shoes and didn’t want to slip over). I wanted a Catherine-Zeta-Jones-In-Chicago-like effort, and I got marking it.
• Finally, the much anticipated Dance 10, Looks 3 – more like Dance 7, Looks 5, Singing 2. This is meant to be a sassy belt and sounded more like a whimper. And I didn’t think the actress looked like she’d had work done or understood why anyone would.

Sigh.

 

Okay, it wasn't all bad. Paul's monologue was beautifully delivered, the costumes were gorgeous and exactly what I expected, and the staging was minimal but utilised mirrors wonderfully.

 

So does all this ranting have a point? Yes. When I heard that this same production had won a prestigious Helpmann I was gobsmacked. But then I looked at the list of nominees:

• An Officer and a Gentleman – probably one of the biggest flops in Australian-premiered musical history
• Rock of Ages – which did so badly in Melbourne it didn’t even make it to Sydney
• Grey Gardens – never even heard of it.

Right, so perhaps it was a case of the best of a bad bunch. I can’t say that any of the others were better as I didn’t see them (because An Officer and a Gentleman had such bad reviews and because Rock of Ages didn’t make it to Sydney and because I’d never heard of Grey Gardens), but I felt saddened that this was the selection this year’s judges had to choose from.

 

Fingers crossed that the 2012-13 crop of musical theatre brings more choice, not just for the judges but also for my theatre group.

Side By Side (apologies to Mr Sondheim)

In my last (and technically first) piece I talked about the similarities between the Belvoir and STC 2013 Season line-ups. In the hopes of determining who to subscribe to, I have decided to analyse the plays side-by-side. Here goes…

STC	Belvoir
The Secret River Adaptation of a (Booker prize-winning) book by Kate Grenville, directed by Neil Armfield (former Belvoir artistic director) The first show of the 2013 Season, the story follows convict’s journey to the Hawkesbury where he encounters the Dharug people, unwilling to give up their land. A glimpse into Australia’s dark history, and persecution of the indigenous population.	Peter Pan Adaptation of a (very famous) book by JM Barrie, directed by Ralph Myers (current Belvoir artistic director) The first show of the 2013 Season, the story follows a boy’s journey to Neverland, where he encounters the Lost Boys (to whom Myers hopes to draw a parallel with Australia’s stolen generation). A glimpse into Australia’s dark history, and persecution of the indigenous population.
Mrs Warren’s Profession Starring Helen Thomson, a likely reinvention* of a George Bernard Shaw classic. A woman working her way to independence and a top career finds out her education was bankrolled by a prostitute – her mother. Written in 1893, but not performed until 1925 because of its content, the play deals with class, love and lust. *Guessing due to the fact that the ‘dress-up’ spectrum of the play as indicated by the infographic representing each production is relatively small	Miss Julie Starring Brendan Cowell, a reinvention of Strindberg’s classic. A woman, born into privilege, uses sex to gain power and independence. She partners with Jean (poor but ambitious) to achieve her goals. Written in 1888, while not banned it dealt with the controversial topic of sex outside marriage and class, love and lust.
The Maids Starring Cate Blanchett and Isabelle Huppert in a reworking of a French play by Jean Genet. Two maids fantasise about killing their employer, while dressing up in her outfits, imitating one another in a series of ‘performances’. Written in 1947. Billed as “one of the theatre events of the year”, it features 2 strong female leads.	Persona Based on the film by Ingmar Bergman, a massive hit in Melbourne in 2012. An actress, who falls suddenly dumb, is sent to the seaside to recover. Her nurse begins to speak to her. Reviewed as one of the best theatrical productions of 2012, it features two strong female leads.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead Starring Tim Minchin and Toby Schmitz Tom Stoppard’s comedy which follows two characters from Hamlet – Rosencrantz and Guildenstern.	Cat on a Hot Tin Roof Starring Ewen Leslie and Jacqui McKenzie, directed by Simon Stone (who delivered 2012’s hit Death of a Salesman). An American classic, with heat at its heart.
Romeo and Juliet One of Shakespeare’s most famous plays, given a youthful treatment by Kip Williams (who directed 2012’s physically driven Under Milkwood). Likely to be a very watchable production, especially given Williams’ deft touch with poetry (evidenced by Under Milkwood).	Hamlet One of Shakespeare’s most famous plays, given the Simon Stone treatment (who directed 2012’s beautifully stylised Strange Interlude) Starring one of the hottest acting properties around – Toby Schmitz – this could go either way (due to Stone’s sometimes controversial reinventionist approach), but is likely to be a big hit.
Waiting for Godot Starring Richard Roxburgh and Hugo Weaving, directed by Tamas Ascher (who worked with both stars on the highly successful Uncle Vanya). A play about nothing. Or waiting. Or God. Depends on your point of view really. Modern classic.	Angels in America (Parts 1 & 2) A massive undertaking of both shows, billed as “the newest classic in the canon”. A comedy about heaven and earth, past and future. Directed by Eamon Flack, who works well with both classic and modern texts.

Okay, well that's just made my job harder. There's nothing else for it. Additional assistance is required. To the pub!