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/

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