Adam J A Cass
17 April 2008
fortyfivedownstairs
Some people can chose the right words, then put them in an order that makes your insides stir. Adam Cass writes beautifully. And he understands how to use beautifully arranged words to create engaging and moving theatre. Oasis, Oasis is his most recent work. This production deserves to be seen and loved.
Before the show even begins, the audience move into an intimate, warm and gentle atmosphere. Creating this in the large, and potentially distracting, space at fortyfive downstairs is an achievement. Lighting (Lisa Mibus), design (Amy Feiner) and live music (Amanda Medica and Andrew Crosbie) combine to maintain this sense of welcome throughout even the darkest moments of the piece.
Have you ever watched someone cry on train and looked away? Or found yourself crying on a train? There’s a strange freedom of being totally anonymous in a crowded, public place. What would happen if someone was brave enough to ask if you’re OK? Then followed you off the train?
Cass finds the poetic and the theatric in unexpected places. This story is set in a crowded peak hour train, busy city streets and the top of a high building. Yet we never hear the noise or feel the crowded frustration. We are clearly in the lonely minds and empty hearts of the two characters.
There’s nothing original about Maude and Penelope. They have the same problems seen on daily TV soap. But they are authentic and alive because we recognize ourselves in them. This quite remarkable writing exposes the universal (and/or the archetypal) in their ordinary existence and ordinary problems. There’s nothing unique about heartbreak, loneliness and despised jobs, but we care about these characters because we recognise the feeling of pointless grief and our inability to escape from its hurt.
At the same time, these women face genuine problems. They act and they change. With a subtle, constant tension of mystery and confusion, Cass confronts our expectations by making us doubt their truth, doubt their sanity and even doubt their reality. His language is gorgeous, but the words would collapse without the intricate and strong supporting structure.
Past and present effortlessly merge, as the inner thoughts and outer actions of the women. It’s like lava lamp. The heavy purple of the past sits within the fluid blue present. They never mix, always change and create a much more enchanting whole together. Luckily, Cass writes better metaphors than I do. His imagery is distinct and heavy, but it’s so natural for grief to dance in his world.
There’s also a lot of comedy in this script, but it’s getting lost. I found the same thing in his last work I Love You Bro The humour is deliciously dark. A 75% bitter-sweet dark chocolate isn’t as widely loved as a caramel filled bear-like-marsupial-shaped chocolate, but it’s sophisticated taste goes a long way and it’s really much better for you. There seems a resistance to laugh out loud at this type of humour. Jokes don’t have to have a punch line and laughter pause.
Cass also directed Oasis Oasis. When a writer directs their own work, it offers a rare chance to really see the playwright’s vision and intent. His direction is nearly as beautiful as his writing. His knowledge of his own work gives a clarity and depth to every element of the production. The vision is supported through the design, the performers know their characters, the pace is superb and the music is as close to perfect as live music can be in a play. However, one day, I would really like to see how a more distant and less attached director sees this script. Sometimes a stranger can see so much more in a piece of writing than the author intended.
Sarah Hamilton and Katie Astrinakis clearly love this work. It is a joy to see actors loving their characters and sharing the vision of the director and writer. Both performances need to settle though. I could see too much acting and technique. This will change as the run continues and they trust that their rich performances and the magic words are reaching the audience.
Oasis, Oasis captures of the loop of loneliness, failed relationships and hated jobs is almost sublime, yet it lets us soar out of the misery into a place where happiness is possible. This is beautiful, beautiful theatre.
Independent theatre makers usually don’t receive funding or subsidy or cash from any source than the box office. Adam Cass is performing a “one-off-one-night-only-one-one-man-show” called The Tom Rescue Monologue as a fundraiser to get I Love you Bro to the ‘08 Edinburgh Fringe. It’s on Sunday 20 April at 8pm, also at fortyfivedownstairs. Entry is by donation.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
