Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me

Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me
West East Theatre
10 May 2009
fortyfive downstairs

An American, an Irishman and an Englishman walk into Beirut and find themselves locked in cell together for four and a half years.

Based on real events, Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me is the premiere production of West East Theatre, formed by Trent Baker and Richard Stables. This internationally awarded work by Irish dramatist Frank McGuinness is an obvious choice for actors wanting something hearty to grow facial hair for and, at nearly three hours, this piece of black, gritty realism is an actor’s dream script – but, as a watcher, I felt left out.

Someone Who’ll Watch Over Me explores how Adam (Stables), Edward (Baker) and Michael (Ezra Bix) survive their brutal incarceration. The cellar-like atmosphere of fortyfive downstairs is the perfect venue to create a sense of dank claustrophobia, so I wonder why the design made the place look so big and airy. It’s hard to feel their lack of space when the windows behind them make the cell look endless and the wall of light is a joke once it’s broken. As the cell felt too big, the captors lacked threat. There wasn’t a sense of “them” – their abductors – and the work could just as easily have been three blokes stuck in a cellar waiting for the zombies or the aliens to move away from the door.

I want to know why this was a story for me. I’m aware that I’m not a middle-aged man locked away, but this is a work that freely explores abandonment, frustration, boredom, hatred, family, love, friendship, freedom and loyalty – all of which are for me – and everyone else. The interpretation seemed so caught up in being real, that the big picture, the universality, was missing. The direction and performances seemed to concentrate on the micro of each scene, even each line, so that that the macro was lost. It didn’t take long to be able to predict the earnest hand gestures, the conscious pace and rhythm, or the moment when a performer would actively look away – because he’d stared too long at another actor and that wasn’t natural.

Each scene was so meticulously created, that it lessened the impact of the work as a whole. When music was unexpectedly used to underline emotion, it distracted from the emotion, as it had no place in the world already created for us and had not been established as part of the language. The night seemed so much about the performances, that the story was secondary. Even if they were the greatest performances ever; if we’re just admiring actors, rather than watching characters we care about and being drawn into their world – what is the point?

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

The Delusionist

The Delusionist
La Mama
9 May 2009
La Mama Theatre

Director, Lauren Clair, and performer, Curtis Fernandez, developed The Delusionist as a response to well known contemporary communications that were monitored, edited and interpreted for us by media. The concept is great, but I’m not sure that it’s a piece of theatre.

Dressed in a formal tuxedo, Fernandez deconstructs “speeches” by presenting them out of context as just their words. Among others, we get to hear George Bush’s response to the 911 attacks, Robert Farquharson’s interview with the police (after he escaped, but sons died after their car drove into a damn), our Nicole’s Oscar acceptance and our Kylie’s pop hit “Locomation”.

It’s fascinating to hear these words again, but without the passion, conviction and emotion of the original telling, they all felt kind of flat (yes, even “Locomotion”!) and as most were well known, or at least their speakers were, I immediately filled in the original context.

I was searching for some connection between the choices. Some were written, some were conversations or interviews, one was from a book, one was a mime and one was written by Stock, Aitken and Waterman for a soap starlet. There were only three that I would classify as a “speech”. The best connection I could come up with was that they were known to a certain type of middle aged, middle class urbanite who might regularly attend La Mama. As for ending with a “speech” from the dramaturge’s play - it just didn’t make sense, as it had no context for the audience to relate to and felt a bit like it was trying to show us what a “good” speech was.

Intellectualising aside, Fernandez’s performance is enjoyable, appealing and a lot of fun, but I couldn’t figure out what I was meant to be watching.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

The Keeper

The Keeper
La Mama

9 May 2009, season
La Mama Theatre

Never doubt the power of simple, evocative story telling. Like the best bedtime story or campfire yarn, The Keeper gently lulls us into a beautiful, mysterious world and never leaves out the scary or the sad bits.

Chrissie Shaw and Penelope Bartlau developed a tale about the desolate life endured by families on Australian lighthouse islands. This life is viscerally created with a bath of white sea-salt rocks, found objects, undecorated Matryoshka (Russian nesting) dolls and Connie.

As the trusted narrator, Shaw tells us Connie’s story, with tales of loss, hope, danger, despair and acceptance. Shaw is the only person on the stage, who never asks or expects us to watch her perform; but helps us to travel to the islands and discover their secrets for ourselves. The skill of amazing narration is to be forgotten, and it’s Shaw’s strength and consistency that let us care about a non-descript wooden doll.

Director Bartlau creates depth and impact through the simplicity of the objects and puppets. The Keeper is never about re-creating a storm or death, but about giving us the essence of each experience, so that we can create the emotion for ourselves. The striking poignancy of a handful of red rocks is enough to create a silence that is only worn away by the wave-like sound of the moving salt rocks.

This is theatre that respects its audience and trusts in the power and originality of the watchers’ imaginations.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Optimism

Optimism
Malthouse Theatre, Edinburgh International Festival, Sydney Theatre Company and Sydney Festival
30 May 2009
Merlyn Theatre, CUB Malthouse

When the next generation of theatre writers wax lyrical about Australian Theatre in the mid- to late-noughties, the Kantor-Malthouse style will not be forgotten. Since 2004, Kantor has led Playbox to Malthouse and invigorated one of Australia’s favourite companies.

Kantor’s style is to re-fashion a classic work with a very-now re-write, cast a well-known performer (preferably not an actor) alongside some very experienced ones (preferably with names like Barry, Alison and Francis) and some great newcomers, throw in a collection of songs from Kantor’s CD collection and hope that Anna Tregloan can design it. Sometimes it works a treat (Sleeping Beauty) and other times I’m left wondering (Woyzeck).

In Optimism, Voltaire’s Candide gets the Tom Wright script treatment; Frank Woodley is the outsider; Otto, Whyte and Greenslade are on board; 40-somethings cringe because we know the words to Haysi Fantaysee’s “Shiny Shiny” and growl because the program notes didn’t list the right name of The Go-Between’s song; and Tregloan let the stage fly with a wonderful use of giant fans and plastic curtains.

All the top-notch ingredients are there, but I was still left wondering.

The songs are a hoot and the performances worthy of Australia’s Got Talent - but do they serve the story? The mix-tape of contemporary music in Sleeping Beauty showed character and moved the story, but here they felt like they were chosen for their joke value, or to let an unused cast member sing, or to prove that Barry Otto knows he can’t dance. The took us away of the story and each time it was harder to come back to a point of empathy and caring.

Story telling is about caring. Now I’ve loved Frank Woodley since he was a Found Object back in the 80s and find myself singing his “get on the bus” ad each time I get on a tram. ‘”Frank” is one of our great comic characters and was the ideal cho ice for the optimistic and confused Candide. But it’s still Frank. Frank talks to the audience, improvises beautifully, causes his fellow-performers to giggle and lets us all laugh at the fun he’s having – but then it’s back to the “play”, and it’s still Frank we’re watching, not Candide. It’s hardto care about Candide, when we know it’s Frank playing. Woodley is a terrific performer and I would love to have seen what Optimism could have been if he’d been given some really strong direction and been made to leave Frank outside with a pile of comics and one of those never-ending packets of Tim Tams.

No artistic director will ever please us all or get it right every time. I don’t like every decision Kantor makes for Malthouse, but I love that he takes risks, nurtures our independent companies and lets some incredible artists shine. What frustrates me is that I can see what he wants his shows to be. I can see the thought process, the ideas, the research and the intelligence behind his choices, but too often the amazing show that is running in his head, isn’t running on the stage.

Optimism is off to the Edinburgh International Festival in August and will be at the Sydney Festival next year. Works like this need time with audiences to settle and develop, so of course I’m optimistic that the festival audiences are in for a treat and hope that I get the chance to see what it becomes.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

A Little Night Music

A Little Night Music
Opera Australia
15 May 2009
State Theatre, the Arts Centre

I had never seen a full production of A Little Night Music until now and Opera Australia’s version has supported my wonder at the Stephen Sondheim’s mastery, but it wasn’t this production that convinced me of its greatness.

As a remount of the original 1973 Broadway production (directed by Hal Prince), Opera Australia’s version is worth seeing for the historical value. The gorgeous and slightly ironic design still colours and supports the work perfectly and the evening lets us see how fulfilling and rewarding A Little Night Music can, and should, be.

Sondheim tears through to our souls and grasps the real emotions that drive us. A Little Night Music is about lust, passion and love. Act 1 oozes sex: Madame Armfeldt tells her granddaughter how she shagged kings, Désirée Armfeldt laughs with her old lover about her latest lover’s talents, the married Charlotte and Carl-Magnus Malcolm freely chat about his lover – and that’s a mere scratch of the surface. Everyone’s action is driven by their sexual desires and wants, even of its fear of sex or remembering what it once was - but everyone is with the wrong person - Charlotte and Ann confide, everyday is “A Little Death” as “Love’s disgusting, Love’s insane, A humiliating business”. Act 2 lets the need for love take over and this is where Sondheim’s remarkable knowledge into human motivation takes hold. This is in the music, in the lyrics and in the book – I just wish I’d seen more of it on the stage. For all the talent, what was missing was the lust, passion and love.

Conductor Andrew Greene is the star of the production, pitching and controlling the music to sustain and pace the emotion of the work, in a way not fully reflected in the performances. Vocally, the well-trained and experienced cast are ideal, with the mix of opera and music theatre voices adding a curious dimension to the characters. The refreshing and contrasting vocal qualities of Lucy Maunder (Ann) and Kate Maree Hoolihan (Petra) are especially welcome.

However, the inspired casting is Sigrid Thornton as Désirée. Thornton is by no means a singer, and never pretends that she is. Dramatically and emotionally she is on another level to the rest of the cast (with the exception of Nancye Hayes, whose Madame Armfeldt is perfect). Désirée is the character who we care about and the one who we believe. Thornton approaches her songs as her character and this is what nails it every time. It doesn’t matter if she barely sings “Send in the Clowns”, because she shows the irony of Désirée’s bitter hurt, regret and despair.

This thorough approach to character was missing elsewhere. There is no emotional consistency on the stage, as everyone seems to have their own interpretation of the work, especially with the male casting. Not one man on that stage let me believe that they were faintly interested in these women, let alone that they wanted them naked or that they loved them.

A Sondheim song is as powerful and enlightening as a Shakespeare soliloquy. We are privileged to see the hidden feelings of the characters; their secret thoughts and dilemmas that they would never tell anyone else. Early in Act 1, Fredrik considers “ravishing” (today we’d say raping) his teenage, virgin wife (who is terrified of sex); while Henrik, his depressed (and suicidal) son, despairs about his “intolerable” life, as he his dismissed by everyone who should love him. It’s not just about singing it well – it’s about showing us the raw emotion of the character.

I loved Stuart Maunder’s direction of The Pirates of Penzance, as it captured the fun and overall joke of Gilbert and Sullivan’s work. But you don’t direct, perform or even compare G & S to Sondheim. The heart of Sondheim is the drama and passion of complex, damaged souls. It’s filled with irony and comedy (it even reflects a French farce) – but it’s never a joke.

I wondered if I was being overly critical of a production that really does have a lot of marvellous aspects to it, until Google found me a YouTube clip of Sondheim directing an actor (his words) singing Henrik’s “Later”. I’m not comfortable comparing our national opera company’s production to a short YouTube video – but in a few minutes, Sondheim himself showed me how this production missed the mark.

Opera Australia is our funded, supported flagship opera company. With the astonishing artistic talent and skill available, and the ongoing support of audiences and funding bodies, this company should be consistently creating the best productions in the country and I shouldn’t find a YouTube video more emotionally rewarding.



This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Teuila Postcards

Teuila Postcards
Polytoxic and Arts House
13 May 2009
North Melbourne Town Hall

Polytoxic’s collection of cheesy Teuila Postcards finds the satire in a glorious trip to picturesque, idyllic Samoa.

Created and performed by Brisbane-based Efeso Fa’anana, Lisa Fa’alafi and Leah Shelton (Polytoxic), combine Polynesian, contemporary and street dance with a sketch show style of intelligent comedy.

As we jump on board our bargain holiday to Samoa (or anywhere in the South Pacific or, for that matter, anywhere out of our social/cultural comfort zone), Teuila Postcards dazzles us with its gorgeousness and gently reveals the subtle (and not so subtle) racism that island visitors bring with them.

Of course, no one in the audience would ever judge, laugh at or criticise someone for their difference – unless they’re from Tonga. As Melbournians crave Sydney jokes and Australians rib the Kiwis, Samoans love a good Tonga joke – and so do we. Even if we don’t get the inherent cultural subtleties of these jokes, we love to laugh along with them, because we all like an inclusive giggle about difference. Yep, Polytoxic make their point very well.

For all its delightful colour and quirk, this trip explores issues beyond the standard western-tourist fascination with islands, such as being a Fa’fafine (Samoan male, who has been brought up and behaves like a woman) or a white islander. At times, the content is a bit obvious, but the unexpected is never far away, and the performers’ appeal smoothes any rough edges.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Romeo and Juliet

Romeo and Juliet
Eagle’s Nest Theatre
16 May 2009
Northcote Town Hall

Eagle’s Nest Theatre give inexperienced and emerging actors the opportunity to get their teeth into some significant works and substantial roles, they bring new experimental works to the stage, and they perform VCE texts so that students get the chance to experience a a real play. Naturally, Shakespeare always gets a run and Romeo and Juliet is the Nest’s current hatchling.

For all that is great about this company, for their support of local artists, their passion and their determination, this Romeo and Juliet falls short.

Shakespeare is still performed today because his stories are some of the best every told. His reflection of human nature, of dilemma and of consequences is what all storytellers strive for. Each day there are experienced professionals destroying Shakespeare, because it’s so hard to get right. Productions with, generally, young and inexperienced casts, deserve a lot of forgiveness but this type of casting only works when there is a clear and shared vision for the production and a very strong director to guide them.

This Verona is Mod V Rockers 60s UK, but the interpretation went no further than costume and some fun-for-the-cast dances. The 60s culture and attitude didn’t permeate any other aspect of the production and I didn’t believe that their different music choices embodied any ancient and bitter rivalries. It may have been more authentic to have a more neutral setting in order to focus on the story.

There were many Direction 101 hints that could tighten the story and create the pace that was missing. Entrances and exits were sloppy and Act 2 lost tension simply because each scene started too early and ended too late. The drama is there, slowing the pace and extending the moments is what loses it.

Performance wise, everyone needed help with where to address soliloquies (the spot on the floor technique didn’t work), and the miming gestures should have been tempered, because we know what thrust, teat and even vessel mean, and “love’s light wings” – one of the most beautiful phrases ever written – never deserves little arm flaps.

I saw this show on what may have been their worst performance, as there was a very loud drag show next door. Every soul on that stage deserves a big hug and an even bigger drink for just getting though. Juliet especially, for, as she poisoned herself, we heard a queen singing (I swear this is true), “If I can’t have you, I don’t want nobody baby”. However, Romeo and Juliet is such a story that nothing should be able to distract us and this production needs to stop trying to be so original in order to concentrate on understanding and telling the story.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Constance Yorkshire

Constance Yorkshire
Eagle’s Nest Theatre
23 May 2009
Northcote Town Hall

In a week where even I actively watched an A Current Affair interview (thank you Tracy Grimshaw), a work like Constance Yorkshire is a curious reflection of our obsession with watching crims, freaks and bogans and hearing their side of the story.

Local playwright Graham Downey has set his story in an 1890 Melbourne theatre, where entrepreneur Mr George Risley (Phil Roberts) is presenting an evening in conversation with Miss Constance Yorkshire (Jess Hackett), recently acquitted of murdering the Lamb family. As interviewer and narrator, Riseley mixes questions with exposition to tell Miss Yorkshire’s tale. With her (recently deceased) father’s unstable four-storey house, her dad’s quirky inventions, a nail in Mr Lamb’s head and an unescapable fire, there’s plenty to wonder about.

The whodunit mystery of the evening is played well with an Agatha Christie deduction style of clues. However, it’s clear that Risley knows the truth and is going to tell us, which takes away one of the cornerstones of great mystery story telling. The best mysteries are a three-way race between the audience (reader/viewer), the protagonist and the writer to reveal the truth. A red herring, a credible alternative theory or reasonable doubt about Risley might help to keep the narrative moving forward and the audience on the edge of their seats.

However, the heart of this story is the parallel mystery of why Risley is presenting Miss Yorkshire. Is he doing it to prove the court wrong, expose the true culprit or cash in on Yorkshire’s celebrity? As he knows the truth of the deaths, we wonder if it’s really about Charlotte, and, as she is consistently indignant, argumentative and stubborn (she reminds me of Shane Paxton), we really have to wonder why.

Unfortunately, this part of the story isn’t clear until the end and, by then, it feels a bit too deus ex machina-convenient. With a script that is so dialogue and exposition heavy, the characters need to tell and show us their story – not expecting us to listen to all of the words. So, if Risley’s motives are in then text, it’s too easy to miss them, which leaves the performers and directors (Roberts co-directed the work with Shannon Woollard) with a world of subtext to play with. There was a noticeable and well-directed change of status between Risley and Yorkshire that helped to tweak our curiosity, but not enough of the subtle status and power shifts to make us really begin to question what was going on.

The relationship between George and Charlotte needs to be the core of the story, leaving the mystery as the subplot and comic diversion of the evening. Roberts is a compelling performer, but sometimes needed to be a detached narrator by stepping back and letting the story belong to Charlotte, especially early in the work when the audience are deciding if they care about her and want to discover the truth. Hackett’s Yorkshire had some lovely moments, but needed more light and shade. Her sustained anger wasn’t credible, as it didn’t show us why she decided to be there in the first place, if she cared what the audience believed or what she thought about the man letting her tell her tale. And both performers needed to react to the each other. Too often, it felt like they were listening for their cue, rather than letting the characters listen to what the other was saying and reacting to what they heard.

These issues usually iron our over time, but short seasons and short rehearsals too often leave terrific shows faltering before they take off. I hope that Eagle’s Nest Theatre are able to let Constance Yorkshire have another run, as it could soar.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.