Mini review: POINT8SIX

POINT8SIX
La Mama
17 February 2016
La Mama
to 21 February
amama.com.au

Adam Cass. Photo by Jason Cavanagh

Tim Wotherspoon writes mind-twisting, hilarious sci-fi that makes his audience continually re-think everything they've seen.

POINT8SIX starts as a time-travel story that breaks the rules about time travel, the future and the past – I think. With East Berlin, human robots, 1970s albums, David Bowie, hints of bright orange, and time that loops like a spirograph, trying to keep up with the plot is a trip in itself – just don't forget to sit back and enjoy the Absurd comedy.

Directed by Kirsten Von Bibra, the pace matches the rhythm of the script and the cast (Wotherpoon, Adam Cass, Brianagh Curran, Matt Furlaini, Amy Jones and Yvette de Ravin Turner) understand the sci-fi and mystery, but leave it up to the audience to find the truth.

It finishes this weekend at La Mama, but I'm sure we'll see it again.

MELBOURNE FRINGE: Bock Kills Her Father

Bock Kills Her Father
20 September 2015
La Mama
to 27 September
melbournefringe.com.au

Written by Adam JA Cass as part of his Masters in Playwriting at VCA Bock Kills Her Father is a frighteningly powerful exploration of the space between the pain and comfort of violence.

Stephanie Bock arrives in a small town to find the father she never met. When she meets three local young women, they take her to his house where his new girlfriend – younger than the women and probably as old as Bock's mum when she got pregnant – answers the door and says he's not home.

With a cast who never let the tension drop and hold onto their characters' secrets for as long as possible, allegiances change and it's easy to understand – if not support – why these women believe that violence and pain are the only choices.

MELBOURNE FRINGE: fractured

fractured
15 September 2015
Club Voltaire
to 20 September
melbournefringe.com.au

fractured  is a dystopian future where children think they're safe but know they aren't.

Adam J A  Cass's script about the named and the unnamed is furious about living in a country and world where children can't feel safe and are dying for the sake of political wins, fear and greed.

It's relevant and dark (and the bunker design uses the space brilliantly) but the direction, although equally passionate, feels forced and doesn't let the script speak for itself or give the audience the chance to see the truth before it’s told to them. Subtle can be stronger than intense.

Review: One Is Warm In Winter, The Other Has A Better View

One Is Warm In Winter, The Other Has A Better View
Platform Youth Theatre
6 December 2009
fortyfivedownstairs

We try not to talk about faith, belief or religion at dinner parties because we don’t want to cause arguments. And for subjects that are mostly based on love and the creation of a better world, it’s always brave to state what you really believe or question the faith of others. Platform Youth Theatre have been asking questions and exploring their own beliefs over the past months. One Is Warm In Winter, The Other Has A Better View is the result.

Working in workshops with writer Adam J A Cass and director Caitlin Dullard, the company has developed a beautiful, open and honest look at faith. Opening with a Jewish and a Muslim narrator who claim they intend to insult everyone and force the audience to reassess the foundations of our own faith, the work thankfully doesn’t insult any belief.

Working with an allegorical story about an apple orchard in a valley that could be nourishing or poisonous, the imagery of climbing and falling and seeing and not seeing allow for a remarkably complex and surprisingly beautiful and poetic discussion of faith or the lack of.

Many opinions are present, but none define the work. The capacity to hate is as extreme as the capacity to love and accept and believe. Cass’s voice can clearly be heard in the controlled language, but he has allowed the opinions of cast to control the content.

Using the full open space of fortyfivedownstairs, Tanja Beer’s design of apples creates an endless space that flows with the magic realism of the script and its combination of fresh, bruised and rotting fruit parallels the script, while creating an imagery of its own – and uses the space perfectly.

On the Platform Youth web site, cast member Lewi writes why he loves everyone involved in the project. If an exploration about faith and religion can create love, well perhaps we should be discussing it more.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

You’re Not The Boss of Me

You’re Not The Boss of Me
La Mama
7 July 2009
La Mama Courthouse

You’re Not The Boss Of Me opens with two children playing Bonka in a red cage. Bonka is everything. We don’t know what it is, we don’t know why they are there, but we fear the worst and hope for the best.

Director Adam J A Cass says in his program notes that he’s sucked in by theatre that surprises, stays one step ahead and doesn’t spoon feed. No wonder he jumped at the chance to direct Natasha Jacobs’ script.

You’re Not The Boss Of Me plays with playing and we hope the physical cage is a metaphor. We try to find the truth amongst the tricks, teases, games and dreams, then try to avoid it when we see it. Jacobs excels at creating unease and discomfort by only letting us glimpse the truth as it plays hide and seek in the story and in our understanding. She knows that what we imagine is so much more powerful than what we are told.

Jacobs knows every nuance of her script and her performance as the girl is riveting. This girl doesn’t want to drop her mask of control, not even to her only friend and hope, and it’s a rare performer that let’s the character keep her control, while letting the audience see the horror and fear that created the mask. Sam Hall, as her friend, equals Jacobs’ energy and gently reveals his character’s reality as his innocence slips away and he is forced to take control.

Cass’ direction is paced perfectly. The first act is full of movement, fun and hope that it’s all just a game, while the second act almost stills to a halt, as the hints of truth can no longer be hidden and the tension becomes beautifully uncomfortable. Directing actors to perform as children can be more difficult than directing children. If either performer were allowed to fall into the unforgiveable cliché of a comic child, the impact would be lost. He lets the children play, while bringing an adult understanding that the reasons for their play are complex and hidden.

The design team (Luke Stokes – set, Richard Vabre – lighting, Camilla McKewan – costume and Brooke Taylor – sound) create the unsettling caged world the children play in. The design lets the audience feel slightly confused, but, like the script, is open to many interpretations.

Unfortunately, the season has ended, but this is a work that deserves to be seen again.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Eric

MELBOURNE FRINGE 2008

Eric

Vicious Fish Theatre

10 October 2008

Dancing Dog Cafe

Eric is one of those Fringe shows that was over before people began to hear about it.

With  content as diverse as reality TV pitches (Are you sexier than a fifth grader?), a speed dater who brings his own semen sample, and a Bond villain despairing that his minons dipped his echidnas in poison, Eric is sure to tickle most funny bones – while finding some unexpected new ticklish spots.

Eric is an experiment in form that started when Scott Gooding wanted to do a character comedy, but couldn’t come up with a solid idea for one character. Fortunately, he forged ahead by asking his favourite playwrights to contribute scenes, and the one person sketch show emerged.

Fortunately, he also called upon the directing talent of Scott Brennan. Best known for his work on television sketch shows, Brennan combines the tightness of TV sketch with the freedom, spontaneity and intimacy of theatre. With some clever structuring and measured pacing, he reins in Gooding’s excessive tendencies and knows when to let him loose.

Gooding’s comfortable physicality and genuine likability makes for a thoroughly enjoyable evening, and his performance demonstrates a mightily impressive comic range. All of his characters are unique, authentic and recognisable, and at times it was easy to forget that there was only one person performing. His uncanny channelling of a blow up doll is almost haunting and no one who sees Eric will ever be able to book a brothel appointment without picturing him in a blonde wig.

With ten different playwrights (including Adam J A Cass, Robert Reid and Ben McKenzie), the comedy includes physical, joke, character, commentary, word play and a sobering dash of absurdist black. The Scotts successfully maintain and balance the different voices, without ever letting the differing styles and forms distract from the overall experience.

The Dancing Dog Café in Footscray is a terrific space for a show, but it meant that Eric missed the spontaneous ticket purchases at the Fringe hub or a better known venue. Hopefully Eric will return, because he deserves to be widely seen and welcome some adoring minions of his own.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com

I Love You, Bro

I Love You, Bro
30 September 2007
The Loft

I Love You, Bro is an example of why Fringe festivals are so important. This is an outstanding production that lets us see what incredible skill lurks in Melbourne’s independent theatre community.

It’s a brave decision to write, direct and perform a show that is set in front of a computer screen. If you’ve ever sat staring at your Messenger willing someone will appear, you will recognise yourself in Johnny. I Love You, Bro explores deception, obsession and love though the vicarious existence and construction offered by the internet.

Adam J A Cass has written an amazing script. By breaking many storytelling conventions and structures, he has created an authentic voice and style that surpasses expectations and establishes a unique and thoroughly believable world. He combines Johnny’s present story telling, inner dialogue, chat conversations and real life interactions seamlessly. Knowing this is a true story and reading the Vanity Fair article it’s based on, makes me admire this work even more. Cass chose an original perspective and includes just the right amount of story detail. His addition of Johnny’s mother and step father as off stage characters bring an extra and more grounded dimension to the story. I’d like to see it published, as it’s one of those rare scripts that works on the stage, but also begs to be read. The text and structure are so complex that it runs the risk of failing as a performance. Fortunately it was placed in very capable hands.

Yvonne Virsik is firmly establishing herself as a must have young director. She finds the emotional truth of a work and gently guides her actors towards an honest and balanced version of their characters. Johnny is always in front of his computer screen, but Virsik’s staging maintains action and interest. It’s like the audience are watching Johnny and his thoughts from within cyber space.

Jason Lehane’s stark and simple design gently supports and highlights the action. I loved how it reminded audiences that this theatre, by looking like a painted back drop, but came to life by combining the relatively simple technology of lighting and projection.

Finally, there’s Ash Flanders. If he isn’t nominated for best actor in the Fringe Awards, I’ll be surprised. This is a difficult script to perform. The action is minimal, the text is vital and he has to morph from chatting to the audience in the present to chatting on the computer in the past, whist presenting his own multiple characters and Marky Mark, the target of Johnny’s love and deceit. Flanders brings each character vividly to life though Johnny. Johnny himself is played with a delicate balance of sympathy, understanding and judgement. Meanwhile Flanders connects totally and personally with the audience and never lets our attention wander.

My only concern is that the humour isn’t working as strongly as it should. I assumed it was pitch black comedy, but it often felt like straight drama. The audience took a long time to laugh and seemed almost uncomfortable when they did. The writing speaks so strongly about the emotional core of Johnny, that perhaps the audience need more permission to enjoy the humour. True comedy is only a faction of a millimetre away from tragedy; I Love You, Bro needs a small nudge back for the comedy to work.

This review originally appeared on AussieThearte.com