Red Stitch Actors Theatre
8 February 2017
Red Stitch
to 5 March
redstitch.net
 |
| Joe Petruzzi & Peter Houghton. Photo by Teresa Noble |
My review in The Age/SMH.
Mostly Melbourne theatre reviews
Showing posts with label Aidan Fennessy. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Aidan Fennessy. Show all posts
13 February 2017
Review: The Way Things Work
The Way Things Work
Red Stitch Actors Theatre
8 February 2017
Red Stitch
to 5 March
redstitch.net
My review in The Age/SMH.
Red Stitch Actors Theatre
8 February 2017
Red Stitch
to 5 March
redstitch.net
My review in The Age/SMH.
21 November 2012
Review: Music
Music
Melbourne Theatre Company
14 November 2012
Fairfax Studio, Arts Centre Melbourne
to 22 December
Music's another play about middle-aged, wealthy middle class academics who think their lives are empty, so it has to be in the MTC program.
Jack (Richard Piper) is a retired 50- or 90-something academic who has weeks to live, his wife Margie (Janet Andreawartha) doesn't care and has a Schubert recital to prepare for, his doctor and friend Max (Paul English) is shagging Margie and asking Jack for feedback on his short stories, and Jack's brother Peter (Robert Menzies) is a miserable Catholic priest who hasn't seen Jack in three years. There's ranting about the dumbing down of the English department, affairs, grief over a child, the accidental description of the quilt from a lover's marital bed in the writing given to the cuckolded husband, and everyone decides that it's time to tell the truth about things that really don't matter when you or someone you sorta like has days to live.
As Billy Connolly describes dull folk as beige wearers, Music wears a beige elastic-waisted fleece pant with a matching cardi.
With writing that brings attention to itself with atrociously awkward alliteration and rhymes that even students from the dumbed down English/Cultural Studies department would roll their eyes at, it's a story made from cliches worthy of a daytime soap. No, I take that back, the melodrama of soap is addictive and surprising in its outrageous inventiveness. There's nothing unexpected in this tale.
Dull story choices aside, what's missing is the heart and relationships that make us care. Situation doesn't make character and exchanging smart-arse comments, well-read quotes and a Les Murray joke doesn't make dialogue. Relationships are made in the subtext, the things not said that say so much more than the chosen words. While each told secrets (that the other knew), the space between the characters was empty, which left them feeling no more complex than the jaded academic, out-of-love wife, miserable priest and wanna-be-writer doctor who appeared at the start.
Then there's the music. In the program notes, writer Barrry Oakley says the music's used "more or less" like in opera. My snobby reaction was to wonder if he'd ever been to an opera. Then I read on. Despite the Beyreuth and Wager references (Hitler liked him, you know), the writer jokes that he "couldn't sit though the entire Ring Cycle – all those hours and hours, days of music". At least that explains why the music is nothing like an opera and sounds and feels as inspired and relevant as a Top Twenty Tunes for Old Farts cassette from the bargin bin at Big W.
Over at Malthouse, there's another story about middle aged, wealthy, jaded academics. In Wild Surmise, he has cancer, she's had an affair. It's pretty much the same story, but this one soars.
This appeared on AussieTheatre.com
Photo by Jeff Busby
Melbourne Theatre Company
14 November 2012
Fairfax Studio, Arts Centre Melbourne
to 22 December
Music's another play about middle-aged, wealthy middle class academics who think their lives are empty, so it has to be in the MTC program.
Jack (Richard Piper) is a retired 50- or 90-something academic who has weeks to live, his wife Margie (Janet Andreawartha) doesn't care and has a Schubert recital to prepare for, his doctor and friend Max (Paul English) is shagging Margie and asking Jack for feedback on his short stories, and Jack's brother Peter (Robert Menzies) is a miserable Catholic priest who hasn't seen Jack in three years. There's ranting about the dumbing down of the English department, affairs, grief over a child, the accidental description of the quilt from a lover's marital bed in the writing given to the cuckolded husband, and everyone decides that it's time to tell the truth about things that really don't matter when you or someone you sorta like has days to live.
As Billy Connolly describes dull folk as beige wearers, Music wears a beige elastic-waisted fleece pant with a matching cardi.
With writing that brings attention to itself with atrociously awkward alliteration and rhymes that even students from the dumbed down English/Cultural Studies department would roll their eyes at, it's a story made from cliches worthy of a daytime soap. No, I take that back, the melodrama of soap is addictive and surprising in its outrageous inventiveness. There's nothing unexpected in this tale.
Dull story choices aside, what's missing is the heart and relationships that make us care. Situation doesn't make character and exchanging smart-arse comments, well-read quotes and a Les Murray joke doesn't make dialogue. Relationships are made in the subtext, the things not said that say so much more than the chosen words. While each told secrets (that the other knew), the space between the characters was empty, which left them feeling no more complex than the jaded academic, out-of-love wife, miserable priest and wanna-be-writer doctor who appeared at the start.
Then there's the music. In the program notes, writer Barrry Oakley says the music's used "more or less" like in opera. My snobby reaction was to wonder if he'd ever been to an opera. Then I read on. Despite the Beyreuth and Wager references (Hitler liked him, you know), the writer jokes that he "couldn't sit though the entire Ring Cycle – all those hours and hours, days of music". At least that explains why the music is nothing like an opera and sounds and feels as inspired and relevant as a Top Twenty Tunes for Old Farts cassette from the bargin bin at Big W.
Over at Malthouse, there's another story about middle aged, wealthy, jaded academics. In Wild Surmise, he has cancer, she's had an affair. It's pretty much the same story, but this one soars.
This appeared on AussieTheatre.com
Photo by Jeff Busby
17 November 2011
Review: Return to Earth
Return to Earth
MTC
9 November 2011
Fairfax, the Arts Theatre
to 17 December
As 2011 gave playwright Lally Katz new productions at Malthouse, Belvoir Street and now the MTC, she may not the darling of our indie set any more. And while it's exciting to see her wonderfully dark and funny writing widely loved and appreciated, Return to Earth was left in orbit.
Katz's first main-stage MTC show isn't as black as some of her previous works. Her displaced seaside town is recognisable, but its darkness is lit by the safety of family and love. There's still sadness and mystery, but without the discomfort that I've come to expect from Katz.
Alice (Eloise Mignon) is welcomed home by her parents (Julie Forsyth and Kym Gyngell) who can see how much she knows people from her answers to Bert's Family Feud but have to remind her how to set the table and that her name used to be Erica. Her widowed brother, ill niece, childless best friend and new mechanic beau are more suspicious of her return.
Katz continues to create worlds as delicate and intricate as a handmade lace doily that's been attacked with a packet of Textas and used to wipe up the remains of a dead pet. For all their not-quite-rightness, her worlds make complete sense in their oddness. But while the cast, especially Forsyth and Gyngell, grasp her tone and rhythm, there's a sense that something is holding it back and keeping its dangers hidden.
This left it feeling less intimate than some of her other works; not tiny-stage intimacy, but the knowledge and connection with the characters that leaves us knowing them better than they know themselves. For all the spot-on performances, the characters felt like they were just being introduced to us and it was over before they had the chance to tell the stories they really wanted to tell.
This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com
MTC
9 November 2011
Fairfax, the Arts Theatre
to 17 December
As 2011 gave playwright Lally Katz new productions at Malthouse, Belvoir Street and now the MTC, she may not the darling of our indie set any more. And while it's exciting to see her wonderfully dark and funny writing widely loved and appreciated, Return to Earth was left in orbit.
Katz's first main-stage MTC show isn't as black as some of her previous works. Her displaced seaside town is recognisable, but its darkness is lit by the safety of family and love. There's still sadness and mystery, but without the discomfort that I've come to expect from Katz.
Alice (Eloise Mignon) is welcomed home by her parents (Julie Forsyth and Kym Gyngell) who can see how much she knows people from her answers to Bert's Family Feud but have to remind her how to set the table and that her name used to be Erica. Her widowed brother, ill niece, childless best friend and new mechanic beau are more suspicious of her return.
Katz continues to create worlds as delicate and intricate as a handmade lace doily that's been attacked with a packet of Textas and used to wipe up the remains of a dead pet. For all their not-quite-rightness, her worlds make complete sense in their oddness. But while the cast, especially Forsyth and Gyngell, grasp her tone and rhythm, there's a sense that something is holding it back and keeping its dangers hidden.
This left it feeling less intimate than some of her other works; not tiny-stage intimacy, but the knowledge and connection with the characters that leaves us knowing them better than they know themselves. For all the spot-on performances, the characters felt like they were just being introduced to us and it was over before they had the chance to tell the stories they really wanted to tell.
01 July 2011
Review: The Joy of Text
The Joy of Text
MTC
15 June 2011
Fairfax Studio, the Arts Centre
to 23 July
www.mtc.com.au
As if I'm not going to love a work that opens with someone looking for their Fowler's*, literally reminds us that satire is meant to be funny and references the Electra story, the Demidenko debacle and the disturbing semiotics of Prince Caspian. The text of Robert Reid's The Joy of Text is indeed a joy and I loved it all the more for its over-educated, middle-class (sorry Rob) literary references and its grammar pedantness.
It's also a disturbing reflection on the contextualisation of sexual consent. In a society where grown and wealthy men are deemed powerless against teenage girls and our informed media would rather a story about a vindictive slut than a clear explanation of statutory rape, the sexual consent of children (who are not small adults) is still something we need to discuss. And Reid may be the only person who could have me laughing about it.
Danny (James Bell) is a too-smart-for-his-own-good student who is willing to confront his teachers (Louise Siversen and Peter Houghton), especially when he's asked to read a controversial book that he suspects is written by Ami (Helen Christinson), the cute young literature teacher who has indicated that she appreciates his brain.
Aidan Fennessy is one of the best comedy directors in our town, but focusing on the easy giggles in Joy takes away from its strength. It is a piece founded on humour, but the grammar wit, Helen Garner references and delightfully perfect sentences are the grace notes and the breathing space to the dark and confronting humour that drives it. By embracing the blackness of the humour, Siversen's performance is the highlight of the evening and comes closest to the dangerous tone that defines all of Reid's work.
Reid is asking us to laugh at the possible rape of two school children. This is an issue of distorted power and status, but the status and power relationships are missing on the stage. Students and teachers don't interact like mates, neither do principals and their staff. So, even though it's fun to watch Houghton's very funny buffounish principal, it undermines the intent of the work by creating a comfortable buffer between us and the content. By playing the easy laughs, we're never concerned for Danny's or Ami's well being, because the damage and the stakes are minimised.
No matter what, it's wonderful to see the work of a local independent playwright on a mainstream stage. The co-founder of theatre in decay has written more plays than many people have seen. I first saw Rob perform one of his works many years ago in an outside courtyard in Canberra. A handful of people shared the experience and all knew that this was someone whose theatre demands attention.
The Joy of Text is just as angry as his decay work, but it's less personal, less ranty, far funnier and his characters are less damaged. This personal distance is vital to create work that broad commercial audiences are going to love, but I'd love to see his next work be a bit more dangerous and to come a bit more from the heart.
* dictionary of Modern English Usage
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com
MTC
15 June 2011
Fairfax Studio, the Arts Centre
to 23 July
www.mtc.com.au
As if I'm not going to love a work that opens with someone looking for their Fowler's*, literally reminds us that satire is meant to be funny and references the Electra story, the Demidenko debacle and the disturbing semiotics of Prince Caspian. The text of Robert Reid's The Joy of Text is indeed a joy and I loved it all the more for its over-educated, middle-class (sorry Rob) literary references and its grammar pedantness.
It's also a disturbing reflection on the contextualisation of sexual consent. In a society where grown and wealthy men are deemed powerless against teenage girls and our informed media would rather a story about a vindictive slut than a clear explanation of statutory rape, the sexual consent of children (who are not small adults) is still something we need to discuss. And Reid may be the only person who could have me laughing about it.
Danny (James Bell) is a too-smart-for-his-own-good student who is willing to confront his teachers (Louise Siversen and Peter Houghton), especially when he's asked to read a controversial book that he suspects is written by Ami (Helen Christinson), the cute young literature teacher who has indicated that she appreciates his brain.
Aidan Fennessy is one of the best comedy directors in our town, but focusing on the easy giggles in Joy takes away from its strength. It is a piece founded on humour, but the grammar wit, Helen Garner references and delightfully perfect sentences are the grace notes and the breathing space to the dark and confronting humour that drives it. By embracing the blackness of the humour, Siversen's performance is the highlight of the evening and comes closest to the dangerous tone that defines all of Reid's work.
Reid is asking us to laugh at the possible rape of two school children. This is an issue of distorted power and status, but the status and power relationships are missing on the stage. Students and teachers don't interact like mates, neither do principals and their staff. So, even though it's fun to watch Houghton's very funny buffounish principal, it undermines the intent of the work by creating a comfortable buffer between us and the content. By playing the easy laughs, we're never concerned for Danny's or Ami's well being, because the damage and the stakes are minimised.
No matter what, it's wonderful to see the work of a local independent playwright on a mainstream stage. The co-founder of theatre in decay has written more plays than many people have seen. I first saw Rob perform one of his works many years ago in an outside courtyard in Canberra. A handful of people shared the experience and all knew that this was someone whose theatre demands attention.
The Joy of Text is just as angry as his decay work, but it's less personal, less ranty, far funnier and his characters are less damaged. This personal distance is vital to create work that broad commercial audiences are going to love, but I'd love to see his next work be a bit more dangerous and to come a bit more from the heart.
* dictionary of Modern English Usage
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com
13 June 2011
Rob or Lally?
And even more SM favourites are opening this week.
thearte in decay's Robert Reid has assured SM that he hasn't written a "it's so hard being wealthy and middle classes" play for his main stage MTC debut. (However, I'd love to see the reaction of his friends if he did...)
With Aidan Fennessy directing, and Peter Houghton and Louise Siversen in the cast, The Joy of Text promises to balance out the blandness of any other MTC shows.
And, down the road, Malthouse are opening Lally Katz's new work, A Golem Story, on the same night.
Our two funded companies are opening new works by popular and loved independent Melbourne writers on the SAME NIGHT!
I know I'm not the only person who wants to be at both and support both amazing writers.
thearte in decay's Robert Reid has assured SM that he hasn't written a "it's so hard being wealthy and middle classes" play for his main stage MTC debut. (However, I'd love to see the reaction of his friends if he did...)
With Aidan Fennessy directing, and Peter Houghton and Louise Siversen in the cast, The Joy of Text promises to balance out the blandness of any other MTC shows.
And, down the road, Malthouse are opening Lally Katz's new work, A Golem Story, on the same night.
Our two funded companies are opening new works by popular and loved independent Melbourne writers on the SAME NIGHT!
I know I'm not the only person who wants to be at both and support both amazing writers.
30 September 2010
Marion Potts Lecture and MTC 2011
How can it already be time to think about 2011?
If you're thinking about what theatre subscriptions to give as the big December present, MTC 2011 is now open and Malthouse is teasing us with their new Artistic Director.
The MTC also recently announced their 2011 season, Simon Phillips' twelfth and last season with the company.
Of course, it'll be a hoot and a half to see Geoffrey Rush as Lady Bracknell and Ewen Leslie as Hamlet, and it's wonderful to see new works by Melbourne writers (and darlings of the independent scene) Robert Reid and Lally Katz; especially as both are directed by Aiden Fennessy, which makes me smile.
But nothing has made me as excited and terrified as Don Parties On. Oh yes, David Williamson has written a sequel to Don's Party. Garry Macdonald is in it and Robyn Nevin is directing. If it's as brilliant as the original, I'll take back everything I've said about Williamson's recent works. If it's the biggest car crash to ever hit an Australian stage...well I won't be the only vitriolic blogger.
13 June 2010
Review: Boston Marriage
Boston Marriage
MTC
4 June 2010
The Arts Centre, Fairfax Studio
"We do love shiny thing," says Anna in Boston Marriage. Yes we do, and this show is shiny and glittery enough to want the necklace and a matching pair of earrings.
David Mamet writes plays and films about blokes and masculinity, so 1999's Boston Marriage was a surprise, being about chintz, chunks and chicks. 'Boston Marriage' was a nineteenth-century endearment for spinsters sharing a house, because they couldn't find themselves a hubby, and the play is a drawing room farce with a wit and passion that (like its namesakes) defies the categories it gets carelessly named.
Mamet's Anna (Pamela Rabe) and Claire (Margaret Mills) have shared more than an abode and Anna can't wait to share the news that she has a wealthy paramour whose generosity will allow them to maintain their chintz-decorated lifestyle. Claire is happy, but more intent on bringing her new (very) young love to the house. If only the youngster didn't recognise Anna's shiny necklace, and the maid (Sara Gleeson) could keep her mouth shut.
From her high camp entrance in lush green velvet, Rabe's insecure and jealous Anna is a perfect foil to Mills's thoughtfully sharp (and desperately horny) Claire. With perfect timing and unbalanced emotion, both have everything at stake and manipulate and insult each other in ways reserved for those we truly love and understand.
Having a divine cast and a script that doesn't waste a single contrived and poetic word must be bliss for a director, and Aidan Fennessy (one of the best comedy directors in town) makes Boston Marriage shine more by camping up the wit without detracting from character or the essential drama of the story.
Gloriously funny and perfectly performed, Boston Marriage plays with class, gender and manners that could place it as easily in today's East Mebourne as nineteenth-century Boston and is by far my favourite MTC show this year.
This review appears on AussieTheatre.com.
MTC
4 June 2010
The Arts Centre, Fairfax Studio
"We do love shiny thing," says Anna in Boston Marriage. Yes we do, and this show is shiny and glittery enough to want the necklace and a matching pair of earrings.
David Mamet writes plays and films about blokes and masculinity, so 1999's Boston Marriage was a surprise, being about chintz, chunks and chicks. 'Boston Marriage' was a nineteenth-century endearment for spinsters sharing a house, because they couldn't find themselves a hubby, and the play is a drawing room farce with a wit and passion that (like its namesakes) defies the categories it gets carelessly named.
Mamet's Anna (Pamela Rabe) and Claire (Margaret Mills) have shared more than an abode and Anna can't wait to share the news that she has a wealthy paramour whose generosity will allow them to maintain their chintz-decorated lifestyle. Claire is happy, but more intent on bringing her new (very) young love to the house. If only the youngster didn't recognise Anna's shiny necklace, and the maid (Sara Gleeson) could keep her mouth shut.
From her high camp entrance in lush green velvet, Rabe's insecure and jealous Anna is a perfect foil to Mills's thoughtfully sharp (and desperately horny) Claire. With perfect timing and unbalanced emotion, both have everything at stake and manipulate and insult each other in ways reserved for those we truly love and understand.
Having a divine cast and a script that doesn't waste a single contrived and poetic word must be bliss for a director, and Aidan Fennessy (one of the best comedy directors in town) makes Boston Marriage shine more by camping up the wit without detracting from character or the essential drama of the story.
Gloriously funny and perfectly performed, Boston Marriage plays with class, gender and manners that could place it as easily in today's East Mebourne as nineteenth-century Boston and is by far my favourite MTC show this year.
This review appears on AussieTheatre.com.
13 December 2009
Review: Godzone
Godzone
Melbourne Theatre Company
10 December 2009
Sumner Theatre
I’d hand out how to vote cards for Max Gilles if he ran for any public office, especially now that he and writer Guy Rundle might be looking for new jobs because Godzone is a bit of an unexpected snooze.
Admittedly, with the federal Liberals putting on a farce that has made their supporters cringe and left the rest of us laughing as hard as we would at a Max Gilles show, this new show had a tough comedic act to follow this week.
Gilles have been satirising our pollies since Bob Hawke was Prime Minister. The Gilles Report on the ABC was my teenage source of political information and his latex-assisted satire has continued to be biting and accurate. Following Don Watson and Patrick Cook, Guy Rundle joined Gilles as writer in the year that Little Johnny got to sit at the head of the grown ups table.
Conservative pollies with severe short-man complex are a gift to pinko, pesto-eating comedians and their followers, who sponsor poor kiddies from the not-so-lucky countries and welcome anyone as their neighbour (except Liberal voters, of course). It’s hard for the left to lampoon and verbally sodomise their own.
Gilles’s Kevin07 has his jingo Aussieisms, his marketing speak and his Mandarin, but he’s not as ripe for the picking as Labor leaders like Bob or Paul. Face it, Krudd can be a bit dull and even if he doesn’t live up to all his promises, he was the one who finally let us say ‘Sorry’. Gilles’ Mad Monk Abbot can call him the Milky Bar Kid, but it’s about as painful as being lashed with a silk ribbon. There was room for some comments on being Sri Lankan and cruising the Indonesian seas and I don’t remember hearing the acronym ETS.
As Kev and Tony openly admit that their Christian faith and beliefs influence their political and personal decisions, Godzone brings the big guy into the picture in a Kevin-style think tank where even token conservative Andrew Bolt can have a say.
I expected Bolt-through-the-brain to be the character to bring back the gut-aching laughs. He could have made fun of us – the people in the audience dying to laugh. Telling us we like goats cheese and John Safran is like reminding us that we like theatre and a glass of fizz. It’s not satire. If we can’t tear new-ones for our pollies because we don’t despise them as much as we used to, perhaps it’s time to turn the spotlight on our selves – and Bolt-from-any-sense is a perfect character to do so.
Godzone is running through the over-eating season until mid-January, so I reckon it’s going to change. Rundle and Gilles are too good to let flat material stay and director Aiden Fennessy knows how to bring laughs to a stage. I wouldn’t rush for tickets just now; wait and see what the punters are saying after the day of exchanging crappy presents.
This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Melbourne Theatre Company
10 December 2009
Sumner Theatre
I’d hand out how to vote cards for Max Gilles if he ran for any public office, especially now that he and writer Guy Rundle might be looking for new jobs because Godzone is a bit of an unexpected snooze.
Admittedly, with the federal Liberals putting on a farce that has made their supporters cringe and left the rest of us laughing as hard as we would at a Max Gilles show, this new show had a tough comedic act to follow this week.
Gilles have been satirising our pollies since Bob Hawke was Prime Minister. The Gilles Report on the ABC was my teenage source of political information and his latex-assisted satire has continued to be biting and accurate. Following Don Watson and Patrick Cook, Guy Rundle joined Gilles as writer in the year that Little Johnny got to sit at the head of the grown ups table.
Conservative pollies with severe short-man complex are a gift to pinko, pesto-eating comedians and their followers, who sponsor poor kiddies from the not-so-lucky countries and welcome anyone as their neighbour (except Liberal voters, of course). It’s hard for the left to lampoon and verbally sodomise their own.
Gilles’s Kevin07 has his jingo Aussieisms, his marketing speak and his Mandarin, but he’s not as ripe for the picking as Labor leaders like Bob or Paul. Face it, Krudd can be a bit dull and even if he doesn’t live up to all his promises, he was the one who finally let us say ‘Sorry’. Gilles’ Mad Monk Abbot can call him the Milky Bar Kid, but it’s about as painful as being lashed with a silk ribbon. There was room for some comments on being Sri Lankan and cruising the Indonesian seas and I don’t remember hearing the acronym ETS.
As Kev and Tony openly admit that their Christian faith and beliefs influence their political and personal decisions, Godzone brings the big guy into the picture in a Kevin-style think tank where even token conservative Andrew Bolt can have a say.
I expected Bolt-through-the-brain to be the character to bring back the gut-aching laughs. He could have made fun of us – the people in the audience dying to laugh. Telling us we like goats cheese and John Safran is like reminding us that we like theatre and a glass of fizz. It’s not satire. If we can’t tear new-ones for our pollies because we don’t despise them as much as we used to, perhaps it’s time to turn the spotlight on our selves – and Bolt-from-any-sense is a perfect character to do so.
Godzone is running through the over-eating season until mid-January, so I reckon it’s going to change. Rundle and Gilles are too good to let flat material stay and director Aiden Fennessy knows how to bring laughs to a stage. I wouldn’t rush for tickets just now; wait and see what the punters are saying after the day of exchanging crappy presents.
This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
30 June 2009
A Commercial Farce
A Commercial Farce
Malthouse Theatre
14 June 2009
Beckett Theatre, CUB Malthouse
I was a bit worried when A Commercial Farce opened with a “you being perfect and me being crap” phone call between a husband and wife, but then came the banana skin, the whack in the nuts and the breaking of the number one comedy rule.
I keep missing Peter Houghton’s plays. I don’t mean to and I will make sure that I don’t miss another one, because A Commercial Farce is the best piece of theatre comic writing I’ve seen in a long time. What bliss to sit in a theatre and just laugh and laugh and laugh.
It’s the night before opening night and director Bill (Houghton) is trying to force-rehearse TV stud Jules (Luke Ryan) into his first stage role, a “pay by the laugh” commercial farce by Crackburn.
Anyone who has ever worked with a cocky, young telly actor will wiggle in their seat with recognition, if only for the moment when Bill explains the innuendo. Ryan’s Jules is a horror. He’s everything cringeable about celebrity, good looks and no real talent. And to create such a perfect monster, reveals the Luke as the Jules’ antithesis. Only the very best actors can create credible bad acting.
On stage, Houghton is just as perfect as Bill, who is over the thrill of theatre, but knows too much to get out. Houghton wrote Jules and Bill as the two sides of himself. There’s a slab of “Oh my God I’m middle aged” indulgence in Bill, but it’s balanced by the youthful smugness of Jules, leaving quite a balanced playwright in the middle!
Bill screams at Jules that audiences don’t care about theme and form - they care about character and story. I want to snog Houghton for the observation, but even more so because A Commercial Farce is a never-ending joke about theme and form that never forgets the story or the characters. Under Aidan Fennessy’s meticulous (so good it’s almost invisible) direction, the timing, the expectation and the jokes are never allowed to overpower the two men. The heart of this work is the two people at the centre of the whirlpool of jokes, and we don’t want either of them to be sucked in and drown.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Malthouse Theatre
14 June 2009
Beckett Theatre, CUB Malthouse
I was a bit worried when A Commercial Farce opened with a “you being perfect and me being crap” phone call between a husband and wife, but then came the banana skin, the whack in the nuts and the breaking of the number one comedy rule.
I keep missing Peter Houghton’s plays. I don’t mean to and I will make sure that I don’t miss another one, because A Commercial Farce is the best piece of theatre comic writing I’ve seen in a long time. What bliss to sit in a theatre and just laugh and laugh and laugh.
It’s the night before opening night and director Bill (Houghton) is trying to force-rehearse TV stud Jules (Luke Ryan) into his first stage role, a “pay by the laugh” commercial farce by Crackburn.
Anyone who has ever worked with a cocky, young telly actor will wiggle in their seat with recognition, if only for the moment when Bill explains the innuendo. Ryan’s Jules is a horror. He’s everything cringeable about celebrity, good looks and no real talent. And to create such a perfect monster, reveals the Luke as the Jules’ antithesis. Only the very best actors can create credible bad acting.
On stage, Houghton is just as perfect as Bill, who is over the thrill of theatre, but knows too much to get out. Houghton wrote Jules and Bill as the two sides of himself. There’s a slab of “Oh my God I’m middle aged” indulgence in Bill, but it’s balanced by the youthful smugness of Jules, leaving quite a balanced playwright in the middle!
Bill screams at Jules that audiences don’t care about theme and form - they care about character and story. I want to snog Houghton for the observation, but even more so because A Commercial Farce is a never-ending joke about theme and form that never forgets the story or the characters. Under Aidan Fennessy’s meticulous (so good it’s almost invisible) direction, the timing, the expectation and the jokes are never allowed to overpower the two men. The heart of this work is the two people at the centre of the whirlpool of jokes, and we don’t want either of them to be sucked in and drown.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
28 October 2007
(The Pilot Version of…) Something to Die For
(The Pilot Version of…) Something to Die For
Store Room Theatre Workshop
28 October 2007
The Store Room
“This is a risk”, declares The Author midway though (The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For. I am thrilled that the Store Room Theatre Workshop (SRTW) program gives its artists the opportunity and freedom to take these risks to explore and create original, complex and relevant theatre.
(The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For is written by SRTW associate artist Ross Mueller. It’s is a monologue by the playwright, who has written himself as the character – but it will always be performed by an actor. In this case David Tredinnick is playing Ross Mueller.
You can see this simply for Tredinnick’s superb performance, which is ably guided by director Aiden Fennessy. Tredinnick has a difficult script to work with, but continually keeps the audience personally engaged and fascinated. He demonstrates the difference between a good actor and someone who knows his craft so well that we can no longer see the work and the skill.
The structure of this work references David Hare’s Via Dolorosa. Don’t know it? Sir David himself performed it at the Melbourne International Arts Festival in 2004. Patrick Dickson presented the Australian premiere at the Festival of Contemporary Arts in Canberra in 2001. Missed it? Hare wrote The Blue Room (that play where our Nicole and then our Sigrid got their kit off) and Stuff Happens (that play about American politicians). What about his screenplays? Plenty (Meryl was in it) or The Hours (the one where our Nicole won the Oscar for having the big nose – and Meryl was in it). Come on – Sir David Hare. If you go to the theatre, you must know him.
If you know Hare, the premise of the work is Mueller meeting Hare at a workshop in London.
If you don’t and you’re wondering why on earth I’m raving on about David Hare, I’m guessing this is how you’d will feel watching (The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For.
It’s no secret that I love Ross Mueller’s writing. He understands theatre and why we keep going back. He writes personal, honest and heart moving works that resonate way beyond their intended audience. I reckon he’s as good as David Hare.
Very early in the piece, Mueller tells us that he believes that anyone who goes to the theatre is intelligent and that he’s openly prejudice towards the intelligent. Kind of makes you feel special and much more inclined to admire and laugh along with the jokes. I admit that I caught myself laughing at a reference I didn’t understand, because I didn’t want to appear ignorant. (Thanks to Google I now know about playwright Martin Crimp – and will read his work.)
I understood (The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For. I was intrigued and laughed out loud, because I know Via Dolorosa. I know it very well. I’ve read it, saw Dickson’s performance, Hare’s performance, heard Hare discuss it and even have a copy of Acting Up – Hare’s book about writing and performing it – which I’ve read.
I know this play isn’t really about David Hare or Ross Mueller. It sensitively, accurately and creatively deals with issues of depression and male identity. It delightfully and over-intelligently satirises and references its own form, theatre writing, Melbourne independent theatre and the playwright. The emotional core and structure of the work is so strong, but it is getting obscured by its own intelligence. It’s trying too hard to be clever, searching too hard for metaphors and trying so hard to connect with its audience that it may be pushing them away. The excellent writing is getting in the way of the story telling.
I’m afraid I have to quote myself here. This is what I wrote on this site about Mueller’s astonishing Construction of the Human Heart.
“Mueller does write for a very specific demographic. Mid-30s to early-40s / living in inner city Melbourne (preferably north) / over educated / know too much about theatre (please laugh at the “it’s David Hare, not Williamson” joke) / struggling with your own creative career while trying to earn an income / loath the concept of Ikea, but have too many Ikea items in your house / and have experienced the kind of love that leaves you empty and broken at its loss. Fortunately that is most people I know (except some of us live on the south side of the river). Construction of the Human Heart is written for now and written for us. In doing so, Mueller shows how honest, personal writing can connect with universal themes. Even if you don’t get every cultural reference and joke, the emotion of the work sustains it.”
My concern with his recent work The Ghost Writer (MTC 2007) was that Mueller was writing to such a broad audience that the work was losing the personal emotional resonances. My concern with (The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For is that he is writing to such a sub-section of his audience that it’s losing the universal emotional resonances.
If I had to review this review I’d say. “It is over wordy, far too long, needs a ruthless edit, loses itself in its own structure and seems so intent on proving the author’s own credibility, intelligence and knowledge that it forgets about its intent and its audience.” I guess I’m trying to create the same sense of frustration I felt with Mueller.
I enjoyed (The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For and am sure it will grow and change from this season into an amazing work. However, in its current state I’m hesitant to recommend it.
This reveiw originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Store Room Theatre Workshop
28 October 2007
The Store Room
“This is a risk”, declares The Author midway though (The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For. I am thrilled that the Store Room Theatre Workshop (SRTW) program gives its artists the opportunity and freedom to take these risks to explore and create original, complex and relevant theatre.
(The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For is written by SRTW associate artist Ross Mueller. It’s is a monologue by the playwright, who has written himself as the character – but it will always be performed by an actor. In this case David Tredinnick is playing Ross Mueller.
You can see this simply for Tredinnick’s superb performance, which is ably guided by director Aiden Fennessy. Tredinnick has a difficult script to work with, but continually keeps the audience personally engaged and fascinated. He demonstrates the difference between a good actor and someone who knows his craft so well that we can no longer see the work and the skill.
The structure of this work references David Hare’s Via Dolorosa. Don’t know it? Sir David himself performed it at the Melbourne International Arts Festival in 2004. Patrick Dickson presented the Australian premiere at the Festival of Contemporary Arts in Canberra in 2001. Missed it? Hare wrote The Blue Room (that play where our Nicole and then our Sigrid got their kit off) and Stuff Happens (that play about American politicians). What about his screenplays? Plenty (Meryl was in it) or The Hours (the one where our Nicole won the Oscar for having the big nose – and Meryl was in it). Come on – Sir David Hare. If you go to the theatre, you must know him.
If you know Hare, the premise of the work is Mueller meeting Hare at a workshop in London.
If you don’t and you’re wondering why on earth I’m raving on about David Hare, I’m guessing this is how you’d will feel watching (The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For.
It’s no secret that I love Ross Mueller’s writing. He understands theatre and why we keep going back. He writes personal, honest and heart moving works that resonate way beyond their intended audience. I reckon he’s as good as David Hare.
Very early in the piece, Mueller tells us that he believes that anyone who goes to the theatre is intelligent and that he’s openly prejudice towards the intelligent. Kind of makes you feel special and much more inclined to admire and laugh along with the jokes. I admit that I caught myself laughing at a reference I didn’t understand, because I didn’t want to appear ignorant. (Thanks to Google I now know about playwright Martin Crimp – and will read his work.)
I understood (The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For. I was intrigued and laughed out loud, because I know Via Dolorosa. I know it very well. I’ve read it, saw Dickson’s performance, Hare’s performance, heard Hare discuss it and even have a copy of Acting Up – Hare’s book about writing and performing it – which I’ve read.
I know this play isn’t really about David Hare or Ross Mueller. It sensitively, accurately and creatively deals with issues of depression and male identity. It delightfully and over-intelligently satirises and references its own form, theatre writing, Melbourne independent theatre and the playwright. The emotional core and structure of the work is so strong, but it is getting obscured by its own intelligence. It’s trying too hard to be clever, searching too hard for metaphors and trying so hard to connect with its audience that it may be pushing them away. The excellent writing is getting in the way of the story telling.
I’m afraid I have to quote myself here. This is what I wrote on this site about Mueller’s astonishing Construction of the Human Heart.
“Mueller does write for a very specific demographic. Mid-30s to early-40s / living in inner city Melbourne (preferably north) / over educated / know too much about theatre (please laugh at the “it’s David Hare, not Williamson” joke) / struggling with your own creative career while trying to earn an income / loath the concept of Ikea, but have too many Ikea items in your house / and have experienced the kind of love that leaves you empty and broken at its loss. Fortunately that is most people I know (except some of us live on the south side of the river). Construction of the Human Heart is written for now and written for us. In doing so, Mueller shows how honest, personal writing can connect with universal themes. Even if you don’t get every cultural reference and joke, the emotion of the work sustains it.”
My concern with his recent work The Ghost Writer (MTC 2007) was that Mueller was writing to such a broad audience that the work was losing the personal emotional resonances. My concern with (The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For is that he is writing to such a sub-section of his audience that it’s losing the universal emotional resonances.
If I had to review this review I’d say. “It is over wordy, far too long, needs a ruthless edit, loses itself in its own structure and seems so intent on proving the author’s own credibility, intelligence and knowledge that it forgets about its intent and its audience.” I guess I’m trying to create the same sense of frustration I felt with Mueller.
I enjoyed (The Pilot Version of….) Something to Die For and am sure it will grow and change from this season into an amazing work. However, in its current state I’m hesitant to recommend it.
This reveiw originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
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