Review: Joan

Joan
The Rabble
22 April 2017
Theatre Works
to 30 April
theatreworks.org.au

Dana Miltins. Joan. Photo by David Paterson

Damn you, The Rabble. Just when I think I can’t love you any more, you go and make Joan.

I felt burnt alive and risen from the ashes.

Joan. Joan D’Arc. Saint Joan.

A young woman. Whispered to by saints. Virgin. Sinner. God’s holy soldier.

She became a hero, a saint, an aspiration for young women that they too can be strong and be destroyed. She’s a great audition pieces in the play by a man written three years after she was canonised.

She was burnt alive. She was 19.

Starting with a darkness that only Emma Valente’s lighting and Kate Davis’s design can find, shapes – women? a woman? young women? – move into light or are found in the darkness. It could be the holy light above or a light to run from. With projections in front of and behind the stage, it hints of a black and white movie but is nothing like a black and white movie as the sound of breath and bodies falling to their knees asks if their kneeling is choice.

After light, they move through explorations of body, fire and voice. And to make such mesmerising imagery sound so clinical, intelligent and “artistic” is unfair.

Founded by Valente and Davis, The Rabble’s process starts with design and develops through improvisation. Text and texts are vital to their process but is one of the last things on the stage. We watch more than we hear, and when the women are finally given voices, their words are fiercer, brighter and more blistering that the fire – that fire! –  that came before.

It’s hard to think when watching this work. It’s seems so clear but every moment is filled with ideas and discussions that are too complex to be reduced to words.

Luisa Hastings Edge, Emily Milledge, Dana Miltins and Nikki Sheils are Joan. Each is extraordinary and together they confront the expectations of Joan and her story, and question why pain, strength and faith are considered virtues for a woman, let alone a child.

At times, it’s like getting into Joan's soul and feeling with her. But it’s more confrontational when we’re distanced and see ourselves judging her as a Saint or Sinner and putting both on a pedestal that burns with the bundles of wooden faggots stacked around her.

The Rabble create astonishing independent theatre with an independent budget. I'm thrilled to be able to see them in small rooms, but it's beyond my understanding why festivals around the world aren't begging for work like this to be in their programs.

Review: Cain And Abel

Cain and Abel
The Rabble and The Substation
21 July 2016
The Substation
to 30 July
thesubstation.org.au

Cain and Abel. The Rabble. Photo by David Paterson

The Rabble don't make easy theatre, but it's an easy choice to see them.

Always starting with a well-known text – Orlando, Frankenstein, The Story of O,  Room of Regret (The Picture of Dorian Grey) – they deconstruct, bring the subtext to the front, and rework the text until it's distilled into something that's somewhat unrecognisable but holds the essence of the work. You don't need to know a text to understand a Rabble work, but when you do, you will have to read it again.

This story is Cain and Abel's; their chosen text is the Christian Bible. Cain was the firstborn of Adam and Eve and killed his brother Abel because God preferred Abel's gifts. There's a lot to unpack in those few verses. This is the text that explains and tries to justify so much of the hatred and violence that we're arguing about everyday on Facebook.

With Dana Miltins, Cain, and Mary Helen Sassman, Abel, they begin by re-imagining it as two sisters and placing the story deep within the implied and actual violence that women experience.

It far from easy to watch, but it's impossible to look away because the astonishing can occur at any time; blink and you could miss Abel putting glitter on her steak-covered eye.

With Kate Davis's design of white, red and silver, there are punching bags the size, weight and feel of humans. The sound when they are beaten is heavy enough to feel. And they bleed. There's a lot of blood. From the watery runny to the thick and clotted that hides its truth in the red.

The red and white belong together and are made more insidious with silver glitter. It's the stuff worn by drag queens and teenagers to make them shine, and it floats from above as a god comes back into the story and director and lighting designer Emma Valente makes it sparkle and change like it's a living swarm, and dares us to gasp at its beauty as it falls on the clots and floods of red.

Cain and Abel. The Rabble. Photo by David Paterson

Sassman and Miltins are remarkable. Working with Valente and Davis for many years, they have created a style of performance that encompasses everything in and around the text, but is internalised and cut back until it's a moment of truth; a moment that's felt as much as it's seen. It's like waking up from a dream that lasted seconds but felt like hours. They confront us and dare us to look away or to laugh at the horrific and to cheer – and maybe forgive – the side we're meant to despise.

Cain and Abel was first seen at Belvoir in Sydney and this second season has been developed at The Substation in Melbourne. The opportunity to develop original works and get them beyond a first season is crucial. Creators need multiple seasons and audiences to change and perfect work. Too much great work gets lost with single seasons and too many astonishing shows, like this, never have the chance to be shared.

This was on AussieTheatre.com.

Sometimes Hobart: Orlando interview

Dark Mofo
Orlando
The Rabble
darkmofo.net.au

12 June 2015

It was cold in Hobart last night. The sun’s out today but tonight promises to be colder, darker and weirder as the third Dark Mofo festival opens and this gorgeous city celebrates art that’s made for icy dark nights. A highlight of the theatre program is The Rabble’s Orlando, which opens tonight at the Theatre Royal and finishes on Sunday. I flew down to Hobart for the festival and spoke to members of The Rabble as they rehearsed in Melbourne.

Orlando. Mary Helen Sassman & Dana Miltins. Photo by Sarah Walker

This is the third production of Orlando. The first was at the 2012 Melbourne International Festival and it was part of the Brisbane Festival’s independent theatre program in 2014.

Emma Valente, co-founder, with Kate Davis, and director of The Rabble, says that festivals “provide such an important context for our work. During a festival audiences are more adventurous, they are more likely to see something that they may never chose otherwise and they are excited to see something different. They are also an important meeting place for artists, a place where you can talk with and see work from artists from all around the country and the world.”

With renowned performance artist Marina Abramović as part of Dark Mofo, The Rabble are ideally placed to welcome audiences who are eager to embrace original creative voices.

No one makes theatre like The Rabble. They leave some critics – like me – and audiences raving with love; while others have stormed out in fury.

The first time I saw them was Special at La Mama in Melbourne in 2011. I took a friend who said she’d see anything as long as it wasn’t contemporary dance. At the end of this show, she looked at me and said, “I wish it had been contemporary dance”.

The stage was mouldy green with a toilet-paper back curtain, a mound of earth and an exercise bike. Actor Mary Helen Sassman was eight months pregnant and wore a native American headdress and a pink stretchy dress, when she wasn’t naked. With 60+ actor Liz Jones, the work explored the sometimes hilarious and mostly painful and warped relationship of parental resentment. It was like watching a dream that you thought (and maybe wished) you’d forgotten.

No one makes theatre like The Rabble dare to make.

Orlando is based on a deep and layered understanding of Virgina Woolf’s 1928 novel about a young man who doesn’t grow old but becomes a woman and lives for three centuries. Woolf’s story is on the stage, but there’s very little of her text.

I think that the truth of any work is in its subtext: the words that are never spoken or written, the scenes that are never seen. Meaning is found in the white spaces between words on pages and the silence and empty space on a stage. It’s why we can read the same books and see the same shows and argue for hours over the truth about what creator was sharing.

A Rabble work is formed in that empty space. Their work lets us get lost in the white void where words disappear and meaning becomes clear.

It’s difficult to describe the experience of seeing their work, so I asked Dana Miltins, who plays Orlando, to explain it.

“Oh my gosh I find this question really hard as well… I can’t fully answer it.

“To me, The Rabble have a unique way of distilling a novel that captures its spirit without telling the story as it reads, blow by blow. If you’ve read Orlando then I don’t believe you’ll feel ripped off by our version – the themes and ideas that exist within and behind the narrative are all there; but, the play exists on its own as well and is very much The Rabble’s Orlando.”

Orlando. Dana Miltins. Photo by Sarah Walker

The process of how it becomes The Rabble’s Orlando is as fascinating as the result.

Actor Sassman (who plays Orlando’s lovers, along with Angus Cerini) describes a Rabble rehearsal.

“A typical rehearsal starts with a 30-minute high intensity workout – usually circuit training but not always. I’m confused as to whether this is done as a bonding/unifying tool or to encourage competitiveness amongst the cast – either way we often find ourselves comparing abs and keeping a lunges tally. Once we’ve all broken a cool sweat we start to work. It’s always physical, very little discussion. Just on the floor and getting on with it. Emma and Kate work us hard. We love it.”

The work involves hours of improvisation and exploration of character and text, most of which never make it to the stage. The finished product is a distilled and clarified version of the results of this process.

Sassman talks about how they met through La Mama about nine years ago, although Valente and Davis met at Swinburn University earlier.

“Thank goodness! For Emma, Kate, Dana and I, our four-way working relationship was forged in blood, sweat, baby’s tears and breast milk (Mary Helen and Dana have performed while pregnant and Kate’s baby is due in July) as we made and toured shows on shoestring budgets – us with huge ideas and small CVs.

“I think we surprise each other, inspire each other and above all we truly trust each other to approach the making of the work with full integrity. Now with this Orlando we have Angus on board – fearless, eerily gifted and generous, he fits in just fine!”

The company are never afraid to share their admiration and trust for each other. At the end of the first Orlando season, I asked Miltins how she worked with director Valente to create her emotionally fearless and physically demanding performance. She simply said, “Emma’s a genius”.

Dana goes on to describe Kate as a genius. Davis and Valente work together to create each new work but while Emma directs (and lights), Kate designs. What’s most striking about her design is it’s use of colour and texture.

Orlando begins in a world that’s milk and semen white. With pebbles, fur, tulle, cotton and water, it’s a world that begs to be touched, felt and rolled naked around in.

Miltins says that Davis creates sets “we have to exist in, as opposed to on. There’s generally quite a lot to negotiate on her sets and I see them sometimes like an additional character. You have to interact with them and respond to them; they affect you and your performance. I love working in these environments and I think Kate’s a genius.

“I love most the element of danger that comes with it. To me, that element is what puts the sizzle in live theatre. Just the idea that anything could happen.

“The slipperiness, the way you have to lift you feet to clear the water when you walk, the way it changes your balance, and of course the cold. Her sets make you exist in the present because they demand attention and focus just to physically negotiate the terrain. And really that’s all any actor wants, to be truthful and present in the moment.”

There’s a pool of water on the Orlando stage. Dana is “praying, seriously praying” that the plans to heat it for this season come off.

This was on AussieTheatre.com.

And please read Josephine Giles's interview with soprano Allison Bell.

Review: Frankenstein

Frankenstein
The Rabble and Malthouse Theatre
25 March 2014
Beckett Theatre
to 5 April
malthousetheatre.com.au

My uterus is still reacting to The Rabble's Frankenstein.

I say it every time, but no one makes theatre like The Rabble does and Frankenstein is stretching their own boundaries far enough for Malthouse to include content warnings. Read them and you'll know if you should give it a miss.

Working with their actors, co-creators Kate Davis and Emma Valente devise work based on well-know texts. Hours of improvisation and development never get near the stage (and they kept cutting after the previews). What's left is distilled, clear and so potent that it's not safe to take in more than sips.

The novel Frankenstein was written by an 18-year-old woman. In 1816 Mary Shelley was on holiday in Geneva with her new husband Percy (whose first wife had recently suicided), and writers Lord Byron and John Polidori. They had a competition to write the best horror story. Mary won with the beginnings of the novel that was first published anonymously in 1818 and in her name in 1823.  It's about a doctor who creates life: a monster who doesn't want to be alone.

The Rabble tell it as a story about fertility and birth, knowing that between 1815 and 1818 Shelley lost three children at birth. Finally, one baby survived.

In this story, an infertile doctor (Mary Helen Sassman) wants to be a mummy so much that she's going to fight until she makes a baby by any means possible, helped by her assistant (Dana Miltins) and adopted blind daughter (Emily Milledge). The return of her brother (David Paterson) makes for awkwardness, but not as awkward as the fact that she creates a monster (Jane Montgomery Griffiths). 

With the horror-film monster often better known than the book, there's as much reference to horror films as to the novel – especially those made to squeal and look away from and those that treat women atrociously. 

The orange stage is alien and uncomfortably beautiful, and filled with hundreds of black water-filled balloons.

Like monster eggs, they are slippery and wobbly and range in size from a mensturating to a first-trimester uterus, which becomes squeal-and-look-away clear when the first is ripped open into a bucket.

This is reproduction that's bleeding, empty, ripped, violent, invasive, torturous, stinking, screaming, agonising, helpless, stitched, scarred, violated, stretched and exhausted.

And it's beautiful.

Blood and pain are such a part of making, or trying to make, new life and finding the exquisite love that's swaddled in a soft bunny rug.

With an infertile naked mutant-breasted monster, a womb that never forgives its emptiness and one ripped out before it had a chance, Frankenstein's honesty is confronting and Valente and Davis never hold back when a visual choice has to be made. Yes, it has to be a coat hanger and it has to be red globby jelly and it's impossible to not see the difference between the naked flesh of a woman in her 20s and one in her 50s.

It's extreme, but no more than the horror films inspired by Frankenstein. In comparison to some, it's mild. And, as we laugh as much as squeal at horror films, it's more than ok to laugh if it gets too much, too graphic or too close.

The Rabble's monster story dares us to find beauty and laughter – and perhaps even comfort – in the horror of reproduction.

I just wish I'd had some ibuprofen with me.

This was on AussieTheatre.com.

Review: Story of O

NEON Festival of Independent Theatre
Story of O
The Rabble
28 June 2013
The Lawler
to 7 July
mtc.com.au

Carousel ponies, huffy walk-outs and a personal trigger warning when you pick up your ticket: The Rabble have adapted the Story of O for the MTC's sensational Neon season.  It's confronting and confirming and I loved it so much that it hurt a bit to watch.

I love The Rabble's work with the kind of love that defies any attempt at a star rating. In preparation for their version of Story of O by Pauline Réage, I read the book; the reading was less painful than O's preparation at Roissy, but I didn't enjoy it and had no idea what to expect on the stage.

In 1954, Anne Declos was a successful 47-year-old journalist and novelist when she wrote this tale as a gift to her boss and male lover, who fancied the writing of the Marquis de Sade. Despite winning the prestigious French literary prize, Prix des Deux Magots, she didn't publicly reveal herself as the author until 40 years after it was published.

It's ostensibly about a young woman's complete submission to secure her lover. A submission that includes being unable to cross her legs, multiple penetration by anonymous men (without any hint of lube, condoms or a moment to catch a breath to scream a non-existent safe word), whipping, branding and her ultimate exposure (considered almost too shocking at the time) is the waxing off of her pubic hair. And that's before it gets really de-humanising.

Without beginning an argument about BDSM, O gets no sexual pleasure from her submission. It's not about her; it's about her doing it for him, even when he's not around to witness and even when she realises that he doesn't want her. And it's narrated by a distanced and anonymous voice, whose gentle – almost prudish – prose leaves it as erotic as a Jehovah's Witness magazine. If pornography is meant to arouse, there's something much more to this book than its reputation, and its popularity may rest on how its distanced narration and calm description puts responsibility on the reader to imagine what O feels.

Co-creators Kate Davis and Emma Valente make us see how O feels.

And see it in ways far removed from the novel – but this doesn't matter as they only use a handful of words from the text, which it is as accurate as it needs to be and as creative as it should be.

As co-artistic directors of The Rabble, Davis designed and Valente directed, but it's difficult to sense a clear differentiation. With exquisite beauty and understanding, they've taken this fantasy tale about submission out of the imagination of its readers, queered it up, reversed some genders, whirled it around, put it in close up and thrust it back at us with such bold confidence that we understand how it's impossible to say no.

Aesthetically, the 60s French polo necks, jaunty stripes and elastic garters are given a nod, but O's world isn't wealthy Parisian chateaus. At first, it's a girly dream with merry-go-round ponies and pink flowers scattered on the floor. But horses are beasts to ride and poles are used to tie horses up. And even with its flung ribbons, party hats and ice cream, all is not as pretty as it looks.

The cast are as desirous and pleasing as the world they play in. Gary Abrahams is Rene (O's lover), Jane Montgomery Griffiths is Sir Stephen (who is given O by Rene), Pier Cathew is Anne-Marie (the older lesbian who brands O for Sir Stephen), Dana Miltins is Jacqueline (loved by O and wanted by Rene) and Emily Milledge is Nathalie (Jaqueline's teenage sister who just wants to be like O). None of these relationships are spoken on the stage, but each take their character from the book and let them live in this through-the-looking glass world where everything about their book behaviour is questioned.

Milledge's Nathalie is especially moving and as Miltin's seven-month pregnant belly is ignored by Jacqueline, it's gold-clad roundness says more about the sexual portrayal of pregnant women than words could dare.

Which leaves Mary Helen Sassman as O. Her performance transcends any depiction of O that has gone before. She's scared, hurt, excited and – this is the twist – lets O say "No" and choose to keep going. She keeps going towards boredom, acceptance and far more hurt without ever revealing if O's own desires are met. Sassman's performance is already being described as fearless, but I say it's honest. It's so uncompromisingly honest that I think the walk-outs are because she makes them feel everything that O feels, which is far more confronting than the sex and violence shown.

So far, people have walked out. This is wonderful. How often does theatre create a response so powerful that people are brave enough to walk out when their exit is seen by the audience and the performers? On the night I went, the walk-outs were men and I wanted to run after them and tell them to go back in and really look at the stage, because this is how women are seen. If it's so shocking or offensive to leave when everyone on stage is fully clothed, the sex and violence are clearly faked and when kitchen and domestic appliances are the offending objects, perhaps a sense of the true offence can be felt.

If you want to run, ask why and remember the gift is for those who stay and laugh or cringe or cry or wonder if they should be feeling as good as they do.

Story of O is theatre like no one else dares to make.

Photos by Guy Little

This will also appear on AussieTheatre.com in a couple of days

What I loved 2012: the best of Melbourne theatre

Now that 33 of Melbourne's creators have shared their favourite moments, shows and artists of 2012, it's time for the annual What I Loved awards.

It was a tough choice this year, especially in writing and performance. The short lists were far too long to publish and many wonderful moments didn't make the finals.  But it comes down to my strict criteria: How much did I love it?

With a few exceptions, most of the Loves have already been raved about by the 32 other creators. I smiled a lot every time one was mentioned. It's pretty great to know that these artists really are reaching the hearts of their audiences and sharing something memorable.

The Loves still don't have a statuette or show bag for the nominees, but maybe one day... (In the meantime, if anyone wants to design a certificate, I'm sure the winners would print it and put it on their fridge until it disappears under takeaway menus.)

You can also see these on AussieTheatre.com with a different discussion.

Outstanding Artists 2012

WRITING

Louris Van De Geer: Tuesday, MKA

and

Robert Reid: On the production of monsters, Melbourne Theatre Company
and 
Zoey Dawson: The unspoken word is "Joe", MKA, La Mama

The unspoken word is 'Joe'. Photo by Sarah Walker.

DESIGN

Eugyeene Teh: Tuesday, MKA; sex.violence.blood.gore, MKA; Triangle, MKA; 
The unspoken word is "Joe", MKA
and
Anna Tregloan and Paul Jackson: Wild Surmise, Malthouse Theatre

sex.violence.blood.gore Photo by Sarah Walker

PERFORMANCE

Dana Miltins: Orlando, The Rabble, Malthouse Theatre, Melbourne Festival
(and Golden Dragon, MTC)

Special mention
Nilaja Sun: No Child, Theatre Works, Brisbane Festival, Melbourne Festival
and
Brigid Gallacher: The Most Excellent and Lamentable Tragedy of  Romeo and Juliet

Dana Miltins in Orlando. Photo by Sarah Walker

DIRECTION

Suzanne Chaundy: Beyond the Neck: A Quartet on Loss and Violence, Red Stitch
and 
Stephen Nicolazzo: sex.violence.blood.gore, MKA

Beyond the Neck: A Quartet on Loss and Violence

EVERYTHING THEY DO ROCKS

Daniel Clarke
The Creative Producer of Theatre Works (to be shared with everyone at Theatre Works) for making Theatre Works a venue that we want to go to, for creating a community of artistic experimentation and discussion, and for increasing audiences by an amazing 71%. I missed too many shows at Theatre Works this year, but that'll change in 2013.

Produced/Co-Produced by Theatre Works
No Child
Margaret Fulton: Queen of the Dessert
This is a door
Hello, my name is
The Year of Magical Wanking
Negative Energy
Mother/Son

Dan also directed Golden Dragon, Melbourne Theatre Company

and

Declan Greene
Summertime in the Garden of Eden, Sisters Grimm
The unspoken word is "Joe", MKA, La Mama
Pompeii L.A.,Malthouse Theatre

Pompeii L.A. Photo by Pia Johnson

Outstanding Productions 2012

CABARET

Candy B, Australian Booty: The Fatty-Boom-Boom Remix

Candy B

COMMERCIAL SHOW

Summer of the Seventeenth Doll, MTC presents the Belvoir production

MUSICAL

Margaret Fulton: Queen of the Dessert, Present Tense,Theatre Works

Special mention
Contact!, Arts Centre Melbourne

COMEDY

Zombatland, Arts House, The Suitcase Royale

Special mention

The Goodbye Guy, Justin Hamilton

Zombatland

MUSIC

Field Recordings  and Music for Airports

Bang on a Can All-Stars, Melbourne Recital Centre

Bang on a Can All-stars

DANCE

Weather, Lucy Guerin Inc, Melbourne Festival

CIRCUS

From the ground up, Circus Oz

BEST OF THE BEST

The Wild Duck, Malthouse presents a Belvoir production

Summertime in the Garden of Eden, Sisters Grimm

Summertime in the Garden of Eden

Lipsynch, Arts Centre Melbourne, Ex Machnia, Théâtre Sans Frontières

Choir Girl, Sarah Collins, Celeste Cody and the choir

MY FAVOURITE SHOW OF 2012

100% Melbourne, Rimini Protokoll & The City of Melbourne

my just home from the show reaction

My favourite moments are here, which are different from my favourite shows and artists.

2011 Loves

2010 Loves

2009 Loves

2008 Loves
2007 quickies

Melbourne Festival review: Orlando

Melbourne Festival 2012
Orlando
The Rabble, Malthouse Theatre, Melbourne Festival
12 October 2012
Tower Theatre
to 27 October
melbournefestival.com.au

Tell me a story. Tell me in a way that it's not been told before. This is the bliss of theatre. The Rabble's Orlando is so far from the experience of reading Virgina Woolf's book, but as close to knowing its essence (I want to say soul) as possible.

Woolf's 1928 novel Orlando was a love letter to Vita Sackville West about a young man who never grew old, became a woman and lived through the 16th to 19th centuries. This Orlando is a lusty and passionate response to Virgina Woolf (and to great women writers and to all writers and poets) that's as gentle and beautiful, as cruel and painful, as liberating and celebratory, and as embarrassing and shameful as love.

Artistic directors, Emma Valente and Kate Davis, have collaborated for six years with a group of artists (in Melbourne and Sydney) to examine familiar stories, and re-imagine and re-tell them in a new context with an unexpected aesthetic.  Their work is so dense and layered that it guarantees a different experience for everyone watching – and response ranges from "this is why I go to theatre" to "this is why I don't go to theatre". If you don't understand what's going on in one of their shows, don't worry. Find what you enjoy and know that no one else will see the show quite like you do.

Orlando's re-imagined world is milky/semeny white, with crunchy pebbles, billowy tulle, soft fox fur, crisp cotton, smooth pearls and a creamy pool that flows and stagnates though the centuries. It's a world that begs us to touch and feel and roll naked in it; it's almost cruel to make us just watch. And that's before we want to taste.

Dana Miltins performance as Orlando is exquisite, almost hypnotic. For most of the night Orlando says little. Great acting is rarely the words said, it's reacting to what's being said and done, and her reactions pull us into Orlando's heart to see and feel his/her world like she/he does. 

The only thing that rips our attention away from her are Orlando's loves, who are Syd Brisbane and Mary Helen Sassman. If Orlando is all heart and emotion, they are the baser parts.  Sassman's hilarious discussion of our lusty bits is unforgettable. And there's Brisbane in a sporran with a kabana, which may come back the next time you see a Shakespeare. 

Each are so watchable in themselves, but the balance and contrast of the three performers is the sweet, salt and spice that makes this work so finger-licking delicious. 

If you own a falling-apart copy of Woolf's book, this Orlando will be as precious as a first edition. If you haven't read it, don't worry.  I thought I'd read it, but according to the receipt/bookmark in my copy – bought at the Murphy Sister's feminist bookstore in Adelaide in 1993, must have been after seeing the 1992 film – I didn't get past p.49. The joy of The Rabble's work is that there's so much more to indulge in than a mere appreciation of the source.  And, like me, you may be inspired to pop the book on your must-read pile.

At the Festival Hub at a full panel discussion about identity, drag and self, Boy George (who I love more now than I did in the 80s) said, "Sometimes the most political thing you can do is just be yourself." How often are we simply ourselves? Orlando is that search for self through gender and time and relationships and it's more honest and gutsy than anything currently being screamed about gender, identity and feminism.

Photo by Sarah Walker

This appeared on AussieTheatre.com

Review: The Golden Dragon

The Golden Dragon
Melbourne Theatre
22 June
MTC Theatre, Lawler Studio
to 7 July
www.mtc.com.au

Another reason to love theatre in Melbourne: just when you think you've seen your favourite production of the year, a week later there's one that's even better. With The Golden Dragon, the MTC's Lawler Studio Season continues to have the bold and exciting voice that is so often missing from main-stage productions.

The story is based around a Thai Chinese Vietnamese restaurant called The Golden Dragon and the people who live in the flats above. Far from the sitcom is sounds like, it tells its story in seemingly unrelated snippets and hints. German writer Roland Schimmelpfennic (translated by David Tushingham) embraces a Brechtian distance that combines third-person narratives and speaks its pauses and directions. This is magnified as the cast play multiple characters who are further alienated from expectations as men play women, Caucasians play Asians, old play young and Ash Flanders plays a sexually abused cricket.

This style of writing leaves the cast with no option but to find the human essence of the character, the stuff that should never be defined by age, gender, or ethnicity.

And what an ensemble. At first Rodney Afif, Ash Flanders (Sisters Grimm, Negative Energy Inc, I Love You Bro), Jan Friedl, Dana Miltins (The Rabble) and Roger Oakley (Beyond The Neck) seem so out of place as five Asians in a tiny restaurant,  but this lasts for a few moments and it isn't long until Afif's Woman in the Dress, Miltins's Asian Man with a Toothache, Friedel's Grandaughter, Oakley's Stewardess and Flanders's Cricket are as natural and affecting as anyone cast to type.

Director Daniel Clarke (The Event, My Name is Rachel Corrie) lets the distance intrigue his audience by focussing on details, like a broken stiletto, and lets his performers hint about so much more than they show and revel in the visceral, like the taste of blood and Thai coconut soup or a wooden skewer in a tooth (in scenes that put Marathon Man to shame; best to look away of you have tooth issues). This detail is also supported by Andrew Bailey's design that treats with coloured bowls and a carpet of light. So fascinating are these details that when the climax and the secret is revealed, it's a shock to realise how close we've come to this world and to discover how much we care about these people.

The Golden Dragon almost demands a second viewing, even if just to watch the cast without worrying about the story or to dissect the writing to see where it hides its secrets and how it builds its love. This is theatre that makes you work, but it's worth it; it isn't one to miss.

This review was on AussieTheatre.com

I really like Chris Boyd's review.

And Heather's.

Rich, white, straight-acting blokes

Rich, white, straight-acting blokes

One of the first things I saw on Facebook this morning was a link to The Age (I don't bother with the whole paper these days, just what my friends suggest I read) and this piece by the wonderful Catherine Deveny.

Like the person who posted it, I want to make copies and hand it out too many times each day. Not just to teenagers on trains calling everything gay (I too was a little shit in the teen years), but to the educated grown ups I meet every day.

Like the bloke who installed my oven and told me how they could rent this place to a dozen Indians because "they" don't care or the 20-something who gave a speech in class about how she understood the Israel-Palestine situation better than anyone or the EX bf who told me how women who work in strip clubs exploit men.

Like Catherine D, I work in the arts; a world known for its utopian equal opportunity; where men, women, straight, gay, old, young, god-fearing, atheist and every colour of the great big racial melting pot are treated exactly the same. And an industy full of all the stuff that white people like*. But us well-over-30 white chicks are still on the bandwagon.

And while I'm at is, here's what the also wonderful Marike Hardy had to say about the current John Safran hoo ha.

And an edited version of this letter appeared in The Age a few weeks ago in response to the MTC's 2010 season. It was written by actor and writer Dana Miltins on behalf of the Melbourne Worker's Theatre.

I'm not sure that a boycott is the answer (but then again I haven't actively eaten a Nestle product since the 80s), but it shows how deeply angry and frustrating it is when you are not  a "rich white straight-acting bloke who believes in God, or pretends to."

Over the past fortnight Australian main-stage theatre companies have been unveiling their 2010 seasons to a barrage of complaints and criticism about the lack of opportunities for women in key creative roles, especially directing. Last week the Melbourne Theatre Company followed suit by announcing that out of 12 productions only one is to be directed by a woman.

A recent article in your paper cites a letter sent by director Melanie Beddie on behalf of the Australian Women Directors’ Alliance to the MTC questioning their commitment to their equal opportunity policies. We understand there has been no reply. Derek Young, the MTC’s chair, said that the company does not feel it should be held responsible for gender equality; rather that it is an issue for the entire theatrical industry. He pointed out that Beddie had made a similar complaint in 2003 and that nothing had changed.

We, the current ensemble of the Melbourne Workers Theatre, wish to offer our thanks and support to Melanie Beddie and the Directors’ Alliance for bringing this issue to light. We would like to say to the MTC that to admit that nothing has changed since 2003 is to admit that the company is stagnant and out of touch with what is happening in theatre beyond its doors. The Women Directors’ Alliance comprises 60 members: a significant proportion of those members, Beddie included, have spent decades directing excellent, profound and mostly under-funded theatre in Melbourne and beyond. Our industry relies on these women’s efforts as mentors for cultivating writers, performers, designers and technicians, but in turn they are not rewarded with professional work that is commensurate with their experience and skills. If artistic director Simon Philips is suggesting that the MTC’s gender inequality is the result of a lack of experienced Victorian female directors then we would like to ask him: are you blind, or scared, or both? There is no shortage of female talent in Victoria, simply a lack of opportunity.

We understand that budgetary constraints limit the number of external directors that can be employed by the company. But, when the proportion of directors is always overwhelmingly male we are interested in finding out what your recruitment criteria are that so many experienced women continue to be overlooked. That said, if the cost of external directors is causing gender equality to remain grossly unbalanced then it would seem logical to include women in your salaried creative staff.

If the MTC is the flagship theatre company of this state then it, more than any other company, has a responsibility to set an example and act fairly when it comes to gender equality. To relinquish that responsibility and make excuses as to the current state of discrimination implies that the MTC does not hold this issue to be important and therefore does not intend to act to promote change.

The Melbourne Workers Theatre would like to entreat all theatre-goers to take a stand and boycott main-stage plays that are directed by men until the imbalance is addressed. Theatre is nothing without an audience and an audience is almost nothing without womeOver the past fortnight Australian main-stage theatre companies have been unveiling their 2010 seasons to a barrage of complaints and criticism about the lack of opportunities for women in key creative roles, especially directing. Last week the Melbourne Theatre Company followed suit by announcing that out of 12 productions only one is to be directed by a woman.
 
A recent article in your paper cites a letter sent by director Melanie Beddie on behalf of the Australian Women Directors’ Alliance to the MTC questioning their commitment to their equal opportunity policies. We understand there has been no reply. Derek Young, the MTC’s chair, said that the company does not feel it should be held responsible for gender equality; rather that it is an issue for the entire theatrical industry. He pointed out that Beddie had made a similar complaint in 2003 and that nothing had changed.

We, the current ensemble of the Melbourne Workers Theatre, wish to offer our thanks and support to Melanie Beddie and the Directors’ Alliance for bringing this issue to light. We would like to say to the MTC that to admit that nothing has changed since 2003 is to admit that the company is stagnant and out of touch with what is happening in theatre beyond its doors. The Women Directors’ Alliance comprises 60 members: a significant proportion of those members, Beddie included, have spent decades directing excellent, profound and mostly under-funded theatre in Melbourne and beyond. Our industry relies on these women’s efforts as mentors for cultivating writers, performers, designers and technicians, but in turn they are not rewarded with professional work that is commensurate with their experience and skills. If artistic director Simon Philips is suggesting that the MTC’s gender inequality is the result of a lack of experienced Victorian female directors then we would like to ask him: are you blind, or scared, or both? There is no shortage of female talent in Victoria, simply a lack of opportunity.

We understand that budgetary constraints limit the number of external directors that can be employed by the company. But, when the proportion of directors is always overwhelmingly male we are interested in finding out what your recruitment criteria are that so many experienced women continue to be overlooked. That said, if the cost of external directors is causing gender equality to remain grossly unbalanced then it would seem logical to include women in your salaried creative staff.

If the MTC is the flagship theatre company of this state then it, more than any other company, has a responsibility to set an example and act fairly when it comes to gender equality. To relinquish that responsibility and make excuses as to the current state of discrimination implies that the MTC does not hold this issue to be important and therefore does not intend to act to promote change.

The Melbourne Workers Theatre would like to entreat all theatre-goers to take a stand and boycott main-stage plays that are directed by men until the imbalance is addressed. Theatre is nothing without an audience and an audience is almost nothing without women.

by Dana Miltins

* Here's the version for Melbourne white folk.