Review: Meow Meow at TBH

Meow Meow at The Burlesque Hour LOVES Melbourne
Finucane & Smith
21 July 2011
45 downstairs
Meow to 31 July
TBH to 14 August

With my new (unconsciously) Meow Meow inspired hair, I felt a bit fan-girly at last night's The Burlesque Hour LOVES Melbourne. So if you see me wearing too much glitter eyeshadow, you'll know who I'm honouring, but if you see me dancing semi-naked by the water wall at the National Gallery, it's a homage to Moria.

Finucane & Smith's Burlesque Hour  is the blissful, if fit-inducing, antidote to any winter blues. Damn it, it's the antidote to pretty much anything negative and should be compulsory for teenagers and anyone who still thinks that having a body like a Photoshopped model is a way to happiness, and for anyone who has leered at a woman.

With a list of Melbourne-legend special guests that makes choosing which night to go almost impossible, the only solution is to go more than once. If you go before July 31, there's Meow Meow.

The magnificent and obsessive Meow Meow was performing at the Apollo Theatre in London a month ago. For the next two weeks, Melbourne gets lucky as she's purring, hissing and shedding sequins in Flinders Lane.

David Bowie has declared that he never misses Meow. And there's a long line of us ready to push the divine starman aside for a blinding glimpse of this Weimar alley cat.

Like a prowling feral, you know that Meow wants to curl up on a loving lap in front of fire, but the only thing she knows is that sharp claws and loud noise keep her safe. Behind her drag-queen glitter and sequins is a woman so determined to find perfect love that she'll demand a hug from a stranger, but will probably poke out their eye because they dare to be less than perfect and will want to disappoint her like everyone does.

With clear logic that wanting to kiss her means that you think she's pretty, which means that you want to fuck her, which means that you'll never leave, Meow wins endless hearts, but she will never let anyone close enough to realise that she's loved. Neither will she ever let her exquisite voice (or Melissa Madden Gray) get in the way or distract from the singular focus of Meow's deliciously distorted need for love.

Meow is the type of cabaret artist who makes up for any night of theatrical dullness we've endured. Not that there's a moment of dullness with Moira, Maude, Harriet, Holly and Sosina at The Burlesque Hour.

A version of this review appeared on AussieTheatre.com

Review: The Burlesque Hour LOVES Melbourne

The Burlesque Hour LOVES Melbourne

Finucane & Smith

18 June 2011

45downstairs

to 14 August

From obscure subversive cabaret (loved by people like me) to Melbourne cultural institution (loved by people who go to the MTC), what hasn't been said about the insane gorgeousness of Finucane & Smith's The Burlesque Hour?

For all its new found, middle class popularity, TBH retains its subversive soul and it's still impossible not to leave feeling positive and excited about your age, your body and your overall sexiness, even if you sometimes keep it hidden.

The Burlesque Hour LOVES Melbourne nearly as much as Melbourne loves TBH.  It's missing some of the darker elements from past shows (and Azaria and Yumi), but this perfumed pink paper love letter is still written in fresh blood and addressed to the city where this now world famous show started.

This year Moira brings her favourite exquisite grotesque pieces and a new purple number that will leave you wet in all the right places. There's the wonderfully wild (and pro-hair) Sosina Wogayehu, Holly Durant and Harriet Ritchie, and Maude Davey continues to elegantly re-define rock. If you don't know, the correct response is "No way, get fucked, fuck off"

And as a special sparklie gift, there are a collection of weekly OMFG Melbourne special guest legends, including some of my absolute favourites like Die Rotten Punkte (how will Otto cope?), theatre goddess  Pamela Rabe, rock goddess Deborah Conway (please sing "Man Overboard") and Meow Meow, the one burlesque artist who could make Moira seem repressed.

But for the opening weekend, there was Rhonda Burchmore. Now, I would usually consider Rhonda to be the antithesis of everything TBH celebrates about performance, women and sexuality. But, dammit, she made me laugh and I enjoyed the story about Micky Rooney's cock and her troubles with her fanny bird. But how awesome would it have been to see her drop the Rhonda mask and show us something completely unexpected and real. Next time Rhonda...

It's no secret that I think Finucane & Smith are one of the best things in this amazing world ofMelbourne theatre. Their work celebrates all who dare to refuses to conform, as it defies any attempt of genre definition and questions our perceptions and expectations of theatre and burlesque and life.

If you haven't seen it, there is no excuse good enough to miss it again.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com

Review: Human Interest Story

Human Interest Story
Malthouse Theatre, Lucy Guerin and Perth International Arts Festival
24 July 2010
Merlyn Theatre, CUB Malthouse
www.malthouse.com.au

Lucy Guerin's choreography speaks louder and clearer than most words on our stages.  Human Interest Story explores the overlap of our domestic lives with the "news" and current events. Is it as hard to care as passionately about wars and stuff when Callum might beat Adam at Masterchef?

Be it the nightly news, daily papers or Facebook updates, we each have some connection and interest in the world beyond ourselves, and when Presidents Ahmadinejad and Obama are presented alongside the gossiping of Michael Jackson's former nanny, it's no wonder we feel unable to understand or react in the most positive manner.

Human Interest Story opens with the dancers watching a big screen TV with a monotone narration of the news. In the background, a barely lit, full-size tank sits like a tamed wild cat wondering if it can still attack.  In brightly coloured camouflage outfits, the dancers' words are their music in a world where slicing strassburg (fritz or devon for non-Victorians) at Coles is as important as getting a text about your euthanised dog,  giving your kids scrambled eggs, oil spills and Julia Gillard's view on climate change.

With a wow soundscape created by Jethro Woodward and lighting by Paul Jackson (whom I can never say enough good about), colours turn to grey and black as heartbeats, breath, scrunching newspaper and finally music accompany the dancers, whose intensity and emotion moves from the personal to a deeply personal reaction to a world they are part of and unable to control.

The physical language of dance is often foreign to people like me who love words, but dance like this reminds us of their limitations. Guerin and her dancers (Stephanie Lake, Alisdair Macindoe, Talitha Maslin, Harriet Ritchie, Stuart Shugg and Jessica Wong) create a balance where their skill creates the emotion and response, so rather than watching and wondering how bodies can do that, we feel deep in our guts; feel what we really think about the overwhelming nature of our multi-media contradictory society, even if we can't find adequate words to express it in a tweet. They bring the human response back to the stories.

As this review got unintentionally lost in a week of film festivals and musical openings, the short Melbourne season is over, but Human Interest Story will be at the Perth International Arts Festival next year.  It's great excuse to go to Perth.

This review appeared on AussieThearte.com.

Review: Salon De Dance...Deluge

Salon De Dance...Deluge
Finucane and Smith
5 March 2010
La Mama

Bienvenue à la deuxième Salon De Dance, avec beaucoup de merde franglais et la gall to call itself Deluge.

The independent theatre world takes its art very seriously, but Finucane and Smith’s salone is about having fun, some Absinthe and a dance with a good looking stranger in the brand spanking new La Mama courtyard.

In its second year, Salone de Dance...Deluge lets some of our favourite performers show us the stuff that doesn’t always fit into shows. Sometimes it’s very funny, sometimes very personal, sometimes a bit odd and even a bit indulgent – but the combination is brilliant and seedy and sexy and I hope the La Salone returns to La Mama regularly.

This year Azaria Universe writhes with razor blades; Jess Love makes martinis; Paul Cordeiro gets out his Michael Jackson wig; Brian Lucas let me dance with him and showed us his own special ‘Something’ ; and Rob McCredie, Harriet Ritchie and Holly Durant are back.

Special guest Christopher Green from the UK (who I’ve only just recognised as the fabulously wonderful Tina C) brings a new level of wow to Yumi Umiumare’s always extraordinary butoh by singing as she dances, and later proves that you don’t need tits to be Molly Blume.

Moira Finucane recovers from The Feast of Argentina Gina Catalina (there is no question about it – see both shows), puts on the hard rock, the white uniform and brings out a meat pie and sauce. Everyone who has seen her over the years knows what happens when Moira has food on stage, but she still gives us something unexpected.

And, of course, it’s hosted by Maude Davey. On Friday night she mocked the passing shower as she introduced the la Deluge and appreciated the irony when she sang “I can’t stand the rain”. After Saturday, I have to wonder if we offended someone or something very powerful. (For anyone not in Melbourne, on Saturday the rain fell on our city in a way we had never seen.)

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Salon de Dance 2009

Salon de Dance

Salon de Dance
La Mama
Finucane & Smith
22 March 2009
La Mama Theatre

So you think you know dance? Forgive the television analogy,  but you don’t know squat until you’ve been to Salone de Dance.

I’ve written a lot this week about authenticity, originality and other words we bandy around in regard to art. All are difficult to define, but obvious when we see them. The cabaret/burlesque/butoh/gothic/ bloody-terrific creations of Moira Finucane and Jackie Smith continue to be both – and so much more.

LaMama is transformed into a back ally Kabaret with pale crushed-velvet table clothes, candles and swinging light blubs, highlighted with sips of bright green absinthe (that may have been crème de menthe) and carefree toasts to La Danse. If you bring some coins, you can even buy your own dance during the most perfect of intervals.

From the bizarre to the gorgeous, la tres French Maude Davey hosts the soiree’s collection – all in a space barely big enough for a full split (as Paul Cordeiro demonstrates with ease, in a pair of crucifix decorated undies). None is suitable for a prime time telly “competition” – and for that, I’ll have another swig of green liquor and declare Viva! This isn’t dance that’s rated by popularity; this is dance that breaks the rules and lets us see what lurks in the hearts and thoughts of the dancers.

Jess Love combines ease with distress en pointe – with hoops; Rob McCredie charms with freestyle in a tux; Yumi Umimare battles with a possessed coat; Codreiro shows us his god complex; Holly Durant and Harriet Ritchie burst some fantasies about tits; and Moira barely moves, but her partnership with the smoke from a cigarette makes me want to abandon a life of non-smoking.

The most complete piece of the night is The Banquet Room directed by Jackie. Recently performed in Japan, it was described by one reviewer as,” The most shocking dance I've ever seen in my life.” Its gothic inspired butoh style is exaggerated, extreme, unexpected and macabre; it’s everything that dance isn’t meant to be – and all the more wonderful for it.

Finucane and Smith productions welcome audiences into their world, which, for all its darkness and oddness, lets us feel the liberation of unhinged and unencumbered passion.

Great shows find audiences, so Salone de Danse (and its scrumptious partner The Feast of Argentina Gina Catalina ) are already sold out – but turn up early and there’s a good chance of getting a seat at the door.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.