What Melbourne Loved in 2019, part 10

Today Kerith, Sarah and Zoey talk about deep-gut feelings that stay around long after the show has finished. And Kerith talks about how working on something you love has nothing to do with quotes and stars: "I guess it's so special because it feels very powerful to become a part of a community and accomplish something together. And help each other and cheer each other."


Kerith Manderson-Galvin
Artist

Kerith Manderson-Galvin. Photo by Cam Matheson

Favourite moment of 2019.
Last year I loved Skye Gellman's End Grain and this year I loved the exhibition they curated for Sidesault Festival, Subjective Spectacle. It was elegant and clever and still a bit funny, and a really interesting way to spend an hour. Beautifully curated as an event with multiple performances and one that also worked as one larger performance. I loved it. It was an honour to be there.

My other favourite: Tenfingerz and Famous Artist Sebastian Berto's Fast Fashun. It is probably one of my favourite things I've ever been to really. A tonne of clothing waste was refashioned by participants into outfits for runway shows. You could watch the shows or be a part of it. It was like being on Project Runway, but actually it was so much more than that. Tenfingerz's events are unique. Maybe people say this all time about other people – and it's possible I've said this about Tenfingerz in another year's what I loved – but I don't think there is anyone else that does what Tenfingerz does.

And this event was really special. I guess it's so special because it feels very powerful to become a part of a community and accomplish something together. And help each other and cheer each other. Gee, the more I think about it, the more impressive it was. And the fun! I had so much fun! It's SO. FUCKING. NICE. TO. HAVE. FUN. Also, I made a skirt out of a handbag and felt like a genius, which is also very nice. And I discovered my love of the bonnet. AND I have used skills that I learned at Fast Fashun after it ended, which maybe matters more. It affected the way I live my life.

Incredible.

Oh also. Mecha – Festival of Experimental Art was such a joy.

Looking forward to in 2020.
Fast Fashun 2.0.
Lydia Lunch: Retrovirus (again).
Ruby Jones's album launch that I have decided will happen next year.
Next Wave festival –  probably. I just went to their website and it was hard to navigate.
Are You Ready To Take The Law Into Your Own Hands. I won't actually be around to see but I would have been looking forward to it.

SM: I saw Kerith perform in A Normal Child by Disability Slapstick Plan and MUST's The Bacchae by Rob Reid at La Mama. Both shows I loved but wasn't able to write about. My moments with Kerith were a couple of hours in The Bacchae when their character was sitting on the side of the Courthouse stage and watching. They was so absorbed that I kept drifting back to watch them watching and listening, which made me even more aware of what they was watching and listening.

Sarah Collins
Writer, photographer, performer

"I’m not sure if this is an ok photo, but considering my other favourite theatre moment this year was getting to photograph Alison Bell and compare facial features at long last, it’s probably appropriate."
AB, Sarah Collins. Photo by John Leary.

Favourite moment of 2019.
Far and away the best thing I saw this year was a show by Amritha Dhaliwal and Gemma Soldati called The Living Room at The Butterfly Club, which came out from LA for the Melbourne Fringe.

I’ve never watched two clowns take an audience from hysterical laughter to fighting back tears in the blink of an eye quite so skilfully.

I’ve also never seen an audience taken on a ride quite so (unexpectedly) necessary.

This show stayed with me for weeks. It was so seamlessly performed that when reflecting back upon it I couldn’t even piece together how they’d pulled it off; I simply had these delightfully nutty, indescribably sad, and utterly joyous images in my head as keepsakes.

Incredible.

Looking forward to in 2020.
The Living Room! They’re coming back for MICF. Beg, borrow or steal a ticket. (SM: Or buy one.)

SM: Sarah's been working on a YA novel this year; I can't wait to read it. But my favourite moment was when we realised we'd both seen The Living Room. And her child's kinder photo that will haunt the families of her classmates.

PS: Sad to see that YouTube/Target have removed her boob ad from an earlier year.

Zoey Dawson
Writer etc

Zoey Dawson

Favourite moments of 2019.
WAISTD and EQUINOX (their opening to the Castlemaine State Festival) by Deep Soulful Sweats,  Poopie Tum Tums by The Very Good Looking Initiative, Barbara and the Camp Dogs at Malthouse, Unwoman by The Rabble, Wake in Fright at Malthouse, Subliminal Massage by Marcus McKenzie and Club Greg at Melbourne Fringe, Mullygrubs by Leah Filley and Harry Thompson at Melbourne Fringe.

So many other shows I didn't get to see! I was a woeful theatre goer this year and vow to better next year. But  the moments I most remember this year were all the stand out performances! So I am going to make a wee dedication to those, because fuck we have a talented city of THESPIANS:

Ursula Yovich in Barbara and the Camp Dogs. I was very sad to hear that Ursula is retiring from the stage, but also unsurprised after seeing this performance that came absolutely from the pit of her gut, and that's where I felt it. I feel so lucky to have seen her play the exquisite, damaged and hilarious Barbara and I won't soon forget it. And that voice; hooley dooley.

Jennifer Vuletic in The Rabble's My Dearworthy Darling at Malthouse. An actor at the absolute height of her powers, completely in and of her body and with a gravitas that makes you tingle from the inside out. I felt this performance was just for me, as I'm sure every other person in the theatre did. I had to have a lie down afterwards.

Yumi Umiumare, Dana Miltins and Mary Helen Sassman in Unwoman. I am such a fangirl of Mary Helen and Dana as an acting duo. I think they've been working together, what? Since they were born? And it was such a delight to see them smash it out of the park in the second act of The Rabble's incredible show.  This whole company is bloody soaring at the moment. My top draft pick for 2020. Full credit to the girls. Anyway, back to the ACTING.  I think I levitated with joy watching Dana and Mary Helen devour this visceral, graphic and hilarious material, and watching Dana describe her first poo after giving birth was absolutely my theatre highlight of 2019. Then Yumi Umiumare came along and did something that brought me back down to earth and made it cave in. Torturous, unending, beautiful; a profound physical performance that communicated something unspeakable.

Lou Wall as Satan in Oh No! Satan Stole my Pineal Gland!. Iconic. Masterfully underplayed, impeccable comic timing and deeply disturbing. I know she's basically still a teenager but can someone plz give Lou a major state funded theatre company to run and her own talk show immediately?

Charles Purcell as an anxious camel come drag-cassowary in Mad as a Cute Snake at Theatre Works was something very special to behold. Charles is always a beautiful performer, but this was like watching him emerge from his chrysalis as his very own, fully formed spirit animal. I wept. Are you supposed to do that in children's drag theatre?

The incomparable Zahra Newman in Wake in Fright. What even...? How does she...? How will we ever, as a city, be truly worthy of Zahra's talent? After seeing her obliterate canonical roles on the mainstage for years it was SO SATISFYING seeing her play a version of herself and tell us (some of) what she really thinks.

Marcus McKenzie in Subliminal Massage. Marcus is by far the most stone cold weirdo I know, as well as one of the most talented. I loved seeing him orchestrate this surreal beast that somehow condensed all of his bonkers energy into a sneakily very-moving show. He is such a generous and uncompromising and effortless performer and I can't wait to see what he does next.

Looking forward to in 2020.
Pretty much everything everyone else has said, as well as following around the above performers and makers to see what they do next. Can't wait for basically everything at the Malthouse; what a great season! And I am peeing my pants excited to see Declan Greene direct Nick Coyle's Feather In The Web at Red Stitch; a very very funny sicko play that made me lol so much when I read it. And Stephen Nicolazzo's Orlando with the criminally talented Chanella Macri! What else?? Everything! Asia TOPA! Next Wave! Artshouse! Western Edge Youth Arts! Probably heaps more things made in carparks and public toilets now that arts funding is in the bin! But I've happy to put on my warm coat. I just hope we keep making stuff.

SM: Another easy one. Zoey wrote Australian Realness. I don't think I've ever used this cliche, but what a journey! From the opening scenes and wondering if she really had written a very funny and very nice middle-class play to having no flipping idea where it was going to go and loving every twist, even when it was twisting and turning that bloody reality mirror in front of us middle class theatre goers. And watching an audience go from having comfortable expectations about a nice safe play to the walls falling down and having all those expectations shattered. More please.

Review: Oil

Oil
Red Stitch Actors Theatre
17 November 2019
Cromwell Road Theatre
to 15 December
redstitch.net

Daniela Farinacci. "Oil". Photo by John Lloyd Fillingham

Oil by UK writer Ella Hickson takes place between 1889 and 2051. Fossil fuels (coal, petroleum, natural gas) began to be used in the late 1800s and it's predicted to take about 250 years for humans to use all of the fossil fuels on earth. It will take millions of years for our fossilised bodies to make more.

But Red Stitch's Australian premiere of this 2016 play is far more than a history lesson, social commentary or plea for us to treat our world better.

While it moves from Cornwell and Hamstead in the UK to Tehran and Bagdad in Iran, with visits from Libya and China, its emotional spine and connection to the audience is the relationship between a mother and her daughter. Daniela Farinacci and Hannah Fredericksen are both mesmerising as consistent characters who age as each act moves in time and place. Their story of choice, sacrifice, loneliness and the line between control and love is gripping as it finds its space in the parallel story about humanity. If only we could always choose to have light, warmth and freedom.

Red Stitch have opened a new theatre in South Yarra in an old Anglican church hall. It's bigger than their St Kilda theatre and gives the space needed to share an epic story, especially as its age asks how many other stories have been told in this place. The church next door was built about 150 years ago so would have been lit by candles.

The script is layered and structurally balanced in ways that ask even more questions as its brings attention to the writing. Director Ella Caldwell adds more layers and questions with a consistently strong cast (Jennifer Vuletic, Darcy Brown, Jing-Xuan Chan, Matthew Whitty, Justin Hosking, Charlie Cousins, Krisraw Jones-Shukoor, Nicole Nabout) who let the epic nature of the work tell the story; characters create the world rather than letting the world create the characters.

Some of the most striking performances can't easily be seen. The only time the full cast is on stage is in act one in a farm lit by candles. Candles don't create much light. Clare Springett's lighting (working with Greg Clarke's set and Chloe Greaves character-defining costumes) is the character that influences every choice in Oil and makes the telling extraordinary.

It's so easy to dismiss how much we depend on the light and warmth created by fossil fuels, as it's so easy to know why we choose light and warmth. And to question it all in an old dark hall is riveting.

Review: My Dearworthy Darling

My Dearworthy Darling
Malthouse and The Rabble
7 August 2019
Beckett Theatre
to 18 August
malthousetheatre.com.au

Jennifer Vuletic. "Me Dearworthy Darling". Photo by David Paterson

I didn't realise how often I don't see reflections of myself on our stages, until I did.

Near the opening of The Rabble's My Dearworthy Darling, Jennifer Vuletic lies on a rock/couch/bed  talking about not being looked at with disgust. Middle aged? Of a certain age? "Never ask a lady her age" bullshit. Women who no longer have the physical benefits of oestrogen and the appeal of fertility can disappear from our stories as we're not virgins, 30-somethings or crones. Not in this story.

Trying to find meaning in a production by The Rabble can work against experiencing their work. On a very superficial level, this is a story about domestic and family gaslighting overcome by the voice and choir of a mystic from the middle ages; which doesn't come near to what's really going on.

The Rabble's theatre can feel confusing and unclear, but their work is visceral and meaning seeps into you without you knowing. It could be in how the lighting changes the colour of the air or how hearing the sound though a bank of speakers forces you to change how you listen to the people on stage. It might be the words or the performances. Or the carpeted floor and the vacuum, silver draped ceiling and LED sign. Or the choir of hooded monks.

But it is likely that your understanding is something that no one else felt.

The text by Alison Croggon began with the 14th century writings of Margery Kemp. Croggon's prolific writing includes criticism, journalism, poetry, libretti, plays and fiction (young adult, fantasy and historical). This text feels like it incorporates them all – there's even a critic joke – but feels more personal than other works of hers that I've read.

The personal is also in the performances from Vuletic, Natalie Gamsu (her sister) and Ben Grant (her partner). In a world that looks and feels so unlike the domestic, they find a naturalism that almost tips the text's poetry and they create characters so recognisable that it's easy to know, understand or judge them.

Natalie Gamsu. "My Dearworthy Darling". Photo by David Paterson

As it was always written to be a collaboration with directors-designers-Rabble-founders Emma Valente and Kate Davis, it's not an option to look at the text away from the production and performance. Davis and Valente develop their theatre from a rehearsal room where no one's voice is excluded and even though only a fraction of the development ends up on the stage, the contributions of all are so blurred that it seems like one voice.

My Dearworthy Darling surprises with its shifts from the familiar to the unknown and from the mundane to the spiritual. Its symbolism is as obvious as it is obscure but its many contradictions feel surprising natural. It's not easy theatre and is as much about theatre as it is about the deeply personal and hidden. But it left me feeling like it was theatre for me.

Review: Merciless Gods

Merciless Gods
Little Ones Theatre and Darebin Arts Speakeasy 
28 July 2017
Northcote Town Hall
to 5 August
darebinarts.com.au
littleonestheatre.com.au

Jennifer Vuletic. Merciless Gods. Photo by Sarah Walker

Yesterday there were only a handful of tickets available for Little Ones Theatre's Merciless Gods at the Northcote Town Hall, so they've snuck in an extra matinee on Saturday (August 5). Book now because otherwise you will have to go to Sydney to see it at Griffin in November. Really, it's that good.

Director Stephen Nicolazzo approached Melbourne-based author Christos Tsiolkas to adapt his series of short stories, Merciless Gods (released in 2014 but is a collection of older work), he said yes, and long-time Little One's collaborator Dan Giovannini wrote the script.

So much of the strength of Little Ones Theatre's work comes from an ongoing collaboration with a core group of artists. And, as an arts writer, it's been pretty amazing to watch this group of artists find each other and develop over the years. One of the many reasons to see new work and emerging artists is that rare opportunity to see how original voices develop in on our stages.

As all good Melbourians have read at least one of Tsiolkas's books (The Slap, Dead Europe, Head On), there's an immediate familiarity with Merciless Gods – the first story onstage story about five middle class friends could be easily re-cast from the audience. The work feels like being inside one of Tsiolkas's books, but what makes this adaption so remarkable is that it's nothing like reading Tsiolkas on the page.

There's no attempt to recreate the sense of place in his books. Tsiolkas evokes and uses place so effectively in his writing. Northcote, Brighton and Moorabin in The Slap could be no other suburbs, but as a reader you don't need to know where you are to understand the attitudes that define the area. On stage, place is mentioned but it's only seen through the design by Eugyeene Teh (set and costume) and Kate Sfetkidis (lighting).

With a colbolt blue wedge that literally stabs into the audience from a red curtain that's somewhere between blood red and fuck-me lipstick-red (Teh's use of colour to create emotion is always incredible), the eight worlds/stories place the audience as those merciless gods who watch and may want the unthinkable to take place in front of their passive gaze.

Instead of being comfortable in place, ranging from suburban backyard to a gay sauna, Giovannini's script lets us into the hearts and heads of the characters. There's no sitting back and letting environment control actions and this lets these stories find a humanity in people who are often ignored or seen as defective or inhumane humans.

These stories are about characters and people who are rarely seen on our stages and in our stories, or  those who are invisible or ignored in our lives. Along with the queer and Australian immigrant stories expected from Tsiolkas, are people whose circumstances or behaviours leave them fading or invisible. There's a middle aged woman dealing with her teenage son beginning to treat her like she's nothing, an older women watching male gay porn, a man in prison for a violent crime, a man who's chosen to end his life surrounded by his family.

Each are stories that confront – it's difficult to feel for someone whose behviour makes us want to ignore or hate them – but the production doesn't try to shock. Shock lets us distance ourself from characters. By finding common emotions and thoughts – we know the pain of grief, the irrationality of wanting revenge, the blindness of love –, it's much harder to say "that would never be me or mine".

All of which could fall apart if the cast (Sapidah Kian, Peter Paltos, Paul Blenheim, Brigid Gallacher, Charles Purcell and the incredible Jennifer Vuletic) didn't bring themselves to their characters. Again, they don't let the abhorrent or simply annoying behaviours of their characters create distance, and all find a personal connection with character that lets the audience find their own connection.

It's this connection that Nicolozzo ensures is always on the stage and this disturbs far more than anything the characters do. It's easy to connect with lovely people; it's confronting to connect with – and easily laugh with – people who you'd never look at in the street or are happy to pretend don't exist.

Review: Chitty Chitty Bang Bang

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang
Tim Lawson
2 February 2012
Her Majesty's Theatre
to 17 March
chittychitty.com.au

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the car, is terrific, and deserves her curtain call.  She's awesome and cost over a million dollars to make, but all that spit, polish and Turtle Wax can't make her script sparkle.

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, the show, is a shiny lemon that really shouldn't be compared to the other Sherman brothers musical Mary Poppins and neither should this production be compared to the recent Australian Poppins.

Most of its shine is from Antony Ward's delicious design that gloriously evokes memories of the film but is original and contemporary and filled with hidden detail and surprises.

The story is about an inventor Caractacus Potts, his two children and their potential new mum, called Truly Scrumptious, who all take a trip in their amazing flying car to a place called Vulgaria, which has a glittery Nazi-esque monarchy and a creepy dude called the Child Catcher. It's based on the 1968 film, written by Roald Dahl (!) and Ken Hughes, that's based on a children's story by Ian (007) Fleming. I haven't read the book, but watched the film as a child (and a bit now on You Tube) and I don't think it's fair to compare them either.

For all the delightfully mad characters, the clunky stage story is forced, lacks basic this-happened-because logic and structure, has an unearned and tensionless ending, and doesn't let its wonderful characters be particularly interesting or creative because the car solves their problems. It feels like scenes have been squished together in the hope that it'll create delicate layers, but it's more a trifley mess where the yummy bits get lost in too much globby custard made from powder, no-fat milk and forgettable songs (apart from the ear-worm title song) that don't move the story or reveal anything new.

If anyone dares huff and say that kids don't care about these things, I suggest that you spend more time with children, read some children's books and watch kids when they watch theatre or films, or pick the scrummy bits out of a globby trifle. Kids near me were snoozing by the end, but my favourite moment was a little boy's declaration of "that's not funny". I'm with you, kid. It wasn't funny and I think people were only laughing to be polite.

It's certainly not the performers fault that it's a dud script.

All the children are especially terrific. I used to love watching children perform when I was a child and my best recommendation to see this is to let kids you know be inspired by other kids. It's just a shame that they have to play such goody-goodies who get out of trouble because they have a magic car rather than by planning ingenious mischief.

The comic characters bring genuine comic relief and, even in scenes that slow the story (what's with the Samba?), are a hoot. George Kapiniaris and Todd Goddard as Vulgarian spies are popular with the kids, and grown ups will always groan at King Alan Brough and Queen Jennifer Vuletic's sexy royal shenanigans.

Rachel Beck is truly lovely as Truly, Peter Carroll is a delight as Grandpa Potts and David Hobson can sure sing, but lacks the love and appeal that should make every kid want Caractacus Potts as their dad, inspire all dads and uncles to be like him, and make the audience understand why Truly fancies him.

When you have a script that isn't brilliant, it's up to the director (Roger Hodgman) and the cast to bring extra to the stage so that the faults are forgivable. It feels like it was directed scene by scene rather than as a whole and most of the cast could bring a bit more heart to make their characters and the world real. I have to compare it to the recent production of Annie. Now, Annie's script is far from a gem, but every person on the stage, from stars to swings, knew their place in that world and found the love in the most cringe-worthy scenes; in Chitty the cast know their cues and the ensemble know their chorey (except a pair in the Samba who were counting, or maybe chatting).

Chitty Chitty Bang Bang's not a perfect show to begin with, but there's enough creative talent involved to overcome its problems and make it something really scrumptious. And unless they do, there's nothing wrong with buying the DVD and reading your kids some Roald Dahl stories about wonderfully wicked children.

This was on AussieTheatre.com

Review: The Histrionic

The Histrionic
Malthouse Theatre and Sydney Theatre Company
15 April
Merlyn Theatre
to 5 May
malthouse.com.au

Until I hit Google, I didn't  know about Austrian writer Thomas Bernhard. A quote from the New York Times that his works are "the most significant literary achievement since World War II" crops up a lot. As an over-educated reader, I guess I should know him, but The Histrionic hasn't encouraged me to seek out more Bernhard.

In 1982 Bernhard had a super-hissy when a Saltzburg Festival theatre wouldn't turn off emergency EXIT signs and he cancelled the season because "A society that can't deal with two minutes of darkness can do without my play". He then went all meta and returned to the same theatre with a dark comedy about a living-treasure genius artist performing his greatest work in a town that's more interested in its pigs and sausages – complete with ironic rants about EXIT signs.

I love little more than art and writing, but I care little for self-important art and writers. Even with its satirical guise, The Histrionic is still so close to reality that I didn't care.

Billie Brown joyfully embodies Bruscon, the self-obsessed genius who has to perform even if his cast/ family and audiences don't live up to his standards. In a career-highlight performance, the work is mostly a one-sided conversation with Bruscon and for all its insight and genuine wit, I didn't care if he succeeded, failed or was eaten by the pigs.

I didn't care about the writer or his art because there's nothing he's saying that we don't know.  I know people like Bruscon and his cast and, even with their lost souls and broken hearts, I'm happy to light the way out and live without him.

But what makes this production so intriguing and enjoyable is that director Daniel Schlusser and his wonderful cast make us care for everyone else on the stage. The good-hearted landlord (Barry Otto), his wife (Kelly Butler) and daughter (Katherine Tobkin) and Bruscon's wife (Jennifer Vuletic) and children (Josh Price and Edwina Wren), say little, but great theatre and irresistible performance isn't really about getting the most lines.

As Bruscon pontificates, they accept and suffer in a marvellous backstage void filled with saw dust and old props that have been left to decay (designed by Marg Horwell and lit by Paul Jackson). With the likes of huge fruit and veg, a giant hand and massive moose, you can't not laugh at and love the artifice of theatre – and there's the bonus game of "what show is that prop from" (hooray for another appearance of the bi-polar bear).

Schlusser's voice is by far the more interesting one in The Histrionic and he balances the line between self-indulgence and art so deftly that even the likes of Bruscon are forgiven, if not loved.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com

The Women of Troy

The Women of Troy
Malthouse Theatre and Sydney Theatre Company
13 November 2008
Merlyn Theatre, CUB Malthouse

Barrie Kosky never wants his audiences to feel too comfortable and The Women of Troy is a relentless reminder that wars continue to strip women of power, dignity and hope.

Of course, he does it in true Kosky fashion; with blood, music and a mixture of discomfort, unexpected beauty and unsettling humour. It starts with confronting violence and never lowers its intensity. By the end, we accept the constant gore, gun shots and pain as normal. I initially thought this was a pacing problem, then I realised that it was probably the point – and it was a point made damn well.

Kosky describes Euripides’s ancient work as, “one of the most searing and moving antiwar plays ever written.” With Tom Wright he adapted and condensed the script to its core, telling of a post-war time after the city of Troy has been overrun by the Greeks (with a cunning plan involving a big horse) and those left alive can only see a future of humiliation, pain and violence.

For a director who loves words, sounds and music, the impact of a Kosky show is always the visual. The music and three-person chorus (Natalie Gamsu, Queenie Van De Zandt and Jennifer Vuletic) were stunning at the time, but I’ve forgotten what they sung, and I can barely remember the script.  But the images have remained.

The direction draws on unforgettable horrific images from our current wars, supported by Alice Babidge’s design of an endless warehouse of lockers and cabinets, where blood trickles and pools, and we don’t want to see what’s behind the closed doors. Here the bloodied and bruised women are treated as carcasses, ready to be shipped off to their new owners in boxes bound with packing tape.

Robyn Nevin (as Queen Hecuba) and Melita Jurisic (as Cassandra, Andromache and Helen of Troy) are riveting. Kosky directs his performers in a way that breaks down all public personas and shows us the uncensored thoughts of the person’s inner voices and unconscious. As classical works were written without thoughts of naturalism, it’s no wonder Barrie presents them so vividly.

The choice to cast Jurisic in the three roles continues to split opinions. If you know the work, each character is clear, but it is confusing if you don’t, or haven’t read the program notes. Either way, it distracts by focussing the show on her performance (which is superb), rather than the piece as a whole.

I’m never quite sure how to read a Kosky work – which is what I love about them. He understands his own intricate interpretation and directs with a detail that supports his every thought. So, to avoid confusion, I think its best to just sit back, let the experience flow and see how you feel at the end.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com