Review: The Real and Imagined History of The Elephant Man

The Real and Imagined History of The Elephant Man
Malthouse Thearte
9 August 2017
Beckett Theatre
to 27 August
malthousetheatre.com.au

Daniel Monks. The Real and Imagined History of The Elephant Man. Photo by Pia Johnson

My first experience of Joseph Merrick's story was in 1980 with David Lynch's film The Elephant Man, on the big screen. I may have been too young to deal emotionally with the initial fear – and eventual love – created by Lynch, but it carved the story of the young man who few could see as human into my memory. Unlike the well-known stories of Merrick that run the gauntlet of extreme emotion and see Merrick with pity, director Matt Lutton and writer Tom Wright take us into Merrick's imagined thoughts in The Real and Imagined History of The Elephant Man at Malthouse.

The production begins in 1880s England with the audience being welcomed behind a giant sideshow curtain to gawp for the cost of our ticket. Once we're complicit freak gawpers, Merrick’s story is told chronologically from his impoverished childhood to circus exhibit to the questioned sanctuary of a hospital. Based on what is known about his life, each scene gets closer to his imagined thoughts until we're with Merrick and looking back at ourselves.

Daniel Monks performance as Merrick finds a personal and intriguing space where he lets the audience know that he knows he’s being looked at because he is an actor with a physical disability. Performing without prosthetics, Merrick’s “cauliflower squeezing into pigskin” growths are imagined and there’s much more power in his wearing and final rejection of his “gentleman’s” suit. It’s cool to be different as long as you’re trying to be the same as everyone else.

Marg Horwell's costume design stresses the sameness of Merrick’s world and her set (with Paul Jackson’s consistently-remarkable lighting) initially feels Lynchian with a wide-screen frame that opens in black and white. But any comfortable and safe idea of a flat and distanced world is dismissed when the smoke and fog of industrialisation can’t be controlled and makes the audience part of the world.

Having all other characters performed by women (Paula Arundell, Julie Forsyth, Emma J Hawkins and Sophie Ross) parallels the question about how we tell and remember stories though different eyes. So much of Merrick’s story is known because it was told by Frederick Treves, the doctor who brought him to the hospital. Treves isn't part of this story; this time it’s Merrick’s story.

Yet for all it’s visual power and emotional punch, the production is dramatically inconsistent and at times feels like it’s caught trying to reflect on perceptions of disability rather than exploring the imagined life of the man whose skeleton is still on display and is mostly remembered because of his moniker.

Review: Endgame

Endgame
MTC
26 March 2015
The Sumner
to 25 April
mtc.com.au

Julie Forsyth & Rhys McConnochie. Photo by Jeff Busby

There's a double page in the program for the MTC's Endgame titled "explantion". It's about modernism, Absurdism and finding meaning in Samuel Beckett's writing. It's great for post-show conversations but it doesn't talk about the possibility of losing yourself in Beckett's world and not giving a toss about meaning.

For me, the joy of a Beckett stage is being lost in a WTF time and space with people for whom this is every day. There's a rhythm – a music – to his writing that moves his audiences through the text without having to stop to understand and interpret. This rhythm is easy to see in a script and it's a loss to anyone who doesn't let it beat on the stage.

The Endgame world is described as "grey light". Here Clov (Luke Mullins), who can't sit, is servant to Hamm (Colin Friels), who can't walk or see, and spends every day in a chair in the centre of the space. To his right are two large cans or bins where Nagg (Rhys McConnochie) and Nell (Julie Forsyth), Hamm's parents who have no legs, live. They talk about death and endings while knowing that the inevitable release may be too far away to offer much hope.

But it's not bleak, and being free to laugh is what makes it light and fun.

The essential grey light is created by designer Callum Mortum and lighting designer Paul Jackson (and not forgetting Eugyeene Teh's costumes). There's a literal fourth wall of grey cement slabs that disappears in the opening of perfect black out (and may those who chose that moment to deal with their phones, get parking tickets before the week is out); there's nothing like velvet of pure dark to guide us into the unknown.

The bare world is a bunker made of concrete slabs, and, even as it asks questions and offers answers from future apocalypse to last century's wars, we never know why or how or when. The passing of a day is in the lighting that's only black and white. The changes are imperceptible until the grey is darker or a shadow has moved. As the night draws in, the stage looks like it's pulling away from the audience and could be turned off with the flick of a remote control.

Sam Strong directs a cast who know Beckett and, at their best, bring a complex understanding to their characters that lets the audience find that rhythm. Mullins and Forsyth especially find the humanity and loss in the subtext, while still letting Clov and Nell be clowns.

But there are moments of indulgence that makes it all about the actors. This breaks the rhythm and takes us back to looking for an explanation rather being happily lost in the pulse of grey light.

This was on AussieTheatre.com

Review: Night on Bald Mountain

Night on Bald Mountain
Malthouse Theatre
8 May 2014
Merlyn Theatre
to 25 May
malthousetheatre.com.au

There's the moment when you walk into a theatre and get the first look of the world you're going to be playing in. And all fear of the play that Patrick White himself called "a dishonest play" flew when faced with a real bald mountain.

Dale Ferguson's design for Night on Bald Mountain is a roof-to-floor and wall-to-wall terraced mountain made of plywood with secret doors opening into endless black and secret goats for instant joy. With Paul Jackson's always-glorious lighting, we're taken from dawn to dawn on the mountain and into a house that wants to be part of a landscape that it doesn't belong in.

Neil Armfield, a close friend of White who directed many of his plays, once said in Meanjin that White's plays "only work in wonderful productions. Patrick knew this, and that is why he was so selective about his directors. And it’s not a case of bad writing needing to be rescued, or papered over; rather the plays present great challenges that need to be overcome."

Photo by Pia Johnson

Matthw Lutton directs this Mountain. He was a child when White died in 1990, so never saw the author-approved productions, yet his vision of this 50-year-old work finds a completeness in the difficult-to-perform play.

With its goat-lady chorus of one, an older couple who never found each other, a young couple who never have a chance to find each other, and outsiders who want to but can't escape the mountain, it's a psychological piece about character. But Lutton doesn't let this constant exploration dominate and his movement around and through the imposing mountain creates a pace that drives the story, lets the comedy come freely, and creates a tension that lets us hope for an ending that isn't pre-destined by the mountain's slippery paths and crevices.

Actors love White because there is so much in discover in his characters and his language. This cast – and it's worth seeing if only for the cast – approach their characters in ways that result in different styles of performance, and this somehow adds to the complexity without ruining the overall flavour. Nikki Sheils's sunny naturalism, Julie Forsyth's Brechtian distance and Melita Jurisic's anguished almost-expressionism should clash, but the combination of unique performer and character bring a closeness to the characters while still maintaining the distance that allows us to see the wholeness of the work.

This push-and-pull is supported by David Franzke's sound that mixes amplified and natural sound – and Ida Duelund Hansen's live music – to bring us into mountain and its people or leave us safely watching from afar.

It's a production that brings a very-now theatre aesthetic to a work that could easily get stuck in the 60s, and ultimately lets us see the writing of Patrick White though fresh eyes.

This was on AussieTheatre.com.

The tribute piece by Neil Armfield in Meanjin.

Guest rave: The Book of Everything

The Book of Everything
MTC, Belvoir, Theatre of Image
20 December 2013
Southbank Theatre, The Sumner
to 22 December
mtc.com.au

I got this message from Sarah Walker:

"I'm changing my favourite moment of 2013 to Julie Forsyth leaning onto the stage in The Book of Everything, holding a branch, and saying gleefully, 'I've always wanted to play a tree!'
I don't think you've seen this show and you must. Really, A-M. YOU MUST."

You don't ignore a message like that. I only just got in, but there are performances tomorrow and Sunday.

Sarah then wrote this about it. My review is "what she said".

I know that it's the crazy end of the year, and you're probably really busy this week, but if you possibly can, get to the MTC and see The Book of Everything. It's stunning. (And isn't it a wonderful time for Melbourne theatre when I can yell at you to go see an MTC show? Amazing).

It's beautiful and hilarious and heartbreaking and scary and silly and all the things that theatre should be. I cried. I cried a lot. I cried at Julie Forsyth being a child, and dancing, and talking for longer than about three lines. And I spent the whole last ten minutes holding my breath to avoid sobbing out loud, because the man next to me was a bit scared by my tears.

It's so joyous and sad at the same time. It captures so perfectly the moment when children realise that adults aren't happy and wonder why. It's saccharine without being sickly, which is a damn hard thing to achieve. And they throw enough serious darkness in to make you feel uncomfortable for the parents there with kids, which is excellent.

 IT'S SO GOOD. Please try to see it. Truly.

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

Review: Elizabeth - Almost By Chance A Woman

Elizabeth - Almost By Chance A Woman

Malthouse Theatre
7 April 2010
Merlyn Theatre, CUB Malthouse

If the Shakespearean malepropism "sporty bras of foreplay"* leaves you dabbing your eyes with your long white handkerchief, then get ye to Elizabeth - Almost By Chance A Woman.

Elizabeth is directed by Micahel Kantor. I love how Kantor has developed the Malthouse Theatre program. We've felt the impact of having artists and a dramaturge in residence, the Tower program has let many independent companies reach much wider audience and we've seen brilliant artists from all over. Of course, folk have whinged (some as they have free plonk at the opening night party), but sometimes it's just because they aren't part of the program.

I just wish I could connect and feel something when Kantor directs. His theatrical voice is distinct and bold and totally his. As an over-analyiser, I can always see the intent and the thought behind his work, but I don't go to the theatre (or read a book or watch TV) to admire technique. I go to wake up my heart and be taken somewhere amazing with people who make me feel and care.

Every artist in the Elizabeth team has been let free to create at the peak of their skill and imagination. Anna Cordingley's design is (as always) so exquisitely detailed that your eyes have to orgasm to take it all in; Louise Fox and Luke Devenish have written a gloriously bawdy script, filled with Aussie slang and cunt jokes that must have Dario Fo laughing from the heavens and wishing that "Mary Scrag of Scotts" would work in his original Italian; Billy Brown gets to wear a frock and swear like an old drag queen in a bitchy mood after a dozen midori and lemonades (and be Shakespeare); and the super cast get to wear amazing frocks and have a sing song.

Everyone is having a total ball and loving themselves sick as the audience are hypnotised by the bright pink tights, work to recognise the songs that were written in the later reign of Elizabeth II, and wish they had a boutique pale ale to scull every time that Billy said something about vaginas. Elizabeth leaves us so busy admiring all the very clever pretty that the story almost disappears. And there's a kick-ass story up there about a dying woman who is losing control of her mind and her personal life and her kingdom, while being harassed by Shakespeare.

Julie Forsyth as Elizabeth is so amazing that she keeps bringing the audience back. She understands the tone of Kantor's direction and uses all of its extravagance to make her monarch someone memorable.  But her performance doesn't feel completely supported by the rest of the show, apart from Paul Jackson's lighting that brings emotional light and shade to the stage when it's lacking.

No matter how good something is by itself, it is doing bad if it distracts the audience, who, after all,  are who the production is for. If pink tights are so memorable that it's all we look at in the scene, bring out the flesh coloured ones. If "clitty cheese" is making us laugh at Billy's smirk and and not at Donna's manipulation of her queen, the connection with the characters is lost. "Neverending Story" was so beautiful that I want a mini-windup version to put on my mantlepiece, but I have no idea what purpose it served in the story, as it created a faux-nostalgic emotion that wasn't for the suffering souls being played on the stage.

There's an old fashionista trick that says, before you leave the house turn around in front of the mirror and the first thing you see – take it off. There's a well used self-editing trick that says, highlight the phrases and words that you know are brilliant writerly writing – then cut them. If something is distracting from the story, a director should take it away.

Elizabeth has too much wonderful in it to be so emotionally unrewarding.


*Fortinbras of Norway, but I know you all got it!

This review appears on AussieThearte.com.

Happy Days

Happy Days
Malthouse Theatre
12 July 2009
Merlyn Theatre, CUB Malthouse

As I feel uncomfortably stuck to my ergonomic chair and unable to move from the confines of my desk and the growing pile of deadlines surrounding me, I have a soft spot for Winnie. Overwhelmed, out of control, unable to move and pouring forth words to someone who may not be listening; perhaps Beckett wrote Happy Days as an allegory for writers?

Writers tend to like Samuel Beckett, so do actors and people who love to natter about symbolism over a glass of Annie’s Lane Shiraz and a wedge of King Island Brie. So, of course, we love Malthouse Theatre’s Happy Days.

Director Michal Kantor lets Beckett’s words speak for themselves, while shaking up the purist opinions and giving us plenty of post-post-existentialist ideas to ponder.

If you missed out on an arts degree, Happy Days is another one of Beckett’s plays where nothing happens, but this protagonist is buried in a mound of earth. In this case, a post-apocalyptic, jagged mountain of earth supported with shards of broken existences. Anna Cordingley’s design brings an unexpected impact to the work. The deco sculptures, the endless sky curtain and the incessant circle of stage lights sustain our curiosity and wonder, while the artistry of Paul Jackson’s lighting floods the stage with emotion and changes our perspective.

At the centre of this visual gorgeousness sits Julie Forsyth as Winnie. Forsythe is already a legend for playing the same role for Anthill in the 80s and this performance confirms her status. Faced with a deteriorating world and a life without hope, Winnie still finds enjoyment in her routines and her conversations with her mostly silent husband (Peter Carroll) who lives behind her in a cave and has a pot of Vaseline to help kill some time. There’s a gun in Winnie’s bag if she ever needs it, but who would consider such an act when there’s so many other things to do? She is the eternal optimist, or the ultimate passive aggressive who turns her controlling aggression on to herself. Winnie never forgets to mention her migraines or remind herself to count her blessings; she knows that it sucks being buried in a mound of earth, but also knows that she had no choice. Forsythe’s cheery Winnie is hopeful and funny, but she also lets us glimpse Winnie’s inner-self, who only wears a smile so that no one knows that she’s defeated.

I love listening to post-show and interval audience conversations. Happy Days had the usual share of “It’s not my cup of tea”, “I stayed awake for most of it”, “I love that blue curtain” and “I prefer something with a story”. I wonder why these people come to see a Beckett. I also saw them at the MTCs current Pinter, where they said the same (just replace blue curtain with tea towels). If you know you don’t like Beckett, Kantor’s production isn’t going to convert you , so stay at home and enjoy Masterchef, and give your subscription ticket to a financially-strapped actor who can’t afford to go and really wants to see it.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Moving Target

Moving Target
Malthouse Theatre, Adelaide Bank Festival of Arts, Sydney Opera House
13 March 2008
Beckett Theatre, CUB Malthouse

Last week I despaired at seeing banality on Melbourne’s professional stages and began to wonder if I was being too harsh. Last night I saw Moving Target at the Malthouse. To Benedict Andrews and everyone involved in the creation of this work – may I say thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you.

Moving Target has come to Melbourne after a season at the Adelaide Festival of Arts. They also brought the Adelaide heat wave with them, but this show was worth sitting in a very hot room for two hours. Direction, performance, writing and design blend to create original, moving, addictive theatre.

The final script is a melding of Marius Von Mayenburg’s words (ably translated by Maja Zade) with an improvised ensemble rehearsal process. What seems chaotic and spontaneous is structured intricately and intelligently to build tension and gradually reveal story and character. The language gives us incredible images like a stubble-covered palm, a half-eaten bird and a green package that is never on the stage, but we never stop seeing it. The final scenes are all exposition. In the show-don’t-tell world of visual story telling, this isn’t recommended, but in the hands of such a team – all I can say is WOW. And this is regardless of content; which is as stunning as its telling. Children and terrorism are highly emotive subjects. This story embraces arch types, avoids clichés and lets its audience feel every genuine emotion.

The ensemble of Alison Bell, Julie Forsyth, Rita Kalnejais, Robert Menzies, Hamish Michael and Matthew Whittet are perfectly cast. It’s a tough job to get the balance right in this show. It takes exceptional skill and craft to make well-rehearsed and detailed staging look random and improvised, let alone to reveal complex characters from what initially appears to be the “real” actors on the stage. All worked as an ensemble, but I have to say that Alison’s subtlety was beautifully powerful and Hamish could pitch his performance just a squidge lower.

All elements of the design fuse to tell this story. The unexpected brilliance of Robert Cousins’ set becomes apparent as the hide and seek games begin. Fiona Crombie’s costumes look like a quick grab from the op shop, but show us the core of these characters. Performer Hamish Michael also designed the sound. The introduction of amplified sound and noise mirrors and supports every moment on the stage. Finally, there is Paul Jackson’s lighting. His Malthouse designs are consistently excellent, but this is sublime. The clean white, the coloured shadows, the transformation to black and white and the seconds of red show the emotion of this story. It is the best lighting I’ve seen since Robert Wilson was last in town.

This whole box of irresistible goodness was brought together by director Benedict Andrews. What an original and powerful theatrical voice. He uses the uniqueness of theatre to tell a story that burrows into the hearts and souls of its audience. The pacing is superb and the release genuinely cathartic. Sometimes the humour and gag were played too hard. The hoodie joke was very, very funny, but it took us away from the world on that stage and reminded us that we were watching an actor on a stage. Even if it’s the best joke ever seen – if it distracts from the story telling, it isn’t worth it.

Audiences deserve to see original, cliché free, astonishing theatre on our main stages. Malthouse’s focus on ensemble creation and original voices is proving that we don’t have to settle for boring. Moving Target might not instantly engage or move you – just go with the journey and you may be amazed where you end up.

This review originally appeared on AussieThearte.com.

Babes In The Wood

Babes In The Wood
Malthouse Theatre
18 November 2006
Merlyn Theatre, CUB Malthouse

There has been more media coverage of Babes In the Wood over the last couple of weeks than most Malthouse productions receive for a season. Why? A song about Steve Irwin. It has been misquoted and taken out of context by every story I’ve read (including one on AussieTheatre).

Before September, Irwin was been a ripe target for satire, but now we have to be careful. (If you have just woken from a coma – Steve Irwin died in September). I’ve seen the great controversy. It’s a loving, kind, funny and totally respectful song about an iconic Aussie bloke who sings that we should all try doing the thing we love. He then dies doing what he loves, when three ridiculous stingrays come dancing in. If anything it is satirising the public response to Irwin’s death – who didn’t find themselves saying, “At least he was doing what he loved.” The only person who should be offended is Germaine Greer. Her character is the one singing all the misquoted lines.

There we go – another 170 words devoted to one of the best publicity calls made by a theatre company. I’m sure many tickets will be bought just to see this scene. It’s a good reason to go - it’s funny, respectful and relevant. In fact, it stands out as one of the better moments of Babes In The Wood.

If you saw the 2003 production of Babes In The Wood, don’t expect Babes 2 (in the city). This is the same production, with some new material. I missed the original, so cannot compare the two.

It is good old-fashioned pantomime, created intelligently. The opening scenes are enticing and captivating. It is great to openly laugh and enjoy “serious” theatre. How many other mediums allow you to boo at a John Howard joke and scream back “Oh no he isn’t” when the panto dame declares he’s a bold and visionary prime minister.

Sadly the show loses momentum and never recaptures the opening energy (except for the Steve Irwin number). A lot of material would read well in the script, but slows the show down on the stage. I know its hard to cut your good lines, but some people didn’t come back after interval. Much of the material is still relevant, but has lost the impact and power that it had in 2003. Tamper/children overboard, un-Australian, war on terror - is this political comment for 2006?

There is new material, but it seems to have been forced into the old script. The Rumsfeld “known and unknowns” joke was most welcome, "Under the Milky Way" at least referenced the Commonwealth Games and, if you look carefully, you may notice a reference to Steve Irwin.

The original music is terrific and supported by an eclectic and illogical soundtrack of 70s and 80s pop hits. The tradition of panto is to use contemporary music, but these retro moments are not contemporary. If it is a commentary on society today, why not use the music of the starettes that fill our media as much as any politician? Kylie’s return, aging rockers on the Countdown tour, wealthy singers trying to make poverty history, Australian Idol and Brittany are all too easy targets. (Amanda Vandstone singing, “Opps I did it again” instead of Nutbush?) Agadoo is funny – but what is its relevance?

What does sustain the production is the terrific cast. Caroline Craig, Diana Emry, Julie Forsyth, Max Gilles, Francis Greenslade, Eddie Perfect and Lucy Taylor. Each one as perfect as Eddie, having a ball on the stage and making sure the audience also enjoy the absurdity and silliness of the panto.

Babes In The Wood is a fun and irreverent night out, but is not the seditious political satire that I expected.


This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.