MIAF 2008 reviews
That Night Follows Day
Romeo and Juliet
Appetite
Book of Longing
An Oak Tree
El Automovil Gris
Two Faced Bastard
Kitten
The Navigator
MIAF 2007 reviews
European House
Half Life
The Temptation of Saint Anthony
The Tell Tale Heart
Sizwe Banzi is Dead
MIAF 2006 reviews
Peepshow
Now That Communism Is Dead My Life Feels Empty
I La Galigo
Voyage
Of All The People In All The World: Pacific Rim
insen
Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels
Ethel's Greatest Hits
Ngapartji Ngapartji
blessing the boats
Blind Date
Mostly Melbourne theatre reviews
Showing posts with label MIAF 2006. Show all posts
Showing posts with label MIAF 2006. Show all posts
07 October 2009
30 October 2006
Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen: From Here To There
MIAF 2006
From Here To There
Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen
26 October 2006
The Famous Speigeltent, Melbourne
In 2001 I noticed a dubious group of be-suited gentlemen roaming the Saturday markets in the far land of Canberra. For their musical antics I threw them some spare coins. They continue to be led around the globe by the enigmatic Mikelangelo. Last night I saw the Gentlemen in their true home - the Speigeltent. No longer begging for change, their sold out performance was greeted with well deserved cheering, foot stamping and hollering.
Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen’s new show, From Here to There, proved a hit at the 2006 Edinburgh Fringe. Their original music, unique characters and nefarious comedy makes for some damn fine cabaret.
If you are familiar with the Gentlemen’s antics, this show is full of new material, without forsaking the old favourites. Watching members of the audience mouthing, “sodomy is not just for animals” was a highlight. Nearly as high as Mikelangelo’s pants and his newly acquired bathing costume.
The increased theatricality of this show, allows each gentlemen to display their own unusual talents. The Great Muldavio’s taxidermy monologue is not easily forgotten and Guido Libido will have you yearning for the simple delights of the silent cinema.
But do not fear - Mikelangelo does not let the greatness of his gentlemen detract from his own greatness. Mikelangelo is pure charm, mixed with mystery, a dash of macabre and a hint of obscene. He also writes the music, which you will find yourself humming for days after - if you don’t immediately buy a CD.
I have seen no one comparable to the Black Sea Gentlemen, but they do remind me of The Tiger Lillies. Even if Mikelangleo and Martyn Jacques do sing at opposing ends of the vocal spectrum, and the Gentlemen are slightly more gentlemanly with their choice of subject matter. 'Formidable Marinade' is a veritable romantic song next to 'Masturbating Jimmy'. (I have a Mikelangelo song chosen if I ever have a wedding and a Tiger Lillies’ track if I ever have a funeral.)
Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen really do get better and better each time I see them. From Here to There has struck an ideal balance between structure and improvisation, with stunning music and eye-wiping comedy.
There are few opportunities to see the show in Australia this year, but 2007 promises more visits around the country. If you haven’t spent a night of pleasure with the Gentlemen, don’t miss them.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com
From Here To There
Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen
26 October 2006
The Famous Speigeltent, Melbourne
In 2001 I noticed a dubious group of be-suited gentlemen roaming the Saturday markets in the far land of Canberra. For their musical antics I threw them some spare coins. They continue to be led around the globe by the enigmatic Mikelangelo. Last night I saw the Gentlemen in their true home - the Speigeltent. No longer begging for change, their sold out performance was greeted with well deserved cheering, foot stamping and hollering.
Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen’s new show, From Here to There, proved a hit at the 2006 Edinburgh Fringe. Their original music, unique characters and nefarious comedy makes for some damn fine cabaret.
If you are familiar with the Gentlemen’s antics, this show is full of new material, without forsaking the old favourites. Watching members of the audience mouthing, “sodomy is not just for animals” was a highlight. Nearly as high as Mikelangelo’s pants and his newly acquired bathing costume.
The increased theatricality of this show, allows each gentlemen to display their own unusual talents. The Great Muldavio’s taxidermy monologue is not easily forgotten and Guido Libido will have you yearning for the simple delights of the silent cinema.
But do not fear - Mikelangelo does not let the greatness of his gentlemen detract from his own greatness. Mikelangelo is pure charm, mixed with mystery, a dash of macabre and a hint of obscene. He also writes the music, which you will find yourself humming for days after - if you don’t immediately buy a CD.
I have seen no one comparable to the Black Sea Gentlemen, but they do remind me of The Tiger Lillies. Even if Mikelangleo and Martyn Jacques do sing at opposing ends of the vocal spectrum, and the Gentlemen are slightly more gentlemanly with their choice of subject matter. 'Formidable Marinade' is a veritable romantic song next to 'Masturbating Jimmy'. (I have a Mikelangelo song chosen if I ever have a wedding and a Tiger Lillies’ track if I ever have a funeral.)
Mikelangelo and the Black Sea Gentlemen really do get better and better each time I see them. From Here to There has struck an ideal balance between structure and improvisation, with stunning music and eye-wiping comedy.
There are few opportunities to see the show in Australia this year, but 2007 promises more visits around the country. If you haven’t spent a night of pleasure with the Gentlemen, don’t miss them.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com
Blind Date
MIAF 2006TY
Blind Date
Bill T Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company
Melbourne International Arts Festival
25 October 2006
the Arts Centre, State Theatre
Review by Christina Cass
Blind Date is a multi-sensory experience unlikely to make you casually walk out of the theatre and drive back to your nice, safe home nestled far away from the madding roar of war.
I was unhappy at first that this hugely layered undertaking by the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company seemed to be some more trite America bashing – the U.S. national anthem, army fatigues, symbolic death on the battlefields juxtaposed with peace protectors…… I’m just tired of people taking jabs at Uncle Sam and here I had to sit through an hour and a half of a visual and aural bombardment of political and social atrocities performed by a highly acclaimed American dance troupe. “Whaaaa!?!?!?” you may say, but therein lays the spirit of Jones’ work: pushing buttons so we ask ourselves, “Why are we so uncomfortable with this?”
Not in the mood for a psychotherapy session either, I reluctantly took a stab at it: “What is it about Blind Date that was such a turn off?” Was it aural and visual overload with all the videos and spoken word and live music and dancing and poetry and gigantic dead yellow duckies floating above the stage that kept me from zeroing in on the theme? Was I frustrated that I wasn’t able to find more than the obvious anti-war message? That I couldn’t ‘get it’?
It turns out I was totally off the mark to look for a message from Jones hidden somewhere in the work. It was in plain view the entire time. Jones believes our global culture is awash with “toxic certainty” – the right or wrong of a particular position and in Blind Date, he takes on the concept of patriotism. To him, honour, sacrifice and identity are best observed in the phenomenon of young soldiers willing to participate in a misguided war. If those of us, who are not fighting, reject this idea of patriotism, then we must ask ourselves, “Do we believe in anything with the same passion that we are willing to die for it?”
Good point.
Jones, as many artists do, takes a social stand laced with political poison. Rather than ram his own personal opinions down the throats of his audience, he asks us to merely take a bit more care in understanding our own philosophies and where they come from. He asks us to take a stand, not point a finger.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Blind Date
Bill T Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company
Melbourne International Arts Festival
25 October 2006
the Arts Centre, State Theatre
Review by Christina Cass
Blind Date is a multi-sensory experience unlikely to make you casually walk out of the theatre and drive back to your nice, safe home nestled far away from the madding roar of war.
I was unhappy at first that this hugely layered undertaking by the Bill T. Jones/Arnie Zane Dance Company seemed to be some more trite America bashing – the U.S. national anthem, army fatigues, symbolic death on the battlefields juxtaposed with peace protectors…… I’m just tired of people taking jabs at Uncle Sam and here I had to sit through an hour and a half of a visual and aural bombardment of political and social atrocities performed by a highly acclaimed American dance troupe. “Whaaaa!?!?!?” you may say, but therein lays the spirit of Jones’ work: pushing buttons so we ask ourselves, “Why are we so uncomfortable with this?”
Not in the mood for a psychotherapy session either, I reluctantly took a stab at it: “What is it about Blind Date that was such a turn off?” Was it aural and visual overload with all the videos and spoken word and live music and dancing and poetry and gigantic dead yellow duckies floating above the stage that kept me from zeroing in on the theme? Was I frustrated that I wasn’t able to find more than the obvious anti-war message? That I couldn’t ‘get it’?
It turns out I was totally off the mark to look for a message from Jones hidden somewhere in the work. It was in plain view the entire time. Jones believes our global culture is awash with “toxic certainty” – the right or wrong of a particular position and in Blind Date, he takes on the concept of patriotism. To him, honour, sacrifice and identity are best observed in the phenomenon of young soldiers willing to participate in a misguided war. If those of us, who are not fighting, reject this idea of patriotism, then we must ask ourselves, “Do we believe in anything with the same passion that we are willing to die for it?”
Good point.
Jones, as many artists do, takes a social stand laced with political poison. Rather than ram his own personal opinions down the throats of his audience, he asks us to merely take a bit more care in understanding our own philosophies and where they come from. He asks us to take a stand, not point a finger.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
blessing the boats
MIAF 2006
blessing the boats
Melbourne International Arts Festival
20 October 2006
the Arts Centre, Fairfax Studio
Review by Christina Cass
blessing the boats, written and performed by Sekou Sundiata, is one man’s personal mythology into and out of the depths of a prolonged near-death experience – of five years. The profound imagery Sundiata portrays through his gorgeous baritone spoken word transports the listener to another continent – Harlem, USA – to be exact, where Sundiata discovers he has renal disease.
By 1997 the undiagnosed warning signs of hypertension, chronic fatigue and flu-like symptoms are merely chalked up to his busy lifestyle: writing and performing his poetry and music. Not until he passes out in an elevator where he remains unnoticed for “two minutes or twenty minutes?” does his medical nightmare of kidney failure begin.
This story of “unearned grace,” as Sundiata describes it, is one with earth angels who come from unexpected places to aid a man who clearly doubted his own life was worthwhile. After years of dialysis and 18 months on the kidney transplant waiting list, there are five friends who stepped up to the offering plate – four of them were perfect matches; there is a woman with the cell phone who literally saved his neck after a car accident; and the list goes on. By the end of the performance, we are inclined to take pause and appreciate the everyday blessing that we ourselves are graced with.
Sundiata uses video imagery, music and multiple impersonations of his no-bullshit subconscious, medical “practicing” doctors and death stalking his hospital bed to take us to the ultimate celebration – life. He moves slowly and with purpose, around the stage into and out of lights, but perhaps therein lies my only complaint. I wish there was more energy in the overall performance. It may be due to a bit of ennui performing blessing the boats for several years now around the world, or most likely jet lag kicking in and kicking butt, but Sundiata’s normally commanding and rich voice didn’t carry nor did the celebratory nature of his story resonate through his body.
It would be a shame to say this coloured my experience of the profound poetry that is uniquely Sekou Sundiata, but it did. I can only hope that he is more well-rested for his second highly anticipated show of the festival, the 51st (dream) state.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
blessing the boats
Melbourne International Arts Festival
20 October 2006
the Arts Centre, Fairfax Studio
Review by Christina Cass
blessing the boats, written and performed by Sekou Sundiata, is one man’s personal mythology into and out of the depths of a prolonged near-death experience – of five years. The profound imagery Sundiata portrays through his gorgeous baritone spoken word transports the listener to another continent – Harlem, USA – to be exact, where Sundiata discovers he has renal disease.
By 1997 the undiagnosed warning signs of hypertension, chronic fatigue and flu-like symptoms are merely chalked up to his busy lifestyle: writing and performing his poetry and music. Not until he passes out in an elevator where he remains unnoticed for “two minutes or twenty minutes?” does his medical nightmare of kidney failure begin.
This story of “unearned grace,” as Sundiata describes it, is one with earth angels who come from unexpected places to aid a man who clearly doubted his own life was worthwhile. After years of dialysis and 18 months on the kidney transplant waiting list, there are five friends who stepped up to the offering plate – four of them were perfect matches; there is a woman with the cell phone who literally saved his neck after a car accident; and the list goes on. By the end of the performance, we are inclined to take pause and appreciate the everyday blessing that we ourselves are graced with.
Sundiata uses video imagery, music and multiple impersonations of his no-bullshit subconscious, medical “practicing” doctors and death stalking his hospital bed to take us to the ultimate celebration – life. He moves slowly and with purpose, around the stage into and out of lights, but perhaps therein lies my only complaint. I wish there was more energy in the overall performance. It may be due to a bit of ennui performing blessing the boats for several years now around the world, or most likely jet lag kicking in and kicking butt, but Sundiata’s normally commanding and rich voice didn’t carry nor did the celebratory nature of his story resonate through his body.
It would be a shame to say this coloured my experience of the profound poetry that is uniquely Sekou Sundiata, but it did. I can only hope that he is more well-rested for his second highly anticipated show of the festival, the 51st (dream) state.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels
MIAF 2006
Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels
Socíetas Raffaello Sanzio
Melbourne International Arts Festival
12 October 2006
CUB Malthouse, Merlyn Theatre
Kristy Edmunds program selection polarised opinions in 2005. The opening weekend of the 2006 festival has already evoked similar extreme responses. Post show discussions are not about details of interpretation, but whether works are brilliant or appalling. Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels is either a must see event or a boring and irrelevant piece of self indulgence.
Socíetas Raffaello Sanzio was founded in 1981 by Romeo Castellucci. The Tragedia Endogonidia series was developed between 2002 and 2004 in ten European cities. This process produced 11 episodes, each working as an individual production. Melbourne is seeing the fouth episode, developed in Brussels.
Visually the production is stunning. Castellucci creates theatre as art. His use of colour, space, and light create powerful images and his stage is continually presented as a well-designed canvas. He juxtaposes human with non-human forms and plays with unexpected and absurd combinations. A beared old man appears in a garish floral bikini and eventually proceeds to put on a complicated set of white (religious?) robes and finally a police uniform. It’s humorous, and quite literally layered with multiple meanings.
Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels has everything I usually love in a production. Dense theatrical language, creation of new form, abandonment of tradition, blood, violence and a small rhinocerous. It presents images and moments without explanation and forces the audience to devise their own interpretation. It could simply be that you are born, you die and get the crap beaten out of you in between - or a complex reconstruction of personal identity - or a contemplation about physical endurance - or an exploration of aging - or an intellectual deconstruction of the traditional dramatic form of tragedy, using traditions from the avant guarde.
By leaving interpretation open, Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels certainly does force you to consider your role as spectator and observer, but I wasn’t engaged with what I was watching.
This production aims to communicate directly to all our senses. I understood it intellectually, but had limited emotional and certainly no visceral reaction. I was neither shocked nor disturbed. Setting up the theatricality of the violence, diluted its impact.
The one consistent reaction to the production is the emotional response to the smallest cast member. A baby, not yet crawling, lies downstage. Its only company a metallic parody of a human head spouting nonsensical language. This cannot fail to provoke the universal reaction to gush at the cuteness of the child combined with the desire to protect it from its lonely existence – or even from the theatre makers who put a baby on the stage. We weren’t so keen to protect the old man in a bikini or even the man being continually beaten and forced into a body bag.
The opening night applause was lacklustre and unsure. It felt like the audience wanted to like it a lot more than they did. By all accounts the following night’s audience reaction was rapturous. Perhaps we just got a dud night.
Did I enjoy Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels? No. Am I glad it is in this program? Yes. The genius of this festival program is that it does create extreme reactions. An arts festival should continue to challenge and surprise its audience. We can chose to see safe, conservative (and mostly enjoyable) arts practice any other time of the year. Kristy Edmunds lets us experience challenging theatre from all over the world. Surely this can only benefit us as audiences and as practitioners.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com
Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels
Socíetas Raffaello Sanzio
Melbourne International Arts Festival
12 October 2006
CUB Malthouse, Merlyn Theatre
Kristy Edmunds program selection polarised opinions in 2005. The opening weekend of the 2006 festival has already evoked similar extreme responses. Post show discussions are not about details of interpretation, but whether works are brilliant or appalling. Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels is either a must see event or a boring and irrelevant piece of self indulgence.
Socíetas Raffaello Sanzio was founded in 1981 by Romeo Castellucci. The Tragedia Endogonidia series was developed between 2002 and 2004 in ten European cities. This process produced 11 episodes, each working as an individual production. Melbourne is seeing the fouth episode, developed in Brussels.
Visually the production is stunning. Castellucci creates theatre as art. His use of colour, space, and light create powerful images and his stage is continually presented as a well-designed canvas. He juxtaposes human with non-human forms and plays with unexpected and absurd combinations. A beared old man appears in a garish floral bikini and eventually proceeds to put on a complicated set of white (religious?) robes and finally a police uniform. It’s humorous, and quite literally layered with multiple meanings.
Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels has everything I usually love in a production. Dense theatrical language, creation of new form, abandonment of tradition, blood, violence and a small rhinocerous. It presents images and moments without explanation and forces the audience to devise their own interpretation. It could simply be that you are born, you die and get the crap beaten out of you in between - or a complex reconstruction of personal identity - or a contemplation about physical endurance - or an exploration of aging - or an intellectual deconstruction of the traditional dramatic form of tragedy, using traditions from the avant guarde.
By leaving interpretation open, Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels certainly does force you to consider your role as spectator and observer, but I wasn’t engaged with what I was watching.
This production aims to communicate directly to all our senses. I understood it intellectually, but had limited emotional and certainly no visceral reaction. I was neither shocked nor disturbed. Setting up the theatricality of the violence, diluted its impact.
The one consistent reaction to the production is the emotional response to the smallest cast member. A baby, not yet crawling, lies downstage. Its only company a metallic parody of a human head spouting nonsensical language. This cannot fail to provoke the universal reaction to gush at the cuteness of the child combined with the desire to protect it from its lonely existence – or even from the theatre makers who put a baby on the stage. We weren’t so keen to protect the old man in a bikini or even the man being continually beaten and forced into a body bag.
The opening night applause was lacklustre and unsure. It felt like the audience wanted to like it a lot more than they did. By all accounts the following night’s audience reaction was rapturous. Perhaps we just got a dud night.
Did I enjoy Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels? No. Am I glad it is in this program? Yes. The genius of this festival program is that it does create extreme reactions. An arts festival should continue to challenge and surprise its audience. We can chose to see safe, conservative (and mostly enjoyable) arts practice any other time of the year. Kristy Edmunds lets us experience challenging theatre from all over the world. Surely this can only benefit us as audiences and as practitioners.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com
Ngapartji Ngapartji
MIAF 2006
Ngapartji Ngapartji
Melbourne International Arts Festival, UWA Perth International Arts Festival and Sydney Opera House
13 October 2006
the Arts Centre, Fairfax Studio
Review by Christina Cass
“Ngapartji Ngapartji” translated from Pitjantjatjara is, “I give you something, you give me something”. This is also the title and themeof the emotional new work written by Scott Rankin of Big hART. Perhaps play is not the right word – it’s more an experience of a nation’s journey told by master storyteller and co-creator of the work, Trevor Jamieson, and it is not to be missed.
The uniqueness of this ‘experience’ is that the journey includes the audience. Rather than pay a few dollars, see some Aboriginal tale come to life, go out to dinner afterward and talk about the stock market, Rankin hopes the audience will take home history, language and new ideas based on age-old themes. “I give you something, you give me something”, is ancient barter. On one level, the ensemble teaches some songs and phrases from Jamieson’s homeland in exchange for coming to the show; but on another deeper level, it is about exchanging nations’ narrations.
No one is immune from the collective consciousness. Ngapartji Ngapartji is meant to blur the lines between cultures. Aboriginal, Japanese, Afghan, Greek and English stories are told. The language of experience during the Cold War of the 1950s-1980s is the common bond. The production explores the greater themes of dispossession and displacement from country, home and family through Jamieson’s own Pitjantjatjara story.
The set is an austere landscape of black sand and white powder with a large copper relief/mountain/desert where the story unfolds. Rankin cleverly uses this set piece to help Jamieson transform into his characters but also allow the supporting cast to tell their own cultural journeys. Through monologues in native tongues and English translations, and sublime movement and projection we begin to understand that this is not one man’s tale, but the tale of many. The tale of Diaspora – or the displacement of people and cultures throughout man’s history – unfolds before us.
For Jamieson’s family, who lived in Spinifex country where his nation encompassed an area in central Australian larger than that of Great Britain, it begins with his grandfather during the Cold War. The English Prime Minister, Clement Atlee asked then Prime Minister Robert Menzies if England could use the deserts of central Australia as a testing site for its newly developed atomic bombs. Menzies, without consulting Parliament said, “Sure, nothing’s out there anyway”.
These Maralinga atomic tests and their effect on one of the most ancient and isolated cultures in the world still have repercussions today. Jamieson takes us through the subsequent generations of his family with great skill – he switches between English and Pitjantjatjara and moves with catlike ease and humour that the audience barely realizes they’ve been witness to 60 years of cultural history. That is something to emphasize. Although this shameful topic is uncomfortable for many people, it is performed with great humour and intelligence. No finger pointing here, just a story that’s been missing from this nation’s narration; a story that should not be overlooked any longer.
Ngapartji Ngapartji is scheduled to perform in Sydney and Perth, then perhaps overseas. I believe Jamieson’s and the ensemble’s performance is not only highly entertaining and timely, but it is pure Aussie-born and bred theatre. There has been much discussion in the papers lately about the lack of a voice for Australian theatre, and the fact that Kristy Edmunds has shepherded this project through the 2005 and 2006 MIAFs, shows that there is commitment to make a change. Supporting this project may open the gate for others – benefactors and artists alike – to soon follow.
Learn more about the history, language and culture of the Pitjantjatjara people by signing up for online language classes or attending performances. You are not only broadening your own scope of knowledge, but you are helping a nation rebuild and redefine itself: “ngapartji, ngapartji”.
This review originally appeard on AussieTheatre.com.
Ngapartji Ngapartji
Melbourne International Arts Festival, UWA Perth International Arts Festival and Sydney Opera House
13 October 2006
the Arts Centre, Fairfax Studio
Review by Christina Cass
“Ngapartji Ngapartji” translated from Pitjantjatjara is, “I give you something, you give me something”. This is also the title and themeof the emotional new work written by Scott Rankin of Big hART. Perhaps play is not the right word – it’s more an experience of a nation’s journey told by master storyteller and co-creator of the work, Trevor Jamieson, and it is not to be missed.
The uniqueness of this ‘experience’ is that the journey includes the audience. Rather than pay a few dollars, see some Aboriginal tale come to life, go out to dinner afterward and talk about the stock market, Rankin hopes the audience will take home history, language and new ideas based on age-old themes. “I give you something, you give me something”, is ancient barter. On one level, the ensemble teaches some songs and phrases from Jamieson’s homeland in exchange for coming to the show; but on another deeper level, it is about exchanging nations’ narrations.
No one is immune from the collective consciousness. Ngapartji Ngapartji is meant to blur the lines between cultures. Aboriginal, Japanese, Afghan, Greek and English stories are told. The language of experience during the Cold War of the 1950s-1980s is the common bond. The production explores the greater themes of dispossession and displacement from country, home and family through Jamieson’s own Pitjantjatjara story.
The set is an austere landscape of black sand and white powder with a large copper relief/mountain/desert where the story unfolds. Rankin cleverly uses this set piece to help Jamieson transform into his characters but also allow the supporting cast to tell their own cultural journeys. Through monologues in native tongues and English translations, and sublime movement and projection we begin to understand that this is not one man’s tale, but the tale of many. The tale of Diaspora – or the displacement of people and cultures throughout man’s history – unfolds before us.
For Jamieson’s family, who lived in Spinifex country where his nation encompassed an area in central Australian larger than that of Great Britain, it begins with his grandfather during the Cold War. The English Prime Minister, Clement Atlee asked then Prime Minister Robert Menzies if England could use the deserts of central Australia as a testing site for its newly developed atomic bombs. Menzies, without consulting Parliament said, “Sure, nothing’s out there anyway”.
These Maralinga atomic tests and their effect on one of the most ancient and isolated cultures in the world still have repercussions today. Jamieson takes us through the subsequent generations of his family with great skill – he switches between English and Pitjantjatjara and moves with catlike ease and humour that the audience barely realizes they’ve been witness to 60 years of cultural history. That is something to emphasize. Although this shameful topic is uncomfortable for many people, it is performed with great humour and intelligence. No finger pointing here, just a story that’s been missing from this nation’s narration; a story that should not be overlooked any longer.
Ngapartji Ngapartji is scheduled to perform in Sydney and Perth, then perhaps overseas. I believe Jamieson’s and the ensemble’s performance is not only highly entertaining and timely, but it is pure Aussie-born and bred theatre. There has been much discussion in the papers lately about the lack of a voice for Australian theatre, and the fact that Kristy Edmunds has shepherded this project through the 2005 and 2006 MIAFs, shows that there is commitment to make a change. Supporting this project may open the gate for others – benefactors and artists alike – to soon follow.
Learn more about the history, language and culture of the Pitjantjatjara people by signing up for online language classes or attending performances. You are not only broadening your own scope of knowledge, but you are helping a nation rebuild and redefine itself: “ngapartji, ngapartji”.
This review originally appeard on AussieTheatre.com.
insen
MIAF 2006
insen
Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto
Melbourne International Arts Festival
14 October 2006
the Arts Centre, Hamer Hall
The combination of electronic and acoustic in insen is like chilli and chocolate; it should be so very wrong, but is irresistible, addictive and perfect after the first tentative bite.
This is also another Melbourne Festival production provoking extreme reactions. People walked out during the performance I saw and I’ve read some very negative opinions. However I thought it was one of the most beautiful and emotive works of live music I have seen, and am flabbergasted that others didn’t get it.
insen is a live collaboration between electronic composer/visual artist Carsten Nicolai (performing as Alva Noto) and composer Ryuichi Sakamoto. Sakamoto is a Grammy, Golden Globe and Oscar winning producer and composer, best known for his film scores including Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence and The Last Emperor. Alva Noto is a multimedia artist using sound, image, sculpture and the computer as his tools.
Sakamoto’s minimalist composition is filled with subtle tension and unexpected resolution. The synergy created by the piano and the precision of the manipulated electronic sounds is surprising and astonishing.
The performance continually juxtaposes the natural and the unnatural. The severe lines of Noto's desk sit next to the classic and natural curves of Sakamoto’s piano. The austere concentration of the electronic artist contrasts to the emotional playing of the pianist. The freedom of the piano music compares to the controlled pulsation of the electronic sounds.
The dominating element of this work is the visual. An elongated LCD screen sits behind the musicians. The screen, controlled by Noto, is a visual representation of the music. The images are all electronically-generated, symmetrical patterns created from the pixels of the screen. Please do not think this is anything like the patterns on a Windows music player. It would be like comparing a smiley face emoticon to the Mona Lisa. This isn’t just representation; this is art. Hypnotic, intriguing and layered with intelligence and understanding.
This might be what master musicians see in their heads. Noto’s electronic visuals perfectly demonstrate the complex structure, patterns and order of music. Sometimes it is representational, such as keys on a keyboard, or notes on a stave. Other times it is more the allusional, like the chaotic noise of hundreds of crossing white lines.
Rippling circles show the impact of a single note resonating throughout the whole piece. Bright, pulsating colours reflect the nuance of the slightest change in musical light or shade. Fading rectangles prove how the end of one note is the beginning of the next. Counterbalance becomes so clear when a strangely shaped chord sits above and within the straight pulsating bass lines.
I never knew that electronic could be so emotive and so human. It is strange, but fascinating, to see that music, our most instinctive art form, is based on pattern and order that can be recreated by a computer. It is like looking at the fractals in a mandelbrot set. There is recurring pattern and order in everything. Through knowledge of this order, the most original and creative understandings of our world emerge.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
insen
Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto
Melbourne International Arts Festival
14 October 2006
the Arts Centre, Hamer Hall
The combination of electronic and acoustic in insen is like chilli and chocolate; it should be so very wrong, but is irresistible, addictive and perfect after the first tentative bite.
This is also another Melbourne Festival production provoking extreme reactions. People walked out during the performance I saw and I’ve read some very negative opinions. However I thought it was one of the most beautiful and emotive works of live music I have seen, and am flabbergasted that others didn’t get it.
insen is a live collaboration between electronic composer/visual artist Carsten Nicolai (performing as Alva Noto) and composer Ryuichi Sakamoto. Sakamoto is a Grammy, Golden Globe and Oscar winning producer and composer, best known for his film scores including Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence and The Last Emperor. Alva Noto is a multimedia artist using sound, image, sculpture and the computer as his tools.
Sakamoto’s minimalist composition is filled with subtle tension and unexpected resolution. The synergy created by the piano and the precision of the manipulated electronic sounds is surprising and astonishing.
The performance continually juxtaposes the natural and the unnatural. The severe lines of Noto's desk sit next to the classic and natural curves of Sakamoto’s piano. The austere concentration of the electronic artist contrasts to the emotional playing of the pianist. The freedom of the piano music compares to the controlled pulsation of the electronic sounds.
The dominating element of this work is the visual. An elongated LCD screen sits behind the musicians. The screen, controlled by Noto, is a visual representation of the music. The images are all electronically-generated, symmetrical patterns created from the pixels of the screen. Please do not think this is anything like the patterns on a Windows music player. It would be like comparing a smiley face emoticon to the Mona Lisa. This isn’t just representation; this is art. Hypnotic, intriguing and layered with intelligence and understanding.
This might be what master musicians see in their heads. Noto’s electronic visuals perfectly demonstrate the complex structure, patterns and order of music. Sometimes it is representational, such as keys on a keyboard, or notes on a stave. Other times it is more the allusional, like the chaotic noise of hundreds of crossing white lines.
Rippling circles show the impact of a single note resonating throughout the whole piece. Bright, pulsating colours reflect the nuance of the slightest change in musical light or shade. Fading rectangles prove how the end of one note is the beginning of the next. Counterbalance becomes so clear when a strangely shaped chord sits above and within the straight pulsating bass lines.
I never knew that electronic could be so emotive and so human. It is strange, but fascinating, to see that music, our most instinctive art form, is based on pattern and order that can be recreated by a computer. It is like looking at the fractals in a mandelbrot set. There is recurring pattern and order in everything. Through knowledge of this order, the most original and creative understandings of our world emerge.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Of All The People In All The World: Pacific Rim
MIAF 2006
Of All The People In All The World: Pacific Rim
Stan’s Cafe
14 October 2006
Arts House, Meat Market
Who knew a pile of rice could be so moving or so shocking, or that a single grain on a piece of paper could make us laugh out loud.
Of All The People In All The World: Pacific Rim is part of the Melbourne International Arts Festival free program. It is presented by Britain’s Stans Café theatre company, who specialise in creating unusual performances in a range of contexts.
The unusal feature of this performance is an ever changing installation created by 33 tonnes of rice. Each grain represents a person in the Pacific Rim. The original Of All The People In All The World: UK premiered in 2003 with 989 kgs of rice. The whole world version used over 100 tonnes of rice and was recently seen at at Stuttgart’s Theater der Welt Festival.
A team of performers weigh and measure the grains to represent a variety of population and human statistics. Like all statistics, figures mean little until they are tangible.
On entering the Meat Market you take your own grain of rice – which represents you. You can almost immediately find yourself in a pile that represents the population of Melbourne (and the other Melbourne’s around the world). There is the fun of discovering which other piles you belong in. These could include people at the MCG during the AFL grand final, people who work at home, people born in the UK, or even those in an incredibly disturbing mound: the number of people who watch Neighbours.
Some piles shock and surprise by their sheer mass, others by our ability to count the individual grains. The pile representing Holocost victims will never cease to be sobering (that is what 6 million looks like), as are the few grains representing the Amish school girls so recently murdered.
Others are striking in their comparisons. The population of Britain is about the same as the number of people who buy McDonalds every day. The number of prisoners in the world is the same as people living in gated communities in the USA.
As laughter is so often the more powerful emotion, the most engaging aspect of this work is the unexpected humour and wit. Titanic the movie compared to Tiantic the ship. People who walked on the moon next to a famous moonwalker. And do not leave until you have found the US Secretary of State.
Throughout your wanderings are the cast. Clad in brown lab coats, the “statistic scientists” move around observing their work, quietly chatting with the visitors, gently rearranging the perfect piles, painstakingly removing any marks on the white paper bases or checking that someone hasn’t added themselves to the smaller piles. When I was there someone had tried to join Michael Jackson.
All The People In All The World: Pacific Rim creates a profound level of understanding to the numbers and statistics that fill our lives. It is a work that could make you feel insignificant, but instead maintains the value and importance of every single person represented by a number.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com
Of All The People In All The World: Pacific Rim
Stan’s Cafe
14 October 2006
Arts House, Meat Market
Who knew a pile of rice could be so moving or so shocking, or that a single grain on a piece of paper could make us laugh out loud.
Of All The People In All The World: Pacific Rim is part of the Melbourne International Arts Festival free program. It is presented by Britain’s Stans Café theatre company, who specialise in creating unusual performances in a range of contexts.
The unusal feature of this performance is an ever changing installation created by 33 tonnes of rice. Each grain represents a person in the Pacific Rim. The original Of All The People In All The World: UK premiered in 2003 with 989 kgs of rice. The whole world version used over 100 tonnes of rice and was recently seen at at Stuttgart’s Theater der Welt Festival.
A team of performers weigh and measure the grains to represent a variety of population and human statistics. Like all statistics, figures mean little until they are tangible.
On entering the Meat Market you take your own grain of rice – which represents you. You can almost immediately find yourself in a pile that represents the population of Melbourne (and the other Melbourne’s around the world). There is the fun of discovering which other piles you belong in. These could include people at the MCG during the AFL grand final, people who work at home, people born in the UK, or even those in an incredibly disturbing mound: the number of people who watch Neighbours.
Some piles shock and surprise by their sheer mass, others by our ability to count the individual grains. The pile representing Holocost victims will never cease to be sobering (that is what 6 million looks like), as are the few grains representing the Amish school girls so recently murdered.
Others are striking in their comparisons. The population of Britain is about the same as the number of people who buy McDonalds every day. The number of prisoners in the world is the same as people living in gated communities in the USA.
As laughter is so often the more powerful emotion, the most engaging aspect of this work is the unexpected humour and wit. Titanic the movie compared to Tiantic the ship. People who walked on the moon next to a famous moonwalker. And do not leave until you have found the US Secretary of State.
Throughout your wanderings are the cast. Clad in brown lab coats, the “statistic scientists” move around observing their work, quietly chatting with the visitors, gently rearranging the perfect piles, painstakingly removing any marks on the white paper bases or checking that someone hasn’t added themselves to the smaller piles. When I was there someone had tried to join Michael Jackson.
All The People In All The World: Pacific Rim creates a profound level of understanding to the numbers and statistics that fill our lives. It is a work that could make you feel insignificant, but instead maintains the value and importance of every single person represented by a number.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com
Ethel’s Greatest Hits
MIAF 2006
Ethel’s Greatest Hits
Ethel and Melbourne International Arts Festival
14 October 2006
the Arts Centre, Hamer Hall
Review by Christina Cass
Last night at Hammer Hall I went to see the Australian debut of Ethel, one of concert music’s most exciting and energetic string ensembles. Their irreverent style – not a tux in sight – included casual interaction with the audience and spontaneous improvisation showing how important communication is within an ensemble.
Trust, skill and fearlessness separate the men from the boys, and the women from the girls, in creating truly unique and personal interpretations of music and theatre. Flying hair, shredding bows and broken strings are all part of the speed and heat with which Ethel plays. Let’s put it this way, I hope Ethel doesn’t drive the way they play; otherwise they will be locked up in no time.
This Julliard-trained, all-star foursome is Ralph Farris (viola), Dorothy Lawson (cello), Mary Rowell (violin) and Cornelius Dufallo (violin). They have been shaking up the New York music scene since 1998. Ethel has brought to its music an exciting, beautiful and rare combination of tastes and talents that has developed from each member's unique experiences in the music world. Members of Ethel have performed and/or recorded with Bang On A Can, The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Centre, the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, the New York Chamber Symphony, CONTINUUM, and with Sheryl Crow, Roger Daltrey and Yo-Yo Ma, among many others.
Ethel’s first piece, the bluesy Sweet HardWood (1998) by John King, had three movements which made me think of The Devil Went Down to Georgia, sex on the bayou and the unmistakable feeling of dark heat and loneliness of Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks. I just had a stupid smile on my face that made me bob and weave back to the sweaty, Southern shores of the USA.
Next, New York composer Phil Kline wrote The Blue Room specifically for Ethel in 2002. He describes, “In four movements of alternating moods, two meditations are followed by urgent dances; juxtaposing, as it seems to me now, how the earth is doing versus how the world is doing.“ When I closed my eyes, I saw cockroaches in a dark and damp New York apartment building. Now that’s not a bad thing – but clearly the work brought about some very specific and powerful images.
The very complicated Shadow Quartet (2005) by Neil Rolnick is an homage and celebration of his own father’s life and death. Here Ethel has interwoven the pre-recorded electronic sounds of a hospital room with their live music to a startling effect of discordant sounds paralleling the terrible counterpoint of a dying man’s last breaths. Not easy listening by any measure.
The more successful Early That Summer (1993) by Julia Wolfe, was the final piece of the evening and brought back the sheer energy and power of Ethel. They introduced the piece as “incredibly difficult to play” and as anticipation slowly climaxed into shredded bows igniting the stage with heat and sound, the audience was finally released into a steady stupor.
We had truly witnessed an ensemble of extraordinary skill and passion. Ethel is playing two shows as part of MIAF and then go on to Shepparton and Bendigo. Try not to miss Ethel’s unique experience.
Ethel’s Greatest Hits
Ethel and Melbourne International Arts Festival
14 October 2006
the Arts Centre, Hamer Hall
Review by Christina Cass
Last night at Hammer Hall I went to see the Australian debut of Ethel, one of concert music’s most exciting and energetic string ensembles. Their irreverent style – not a tux in sight – included casual interaction with the audience and spontaneous improvisation showing how important communication is within an ensemble.
Trust, skill and fearlessness separate the men from the boys, and the women from the girls, in creating truly unique and personal interpretations of music and theatre. Flying hair, shredding bows and broken strings are all part of the speed and heat with which Ethel plays. Let’s put it this way, I hope Ethel doesn’t drive the way they play; otherwise they will be locked up in no time.
This Julliard-trained, all-star foursome is Ralph Farris (viola), Dorothy Lawson (cello), Mary Rowell (violin) and Cornelius Dufallo (violin). They have been shaking up the New York music scene since 1998. Ethel has brought to its music an exciting, beautiful and rare combination of tastes and talents that has developed from each member's unique experiences in the music world. Members of Ethel have performed and/or recorded with Bang On A Can, The Chamber Music Society of Lincoln Centre, the Orpheus Chamber Orchestra, the New York Chamber Symphony, CONTINUUM, and with Sheryl Crow, Roger Daltrey and Yo-Yo Ma, among many others.
Ethel’s first piece, the bluesy Sweet HardWood (1998) by John King, had three movements which made me think of The Devil Went Down to Georgia, sex on the bayou and the unmistakable feeling of dark heat and loneliness of Edward Hopper’s Nighthawks. I just had a stupid smile on my face that made me bob and weave back to the sweaty, Southern shores of the USA.
Next, New York composer Phil Kline wrote The Blue Room specifically for Ethel in 2002. He describes, “In four movements of alternating moods, two meditations are followed by urgent dances; juxtaposing, as it seems to me now, how the earth is doing versus how the world is doing.“ When I closed my eyes, I saw cockroaches in a dark and damp New York apartment building. Now that’s not a bad thing – but clearly the work brought about some very specific and powerful images.
The very complicated Shadow Quartet (2005) by Neil Rolnick is an homage and celebration of his own father’s life and death. Here Ethel has interwoven the pre-recorded electronic sounds of a hospital room with their live music to a startling effect of discordant sounds paralleling the terrible counterpoint of a dying man’s last breaths. Not easy listening by any measure.
The more successful Early That Summer (1993) by Julia Wolfe, was the final piece of the evening and brought back the sheer energy and power of Ethel. They introduced the piece as “incredibly difficult to play” and as anticipation slowly climaxed into shredded bows igniting the stage with heat and sound, the audience was finally released into a steady stupor.
We had truly witnessed an ensemble of extraordinary skill and passion. Ethel is playing two shows as part of MIAF and then go on to Shepparton and Bendigo. Try not to miss Ethel’s unique experience.
Voyage
MIAF 2006
Voyage
dumb type
Melbourne International Arts Festival
18 October 2006
the Arts Centre , Playhouse
Formed in Kyoto in 1984, dumb type is a democratic collective bringing together artists from backgrounds in theatre, dance, video, painting, sculpture, music, design and architecture. Working without a director or script, performances develop organically as members share their own ideas around a theme. The company admit that it is a chaotic process that takes time, but it results in some startlingly art.
In late 2001 the dumb type artists independently developed pieces without any theme or concept. By working with unlimited freedom, they found a commonality. The result is Voyage. Travel and journey may be a comman narrative theme, but this voyage is far from ordinary.
dumb type don’t comment or narrate. They simply let powerful images speak for themsleves. The audience can chose to interpret deep meaning into each moment or simply sit back and enjoy the ride.
The images combine low tech with complex multi-media art. Two men sweeping white rocks around the stage take us deep into a cave, while giant projections take us flying through a performace poem about wishes. Projections are given depth by using the simple effect of a reflective floor.
The opening piece is the most striking of the show. A single pale dancer repeats very linear shapes among three giant spheres. The lighting changes on each sphere are stunning. The same dancer concludes the evening by repeating the same movements in front of the very complicated images of a radar screen. She gives a sense of narrative arc to the show. The world she journeys through has changed from simple, natural and symbolic to complex, technical and detailed – but she remains as she was.
Voyage is also filled with cheeky humour. I felt that the opening night audience were too scared to laugh - in case it wasn’t meant to be funny. Airline hosties in bright coloured berets and bright coloured knickers are funny in any context.
This show isn’t for everyone’s taste. A gentleman sitting behind me steadfastly refused to clap during the ovation. It is nonetheless, a work that firmly belongs in an international arts festival. Voyage is something we normally wouldn’t see in Australia and a style of practice that wouldn’t be conceived here.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Voyage
dumb type
Melbourne International Arts Festival
18 October 2006
the Arts Centre , Playhouse
Voyage is certainly a trip. Fly, float, dive, swim, drown and climb through dumb type’s bizarre and beautiful world.
In late 2001 the dumb type artists independently developed pieces without any theme or concept. By working with unlimited freedom, they found a commonality. The result is Voyage. Travel and journey may be a comman narrative theme, but this voyage is far from ordinary.
dumb type don’t comment or narrate. They simply let powerful images speak for themsleves. The audience can chose to interpret deep meaning into each moment or simply sit back and enjoy the ride.
The images combine low tech with complex multi-media art. Two men sweeping white rocks around the stage take us deep into a cave, while giant projections take us flying through a performace poem about wishes. Projections are given depth by using the simple effect of a reflective floor.
The opening piece is the most striking of the show. A single pale dancer repeats very linear shapes among three giant spheres. The lighting changes on each sphere are stunning. The same dancer concludes the evening by repeating the same movements in front of the very complicated images of a radar screen. She gives a sense of narrative arc to the show. The world she journeys through has changed from simple, natural and symbolic to complex, technical and detailed – but she remains as she was.
Voyage is also filled with cheeky humour. I felt that the opening night audience were too scared to laugh - in case it wasn’t meant to be funny. Airline hosties in bright coloured berets and bright coloured knickers are funny in any context.
This show isn’t for everyone’s taste. A gentleman sitting behind me steadfastly refused to clap during the ovation. It is nonetheless, a work that firmly belongs in an international arts festival. Voyage is something we normally wouldn’t see in Australia and a style of practice that wouldn’t be conceived here.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
I La Galigo
MIAF 2006
I La Galigo
Melbourne International Arts Festival
19 October 2006
The Arts Centre, State Theatre
Robert Wilson’s I La Galigo was everything I expected it be. It is a gentle, hypnotic and perfectly beautiful work of live art. I am embarrassed for Melbourne’s arts community to see so many empty seats on its opening night at the Melbourne International Arts Festival.
I La Galigo is slightly different from a typical avant-guarde Wilson work. It’s only three hours long to begin with (Wilson on speed) and it is based on a narrative text. But Wilson fans don’t need to worry. There are still many slow crossings of the stage, the movement is precise, the communication visual and you can enjoy it without worrying about the story.
For those who like a narrative journey, this one is based on Sureq Galigo, an ancient epic poem of the Bugis people of South Sulawesi. There are surtitles to guide you, but reading the program before hand is advised. As stories go, this one is has it all - unrequited love, the threat of incest, intervention by the gods, child abandonment, a couple of great cats and a satisfying end.
This is a festival filled with explorations of new art forms and aesthetics, but I was apprehensive about the melding of traditional Indonesian with western avant-guarde. Then I saw the similarities, rather than the obvious differences. Traditional Indonesian dance drama is described as a “display of living drawings…. that are not intended to represent anything so much as to charm the mind”. Story unfolds slowly using strong visual images and almost no drama. This could describe Einstein on the Beach (Wilson’s best known work, seen at MIAF 1992).
The synthesis of the ancient and the (post) modern traditions is fascinating and unique. Wilson keeps the recognizable shapes and movements of Indonesian dance, but removes the individual performers personal and emotional interpretation. Yet the experience of the performance remains emotional and moving.
Colour and light are the passion of I La Galigo. It is difficult to describe the impact of colour in this production, but I now understand exactly what Kristy Edmunds meant when she said it invents colour before your eyes. The understanding of it is intuitive, rather than cognitive. We say we “see red” in anger. Wilson captures this exact red. It’s like a cross between a fire engine and a kiss-me-now red lipstick. His heaven is blue, but it’s unlike any blue I’ve seen. A perfect blue sky, mixed with a grey/purple sunset. It's comforting and inviting, but filled with hidden power and threat. Even his white is more than just white. And don’t get me started on the orange. Emotional impact aside, if you have any interest in light and colour in any artistic form, this is an un-missable production.
Text is almost irrelevant in the communication of I La Galigo, but it is chanted in the Bugis language. Fewer than 100 people speak this language today. This totally visual production is keeping an indigenous language alive. It has to be compared to last week’s Ngapartji Ngapartji , that shared an indigenous Australian language with us by teaching us how to speak it.
People did walk out and not return to I La Galigo. I appreciate that it can be a difficult style of theatre to understand, but the connection will come you just accept it, watch it and let it “speak” in its own way. The three hours is irrelevant. My only time check was two hours in and I was disappointed to realise just how much time had passed. Sure it could be told more quickly, but this an epic tale that deserves our respect and our time.
Interview
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
I La Galigo
Melbourne International Arts Festival
19 October 2006
The Arts Centre, State Theatre
Robert Wilson’s I La Galigo was everything I expected it be. It is a gentle, hypnotic and perfectly beautiful work of live art. I am embarrassed for Melbourne’s arts community to see so many empty seats on its opening night at the Melbourne International Arts Festival.
I La Galigo is slightly different from a typical avant-guarde Wilson work. It’s only three hours long to begin with (Wilson on speed) and it is based on a narrative text. But Wilson fans don’t need to worry. There are still many slow crossings of the stage, the movement is precise, the communication visual and you can enjoy it without worrying about the story.
For those who like a narrative journey, this one is based on Sureq Galigo, an ancient epic poem of the Bugis people of South Sulawesi. There are surtitles to guide you, but reading the program before hand is advised. As stories go, this one is has it all - unrequited love, the threat of incest, intervention by the gods, child abandonment, a couple of great cats and a satisfying end.
This is a festival filled with explorations of new art forms and aesthetics, but I was apprehensive about the melding of traditional Indonesian with western avant-guarde. Then I saw the similarities, rather than the obvious differences. Traditional Indonesian dance drama is described as a “display of living drawings…. that are not intended to represent anything so much as to charm the mind”. Story unfolds slowly using strong visual images and almost no drama. This could describe Einstein on the Beach (Wilson’s best known work, seen at MIAF 1992).
The synthesis of the ancient and the (post) modern traditions is fascinating and unique. Wilson keeps the recognizable shapes and movements of Indonesian dance, but removes the individual performers personal and emotional interpretation. Yet the experience of the performance remains emotional and moving.
Colour and light are the passion of I La Galigo. It is difficult to describe the impact of colour in this production, but I now understand exactly what Kristy Edmunds meant when she said it invents colour before your eyes. The understanding of it is intuitive, rather than cognitive. We say we “see red” in anger. Wilson captures this exact red. It’s like a cross between a fire engine and a kiss-me-now red lipstick. His heaven is blue, but it’s unlike any blue I’ve seen. A perfect blue sky, mixed with a grey/purple sunset. It's comforting and inviting, but filled with hidden power and threat. Even his white is more than just white. And don’t get me started on the orange. Emotional impact aside, if you have any interest in light and colour in any artistic form, this is an un-missable production.
Text is almost irrelevant in the communication of I La Galigo, but it is chanted in the Bugis language. Fewer than 100 people speak this language today. This totally visual production is keeping an indigenous language alive. It has to be compared to last week’s Ngapartji Ngapartji , that shared an indigenous Australian language with us by teaching us how to speak it.
People did walk out and not return to I La Galigo. I appreciate that it can be a difficult style of theatre to understand, but the connection will come you just accept it, watch it and let it “speak” in its own way. The three hours is irrelevant. My only time check was two hours in and I was disappointed to realise just how much time had passed. Sure it could be told more quickly, but this an epic tale that deserves our respect and our time.
Interview
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Now that Communism is Dead my Life Feels Empty
MIAF 2006
Now that Communism is Dead my Life Feels Empty
Malthouse Theatre and Melbourne International Arts Festival
17 October 2006
Tower Theatre, CUB Malthouse
There is nothing like the almost orgasmic feeling of being in a theatre when an audience applauds a show. The applause for Now that Communism is Dead my Life Feels Empty was NOTHING like that.
I listen to what audience members have to say about a show. This wasn’t the exciting extreme “lets discuss it” reactions caused by other festival productions – this was confusion, boredom and resentment. A complete stranger turned to me at the end and said, “that was excruciating”.
Now that Communism is Dead my Life Feels Empty is Richard Foreman 48th play and was first presented by Ontological-Hysteric Theater in 2001. The Kitchen Sink production is an original interpretation of the text. I read reviews, learnt about Ontological, spoke to people who have seen Foreman’s theatre and even downloaded the script. It took a lot of research to even grasp what this production was meant to be about. It’s quite clear in the original. This Communism included visual references to Foreman, but didn’t appear to reflect, resemble or resepct the original work.
Forman is known for his complex composition, his “turbulent ocean of multiplicity”. Robert Wilson (I La Galigo MIAF 06) is also known for his multiplicity. In a public lecture last week, Wilson described a production as being like a hamburger. All the elements can have opposing and differing textures, shapes and tastes, but together they are gratifying and delicious. Communism was like unsatisfying snack made from the leftover, stale, rotting and cheap ingredients found in a student share house fridge. It was the equivilent of a suburban musical society performing I La Galigo.
The direction and design did not reflect the complexity and multiplicity of the text. Director Max Lyandvert has worked with Romeo Castelluci (Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels MIAF 06). Castelluci’s positive influence is recognizable in the visual aspects of the work. However, where the visual language of Tragedia was powerful and layered with multiple interpretations, the visual aspects of Communism were cluttered and confusing.
Foreman doesn’t write narrative theatre. It is meant to be disorienting and non-senesical in a stream of consciousness kind of way. It’s also meant to be funny, being promoted as a “side splitting” comedy. I sniggered three times (I like the text), but I was alone. It is very strange to be the ONLY person in a full theatre who finds something funny. One actor resorted to visual humour. The pig nose of a face pushed up against perspex is always funny. It didn’t even raise a snicker.
Ben Winspear and Gibson Nolte both “performed” very well and I would like to see them in different works. What didn’t work was their a semi-naturalistic style. Grabs of naturalism made the audience want to search for character and meaning, instead of enjoying the flow of the script.
I am certain that the director and cast understand and love Foreman and his theatre, but they failed to share this understanding with the audience. I can hear them now saying that confusion, misinterpretation and alienation is what they were aiming for. Nonetheless, I read the New York Times review of the original production. It said how the audience faces reflected in the plastic screen on the stage were all smiling. The faces this night were grimacing. What is the point of theatre if you fail to share your stage world with the people sitting out front?
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Now that Communism is Dead my Life Feels Empty
Malthouse Theatre and Melbourne International Arts Festival
17 October 2006
Tower Theatre, CUB Malthouse
There is nothing like the almost orgasmic feeling of being in a theatre when an audience applauds a show. The applause for Now that Communism is Dead my Life Feels Empty was NOTHING like that.
I listen to what audience members have to say about a show. This wasn’t the exciting extreme “lets discuss it” reactions caused by other festival productions – this was confusion, boredom and resentment. A complete stranger turned to me at the end and said, “that was excruciating”.
Now that Communism is Dead my Life Feels Empty is Richard Foreman 48th play and was first presented by Ontological-Hysteric Theater in 2001. The Kitchen Sink production is an original interpretation of the text. I read reviews, learnt about Ontological, spoke to people who have seen Foreman’s theatre and even downloaded the script. It took a lot of research to even grasp what this production was meant to be about. It’s quite clear in the original. This Communism included visual references to Foreman, but didn’t appear to reflect, resemble or resepct the original work.
Forman is known for his complex composition, his “turbulent ocean of multiplicity”. Robert Wilson (I La Galigo MIAF 06) is also known for his multiplicity. In a public lecture last week, Wilson described a production as being like a hamburger. All the elements can have opposing and differing textures, shapes and tastes, but together they are gratifying and delicious. Communism was like unsatisfying snack made from the leftover, stale, rotting and cheap ingredients found in a student share house fridge. It was the equivilent of a suburban musical society performing I La Galigo.
The direction and design did not reflect the complexity and multiplicity of the text. Director Max Lyandvert has worked with Romeo Castelluci (Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels MIAF 06). Castelluci’s positive influence is recognizable in the visual aspects of the work. However, where the visual language of Tragedia was powerful and layered with multiple interpretations, the visual aspects of Communism were cluttered and confusing.
Foreman doesn’t write narrative theatre. It is meant to be disorienting and non-senesical in a stream of consciousness kind of way. It’s also meant to be funny, being promoted as a “side splitting” comedy. I sniggered three times (I like the text), but I was alone. It is very strange to be the ONLY person in a full theatre who finds something funny. One actor resorted to visual humour. The pig nose of a face pushed up against perspex is always funny. It didn’t even raise a snicker.
Ben Winspear and Gibson Nolte both “performed” very well and I would like to see them in different works. What didn’t work was their a semi-naturalistic style. Grabs of naturalism made the audience want to search for character and meaning, instead of enjoying the flow of the script.
I am certain that the director and cast understand and love Foreman and his theatre, but they failed to share this understanding with the audience. I can hear them now saying that confusion, misinterpretation and alienation is what they were aiming for. Nonetheless, I read the New York Times review of the original production. It said how the audience faces reflected in the plastic screen on the stage were all smiling. The faces this night were grimacing. What is the point of theatre if you fail to share your stage world with the people sitting out front?
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Peepshow
MIAF 2006
Peepshow
Melbourne International Arts Festival
24 October 2006
CUB Malthouse, Merlyn Theatre
Peepshow lets us peer into the forbidden. It is essentially a solo performance about the nature of love, presented by multiple characters. As the title suggests, we are hoping to voyeuristically peer into a forbidden sexual world. The characters challenge, break and still support the conventional rules of love, but none of them have sex.
Of course, it’s really not about the sex. It’s about the “accident” of love and the choices we make. Every choice results in the loss of so many other possibilities and chances. Even a positive choice is still all about loss. A woman sighs over past love letters. Moments, forgotten at the time, that reverberate deep within her years later.
With layers, zips, glasses and a wig, Bressard’s costume looks like it will be gradually stripped away. Only one character removes the dark glasses, but doesn’t look up. Instead of revealing the physical, we witness the characters hidden behaviour and see them so vividly by peering directly into their thoughts. There is never any judgement or questioning from the stage, but moments of profound realisation for the audience as the characters find brief unexpected moments of purity. A little girl feels happy holding the hand of the monster in the dark, a woman feels the safely of being bound and gagged, another re-opens a bloody wound so her flesh can take the pain from her heart.
The text isn’t astounding, but is made to resonate with the perfect integration of sound and design. I cannot imagine one element of the production without the others. Experimental musician Alexander MacSween designed and mixes the sound live. Brassard’s voice is continually manipulated, becoming an instrument for MacSween. This creates a seamless transition between characters and allows us to hear so much more than a voice from the stage. They found this expression by wondering what human thoughts sound like in our head. The result is stunning. Bressard’s voice never sounds completely natural, but the electronic manipulation gives her characters their authentic voices. It also reinforces the ongoing theme of control and trust. The performer gives her vocal control to someone else.
Simon Guilbault’s scenography and lighting are deceptively simple, but simply outstanding. This is design that literally gives shape to the thoughts and voices of the characters. Not their clear rational thoughts, but their illogical right brain images and dreams. The valentine/red-riding-hood red of Bressard’s costume combines with rusted and dying autumnal reds around her. The uneven carpeted floor changes from clouds to grass and never lets the characters stand on even, clear ground. Projections are unclear and murky, but we understand them in the same way we understand dreams.
Peepshow engages aurally, visually, emotionally and morally - proving how intelligent and original theatre can and should be.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Peepshow
Melbourne International Arts Festival
24 October 2006
CUB Malthouse, Merlyn Theatre
Wow. Marie Brassard’s Peepshow may be my highlight of the 2006 Melbourne International Arts Festival. This is theatre that re-fashions form and content to create a unique, personal and mesmerising theatrical language.
Of course, it’s really not about the sex. It’s about the “accident” of love and the choices we make. Every choice results in the loss of so many other possibilities and chances. Even a positive choice is still all about loss. A woman sighs over past love letters. Moments, forgotten at the time, that reverberate deep within her years later.
With layers, zips, glasses and a wig, Bressard’s costume looks like it will be gradually stripped away. Only one character removes the dark glasses, but doesn’t look up. Instead of revealing the physical, we witness the characters hidden behaviour and see them so vividly by peering directly into their thoughts. There is never any judgement or questioning from the stage, but moments of profound realisation for the audience as the characters find brief unexpected moments of purity. A little girl feels happy holding the hand of the monster in the dark, a woman feels the safely of being bound and gagged, another re-opens a bloody wound so her flesh can take the pain from her heart.
The text isn’t astounding, but is made to resonate with the perfect integration of sound and design. I cannot imagine one element of the production without the others. Experimental musician Alexander MacSween designed and mixes the sound live. Brassard’s voice is continually manipulated, becoming an instrument for MacSween. This creates a seamless transition between characters and allows us to hear so much more than a voice from the stage. They found this expression by wondering what human thoughts sound like in our head. The result is stunning. Bressard’s voice never sounds completely natural, but the electronic manipulation gives her characters their authentic voices. It also reinforces the ongoing theme of control and trust. The performer gives her vocal control to someone else.
Simon Guilbault’s scenography and lighting are deceptively simple, but simply outstanding. This is design that literally gives shape to the thoughts and voices of the characters. Not their clear rational thoughts, but their illogical right brain images and dreams. The valentine/red-riding-hood red of Bressard’s costume combines with rusted and dying autumnal reds around her. The uneven carpeted floor changes from clouds to grass and never lets the characters stand on even, clear ground. Projections are unclear and murky, but we understand them in the same way we understand dreams.
Peepshow engages aurally, visually, emotionally and morally - proving how intelligent and original theatre can and should be.
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
30 September 2006
2006 Melbourne International Arts Festival preview
MIAF 2006
Program Preview
12-28 October 2006
The 2006 Melbourne International Arts Festival begins on October 12. Artistic Director Kristy Edmunds and her team have created a challenging, contemporary program that is vibrant and inspiring.
There is the usual degree of media controversy about this year’s offering. The Age described it as straying too far from the “traditional mix” and catering to “too few”. There were similar criticisms about Edmunds’ first program in 2005. However, I saw a lot of shows in that festival and they all had full houses and cheering audiences.
The 2005 program was filled with unfamiliar artists and companies, but they gave us unforgettable experiences and their work has become part of our local artistic language. The unknown gave us the freedom to enjoy the pure emotion created by art. I remember tears at Le Dernier Caravansérail (Odysées) (Théâtre du Soleil) and tears of laughter at Bloody Mess (Forced Entertainment). Thank you Kristy for straying from the “traditional mix” and letting us experience the authentic and the heartfelt.
So what does 2006 have to offer?
The program has a strong focus on collaboration across art forms and among artists. It explores artistic practice by rejecting barriers of culture, form, language, belief and place. By doing so, artists create new art forms and challenge our aesthetics. Robert Wilson invents colour (I La Galigo), Marie Brassard lets us hear human thoughts (Peepshow), Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto explore what music might look like (insen).
Australian art is presented with the same passion as the best international companies and artists. There are many Australian artists appearing, but they are not segregated as the “local” program. This is a truly international program, with no “us” and “them”.
With an extensive free program, you don’t have to spend to indulge in this event. Visit the Mostlandian Embassy, walk around the Visual Arts exhibitions and don’t miss Of All The People In All The World: Pacific Rim (Stan’s Café). There is also a selection of discount ticket packages available, and local artists can apply for an artist card that entitles them to discounted tickets and entry to the Festival’s artist lounge.
Children are encouraged to create their own art. Following the success of last year’s Kids Club is The Clubhouse – a purpose built venue just for younger audiences to enjoy workshops and performances. I was one of the very few adults privileged to see the Kids Club. It was encouraging, nurturing and just so much fun – children did not want to leave. This year kids can also take their grown ups to the interactive Children’s Cheering Carpet (Teatro di Piazza o d'Occasione) and on the kids’ Visual Arts trail.
Last year Kristy proved that she respects the festival audience and trusts us to find our own path in the program. So, trust this Artistic Director, grab the festival guide and take a chance on someone you are not yet familiar with. My path looks kind of like this:
George Orwell’s 1984 (The Actors Gang). Tim Robbins’ company (yes - the one from the movies). Their mission is to bring socially relevant theatre to a broad public. 1984 reminds us of where we could be without he freedom to express our opinions.
I La Galigo (Robert Wilson). Robert Wilson is one of the creators of Einstein On The Beach. If, like me, you sat mesmerised at the MIAF performances in 1992, you know that a Robert Wilson production is unmissable. If you saw Absolute Wilson at this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival, this is your chance to experience the theatre he creates. I La Galigo is unique, visionary theatre that truly overcomes limits off belief, country and aesthetic. A cast of over 50 Indonesian performers present the epic poem, Sureq Galigo. This may mean very little to us now, but I believe it will be etched into our hearts by the end of the performance. Earlier this week I spoke to the Assistant Director about the creation of the work and what it was like to work with Wilson. Look out for the full story soon.
Blind Date (Bill T Jones/Anrie Zane Dance Company). A multinational company that explore national identity by melding dance with video, live music and monologue.
Voyage (dump type). This Japanese collective create surreal and illusionary work that merges all disciplines.
Ngapartji Ngapartji means, “I give you something, you give me something”. This project has always been one of sharing culture, language and stories. With a cast including elders and young people from the Pitjantjatjara community, the work in progress performance sold out last year. This year we see the world premiere of an epic Australian story that blends the familiar with the unfamiliar. Look out for Christina Cass’ interview with the company in the coming weeks.
Peepshow. Marie Brassard peeps into the forbidden - the perversons, deviations and vargaries of love. Intriguing enough – but it also uses digital technology to totally re-mix Bressard’s voice.
Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels (Societás Raffaello Sanzio). Text is abandoned as a powerful physical language unfolds. A world of emptiness, devoid of warmth. This is not for the faint hearted.
blessing the boats. When poet Sekou Sundiata needed a kidney, five of his friends volunteered theirs. He tells his very personal story by simply talking to us.
Mantalk (Thomas and Wells). This project starts with episodes 4 to 7 at the Melbourne Fringe. If you enjoy it, then episodes 11 to 16 continue at the Festival.
insen (Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto). Acoustic piano and electronic music. Two generations of artists explore new musical structures. Remember the soundtrack to Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence? Sakamoto composed it.
Ethel. Forget what you think string quartet should be – just come and experience their “distinctive fun, spunk and groove”.
The Ringtone Society. Bringing together adventurous musicians and composers to create a new and unique musical form – the ringtone. And we can download them to our phones.
The Tulse Luper Suitcase Film Trilogy (Peter Greenaway). Promising to be “even more unorthadox than his previous work” . If you like Greenaway – what more do you need to know! Apart from - there is an interactive online game that accompanies the films.
This story originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Program Preview
12-28 October 2006
The 2006 Melbourne International Arts Festival begins on October 12. Artistic Director Kristy Edmunds and her team have created a challenging, contemporary program that is vibrant and inspiring.
There is the usual degree of media controversy about this year’s offering. The Age described it as straying too far from the “traditional mix” and catering to “too few”. There were similar criticisms about Edmunds’ first program in 2005. However, I saw a lot of shows in that festival and they all had full houses and cheering audiences.
The 2005 program was filled with unfamiliar artists and companies, but they gave us unforgettable experiences and their work has become part of our local artistic language. The unknown gave us the freedom to enjoy the pure emotion created by art. I remember tears at Le Dernier Caravansérail (Odysées) (Théâtre du Soleil) and tears of laughter at Bloody Mess (Forced Entertainment). Thank you Kristy for straying from the “traditional mix” and letting us experience the authentic and the heartfelt.
So what does 2006 have to offer?
The program has a strong focus on collaboration across art forms and among artists. It explores artistic practice by rejecting barriers of culture, form, language, belief and place. By doing so, artists create new art forms and challenge our aesthetics. Robert Wilson invents colour (I La Galigo), Marie Brassard lets us hear human thoughts (Peepshow), Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto explore what music might look like (insen).
Australian art is presented with the same passion as the best international companies and artists. There are many Australian artists appearing, but they are not segregated as the “local” program. This is a truly international program, with no “us” and “them”.
With an extensive free program, you don’t have to spend to indulge in this event. Visit the Mostlandian Embassy, walk around the Visual Arts exhibitions and don’t miss Of All The People In All The World: Pacific Rim (Stan’s Café). There is also a selection of discount ticket packages available, and local artists can apply for an artist card that entitles them to discounted tickets and entry to the Festival’s artist lounge.
Children are encouraged to create their own art. Following the success of last year’s Kids Club is The Clubhouse – a purpose built venue just for younger audiences to enjoy workshops and performances. I was one of the very few adults privileged to see the Kids Club. It was encouraging, nurturing and just so much fun – children did not want to leave. This year kids can also take their grown ups to the interactive Children’s Cheering Carpet (Teatro di Piazza o d'Occasione) and on the kids’ Visual Arts trail.
Last year Kristy proved that she respects the festival audience and trusts us to find our own path in the program. So, trust this Artistic Director, grab the festival guide and take a chance on someone you are not yet familiar with. My path looks kind of like this:
George Orwell’s 1984 (The Actors Gang). Tim Robbins’ company (yes - the one from the movies). Their mission is to bring socially relevant theatre to a broad public. 1984 reminds us of where we could be without he freedom to express our opinions.
I La Galigo (Robert Wilson). Robert Wilson is one of the creators of Einstein On The Beach. If, like me, you sat mesmerised at the MIAF performances in 1992, you know that a Robert Wilson production is unmissable. If you saw Absolute Wilson at this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival, this is your chance to experience the theatre he creates. I La Galigo is unique, visionary theatre that truly overcomes limits off belief, country and aesthetic. A cast of over 50 Indonesian performers present the epic poem, Sureq Galigo. This may mean very little to us now, but I believe it will be etched into our hearts by the end of the performance. Earlier this week I spoke to the Assistant Director about the creation of the work and what it was like to work with Wilson. Look out for the full story soon.
Blind Date (Bill T Jones/Anrie Zane Dance Company). A multinational company that explore national identity by melding dance with video, live music and monologue.
Voyage (dump type). This Japanese collective create surreal and illusionary work that merges all disciplines.
Ngapartji Ngapartji means, “I give you something, you give me something”. This project has always been one of sharing culture, language and stories. With a cast including elders and young people from the Pitjantjatjara community, the work in progress performance sold out last year. This year we see the world premiere of an epic Australian story that blends the familiar with the unfamiliar. Look out for Christina Cass’ interview with the company in the coming weeks.
Peepshow. Marie Brassard peeps into the forbidden - the perversons, deviations and vargaries of love. Intriguing enough – but it also uses digital technology to totally re-mix Bressard’s voice.
Tragedia Endogonidia BR.#04 Brussels (Societás Raffaello Sanzio). Text is abandoned as a powerful physical language unfolds. A world of emptiness, devoid of warmth. This is not for the faint hearted.
blessing the boats. When poet Sekou Sundiata needed a kidney, five of his friends volunteered theirs. He tells his very personal story by simply talking to us.
Mantalk (Thomas and Wells). This project starts with episodes 4 to 7 at the Melbourne Fringe. If you enjoy it, then episodes 11 to 16 continue at the Festival.
insen (Alva Noto and Ryuichi Sakamoto). Acoustic piano and electronic music. Two generations of artists explore new musical structures. Remember the soundtrack to Merry Christmas Mr Lawrence? Sakamoto composed it.
Ethel. Forget what you think string quartet should be – just come and experience their “distinctive fun, spunk and groove”.
The Ringtone Society. Bringing together adventurous musicians and composers to create a new and unique musical form – the ringtone. And we can download them to our phones.
The Tulse Luper Suitcase Film Trilogy (Peter Greenaway). Promising to be “even more unorthadox than his previous work” . If you like Greenaway – what more do you need to know! Apart from - there is an interactive online game that accompanies the films.
This story originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
I La Galigo: The Colour of Heaven
MELBOURNE INTERNATIONAL ARTS FESTIVAL 2006
Interview with Rama Soeprapto, Assistant Director of I La Galigo
One of the most anticipated events of the 2006 Melbourne International Arts Festival is the Robert Wilson epic I La Galigo. I have only seen one of Wilson’s works (Einstein On The Beach, MIAF1992). Visceral, mesmerising and visually addictive, it was enough to change my concept of what theatre can be. Last week I spoke with I La Galigo Assistant Director, Rama Soeprapto, about working with Wilson, the international reception of this work and the colour of Heaven.
With a cast of over 50 of Indonesia’s finest performers, I La Galigo was developed through a workshop process in Bali. Uniting theatre, dance, music and poetry, it is inspired by Sureq Galigo, a centuries old epic poem of the Bugis people of South Sulawesi.
Working with a traditional narrative is an unusual course for director Robert Wilson. He has been described by The New York Times as “A towering figure in the world of experimental theatre”. Since the late 1960s his productions in the US and Europe have defined the avant guard, whilst questioning and shaping the look of theatre and opera.
Rama Soeprapto’s respect and admiration for “Bob” is very clear, as is his love for this production. His background is dance, visual arts, film and video, and told me he got the job by convincing Wilson that, “I’m here to learn and I really want work hard”.
His primary role was to translate Wilson’s vision to the artists of the cast. This not only involved translating language, but explaining contrasting, and somewhat contradictory, concepts of theatre and performance.
Sureq Galigo has traditionally been told through dance. Soeprapto explains that the traditional Indonesian way of dance is based on feelings. “Dances use their feelings to perform in the moment”. A performance is flexible, personal and unique.
This is very different from the Wilson tradition, where every nuance of the slightest gesture is an integral part of the performance. This visual language developed through his determination to give context and meaning to artists who are unable to express themselves in a text based world. Having overcome his own childhood learning disability, he started working in hospitals and schools, using theatre games to enable and encourage communication with patients and children unable to communicate. It was here that Wilson discovered the power of the smallest gesture and begun his ongoing investigation into the structure of simple movement.
Soeprapto says, “Bob is very precise…very detailed about how you stand and move.” There is no room for an artist’s changing emotional interpretation in a Wilson work.
Fortunately the melding of western avant guard and the traditional Indonesian has created something stunning. I La Galigo has received critical acclaim in Singapore, Amsterdam, Barcelona, Madrid, Lyon, Ravenna and New York, but it was the reaction of the Jakarta audience that has established this production as truly remarkable.
The Indonesian audience know and love this story. Soeprapto says the Sureq Galigo is something they “know from their ancestors” and “have in their minds”. There was naturally some concern about the Wilson interpretation. Fortunately, the Indonesian audiences were “flabbergasted”, when they saw their story “done in such a good way.”
I La Galigo is one of the many works in the 2006 MIAF program that focus on collaboration among differing art forms and the creation of new aesthetics. Artistic Director, Kristy Edmunds, described I La Galigo as “inventing colour right before our eyes”. Intrigued by her description I asked Soeprapto about colour.
He simply replied that “the genius side of Bob Wilson” is how he brings colour into a performance. He will spend a week perfecting a colour. Inspired by the natural world, he will also make artists go outside and feel the grass. To recreate the colour, the image and the feeling of grass – they have to know what it physically feels like. Finally Soeprapto asked me if I could imagine “what colour blue Heaven looks like”. Wilson knows, and I am very looking forward to seeing the blue, the green and every other colour of I La Galigo.
This interview originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
Interview with Rama Soeprapto, Assistant Director of I La Galigo
One of the most anticipated events of the 2006 Melbourne International Arts Festival is the Robert Wilson epic I La Galigo. I have only seen one of Wilson’s works (Einstein On The Beach, MIAF1992). Visceral, mesmerising and visually addictive, it was enough to change my concept of what theatre can be. Last week I spoke with I La Galigo Assistant Director, Rama Soeprapto, about working with Wilson, the international reception of this work and the colour of Heaven.
With a cast of over 50 of Indonesia’s finest performers, I La Galigo was developed through a workshop process in Bali. Uniting theatre, dance, music and poetry, it is inspired by Sureq Galigo, a centuries old epic poem of the Bugis people of South Sulawesi.
Working with a traditional narrative is an unusual course for director Robert Wilson. He has been described by The New York Times as “A towering figure in the world of experimental theatre”. Since the late 1960s his productions in the US and Europe have defined the avant guard, whilst questioning and shaping the look of theatre and opera.
Rama Soeprapto’s respect and admiration for “Bob” is very clear, as is his love for this production. His background is dance, visual arts, film and video, and told me he got the job by convincing Wilson that, “I’m here to learn and I really want work hard”.
His primary role was to translate Wilson’s vision to the artists of the cast. This not only involved translating language, but explaining contrasting, and somewhat contradictory, concepts of theatre and performance.
Sureq Galigo has traditionally been told through dance. Soeprapto explains that the traditional Indonesian way of dance is based on feelings. “Dances use their feelings to perform in the moment”. A performance is flexible, personal and unique.
This is very different from the Wilson tradition, where every nuance of the slightest gesture is an integral part of the performance. This visual language developed through his determination to give context and meaning to artists who are unable to express themselves in a text based world. Having overcome his own childhood learning disability, he started working in hospitals and schools, using theatre games to enable and encourage communication with patients and children unable to communicate. It was here that Wilson discovered the power of the smallest gesture and begun his ongoing investigation into the structure of simple movement.
Soeprapto says, “Bob is very precise…very detailed about how you stand and move.” There is no room for an artist’s changing emotional interpretation in a Wilson work.
Fortunately the melding of western avant guard and the traditional Indonesian has created something stunning. I La Galigo has received critical acclaim in Singapore, Amsterdam, Barcelona, Madrid, Lyon, Ravenna and New York, but it was the reaction of the Jakarta audience that has established this production as truly remarkable.
The Indonesian audience know and love this story. Soeprapto says the Sureq Galigo is something they “know from their ancestors” and “have in their minds”. There was naturally some concern about the Wilson interpretation. Fortunately, the Indonesian audiences were “flabbergasted”, when they saw their story “done in such a good way.”
I La Galigo is one of the many works in the 2006 MIAF program that focus on collaboration among differing art forms and the creation of new aesthetics. Artistic Director, Kristy Edmunds, described I La Galigo as “inventing colour right before our eyes”. Intrigued by her description I asked Soeprapto about colour.
He simply replied that “the genius side of Bob Wilson” is how he brings colour into a performance. He will spend a week perfecting a colour. Inspired by the natural world, he will also make artists go outside and feel the grass. To recreate the colour, the image and the feeling of grass – they have to know what it physically feels like. Finally Soeprapto asked me if I could imagine “what colour blue Heaven looks like”. Wilson knows, and I am very looking forward to seeing the blue, the green and every other colour of I La Galigo.
This interview originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.
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