Review: Heracles High 5

Heracles High 5
A is for Atlas
23 June 2010
Meat Market

A is for Atlas are another Melbourne independent company who are dedicated to exploring their unique theatrical voice. In Heracles High 5, director Xan Coleman and his team explore the nature of contemporary heroes and heroism and if we expect far too much of those we hold in esteem.

The laminated safety instruction cards and the airline hanger-like proportions of the gorgeous Meat Market set the scene for the Heracles High 5 trip. But our plane is actually a TV studio and we're ready for the filming of "Green and Gold Live". With screens that tell us when to applaud, sigh, cheer and declare OMG, and a host as enigmatic as Jules (Wes Snelling), it doesn't matter that the plane/TV studio metaphor seems a bit odd because the band is playing, Wes is singing and we've met super hot Heracles.

Heracles looks a lot like Michael Hutchence and sings like Nick Cave, so he could only be more of an Aussie rock hero if he donned hot pats and sang "I Should Be So Lucky". The lyrics were difficult to decipher, but there was enough about diggers and Lleyton Hewitt to let us know what the songs were about.

With an interview by Jules and questions from the 'audience', we learn that spunky Heracles has been every hero since his days in Ancient Greece, including Napoleon, Chuck Berry, John Cleese and a member of the Third Reich – and he's sick of it. He's sick of repeating the his five labours,  he's fed up with Zeus (dad) interfering and had enough of being an idle idol, so he's not denying news report that he's become a government mercenary.

Up to now, Heracles High 5 was so much fun and so original, that any lack of narrative drive was irrelevant.  Looking at the hero versus entertainer and the why folk who haven't done that much get the same label as those who define our universal myths and archetypes is enough to get our brains ticking over.  Then the plane crashed and Heracles had to shovel a lot of poo.  Literally.

The second half takes place on Christmas Island where Heracles repeats his labours and I have no idea why. Heracles ended the same bloke as he was at the beginning, so the labours were a waste of his time. Perhaps what was missing was the human in the hero. Heracles was part human, but this hero was cold, grumpy and dull. Sure he was good looking enough to pick up anyone, but one reason contemporary heroes earn their title is because they are likeable, because they are human.  While Heracles remained unapproachable, grouchy, short tempered and bored with everything, there was not reason for anyone to care what happened to him and I would have flown away without him.


This review appears on AussieTheatre.com.

Bittersweet

MELBOURNE FRINGE 2009
Bittersweet
8 October 2009
Meat Market

Bittersweet enjoyed a short season of sold out shows at the Fringe’s wonderful circus ‘tent’ at the Meat Market. Created by Last Tuesday Society regulars, the eager crowds were ready for something very different.

Set in a strip club in the “seedy side of town where it’s always 4.30 in the morning”, Richard Higgins is the DJ who narrates the tale that ends with the destruction of the club. With a singer who only sings when the club is shut, the sweet country girl who just wants to hoop dance, a band who never leave and a drunk whose stuck to his chair, Bittersweet is on it’s way to being a late-night cult favourite.

But it feels like a Last Tuesday night in a bigger venue. Story and characters are what hold this kind of show together, with the skill of the performers used to tell the story. For all their skill, each piece took us away from the characters and made us focus on the performers, which was emphasised by Higgins dropping his dark, seedy (and fascinating) DJ character, slipping into his MC character (or even himself) and asking us to cheer – and the performers dropping out of character to bow! If you want us to care about the people in this sad, lonely place, don’t remind us that it’s all just pretendies and we are really there to see you look hot and show off a bit.

The characters felt tacked on to the performer’s existing acts, rather than integral to them. Simoncee Page-Jones’, Dragon Lilly hides behind enough glitter make up and feathers to dress a Les Girls troupe, but we don’t get a glimpse of why. She sings ‘Send in the Clowns’, but misses the emotion of the song to be a vocal gymnast. This one would have hit us in the heart if she had let Lilly drop her mask and sing from her heart. Stephen Williams was hands down the performer of the night, but his effortless skill needed a character who belonged in that club. Anna Lumb is adorable on stage, but I wasn’t sure if she was playing one or two characters.

Bittersweet is a nice cabaret show, but it’s not a theatre show yet. The story needs work and the group ‘happy ending’ isn’t earned - and I have no idea what the tacked on dance was. Was it meant to show us that two people survived and found love or something that didn’t fit in anywhere else?

The spine and structure are there, but Bittersweet needs (and deserves) the help of a writer and a director to balance out the flavours and remove the saccharine aftertaste.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

More 2009 Fringe reviews.

Playground, A New World Order

ARTS HOUSE IN AUGUST
Playground, A New World Order
Panther
14 August 2009
Meat Market

Each performance of Playground, A New World Order is only 20 minutes long and only 20 people can enjoy the experience at a time – and it may be the most fun you can have at the theatre.

How often do you get to play in the ‘theatre’? How often do we get to play in our everyday life? I mean really play – games and stuff in a real playground made of giant wooden spools, log bridges, old tyres, ropes and lots of tan bark. Playground, A New World Order doesn’t just evoke childhood, it physically takes you back to a time when balancing and climbing were a part of daily living, running and chasing are your favourite things and strangers are instantly best friends who you are eager to share your biggest secrets with.

When was the last time you spoke with, touched and competed with 19 new people? This isn’t a passive, let the artists do their stuff performance. Within minutes of entering the space, strangers are helping each other keep their balance or jump to the ground. No one feels left out or doesn’t want to join in.

Melbourne-based collaboration Panther (Madeleine Hodge and Sarah Rodigari) create games about heroes and journeys, while making us think about our strengths, weaknesses and even how we would like to die, and playing chasing games where words, wit and quick thinking can help you win, as much as your ability to climb or hide.

Panther say that in the playground children “are the heroes and this (the playground) is their world”. For a short time, Madeleine and Sarah let us remember a time when our worlds were small, we had the confidence to overcome any problem, we be-friended people just because they were there and always felt like a hero.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Night Garden

Night Garden
My Darling Patricia
24 March 2009
Meat Market

Visually intricate, deliberately complex, and never dull, My Darling Patricia awakens our subconscious in their Night Garden dreamscape.

University-trained psychiatrists and weekend-market tarot readers believe that dreams reveal our deepest fears and secrets with obscure images; Jungians reveal universal connection through the shared symbolism of our dreams; and Freudians insist that we dream about our parents and our formative sexual experiences. All must approve of My Darling Patricia.

Night Garden is a tale for the theatre, where performance, puppetry and installation combine to explore the relationship of a mother and son in 1980s urban Australia. The iconic Aussie backyard images support the archetypal characters and evoke a sense of familiarity and comfort within the ominous darkness. Like our sleep-time stories, a delicate and blurred narrative symbolically exposes the disturbing truth of the soothing scenes, and the final moments force a re-assessment of all that went before it.

This is complex, intelligent theatrical story telling which allows the imaginations of its audience to fill in the gaps and create their own interpretations of the story. Vividly original images infuse the story with a life beyond its theme and if, like me, you yearn to explore our hidden and intricate shadows, a visit to the Night Garden can leave you shuddering with satisfaction, but its multiple paths can work against it by alienating and confusing those who prefer clear direction.


This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.