Review: Robots Vs Art

Robots Vs. Art
La Mama
3 June 2012
La Mama Courthouse
to 10 June
lamama.com.au

There's a very funny and unexpectedly touching short play hiding in Robots Vs. Art.

Welcome to the future. Robots got super smart and killed off most of the naughty humans who were destroying the world; the rest now work in underground mines and get beaten with chains. One robot (Simon Maiden) is researching "art" and wrote a play, so it's lucky that there's a once-playwright/director (Daniel Frederiksen) is in the mines who wants to convince the bots about the importance of art and feeling.

I honestly thought this was a first-time script, until realising that I had seen (and loved) Travis Cotton's writing, like The Rites of Evil. The first half has clunky exposition, slabs of telling the play-going audience that plays and art are good things, OMG-you've-already-told-us repetition, less-funny-the-second/third-time jokes and direction that seems intent on prolonging every scene with enough dead stage time to let me read my program and decide what to make for dinner. And we know more about the robot than the hero's character at this stage.

Or: The script would benefit from a good edit.

Cotton also directs. When going all meta with characters explaining the nature and structure of plays, declaring that art is good, talking about reviews that "seem unkind", stressing the importance of empathy and using lines like "The script is devoid of anything resembling art", the direction and tone have to be so ironic that we laugh with you and are not tempted to use it against you.

Then, perhaps an hour in, Robots Vs. Art finds its tone, settles on a pace, gives its characters some life, becomes laugh-out-loud funny and brings its audience into a shared experience.  It's great stuff and Paul Goddard and Natasha Jacobs are the best robots since (insert your favourite robot). There are hints of this in the early part, but it may help if Clawbot (my new favourite robot) pulverises a good chunk of the beginning.

You’re Not The Boss of Me

You’re Not The Boss of Me
La Mama
7 July 2009
La Mama Courthouse

You’re Not The Boss Of Me opens with two children playing Bonka in a red cage. Bonka is everything. We don’t know what it is, we don’t know why they are there, but we fear the worst and hope for the best.

Director Adam J A Cass says in his program notes that he’s sucked in by theatre that surprises, stays one step ahead and doesn’t spoon feed. No wonder he jumped at the chance to direct Natasha Jacobs’ script.

You’re Not The Boss Of Me plays with playing and we hope the physical cage is a metaphor. We try to find the truth amongst the tricks, teases, games and dreams, then try to avoid it when we see it. Jacobs excels at creating unease and discomfort by only letting us glimpse the truth as it plays hide and seek in the story and in our understanding. She knows that what we imagine is so much more powerful than what we are told.

Jacobs knows every nuance of her script and her performance as the girl is riveting. This girl doesn’t want to drop her mask of control, not even to her only friend and hope, and it’s a rare performer that let’s the character keep her control, while letting the audience see the horror and fear that created the mask. Sam Hall, as her friend, equals Jacobs’ energy and gently reveals his character’s reality as his innocence slips away and he is forced to take control.

Cass’ direction is paced perfectly. The first act is full of movement, fun and hope that it’s all just a game, while the second act almost stills to a halt, as the hints of truth can no longer be hidden and the tension becomes beautifully uncomfortable. Directing actors to perform as children can be more difficult than directing children. If either performer were allowed to fall into the unforgiveable cliché of a comic child, the impact would be lost. He lets the children play, while bringing an adult understanding that the reasons for their play are complex and hidden.

The design team (Luke Stokes – set, Richard Vabre – lighting, Camilla McKewan – costume and Brooke Taylor – sound) create the unsettling caged world the children play in. The design lets the audience feel slightly confused, but, like the script, is open to many interpretations.

Unfortunately, the season has ended, but this is a work that deserves to be seen again.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.