What Melbourne Loved in 2019, part 5

So today, our federal government dumped the arts ministry.

I'm running out of positive today, then I get this contribution: "A lot of the works that stayed with me explored post-humanism, native peoples self-determination or the post apocalypse; further cementing that theatre is dangerous, vital, conversational and provocative. No wonder funding is drying up, like the creek beds of our planet."

It's easy to give up at the moment, so we need to let artists and theatre makers know that their work makes a difference. Have your say here.

Joshua Ladgrove
Joshua Ladgrove The Wise

Joshua Ladgrove and Frobert selfie

Favourite moments in 2019.
Someone in the front row of my show using their iPhone torch to loudly search through their bag for a lolly, and then try to quietly unwrap said lolly while I stopped the show and watched them the whole time unbeknownst to them; it was very funny.

Looking forward to in 2020.
Creating a new show.

SM: I saw his seminar about bilge pumps (its name changes) at MICF and Melbourne Fringe; it's the only show I saw twice this year. And that wasn't enough. Even when I knew what was coming, he still surprised me. Watching this show is fear clashing with the joy of complete trust that he's going to make everything pay off. And he does. If the world were fair, he'd have his own tv show and be so fucking famous by now that he wouldn't give a toss what bloggers think.

There's a final 2019 showing of Joshua Ladgrove's Award Winning Bilge Pump Show TOMORROW (Friday 6 December).

It's a fundraiser. In order to create new shows, artists need money. It's not like there's funding.

It's at Docklands. This is the ideal place for a bilge pump seminar. (It's at the library, which is actually really groovy.)

You can book here. It may be the best seminar yet.


Carla Donnelly
Broadcaster and critic

Carla Donnelly selfie

Favourite moments in 2019.
2019 has been a year of incredible art for me. Music, film and my beloved theatre. There have  been so many amazing performances that my memories become nested into moments that had my jaw unhinge with tears of disbelief that life could be so beautiful. A lot of the works that stayed with me explored post-humanism, native peoples self-determination or the post apocalypse; further cementing that theatre is dangerous, vital, conversational and provocative. No wonder funding is drying up, like the creek beds of our planet.

Sarah Ward’s alien/rock/monkey space rock opera The Legend of Queen Kong: opera singing MOTHER FUCKER to a baroque harpsichord psychedelic freak out.

Ursula Yovich’s defiant, heartbreaking and vulnerable rock musical Barbara and the Camp Dogs: too many moments to list that had me in tears.

Mr Burns, a post-electric play was an absolute miracle of production, the amount of moving pieces to get right would have been back breaking. Its message of the way humans make meaning and connect, how memory works, and our utter compulsion to tell ourselves and each other through story completely blew me away. The pop medley was the prestige in an already inconceivably incredible independent theatre production.

Emma Hall’s World Problems. A simple conceit – a woman builds a trampoline on stage, with a monologue projected at/to the audience. Emma tells us the story of how ‘you’ let the world die. The mental gymnastics I went through to avoid complicity took me to at least half way through the show before my heart sank and I started to cry realising that it *was* us. We did let the world die.

The Honouring (during Yirramboi) was a work of such tenderness and pain; I am crying now thinking about it. Jack Sheppard’s physical rendering of Indigenous suicide through text, movement and puppetry was staggering. A work that didn’t get enough attention. Nor the festival really; Yirramboi is extraordinary.

Joel Bray’s Daddy (also at Yirramboi) a was another incredible work featuring dance, text and tableaus presented to the audience by following Bray around the room. Joel Bray is filled with rage and hope and love and desire and this was beautifully rendered. It was electrifying.

The Patricia Cornelius/Susie Dee power combo continued to slay with Love: stories, faces and bodies I never see on Melbourne stages. Working class people. Drug dependent people. The traumatised. The vulgar. The aberrant. All lovingly and respectfully brought into focus. I walk away from their shows thinking why do I never see these kinds of stories? Who has the keys?

Them (La Mama) was one of the most profound plays of the year. Mystical in its realisation the perfection of casting, time, place and script. It is truly gifted to make a drama about war deeply funny in places. It had me laughing and sobbing and believing the best in humanity that plays like this can find a stage.

I flew to Sydney to see Adena Jacob’s Titus Andronicus and it did not disappoint. Jane Montgomery-Griffiths was clearly having the time of her life in this role. My moment of the year was Catherine Davies ‘comic relief’ clown smearing shit all up the back of her legs whilst doing a sexy dance. Just when you think things can’t get worse, that happens to you and you wonder how life can get any better?

My last three are the most creative and original of the year. Yay for Canetoads! at Melbourne Fringe  was one of those word-of-mouths gems that I would never have known about. So skillfully wrought with colonialism succinctly expressed through the “white death” of the sugar cane industry. Ordinarily this pun could have been one note or on the nose, but Kendra Keller’s tremendous skill and commitment makes our complicity and embeddedness in this horror felt.

Subliminal Massage at Melbourne Fringe was truly one of the most left field and surreal works I’ve ever experienced. A post (post?) human exploration/celebration/exhibition of the trash bag of western “culture”. Puns, portmanteaus, wellness, white cubes, black screens… This AI hasn’t been updated in a century and his database has festered. Glitched out, hilarious, touching, terrifying… just absolutely fucking mind blowing.

And finally Unwoman by The Rabble. From the fecund idealisation of the function of femininity to Yumi Umiumare's butoh – 50 minutes of screaming and giving birth to rocks in a concrete prison reality. This work truly communicated the female experience. Funny, paternalistic, objectifying, non-agentic, tedious, primal – you name it it was in there. The design was also exceptional.

A deep gratitude to all these artists (and the 60+ other performances I saw this year). The  diversity of skill and talent in this country is staggering, and your work, minds, hearts and bodies make my life worth living.

Looking forward to in 2020.
Seeing Daddy again at Midsumma; Fun Home and Slap.Bang.Kiss at MTC; Grey Arias, Do Not Go Gentle and Loaded at Malthouse;  Asia TOPA.

SM: Carla is another critic who keeps going even when everything seems bleak. And, those earrings!

What Melbourne Loved in 2018, part 11

Today's the end of the 2018 Loveds and go from the tiniest to the largest stages. Tomorrow I publish my Best Of and my favourite moments are included today. If you missed out, I'll add some more in that nothing week between Xmas and New Year.

Tom Dickins
Co-founder of Crowded

Tom Dickins. Photo by Simone Pulga

Favourite moments in 2018
The MICF awards ceremony this year. We had a number of the shows we were presenting up for nominations including two shows nominated for the Golden Gibbo, Cam Venn (at The Butterfly Club) and Double Denim (at Belleville). When Cam was announced as the winner, I looked over at he and his partner, both in tears of shock and happiness and promptly burst into tears myself. To make the occasion all the sweeter, moments later, Double Denim were announced as the winners of the Director's Choice award for the festival and, if I had stopped crying by that point, I quickly resumed the waterworks. Every year, the comedy festival is a huge commitment of time, effort, creativity, passion, fatigue and (hopefully) laughter. Seeing excellent comedians excel at their craft and be recognised for it this year was a pure delight.

Looking forward to in 2019
As much as it terrifies me, I'm looking forward to the massive challenge of MICF 2019. This year we are involved in 101 productions across 11 stages (some 1080 performances in total). We may keel over from sheer exhaustion, but I'm very proud of our 2019 program across Crowded In The Vaults (including Pilgrim), Belleville, Campari House, Tasma Terrace and The Butterfly Club.

SM: Look at those numbers for next year – 101 productions across 11 stages (some 1080 performances in total)! As a producer, Tom and Crowded are amazing. I don't get near to seeing even half of what he produces, but I'm thrilled every time I see a new artists or a new show that he's trusting on a stage. Melbourne's indie cabaret scene would be far smaller and far less exciting without him.


Anne-Marie Peard
Writer

Anne-Marie Peard. I didn't take a sneaky selfie at Lone.

Favourite moments in 2018
The first time I saw Mojo Juju sing "Native Tongue" (at RIOT at Arts Centre Melbourne). I went on to see her a couple more times during the year. She's incredible.

Hanging out with Jackson in Lone by The Rabble at Arts House.

Every moment of Calamity Jane. Pure joy.

Making #queercrochet for Hir.

Choosing my MICF shows based on being Melbourne Independent Celebratory and Feminist.

Being chosen for audience participation in Cam Venn's Charles Horse Lays An Egg.

Watching the international response to Hannah Gadsby's Nanette. We called that.

Drinking beer in the pub and taking about funerals with Lara Thoms and Scott Turnball.

The industry joining together to support EJ Norvil and Yael Stone.
We also noticed who wasn't supportive.

Looking forward to in 2019
More support of arts writing at all levels.
More understanding that independent writers are not commercial writers.
Less of the "you're not invited" games.
More welcoming of emerging writers and critics to every show – you can't get good if you don't see work.
More diverse critical voices. (A big yay for Witness for finding diverse voices.)
More understanding that reviewing is more than a poster quote.
More caring more about quality writing rather than about stars and adjectives.

And Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. I'm not even going to try and be cool and pretend that I'm not counting down the days.

What Melbourne loved in 2016, part 10

Remember that you don't have to write a lot – a sentence can say as much as an essay – and that your reflections, memories and wishes don't have to be about a specific show or performance. It could be an overheard comment in an interval, a thought the next day or anything that gave you that jolt that says "this is why we do this".

Maxim Boon
arts writer, reviewer

Maxim Boon

MB's favourite moments in Melbourne theatre in 2016: Doing a (not so) little audit of all the bloody wonderful things I've had the good fortune to see this year has been a real tonic. 2016 is a year many people will be happy to see the back of, myself included, but this exercise has definitely added a silver lining to the big, black, intolerant, fact-free clouds that the past 12 months have stirred up.

Witling down a list of favourites has been hard, so forgive the indulgence of citing so many top moments.

As I’ve scanned my memory for the shows that touched me the most this year, one stands head and shoulders above the rest: Wit at fortyfivedownstairs. Margaret Edson's Pulitzer-worthy text about an academic dying of cancer is, of course, an excellent springboard, but the triumph of the Artisan Collective’s production is predominantly thanks to the utterly transcendent performance of Jane Montgomery Griffiths. Words feel inadequate to properly summarise the power of that extraordinary night of theatre, but suffice to say, I have rarely felt as profoundly altered as I did walking out after this show. I was with my husband Toby and as we stepped out onto Flinders Street, neither one of us could talk,because we knew if either of us uttered a single syllable we would both have broken and unravelled. We hugged for a minute or two and summoned an Uber. Even thinking about it now is pushing me dangerously close to sobbing onto my keyboard. Jane, if you ever happen to read this, I cannot thank you enough.

I’m a passionate believer that Indigenous narratives must be a vital presence in our theatres, as it brings First Nation stories into an environment that is largely skewed white and socioeconomically privileged. Three shows this year were particularly striking for the way in which they galvanised the duality of the contemporary Indigenous experience, which simultaneously reacts to the zeitgeist while anchored to historical injustice. Ilbijerri Theatre's presentation of Jacob Boehme’s frank yet affirming exploration of being black, gay and HIV-positive in Australia, Blood On The Dance Floor, offered a view of Aboriginal life that is rarely seen, articulated in a way that was powerfully and beautifully realised. Nakkiah Lui’s Blaque Showgirls and hip-hop cabaret Hot Brown Honey both told defiant and gloriously shameless stories of what it means to be a woman of colour in a society that still clings to colonial ideals.

On the smallest scale, some great solo shows graced Melbourne's stages this year. Lab Kelpie's production of Douglas Rintoul's Elegy, based on interviews of gay men living in insurgency held Iraq, was not only a slick and resourceful staging (especially the excellent sound design by Russell Goldsmith), but also a potently affecting performance by Nick Simpson-Deeks; I left feeling shaken and ashamed and enlightened. The always masterful Susie Dee’s production of Harry Melling's Peddling, featuring an astonishingly committed performance by Darcy Brown, was a gut-punch of a show; superb storytelling executed fearlessly. Brilliant Brit playwright Duncan Macmillan’s Every Brilliant Thing, co-written and performed by Jonny Donahoe, made me laugh all the way through and sob all the way home, the kind of production that busts you open with that bittersweet joyful sorrow that only theatre can tap.

Feminist theatre, another area of the art form I feel passionately protective of, also enjoyed some excellent turns this year. Nic Green and Laura Bradshaw's Trilogy, offered probing, eccentric, gloriously irascible and occasionally naked perspectives on feminist philosophies in a show that is as potent and relevant today as it was when the pair first staged it ten years ago. Patricia Cornelius’s Shit, revived at fortyfivedownstairs following its sold-out debut season, was a brutal, bold, touching, confronting and thought provoking instigation. That Cornelius's work is so rarely recognised by Australia's major state theatre companies is, for lack of better words, fucking maddening.

Finally, this year’s Poppy Seed Theatre Festival showed why emerging theatre-makers must be championed in a space where they can flex their creative muscles, make mistakes, try things out and hone their craft. From this year’s excellent quartet of works, Three Birds Theatre's LadyCake and Riot Stage's F. were impressively accomplished in their thinking and execution, despite being fledgling works made on shoestring budgets.

Honourable Mentions

Paul Capsis in Resident Alien: a superbly observed study of Quentin while retaining the ineffable fabulousness of Capsis.
Belarus Free Theatre, Burning Doors: a model for any and all political theatre-makers.
Dance North, If____Was____ :  a nifty concept with genuinely breathtaking results.
Malthouse Theatre, Picnic At Hanging Rock: Matt Lutton may not always be the theatre-maker we want, but he is definitely the theatre-maker we need.
Vic Theatre Company, 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee: face-aching grins guaranteed.
NTS/Melbourne Festival, Our Ladies Of Perpetual Succour: Cum-filled submarine; need I say more?

PS: Maxim forgot this one.
On the smallest scale, some great solo shows graced Melbourne’s stages this year. Leading the pack was the world premiere season of Katy Warner’s incisively observed A Prudent Man, at the Melbourne Fringe Festival. Featuring a faultless Lyall Brooks as a right-wing politician negotiating a public scandal, both the writing and the performance were nothing short of forensic in capturing this political archetype with such pin-sharp accuracy.

What MB is looking forward to in 2017: Malthouse Theatre's 2017 season makes me feel physically giddy. It's innovative, it's unapologetic in its motives, it's bolshy and it's proudly nonconformist. While MTC cements its reputation as the most cynically pandering presenter in Victoria, Malthouse continues to ensure Melbourne's more discerning theatre lovers are sated. I am especially excited about Lutton's new adaptation of The Elephant Man, as I am, to be blunt, a big ol' Matt Lutton fan boy and have adored both adaptations from this year’' season.

Fortyfivedownstairs will also present plenty to get excited about next season, especially Trainspotting Live and Ben Gerrard in I Am My Own Wife, both early on in the year.

SM: Reviewers often deal with restricted word counts, so it's nice to write as much has you want. And Maxim generally writes longer reviewers that are detailed discussion rather than a pull quote and star rating. This great discussion reminded me of a few brilliant shows that I saw but didn't review and made me regret missing a couple more.

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part 5
part 6
part 7
part 8
part 9
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