Review: night maybe

night maybe
Stuck Pigs Squealing, Theatre Works
17 August 2013
Theatre Works
to 1 September
theatreworks.org.au

There's no maybe about it; night maybe is a must. Stuck Pig's Squealing are consistently a bit awesome and this new work by writer Kit Brookman is as beautiful as it is disturbing and leaves its audience happily lost somewhere between unknown and certain.

On a dark night, Sasha and her brother Tom are in park. She has torches and Nutella sandwiches, but he still abandons her. As she heads into the darkness where others are hiding, each new encounter brings her dangerously closer to safety.

Like in his recent work Heaven, Brookman writes about young adults without forcing the judgment, logic or fear of adults-who-know-better onto them. His night world hides the unknown, embraces the supernatural, but is never clear what, if anything, is real.

Sarah Ogden, Tom Conroy, Marcus McKenzie and Brian Lipson perform like it was written for them. They let each character keep their truths to themselves and never share what they saw in the darkness. This deepens the mystery with every moment and brings us closer to characters who we want to be safe, but still want them to stay in dark until they let us in on the truth.

And all is made more astonishing with the exquisite design by Mel Page (set and costume), Richard Vabre (lighting) and James Brown (sound). From its black and foggy opening, the sight of real grass and trees offers hope of a picnic-perfect conclusion in the sun, but it gets darker and colder as the light creeps into the menacing shadows.

Director Luke Mullins brings all together in a work that's impossible to look away from and difficult to stop thinking about.. By holding back, it never screams its meaning and whatever you walk away with believing is right for you. Just don't miss it.

Photo by Sarah Walker

This was on AussieTheatre.com

The Eisteddfod

The Eisteddfod
Malthouse Theatre
20 July 2007
The Tower, CUB MAlthouse

The Eisteddfod is another one of those amazing works that emerged from Melbourne’s independent theatre world and was given a new audience through the Malthouse’s Tower Theatre program. (I’m almost getting bored of saying how good The Tower Theatre program is.)

Stuck Pigs Squealing describe themselves as a collective of artists “dedicated to the creation of dynamic, imaginative and disturbing theatre events.” The Eisteddfod fits the criteria like a dominatrix’s leather glove and continues to prove what original and incredible theatre can be produced when the creative team are not tied to the researched wants of a demographically sorted audience.

Brother and sister Abalone and Gerture are introduced to us by the voice of Lally Katz. She is the traditional voice of god/narrator, the mother/protector and the playwright. It’s nice to really hear a playwright’s voice.
Abalone and Gerture have always liked to play make believe and since their parents tragic death in a pruning accident, agoraphobia has kept them living in the same room. Luckily Abalone has his acting Eisteddfod to rehearse for and Gerture can escape to her classroom, when Abalone isn’t pretending to be her totally unpleasant boyfriend Ian.

Lally Katz’s writing is astounding. She knows how this strange custom, where people go into dark rooms and watch other people pretend to be other people, works. She takes the absurd, makes it stranger, but makes it real. The Eisteddfod runs from parody (the meeting of the Macbeths improvisation) to uncomfortable reality (Ian asking Gerture “do you fuck me” after he has been sexually and physically humiliated). I had no idea where each scene was going to take us and was continually surprised and , strangely, satisfied.

Chris Kohn’s direction lets the audience grow into and with the nature of the work, without every letting us become complacent or too comfortable.

The design team of Adam Gardnir (set and costume), Jethro Woodward (sound) and Richard Vabre (lighting) were equally astounding. It is refreshing to see all the design elements work so intricatly and perfectly with the script and direction.

Gardnir’s design is designed for every odd need and practicality of the work. It’s intricate and delicate; filled with teddies and sewing boxes and secrets. The unexpected detail and whimsy are intriuiging and beautiful. I just loved the tiny giraffe, jaguar and tree on the record player.

Finally a work does rest on the shoulders of the people pretending to be other people. Luke Mullins and Katherine Tonkin never let Abolone and Gerture be as absurd or unreal as their situation. We believed, understood and cared for these characters. They never let us laugh AT them. The strength of their performances and the humanity they brought to the brother and sister is what makes The Eisteddfod resonate and connect with the audience.

This is theatre that questions the nature of theatre and forces its audience to engage their brains. Even if you don’t fully understand every moment, just go with the experience and see how you feel afterwards.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.