I'm scared to review: Wild Bore

Wild Bore
Malthouse Theatre
18 May 2017
Beckett Theatre
to 4 June
malthousetheatre.com.au

Wild Bore. Zoe Coombs Marr. Photo by Tim Grey

Wild Bore. noun
1. Those who talk out of their arse, dribble shit and don't understand dramaturgical intent.
2. Theatre reviewer.

It's also Zoe Coombs Marr, Ursula Martinez and Adrienne Truscott's response to critical responses to their own work, and that of others. Opening to a critical contingent of two at Malthouse on Thursday, its verbatim(ish) mash-up of memorable reviews is as much a celebration of arts writing as it is a hilarious damnation of us who write those so-wanted-but-so-hated reviews.

Readers of reviews and critical writing in Melbourne will recognise some of the quoted voices.

But I'm not cunty enough to have been quoted.*

I don't know how I feel about that.

It's really nice to be quoted.

There are plenty of theatre makers who think I'm a bitch. I've seen the letters about my ignorance and know about the quest to get me banned. Most of these criticisms of the critic have been over writing about women's voices, women's points-of-view and how women are presented on stages.

I should have said feminist (bitch).

Wild Bore is mostly about people who write about women with a gaze that makes women feel so fucking special.

It's why these performers continue to make theatre that also encourages critical responses that use less-quotable words like gender, privilege, diversity and gaze. And why that writing can get a bit sweary because we're fucking over having to explain why we're fucking over it.

Remember when Jane Montgomery Griffiths wrote a response to reviews on ArtsHub that questioned a gender bias in reviews about her interpretation of Antigone (Malthouse, 2015)? Grab a snack and go deep into the comments – some are in the show – and know that the ones that were going on in a not-so-public sphere were funnier, smarter and bitchier. Some of us do censor our public voices.

Wild Bore. Ursula Martinez Photo by Tim Grey

This work – which they've been developing in their three home continents while performing their own shows – naturally focuses on the negative reviews and the failure (perceived or willful) of the writers to understand (or accept) the intent of the works.

With their best cheeks forward – the talking-out-of-the-arse imagery is clear –, each discuss reviews of their work that didn't get chosen for their pull quote of adoring adjectives or appropriate number of stars. Having seen the shows discussed, it was confronting to hear only the negative voices.

As artists and creators, do you really listen to those voices? Are the positive, researched, sat-up-until-4am-trying-to-get-the-words-right, you-made-me-feel-and-care reviews dismissed by the negative?

Of course, it makes far better theatre to use the negative voices – and the Wild Bore performances as described by the reviews may be worth the pain of those bad reviews. But it highlights why the bad bad reviews are encouraged, and why the responsibility of a reviewer's voice isn't necessarily considered.

Negative, bitchy reviews with memorable metaphors get read. They get shared. They get clicks. They encourage engagement and conversation. And so writers are encouraged, and often paid, to write more reviews like that.

It's awesome to be read.

It's brilliant to get paid to write.

Arts writers are writers. WE LOVE BEING READ.

Verbose metaphors get read.

Can anyone who read Byron Bache's corn-in-the-poo quote ever forget it? The show (The Crucible, MTC 2013) may have been forgotten, but not that quote. It got him regular paid work; the dream of most arts writers. But despite him continuing with some excellent writing and critical comment, he might only be remembered as the corn-in-the-poo quote critic. Arts writers understand irony.

Those gloriously hideous reviews are read.

They not only get read more than the positive ones, they get a bloody wonderful feminist theatre show made out of them.

 And, shhh, Krishna Istha.

Wild Bore. Adrienne Truscott & Zoe Coombs Marr. Photo by Tim Grey

*Or nice enough to be in nice quotes on the web page.

Time to Talk with The Guardian, 23 May after the 7 pm performance, Van Badham joins the cast to talk about their encounters with critics.

Monash Meets Malthouse, 27 May at 5 pm at  Jane Montgomery Griffiths, Alison Croggon, Cameron Woodhead, Richard Watts and Fleur Kilpatrick join the cast to discuss artists responding to critics.

The reviews

Maxim Boon: themusic.com.au

Alison Croggon: The Monthly

Cameron Woodhead: The Age

Rose Johnstone: Time Out

Keith Gow: keithgow.com

Kate Herbert: Herald Sun

What Melbourne loved in 2013, part 1

Last year, I asked a few SM friends what their favourite moment in theatre was for the year. The responses were wonderful and remain some of the most popular posts; so, of course we're doing it again.

This series isn't about what the critics or the award committees think, it's not about what had full houses or made money; it's about those shows, people and moments that make us love theatre. It's about those moments when we feel something real and can't imagine being anywhere else.

If you want to be involved, email me at sometimesmelbourne at hotmail dot com.

There's also a version running in December in Issimo magazine. (I'll link when they're up.)

I'm starting with Stephen Nicolazzo. In 2012 he said that his theatre experiences "have changed me and allowed me to find a platform to express myself without censorship or fear".  Without censorship or fear! And that's what he – and so many other artists and creators – have done this year, and they are the ones we will see over the next month.

And there's Angus Cereni and Alex da La Rambelje.

Stephen Nicolazzo
Director

STEPHEN: There were many moments in theatre this year that have stayed with me and inspired me so much.

The Rabble’s Story of O, in particular, stood out as a fearless, entertaining and bold expression of sexual politics that was both incredibly humorous and tragic at the same time. Though it sparked controversy and debate, I think the key reason this work resonated with me was its assured aesthetic and deconstruction of gender; one that was engaged with both its ideas and its audience. It felt connected. On an intellectual and visceral level, it was a deeply satisfying and invigorating theatrical experience that I don’t think anyone, whether they loved it or hated it could deny.

This is what theatre is inevitably all about.

Also, of course, my love and respect for Sisters Grimm’s numerous works this year still stands with The Sovereign Wife, Little Mercy (at STC) and the re-imagining of Summertime in the Garden of Eden. What was so inspiring with their work this year was its ambition in scale, style and design – taking the essence of their ethos to a new level of visual and theatrical possibility. Very exciting indeed.

Another work that I feel was so very beautiful was Matt Lutton and Van Badham’s version of The Bloody Chamber at Malthouse. It was lavish and stark at the same time, beautifully directed and performed, and the music by David Chisholm made me wet for classical in a way I never thought possible!

Also loved, loved, loved I’m Trying to Kiss You’s remount of I Know There’s a lot of noise outside… at La Mama as it contained a performance that totally blew my mind by Anna McCarthy. I was crying with laughter and then crying from the tragedy of it all, all guided by that siren’s voice. 


This was also a big year in my own career. The success of Psycho Beach Party from Sydney to Melbourne and to the Brisbane Festival left me full of delight and gratitude. This was a work I never thought would touch anybody, and to see its effect on so many audiences over the course of 2013 has been so rewarding and exciting.

It, and my work with Malthouse on Salome, a production that I am deeply proud of like nothing else I have ever worked on, has solidified a key group of artists whom I simply could not create theatre without.

I would like to take the opportunity here to say thank you to all of the people I have had the pleasure of working with this year, as at the end of the day, those relationships and the work we have brought to the stage are my most memorable moments of 2013.  It seems that 2013 was another year of fearless theatre-making from the independent and main stage, and that is a friggen triumph indeed.

What Stephen is looking forward to in 2014 at issimomag.com.

SM: What I love most about Stephen's work is that he show us what it's like to be Stephen Nicolazzo. It's like tripping around his mind and soul and seeing the world as he wants it to be. It sometimes frightens me that that world is a bit too much like my mid-80s teen brain, but I turned out OK.

As a director, he also creates a sense of purpose and love on the stage. It's so clear that all of his performers and designers love being in these worlds as much as he loves creating them. And he celebrates and supports a notion of queer that's embracing and welcoming; one that doesn't exclude because you don't quite fit in with those who think they don't fit in. He lets us find what makes every one of us queer and opens the door to the party with no questions asked.

Angus Cerini
Actor, playwright

Photo from Melbourne Writers Festival

ANGUS: That's easy! It was the completely mixed up MTC foyer during the NEON season.  To see that building buzzing and alive with all sorts was about time.  Long may it continue!!!

SM: Angus's writing gives me shivers – both good and terrifying. We didn't get a new work from him this year, but I'm one of the many who are very excited that he's in NEON for 2014!

As for a favourite moment. All I can say is that it involved a discussion about why he prefers to see genitals hidden by underwear.


Alex da la Rambelje
Magician

Alex (C) with Luke and Vyrom from A Modern Deception

ALEX: My favourite theatre moment started with a performance workshop run by Derek Scott, who plays the lead clown in Slava's Snow Show. He showed me the power of breaking rhythms and having lucid thoughts on stage; it has changed each and every show I've done since.

I saw him on stage in Slava's Snow Show this year, after having seen him in the show ten years ago. Watching him with the new knowledge of how he works was one of those rare experiences of constant realisation and clarity of thought.

SM: I'll never get tired of having no idea how Alex does things with cards. It bloody must be magic.

I had great fun taking a four-year-old to see Alex and Luke in How to Make Your Parents Disappear, but my favourite moment has to be Sh!t Tecoma People Say (and how good is Penelope the cat).



Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9
Part 10
Part 11
Part 12
Part 13
Part 14
Part 15

Part 16

Part 17

2012 part 1, with links to the rest

Review: The Bloody Chamber

The Bloody Chamber
Malthouse Theatre
6 August 2013
Merlyn Theatre
to 10 August
malthousetheatre.com.au

Alison Whyte's irresistible performance of The Bloody Chamber is reason enough to see it before it finishes on the weekend. It's like being tucked into bed and read a fairytale that lulls you into wanting to sleep with the lights on forever, but finally leaves you safe and comfortable in its blood-soaked darkness.

Angela Carter's The Bloody Chamber is a re-telling of French Bluebeard story where a new young wife discovers the fate of her much older husband's former wives. It's from her 1979 collection of re-told fairy tales where women and girls don't end up as dead or eaten as they are in traditional tales, have and want sex, and are capable of being their own heroes.

Van Badham – who might be my favourite Tweep (@vanbadham) – has adapted this text from Carter's novella.  It's still told by the young wife (who's now an older woman) and glories in Carter's graphic and bloody imagery that's guided by an under current of sexuality and power that's belies any dull gender stereotypes.

Director Matthew Lutton creates a curious balance between telling and showing a story. The stage has a delightfully eerie atmosphere with three live harpists and a water-stained space where three huge black chambers hide secrets. And Anna Cordingley's design of black boxes, a bed and just enough red reveals little, but forces the audience to imagine the shining jewels, turning tide and bloody horrors. (However, I was sitting at the back and couldn't see all of the early revelations.)

But it's all about Whyte, whose telling (with some help by Shelly Lauman) evokes the story's ghosts in all of the stage's empty spaces. She may not be the innocent narrator imagined by some readers, but it's still like she strode out of the pages to make us really understand what she went through, rather than leave it to the unreliable imaginations of the readers.

This was on AussieTheatre.com

Review: The Economist

The Economist
MKA
3 December 2011
MKA Pop Up Theatre, Abbotsfod
to 16 December

The channel 10 news and the Herald Scum declared MKA totally out of line for presenting a play about Anders Breivik, the man who killed 92 people in Norway on July 22 this year. Goodness knows we don't want angry youngsters questioning and confronting a world that allows for such depravity. What if a Melbourne hipster was inspired and got a similar idea? On behalf of us with half a brain, I toast a "Fuck You" to news reporters who chase controversy.

Unlike many journos, writer (and MKA Artistic Director) Tobias Manderson-Galvin read Breivik's diaries, manifesto and blog. He braved conservative writings and looked beyond the media image of the lone Aryan nutter. Until I saw The Economist, I passively went along with the terrorist kook theory. What am I saying, I'd forgotten about the attack a week after it happened and couldn't have named Breivik without the help of Google. But I know the name Martin Bryant, and an hour with MKA left me understanding and questioning so much more than any media report had.

The Economist is the fictional story of Andrew Berwick, whose life in Norway is remarkably similar to the other AB. He was a teased teenager who tagged and found steroids and the painless violence of World of Warcraft.  As he got older there was facial plastic surgery, gun clubs and "racist fox hats", misunderstood white pride folk music, sexless sex with prostitutes and a farmhouse filled with the ingredients for explosives. And he wrote and read the likes of John Howard. Yes, our Little Johnny.

Now there is nothing as dull as lefty preachy theatre. Be assured, there's nothing dull about this show and there's no hint of a sermon. Director Van Badham (whose writing I am so going read) subverts expectations starting with Zoey Dawson as Berwick. Clad in hideous beige trousers and red windcheaters, the cast set the uneasy tone and give us permission to laugh at a story that we know ends in unexplainable pain.

It's a complex story but Manderson-Galvin finds the moments that develop the full picture without forcing meaning and lets his audience enjoy the kind of mind fuck that leaves you wobbly and wanting more.

Great news is that the season has been extended.

This review originally appeared on AussieThearte.com