Runt
Dee/Cornelius/Wilks
2 March 2021
fortyfivedownstairs
to 7 March
 |
| Nicci Wilks 'Runt' Photo by Pier Carthew |
This is a something special.
Mostly Melbourne theatre reviews
Showing posts with label fortyfivedownstairs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fortyfivedownstairs. Show all posts
04 March 2021
05 February 2019
MIDSUMMA: Cock
MIDSUMMA
Cock
15 Minutes from Anywhere
30 January 2019
fortyfivedownstairs
to 10 February
fortyfivedownstairs.com
UK playwright and tv writer Mike Bartlett wrote this play in 2009 and it's been on stages ever since. Its content about gender and sexuality already felt a bit dated at the time but it's not what Cock is about.
John (Matthew Connell) is the only named character. He's in his early 20s and living with his sorta-serious boyfriend (Shaun Goss). On what seems like a regular break, he meets and shags a woman (Marissa O'Reilly) and they like each other. The boyfriend is upset, more so because she's a woman. The boyfriend's dad (Scott Gooding) is also confused and is an active fighter in his son's corner.
Designer Emily Collett uses the pillars in fortyfivedownstairs to create an intimate in-the-round space. This creates the feeling of a boxing ring – especially on a far-too-hot summer night – and the instinct to cheer for a winner. And it forces the audience to look at each other as much as the action. It's much easier to pick a side when you can get your cues from the rest of the room and know who to cheer for.
What makes the script continue to be fascinating – even when the characters get a bit ranty – is that there isn't a hero to cheer for. As John can't make a decision, neither can the audience. Seeing John with both lovers lets us see him lie and do his best to protect everyone, mostly himself. In his mind, he has to make a choice and, as much as he wants someone to make it for him, no one gives him that easy way out.
Watching each relationship spa, there are so many more questions asked than the characters ask themselves. Some answers are obvious from the outside; who doesn't think they know the solution to other peoples' relationships? If it were rom-com destined love, it'd be a cinch to choose. But the cast make sure that their characters don't see the bigger picture; they don't romanticise them or let them see beyond their own wants and needs.
While the characters are almost unsympathetic, director Beng Oh (co-founder of indie company 15 Minutes from Anywhere) keeps the action so close to each character's unknown emotional truth that, even if we don't easily like them, it's easy to find empathy and sympathy for them. And, as the tension builds, it becomes just as emotionally difficult to decide what we want them to do.
Or, of course you want Cock for Midsumma!
The MTC production from 2014.
Cock
15 Minutes from Anywhere
30 January 2019
fortyfivedownstairs
to 10 February
fortyfivedownstairs.com
UK playwright and tv writer Mike Bartlett wrote this play in 2009 and it's been on stages ever since. Its content about gender and sexuality already felt a bit dated at the time but it's not what Cock is about.
John (Matthew Connell) is the only named character. He's in his early 20s and living with his sorta-serious boyfriend (Shaun Goss). On what seems like a regular break, he meets and shags a woman (Marissa O'Reilly) and they like each other. The boyfriend is upset, more so because she's a woman. The boyfriend's dad (Scott Gooding) is also confused and is an active fighter in his son's corner.
Designer Emily Collett uses the pillars in fortyfivedownstairs to create an intimate in-the-round space. This creates the feeling of a boxing ring – especially on a far-too-hot summer night – and the instinct to cheer for a winner. And it forces the audience to look at each other as much as the action. It's much easier to pick a side when you can get your cues from the rest of the room and know who to cheer for.
What makes the script continue to be fascinating – even when the characters get a bit ranty – is that there isn't a hero to cheer for. As John can't make a decision, neither can the audience. Seeing John with both lovers lets us see him lie and do his best to protect everyone, mostly himself. In his mind, he has to make a choice and, as much as he wants someone to make it for him, no one gives him that easy way out.
Watching each relationship spa, there are so many more questions asked than the characters ask themselves. Some answers are obvious from the outside; who doesn't think they know the solution to other peoples' relationships? If it were rom-com destined love, it'd be a cinch to choose. But the cast make sure that their characters don't see the bigger picture; they don't romanticise them or let them see beyond their own wants and needs.
While the characters are almost unsympathetic, director Beng Oh (co-founder of indie company 15 Minutes from Anywhere) keeps the action so close to each character's unknown emotional truth that, even if we don't easily like them, it's easy to find empathy and sympathy for them. And, as the tension builds, it becomes just as emotionally difficult to decide what we want them to do.
Or, of course you want Cock for Midsumma!
The MTC production from 2014.
08 January 2019
What Melbourne Loved in 2018, part 13
One more latecomer; extra late because I ignored email for a couple of weeks. If there are any more late ones, send them through and I'll add them here.
Cathy Hunt
Director, dramaturg
Favourite moments in 2018
Brother’s Wreck by Jada Alberts at Malthouse located you inside a very difficult and unguarded family dynamic,. Taking place during the Darwin build up, it was interrupted with bursts of rage in a powerful performance by Dion William, deep grief just able to be weathered with community, and tough warmth of the auntie kind dispensed by Lisa Flanagan. All finally released as the rain came. Moved and shook me.
Trustees by Belarus Free Theatre at Melbourne Festival and Malthouse. There were moments in this layered work where you had to hold your breath, particularly the charged exchanges between Tammy Anderson and Daniel Schlusser dredging up the underlying colonialism which still snakes between us all and underpins everything in this country. Schlusser stood in for the dominant white men like John Howard and Anderson demanded that we really see her as a black woman comfortable in her own skin and a playwright, while dismissing and tolerating his extravagant and vocal guilt. The sequence that most struck me was driven by Niharika Senapati who started from a very relaxed place but then was able to escalate and carry the whole audience with her exuberance until they were nearly dancing out of their chairs before she was brutally thrown down and oppressed.
Aurum choreographed by Alice Topp, Australian Ballet. Dance so intoxicating that I couldn’t take in enough with my eyes; unlike anything I’ve ever seen the Australian Ballet make.
Nether choreographed by Lauren Langlois for Next Move 11 at Chunky Move. Like witnessing a new language take form and be articulated through the body. (Reminded me of the film Arrival )
Calamity Jane from One Eyed Man, Arts Centre Melbourne. Recklessly hectic, hugely joyous and delightfully queer, though I badly wanted Calamity to make a home with Katie and depart wildly from the original, heteronormative ending! Seeing it again soon when it moves to the Comedy Theatre. Can’t wait!!
The Crucible at VCA directed by Adena Jacobs. They rediscovered the motif of contamination in witchcraft through a design element of something strange and viscous that looked like maple syrup dripping dow; made me apprehend this play in an utterly new way. Potent gender-blind casting too, Sam Rowe as Mary Warren was quite remarkable, as was Lucy Ansell as John Proctor.
The Nightingale & The Rose, by Little Ones Theatre at Theatre Works, for the astonishing dynamic between Jennifer Vuletic as the Nightingale and Yuchen Wang as the Rose; a strange, sexy impossible yearning between an older woman and younger man (which reminded me of Simon Callow’s book Love is Where it Falls)
Strangers in Between by Tommy Murphy at fortyfivedownstairs for Midsumma directed by Daniel Lammin. It felt so much like Sydney in the 90s, so movingly honouring the families we find for ourselves.
I also really dug Morgan Rose’s The Bachelor S17 E5 at Mechanics – totally inspired. I was there crushed in on the closing night and really loved having the space to contemplate the absurdity of the culture of giving the alpha male so much space and pitting all the female-identified characters against him. Will Bride’s absent minded sense of natural entitlement was absolute gold.
Although I worked on both of these last two shows, I can’t keep from sneakily mentioning them as they were amazing pieces of theatre incorporating music and sound in totally new ways.
Dybbuks from Chamber Made at Theatre Works, conceived and directed by Samara Hersch. This layered work was a truly extraordinary and haunting exploration of how we can live with the dead drawing on the Jewish myth of the Dybbuk who possesses a living person and uses their voice to resolve what can never truly be resolved. Incredible vocal and physical improvisation, it was both visually and aurally overwhelming. A truly unique work to experience, it persists in the memory for its complicated beauty and concentrated consideration of difficult, dark and erotic areas of human experience.
Lorelei by Victorian Opera. A feminist opera featuring gorgeous frocks to make Ru Paul drool by Marg Horwell illuminated by Paul Jackson, directed with virtuosic talent and a superb sense of humour and humanity by Sarah Giles, libretto by Casey Benedetto and Gillian Cosgriff and lush, liquid music by Julian Langdon performed brilliantly by literal sirens Ali McGregor, Antoinette Halloran and Dimity Shepherd.
Looking forward to in 2019
Finally getting to see Blackie Blackie Brown at the Malthouse!
Control by Keziah Warner on as part of Red Stitch; I read some earlier drafts so am really interested to see the final work.
The Australian Premiere of Escaped Alone by Caryl Churchill directed by the formidable and phenomenal Jenny Kemp
Also very excited to see Mr Burns, a post-electric play by Anne Washburn at fortyfivedownstairs as I’ve been wanting to see it for a while.
Lady Example by Alice Will and Caroline as I missed it in Next Wave and heard such good things.
Biladurang by Joel Bray sounds really intriguing, performed in a hotel room. I liked his work Dharawungara in Next Move 11.
I’m looking forward to seeing The Selfish Giant for Victorian Opera composed by Simon Bruckard, based on Oscar Wilde’s fairytale.
At MTC, A View From the Bridge directed by Iain Sinclair; heard great things about his production of this play in Sydney.
Also keen to see Golden Shield by Anchuli Felicia King.
And I might be lured back to Arts Centre Melbourne for the return of Merciless Gods.
SM: My favourite thing from Cathy this year is this looking forward to list. A list like this – including shows that are indie, funded, emerging, established, huge, intimate, scripted, developed, adapted, sung, danced – reminds us just how vast and diverse theatre and performance is in Melbourne. If you're looking for a list of shows to see, start here.
Cathy Hunt
Director, dramaturg
 |
| Cathy Hunt |
Favourite moments in 2018
Brother’s Wreck by Jada Alberts at Malthouse located you inside a very difficult and unguarded family dynamic,. Taking place during the Darwin build up, it was interrupted with bursts of rage in a powerful performance by Dion William, deep grief just able to be weathered with community, and tough warmth of the auntie kind dispensed by Lisa Flanagan. All finally released as the rain came. Moved and shook me.
Trustees by Belarus Free Theatre at Melbourne Festival and Malthouse. There were moments in this layered work where you had to hold your breath, particularly the charged exchanges between Tammy Anderson and Daniel Schlusser dredging up the underlying colonialism which still snakes between us all and underpins everything in this country. Schlusser stood in for the dominant white men like John Howard and Anderson demanded that we really see her as a black woman comfortable in her own skin and a playwright, while dismissing and tolerating his extravagant and vocal guilt. The sequence that most struck me was driven by Niharika Senapati who started from a very relaxed place but then was able to escalate and carry the whole audience with her exuberance until they were nearly dancing out of their chairs before she was brutally thrown down and oppressed.
Aurum choreographed by Alice Topp, Australian Ballet. Dance so intoxicating that I couldn’t take in enough with my eyes; unlike anything I’ve ever seen the Australian Ballet make.
Nether choreographed by Lauren Langlois for Next Move 11 at Chunky Move. Like witnessing a new language take form and be articulated through the body. (Reminded me of the film Arrival )
Calamity Jane from One Eyed Man, Arts Centre Melbourne. Recklessly hectic, hugely joyous and delightfully queer, though I badly wanted Calamity to make a home with Katie and depart wildly from the original, heteronormative ending! Seeing it again soon when it moves to the Comedy Theatre. Can’t wait!!
The Crucible at VCA directed by Adena Jacobs. They rediscovered the motif of contamination in witchcraft through a design element of something strange and viscous that looked like maple syrup dripping dow; made me apprehend this play in an utterly new way. Potent gender-blind casting too, Sam Rowe as Mary Warren was quite remarkable, as was Lucy Ansell as John Proctor.
The Nightingale & The Rose, by Little Ones Theatre at Theatre Works, for the astonishing dynamic between Jennifer Vuletic as the Nightingale and Yuchen Wang as the Rose; a strange, sexy impossible yearning between an older woman and younger man (which reminded me of Simon Callow’s book Love is Where it Falls)
Strangers in Between by Tommy Murphy at fortyfivedownstairs for Midsumma directed by Daniel Lammin. It felt so much like Sydney in the 90s, so movingly honouring the families we find for ourselves.
I also really dug Morgan Rose’s The Bachelor S17 E5 at Mechanics – totally inspired. I was there crushed in on the closing night and really loved having the space to contemplate the absurdity of the culture of giving the alpha male so much space and pitting all the female-identified characters against him. Will Bride’s absent minded sense of natural entitlement was absolute gold.
Although I worked on both of these last two shows, I can’t keep from sneakily mentioning them as they were amazing pieces of theatre incorporating music and sound in totally new ways.
Dybbuks from Chamber Made at Theatre Works, conceived and directed by Samara Hersch. This layered work was a truly extraordinary and haunting exploration of how we can live with the dead drawing on the Jewish myth of the Dybbuk who possesses a living person and uses their voice to resolve what can never truly be resolved. Incredible vocal and physical improvisation, it was both visually and aurally overwhelming. A truly unique work to experience, it persists in the memory for its complicated beauty and concentrated consideration of difficult, dark and erotic areas of human experience.
Lorelei by Victorian Opera. A feminist opera featuring gorgeous frocks to make Ru Paul drool by Marg Horwell illuminated by Paul Jackson, directed with virtuosic talent and a superb sense of humour and humanity by Sarah Giles, libretto by Casey Benedetto and Gillian Cosgriff and lush, liquid music by Julian Langdon performed brilliantly by literal sirens Ali McGregor, Antoinette Halloran and Dimity Shepherd.
Looking forward to in 2019
Finally getting to see Blackie Blackie Brown at the Malthouse!
Control by Keziah Warner on as part of Red Stitch; I read some earlier drafts so am really interested to see the final work.
The Australian Premiere of Escaped Alone by Caryl Churchill directed by the formidable and phenomenal Jenny Kemp
Also very excited to see Mr Burns, a post-electric play by Anne Washburn at fortyfivedownstairs as I’ve been wanting to see it for a while.
Lady Example by Alice Will and Caroline as I missed it in Next Wave and heard such good things.
Biladurang by Joel Bray sounds really intriguing, performed in a hotel room. I liked his work Dharawungara in Next Move 11.
I’m looking forward to seeing The Selfish Giant for Victorian Opera composed by Simon Bruckard, based on Oscar Wilde’s fairytale.
At MTC, A View From the Bridge directed by Iain Sinclair; heard great things about his production of this play in Sydney.
Also keen to see Golden Shield by Anchuli Felicia King.
And I might be lured back to Arts Centre Melbourne for the return of Merciless Gods.
SM: My favourite thing from Cathy this year is this looking forward to list. A list like this – including shows that are indie, funded, emerging, established, huge, intimate, scripted, developed, adapted, sung, danced – reminds us just how vast and diverse theatre and performance is in Melbourne. If you're looking for a list of shows to see, start here.
27 January 2018
Review: Strangers in Between
Strangers in Between
Cameron Lukey and Don't Be Down Productions
in association with fortyfivedownstairs and the Seymour Centre
25 January 2018
fortyfivedownstairs
to 11 February
fortyfivedownstairs.com
Seymour Centre season 14 February to 2 March
seymourcentre.com
2005 is already so long ago that there's a generation who have no idea how we communicated – let alone met people and dated; let alone that we used to date – without smart phones.
Strangers in Between by Tommy Murphy (Holding the Man) won the 2006 NSW Premier’s Literary Award for Best Play. Set in 2005 in Kings Cross in Sydney, it's connected to time and place and could almost feel historic, but director Daniel Lammin uses the nostalgia to support the script and characters and lets its story feel a part of now.
Teenager Shane (Wil King) has fled up the Hume Highway from small city Goulburn to Kings Cross in Sydney. He's working in a bottle shop and as terrified of area's reputation of violence and fear as he is desperate for any friendship, guidance and connection. In 2005, Grindr is still at least four years away and unimaginable, mobile phones and home computers are expensive, and Australia Post is reliable. The only way to meet people is in real life and Shane awkwardly befriends slightly-older Will (Guy Simon; who also doubles as Shane's brother) and a-bit-more-older Peter (Simon Burke) when they come into the bottle shop.
A lot of the humour comes from remembering the time – and often relies on knowing Kings Cross and small town Australia – and from Shane's naive and earnest attitude to sex, cheap food and laundromats. The many laughs about Shane's ignorance are grounded in empathy and the tone is balanced by ensuring that, despite the inevitable dark revelations, assumptions about age and power are also gently confronted.
The shiny-streamer backdrop design places it in the Cross but doesn't always support the tone. For a work that's set in homes and so about the personal, the design felt like it was hinting that it was going to move into the the club and tourist side of the suburb, which locals avoid. But the final image is perfect.
Lammin's comparison to Armistead Maupin's "logical family" is clear and there's room for more ambiguity, but sometimes celebration is the best choice.
Cameron Lukey and Don't Be Down Productions
in association with fortyfivedownstairs and the Seymour Centre
25 January 2018
fortyfivedownstairs
to 11 February
fortyfivedownstairs.com
Seymour Centre season 14 February to 2 March
seymourcentre.com
 |
| Strangers in Between. Wil King and Simon Burke. Photo by Sarah Walker |
2005 is already so long ago that there's a generation who have no idea how we communicated – let alone met people and dated; let alone that we used to date – without smart phones.
Strangers in Between by Tommy Murphy (Holding the Man) won the 2006 NSW Premier’s Literary Award for Best Play. Set in 2005 in Kings Cross in Sydney, it's connected to time and place and could almost feel historic, but director Daniel Lammin uses the nostalgia to support the script and characters and lets its story feel a part of now.
Teenager Shane (Wil King) has fled up the Hume Highway from small city Goulburn to Kings Cross in Sydney. He's working in a bottle shop and as terrified of area's reputation of violence and fear as he is desperate for any friendship, guidance and connection. In 2005, Grindr is still at least four years away and unimaginable, mobile phones and home computers are expensive, and Australia Post is reliable. The only way to meet people is in real life and Shane awkwardly befriends slightly-older Will (Guy Simon; who also doubles as Shane's brother) and a-bit-more-older Peter (Simon Burke) when they come into the bottle shop.
A lot of the humour comes from remembering the time – and often relies on knowing Kings Cross and small town Australia – and from Shane's naive and earnest attitude to sex, cheap food and laundromats. The many laughs about Shane's ignorance are grounded in empathy and the tone is balanced by ensuring that, despite the inevitable dark revelations, assumptions about age and power are also gently confronted.
The shiny-streamer backdrop design places it in the Cross but doesn't always support the tone. For a work that's set in homes and so about the personal, the design felt like it was hinting that it was going to move into the the club and tourist side of the suburb, which locals avoid. But the final image is perfect.
Lammin's comparison to Armistead Maupin's "logical family" is clear and there's room for more ambiguity, but sometimes celebration is the best choice.
06 August 2017
Review: Looking Glass
Looking Glass
New Working Group
3 August 2017
fortyfivedownstairs
to 13 August
fortyfivedownstairs.com
One of the many things I love about Louris van de Geer's writing is that she forces her audience question everything they see on the stage, and that any story chosen by the audience can be far from from what the playwright and creators intended.
He new work Looking Glass is presented by the New Working Group, a network of 11 independent Melbourne writers, directors and designers, and received development funding from the Australia Council, Creative Victoria and the Angior Family Foundation.
Marcus (Daniel O'Neill, who alternates with Thomas Taylor) is about nine; a time when you're not a child or a teenager and are testing independence and the limits of family love. One day he lies face down on the floor and won't get up. His parents (Daniela Farinacci and Peter Houghton) turn to outside help in the form of tall and mysterious Josh Price, who could be the doctor trying to save them, every person they meet or everyone they wish they met.
It can be seen as a standard family-psychology story – van de Geer is inspired by Charles Cooley's 1902 looking glass theory about how we develop our sense of self based on how we see ourselves reflected through others – but nothing about this production is that simple.
The story is grounded by director Susie Dee creating a strong familial connection with the family. There's a genuine warmth between the characters and the audience, even if they are struggling to find that warmth or connection, or the reflection of it, in their lives.
The counterpoint to this familiarity is the design by Kate Davis (set and costume) and Amelia Lever-Davidson (lighting) that never lets know where we are. A white floor is boxed in by heavy yellow plastic curtains – somewhere between sunshine and urine yellow – that define a room but don't fully conceal what's going on outside it' walls and allow anyone to enter or exit from any spot. The colours and mood change from a clinical clean whiteness, which could be hospital or prison, to underground dark black and reds that change any idea of yellow. It could a family home as easily as a dystopian future, an afterlife, a dream or anything we want, or need, to see reflected on the stage.
I chose my narrative early on and it worked for me – I thought the child was dead or had never been born – but there are many other interpretations of the story that are as logical and obvious.
Looking Glass is complex and fascinating theatre because it holds onto its answers tightly while creating the connection and emotion that begs for answers.
New Working Group
3 August 2017
fortyfivedownstairs
to 13 August
fortyfivedownstairs.com
 |
| Peter Houghton Daniella Farinacci. Looking Glass. Photo by Pier Carthew |
One of the many things I love about Louris van de Geer's writing is that she forces her audience question everything they see on the stage, and that any story chosen by the audience can be far from from what the playwright and creators intended.
He new work Looking Glass is presented by the New Working Group, a network of 11 independent Melbourne writers, directors and designers, and received development funding from the Australia Council, Creative Victoria and the Angior Family Foundation.
Marcus (Daniel O'Neill, who alternates with Thomas Taylor) is about nine; a time when you're not a child or a teenager and are testing independence and the limits of family love. One day he lies face down on the floor and won't get up. His parents (Daniela Farinacci and Peter Houghton) turn to outside help in the form of tall and mysterious Josh Price, who could be the doctor trying to save them, every person they meet or everyone they wish they met.
It can be seen as a standard family-psychology story – van de Geer is inspired by Charles Cooley's 1902 looking glass theory about how we develop our sense of self based on how we see ourselves reflected through others – but nothing about this production is that simple.
The story is grounded by director Susie Dee creating a strong familial connection with the family. There's a genuine warmth between the characters and the audience, even if they are struggling to find that warmth or connection, or the reflection of it, in their lives.
The counterpoint to this familiarity is the design by Kate Davis (set and costume) and Amelia Lever-Davidson (lighting) that never lets know where we are. A white floor is boxed in by heavy yellow plastic curtains – somewhere between sunshine and urine yellow – that define a room but don't fully conceal what's going on outside it' walls and allow anyone to enter or exit from any spot. The colours and mood change from a clinical clean whiteness, which could be hospital or prison, to underground dark black and reds that change any idea of yellow. It could a family home as easily as a dystopian future, an afterlife, a dream or anything we want, or need, to see reflected on the stage.
I chose my narrative early on and it worked for me – I thought the child was dead or had never been born – but there are many other interpretations of the story that are as logical and obvious.
Looking Glass is complex and fascinating theatre because it holds onto its answers tightly while creating the connection and emotion that begs for answers.
23 July 2017
Mini review: The Book of Revelations
The Book of Revelations
Black Hole Theatre
21 July 2017
fortyfivedownstairs
to 30 July
fortyfivedownstairs.com
The Book of Revelations was first seen at La Mama in 2013 and has developed into in an interactive installation, in the much larger at fortyfivedownstairs, that invites its audience to experience the confusion, fear and disarming beauty of dementia. What do you do when people in family photos have become shadows or mirrors?
Directed by Nancy Black, who has worked with a team of visual and sound artists, it's a 45-minute immersion that people can enter and leave at any time; it runs on a loop that doesn't have a beginning or end.
Wearing headphones that give an alternate voice offering options to explain what where seeing or feeling, it's easy to follow Ada (writer/performer Alison Richards) who sings and hides though moments of clarity and confusion. But make time (or stay for a second cycle) to explore the space and see the memories hidden in the kitchen cabinet or projected onto the walls.
The room is filled with Ada's memories. Some are recognisable and easy to understand, while others are made corporeal with video, sound, light and puppetry. No memories are safe as it's never clear if their delicacy comes from reality or is the beginning of a descent into something terrifying.
With projections of doilies (does everyone really fill their life with doilies as they age?), floating tea cups, and a soundscape that could be in your head or in the room, it's never clear if we're in Ada's mind with or as her or if we're parts of her distorted memories. This leaves us never able to be fully immersed in her confusion, which might be the point of the experience – being aware that you're not aware of the truth.
Black Hole Theatre
21 July 2017
fortyfivedownstairs
to 30 July
fortyfivedownstairs.com
 |
| The Book of Revelations. Alison Richards. Photo by Sarah Walker |
The Book of Revelations was first seen at La Mama in 2013 and has developed into in an interactive installation, in the much larger at fortyfivedownstairs, that invites its audience to experience the confusion, fear and disarming beauty of dementia. What do you do when people in family photos have become shadows or mirrors?
Directed by Nancy Black, who has worked with a team of visual and sound artists, it's a 45-minute immersion that people can enter and leave at any time; it runs on a loop that doesn't have a beginning or end.
Wearing headphones that give an alternate voice offering options to explain what where seeing or feeling, it's easy to follow Ada (writer/performer Alison Richards) who sings and hides though moments of clarity and confusion. But make time (or stay for a second cycle) to explore the space and see the memories hidden in the kitchen cabinet or projected onto the walls.
The room is filled with Ada's memories. Some are recognisable and easy to understand, while others are made corporeal with video, sound, light and puppetry. No memories are safe as it's never clear if their delicacy comes from reality or is the beginning of a descent into something terrifying.
With projections of doilies (does everyone really fill their life with doilies as they age?), floating tea cups, and a soundscape that could be in your head or in the room, it's never clear if we're in Ada's mind with or as her or if we're parts of her distorted memories. This leaves us never able to be fully immersed in her confusion, which might be the point of the experience – being aware that you're not aware of the truth.
11 July 2017
Review: The Rapture
The Rapture
Finucane & Smith
1 July 2017
fortyfivedownstairs
to 15 July
fortyfivedownstairs.com
The Rapture is a new work by Finucane & Smith – do I need to say more – and a community of artists who continue to create space where art offers hope and audiences dance.
It’s mostly a solo work by Moira Finucane; solo that’s only possible with the support and contribution of many, including a Mama Alto, Clare St Clare, Shirley Cattunar and Miss Chief on the stage, and music by Darrin Verhagen and Ben Keene. And Jackie Smith.
In the hazy underground of fortyfivedownstairs, there’s a catwalk that rejects any thought that imperfect isn’t exquisite. Here, Moira channels every god and devil that’s ever been worshipped or dismissed as she explores the love and despair that makes humans search for more than what we think we are. Then in a blink, she’s the person maybe only seen at home when no one is looking. Never assume that the divine are more than human.
Here naked means nothing more than naked and cheap tomato sauce from the supermarket is as much art as the hand-sewn costumes and original music created from hours of frustration and joy.
Moira’s performance is uncensored – no, that’s not the right word. So much of what we see in theatre is created for others: for subscribers, critics, ticket buyers, boards, bosses and funding bodies. And if it fails to thrill, the “fors” are blamed for not getting it or daring to be bored or disconnected.
Moira’s performance is self-indulgent – that’s not it either. Self indulgence on a stage doesn’t welcome an audience and brings little more than pleasure to the self-pleasuring artist.
Self indulgence and self censorship are for self. This work is deeply personal, but if it were all for herself, it wouldn’t connect and there wouldn’t a growing community of audiences (all over the world, now) who know they are as much a part of the experience as the artists who create it.
The Rapture comes from the very personal and reaches to places that are unknown but familiar. Even if you haven’t been in the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles and swung between despair and ecstasy at the human capacity to grieve and to treasure, you know what it’s like to think what you’d give up if you had to. Even if you can’t see structural oppression, even if you cringe at imperfection, even if you don't love polar bears, there's a place where thought falls away and we connect – even if you have no idea why.
We know when we're struggling and we usually know why. The Rapture gives us no excuse not to hope. It doesn't get much better than that.
Finucane & Smith
1 July 2017
fortyfivedownstairs
to 15 July
fortyfivedownstairs.com
 |
| Moira Finucane |
The Rapture is a new work by Finucane & Smith – do I need to say more – and a community of artists who continue to create space where art offers hope and audiences dance.
It’s mostly a solo work by Moira Finucane; solo that’s only possible with the support and contribution of many, including a Mama Alto, Clare St Clare, Shirley Cattunar and Miss Chief on the stage, and music by Darrin Verhagen and Ben Keene. And Jackie Smith.
In the hazy underground of fortyfivedownstairs, there’s a catwalk that rejects any thought that imperfect isn’t exquisite. Here, Moira channels every god and devil that’s ever been worshipped or dismissed as she explores the love and despair that makes humans search for more than what we think we are. Then in a blink, she’s the person maybe only seen at home when no one is looking. Never assume that the divine are more than human.
Here naked means nothing more than naked and cheap tomato sauce from the supermarket is as much art as the hand-sewn costumes and original music created from hours of frustration and joy.
Moira’s performance is uncensored – no, that’s not the right word. So much of what we see in theatre is created for others: for subscribers, critics, ticket buyers, boards, bosses and funding bodies. And if it fails to thrill, the “fors” are blamed for not getting it or daring to be bored or disconnected.
Moira’s performance is self-indulgent – that’s not it either. Self indulgence on a stage doesn’t welcome an audience and brings little more than pleasure to the self-pleasuring artist.
Self indulgence and self censorship are for self. This work is deeply personal, but if it were all for herself, it wouldn’t connect and there wouldn’t a growing community of audiences (all over the world, now) who know they are as much a part of the experience as the artists who create it.
The Rapture comes from the very personal and reaches to places that are unknown but familiar. Even if you haven’t been in the Hall of Mirrors in Versailles and swung between despair and ecstasy at the human capacity to grieve and to treasure, you know what it’s like to think what you’d give up if you had to. Even if you can’t see structural oppression, even if you cringe at imperfection, even if you don't love polar bears, there's a place where thought falls away and we connect – even if you have no idea why.
We know when we're struggling and we usually know why. The Rapture gives us no excuse not to hope. It doesn't get much better than that.
14 May 2017
Review: Awakening
Awakening
MUST and fortyfivedownstairs
11 May 2017
fortyfivedownstairs
to 21 May
fortyfivedownstairs.com
Spoiler alert: the last paragraph discusses the ending.
MUST's production of Awakening was one of my favourite shows in 2016. It gave me a fist-size ball of pain under my heart but ultimately left me so happy that young theatre makers are confronting the bullshit that surrounds them and are showing us that we can and will overcome the trauma and pain that threaten to define us. Thankfully, fortyfivedownstairs also saw what a remarkable work it was and have given it a second season.
Written and directed by Daniel Lammin, it’s a response to Frank Wedekind's 1891 play Spring Awakening. The story is often sub-titled "A children's tragedy" and was censored and banned for many years as it confronts sex, masturbation, rape, abortion, abuse, depression, suicide, religious hypocrisy and adults’ failure to educate, love and look after the children in their care. It's also known because of the Tony-winning 2006 musical adaption (Stage Art's production begins on 19 May).
Lammin has removed some characters and, with a cast of six, focuses on the stories of 14-year-old Wendla and Melchior. Sharing the roles – the three women play Wendla and the three men play Melchior – takes away the easy-to-distance focus of one character's decisions and lets us see, and feel, far more complex points of view.
It also lets us get closer to the cast: Nicola Dupree, Samantha Hafey-Bagg, Eamonn Johnson, James Malcher, Sam Porter and Imogen Walsh. Each had moments that broke my heart and each find the emotional truth in all the characters they play, often showing a side of the story that's easy to reject or forget, or too painful to confront.
The first half remains in the 1890s and while it reaches to now with music and experience, its story of sexual repression is so infuriatingly familiar that it's impossible to dismiss the fear that we're not getting better as a society.
After the gut-punch anger of Act 1, the second half does bring the story into now and confronts our complicity of living in a world that still allows children and teenagers to be so hurt.
Lammin and his cast were developing the piece when Safe Schools was being attacked last year. I don't have the words to describe the unthinkable selfish ignorance of anyone who wants to shame a child, and to see children being shamed by our government, media, schools and community leaders is the shame my generation of adults will have to live with. It's almost a follow up to Hannah Gadsby's astonishing Nanette at MICF. It's easy to talk about protecting children, but these are the children and they are still hurting and being hurt in ways that are unacceptable.
While the last scenes are relentless in their pain and their search for hope and explanation, the story doesn't end with shame and anger. The original ending is easy to predict because young men still take their own lives and it's a standard story move to remove a young woman who is raped and inconveniences everyone around her.
This Awakening rejects that and changes Wendla's story. It gives her power and strength and everything that is taken away from her in the emotive and too-often-repeated story.
It still left me with a ball of pain under my heart, but as long as we keep telling stories like this, we will overcome the ignorance and we will get better as a society.
MUST and fortyfivedownstairs
11 May 2017
fortyfivedownstairs
to 21 May
fortyfivedownstairs.com
 |
| MUST, Awakening. Photo by Theresa Harrison |
Spoiler alert: the last paragraph discusses the ending.
MUST's production of Awakening was one of my favourite shows in 2016. It gave me a fist-size ball of pain under my heart but ultimately left me so happy that young theatre makers are confronting the bullshit that surrounds them and are showing us that we can and will overcome the trauma and pain that threaten to define us. Thankfully, fortyfivedownstairs also saw what a remarkable work it was and have given it a second season.
Written and directed by Daniel Lammin, it’s a response to Frank Wedekind's 1891 play Spring Awakening. The story is often sub-titled "A children's tragedy" and was censored and banned for many years as it confronts sex, masturbation, rape, abortion, abuse, depression, suicide, religious hypocrisy and adults’ failure to educate, love and look after the children in their care. It's also known because of the Tony-winning 2006 musical adaption (Stage Art's production begins on 19 May).
Lammin has removed some characters and, with a cast of six, focuses on the stories of 14-year-old Wendla and Melchior. Sharing the roles – the three women play Wendla and the three men play Melchior – takes away the easy-to-distance focus of one character's decisions and lets us see, and feel, far more complex points of view.
It also lets us get closer to the cast: Nicola Dupree, Samantha Hafey-Bagg, Eamonn Johnson, James Malcher, Sam Porter and Imogen Walsh. Each had moments that broke my heart and each find the emotional truth in all the characters they play, often showing a side of the story that's easy to reject or forget, or too painful to confront.
The first half remains in the 1890s and while it reaches to now with music and experience, its story of sexual repression is so infuriatingly familiar that it's impossible to dismiss the fear that we're not getting better as a society.
After the gut-punch anger of Act 1, the second half does bring the story into now and confronts our complicity of living in a world that still allows children and teenagers to be so hurt.
Lammin and his cast were developing the piece when Safe Schools was being attacked last year. I don't have the words to describe the unthinkable selfish ignorance of anyone who wants to shame a child, and to see children being shamed by our government, media, schools and community leaders is the shame my generation of adults will have to live with. It's almost a follow up to Hannah Gadsby's astonishing Nanette at MICF. It's easy to talk about protecting children, but these are the children and they are still hurting and being hurt in ways that are unacceptable.
While the last scenes are relentless in their pain and their search for hope and explanation, the story doesn't end with shame and anger. The original ending is easy to predict because young men still take their own lives and it's a standard story move to remove a young woman who is raped and inconveniences everyone around her.
This Awakening rejects that and changes Wendla's story. It gives her power and strength and everything that is taken away from her in the emotive and too-often-repeated story.
It still left me with a ball of pain under my heart, but as long as we keep telling stories like this, we will overcome the ignorance and we will get better as a society.
30 March 2017
Review: Trainspotting Live
MICF2017
Trainspotting Live
Andrew Kay and Associates present a Kings Head and In Your Face production
23 March 2017
fortyfivedownstairs
to 13 April
fortyfivedownstairs.com
trainspottingliveaustralia.com
I was splashed by a wet condom and had a shite covered naked arse within touching distance.
Choose life.
Choose theatre.
Choose Trainspotting Live.
In 1993, Harry Gibson wrote the stage adaption of Irvine Welsh's 1993 novel about heroine, addiction and AIDS in Edinburgh in the late 1980s. It's said that this adaption inspired Danny Boyle's 1996 film adaption of Trainspotting.
I'm having trouble believing that it's been 21 years since Underworld's "Born Slippy. NUXX" – shouting larger, larger, larger – became an anthem. Being given a glow stick and walking into a dark room pumping with music with people dancing in a way that you could feel though the floor felt so familiar that I'm still wondering why no one offered me a pill.
Not that you need anything to exaggerate In Your Face Theatre's unrelenting in-your-face, get-out-the-way, hey-that's-my-beer-ya-cunt experience of Trainspotting Live.
It's directed by Adam Spreadbury-Maher and the founder of In Your Face, 23-year-old Greg Esplin, who also plays Tommy. The Edinburgh-based company don't believe in actor/audience separation and want the audience to forget they are watching a show. They say on their website, "If you want to move out of the way, or move even closer to the action (if you don't mind us breathing down your necks) then feel free, but be warned, you might not want to get too close to some of our characters."
With a packed audience around and in the fortyfivedownstairs basement-level performance space, it's difficult to move out the way, no matter how much you might want to. This is a story about the pish, shite and puke side of addiction, and protagonist Mark Renton does visit the worst toilet in the world and needs to retrieve his suppositories.
It's positioning in the Melbourne International Comedy Festival is curious, but for all its pain, violence and misery, it's directed to let us laugh. As humans, we laugh when everything about a situation isn't funny or we hit rock bottom. It's how we cope when there isn't another emotion left.
Welsh's book is a series of short stories that form a narrative about interacting characters. It's written from different points of view and often phonetically, so that sometimes the only way to understand it is to read it out loud and hear yourself speaking in the kind of bad Scottish accent that would get you beaten up by most of the book's characters. The film moved the story into the 1990s and found its own narrative among the stories. The play – this version is also in the 1990s – takes a narrative approach more similar to the book but has also taken its own path (don't expect to see Diane or Spud).
One of the many absolute joys of the Trainspotting Live is hearing parts of the book verbatim. The narration is shared among the characters who narrate as they participate, so it never feels distancing.
On his website, Welsh talks about seeing the first production in 1994. "Seeing my words performed by actors had a big impact on me ... I was still really reeling from being published and people were on the phone trying to cut film deals. I was thinking: 'it's only my scabby wee book, what the fuck is all the fuss about?' It was when I saw them doing their lines, the whole thing was removed from my head into the world, and I saw it for the first time how others were experiencing it. I felt the power of it for the first time. I walked out there believing that I had actually done something special. I knew it would be a great play."
It is a great play and the cast are the children of those who were part of the Trainspotting generation – they were wee bairns like Dawn. They confront with bleakness, desperation and anger but always lead from the vulnerable fear that really motivates the characters. It's hard to hate someone when you know their abhorrent behaviour is the only choice they understand.
Esplin, Rachael Anderson, Calum Barbour, Chris Dennis, Michael Lockerbie, Erin Marshall and Gavin Ross have been performing this show in the UK and Australia for months and are so tone-perfect tight that they are now the people I picture when I read the book.
So fuckin' book now, ya cunts.
And if language bothers you, here's what Gibson said in an interview in Spike magazine in 2006: "Spotting is everywhere now. In fact language is a big part of Trainspotting’s appeal. People write dissertations about it. The play has 147 cunts. In Edinburgh housing schemes, I explain to people, cunt is a laddish term of endearment. You can say “Y’cunt-ye” to a mate and it’s quite cuddly. You would not call a vagina a cunt; a vagina is (excuse my language) a f*n*y."
This was on AussieTheatre.com.
Trainspotting Live
Andrew Kay and Associates present a Kings Head and In Your Face production
23 March 2017
fortyfivedownstairs
to 13 April
fortyfivedownstairs.com
trainspottingliveaustralia.com
 |
| Trainspotting Live |
I was splashed by a wet condom and had a shite covered naked arse within touching distance.
Choose life.
Choose theatre.
Choose Trainspotting Live.
In 1993, Harry Gibson wrote the stage adaption of Irvine Welsh's 1993 novel about heroine, addiction and AIDS in Edinburgh in the late 1980s. It's said that this adaption inspired Danny Boyle's 1996 film adaption of Trainspotting.
I'm having trouble believing that it's been 21 years since Underworld's "Born Slippy. NUXX" – shouting larger, larger, larger – became an anthem. Being given a glow stick and walking into a dark room pumping with music with people dancing in a way that you could feel though the floor felt so familiar that I'm still wondering why no one offered me a pill.
Not that you need anything to exaggerate In Your Face Theatre's unrelenting in-your-face, get-out-the-way, hey-that's-my-beer-ya-cunt experience of Trainspotting Live.
It's directed by Adam Spreadbury-Maher and the founder of In Your Face, 23-year-old Greg Esplin, who also plays Tommy. The Edinburgh-based company don't believe in actor/audience separation and want the audience to forget they are watching a show. They say on their website, "If you want to move out of the way, or move even closer to the action (if you don't mind us breathing down your necks) then feel free, but be warned, you might not want to get too close to some of our characters."
With a packed audience around and in the fortyfivedownstairs basement-level performance space, it's difficult to move out the way, no matter how much you might want to. This is a story about the pish, shite and puke side of addiction, and protagonist Mark Renton does visit the worst toilet in the world and needs to retrieve his suppositories.
It's positioning in the Melbourne International Comedy Festival is curious, but for all its pain, violence and misery, it's directed to let us laugh. As humans, we laugh when everything about a situation isn't funny or we hit rock bottom. It's how we cope when there isn't another emotion left.
Welsh's book is a series of short stories that form a narrative about interacting characters. It's written from different points of view and often phonetically, so that sometimes the only way to understand it is to read it out loud and hear yourself speaking in the kind of bad Scottish accent that would get you beaten up by most of the book's characters. The film moved the story into the 1990s and found its own narrative among the stories. The play – this version is also in the 1990s – takes a narrative approach more similar to the book but has also taken its own path (don't expect to see Diane or Spud).
One of the many absolute joys of the Trainspotting Live is hearing parts of the book verbatim. The narration is shared among the characters who narrate as they participate, so it never feels distancing.
On his website, Welsh talks about seeing the first production in 1994. "Seeing my words performed by actors had a big impact on me ... I was still really reeling from being published and people were on the phone trying to cut film deals. I was thinking: 'it's only my scabby wee book, what the fuck is all the fuss about?' It was when I saw them doing their lines, the whole thing was removed from my head into the world, and I saw it for the first time how others were experiencing it. I felt the power of it for the first time. I walked out there believing that I had actually done something special. I knew it would be a great play."
 |
| Trainspotting Live |
It is a great play and the cast are the children of those who were part of the Trainspotting generation – they were wee bairns like Dawn. They confront with bleakness, desperation and anger but always lead from the vulnerable fear that really motivates the characters. It's hard to hate someone when you know their abhorrent behaviour is the only choice they understand.
Esplin, Rachael Anderson, Calum Barbour, Chris Dennis, Michael Lockerbie, Erin Marshall and Gavin Ross have been performing this show in the UK and Australia for months and are so tone-perfect tight that they are now the people I picture when I read the book.
So fuckin' book now, ya cunts.
And if language bothers you, here's what Gibson said in an interview in Spike magazine in 2006: "Spotting is everywhere now. In fact language is a big part of Trainspotting’s appeal. People write dissertations about it. The play has 147 cunts. In Edinburgh housing schemes, I explain to people, cunt is a laddish term of endearment. You can say “Y’cunt-ye” to a mate and it’s quite cuddly. You would not call a vagina a cunt; a vagina is (excuse my language) a f*n*y."
This was on AussieTheatre.com.
14 December 2016
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
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.
part 1
part 2
part 3
part 4
part 5
part 6
part 7
part 8
part 9
2014
2013
2012
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.
part 2
part 3
part 4
part 5
part 6
part 7
part 8
part 9
2014
2013
2012
07 December 2016
What Melbourne loved in 2016, part 5
While too much of the commercial theatre in Melbourne is regressive, boring and blah, there are amazing Melbourne companies and venues that make progressive, inclusive, challenging and mind-blowing theatre. Today we here from Scott Price from Back to Back theatre, Angharad Wynne-Jones from Arts House and Cameron Lukey from fortyfivedownstairs.
(Opps. In part 4 What Daniel Lammin is looking forward to didn't make it up yesterday, but it's there now.)
Scott Price
Member of the Back to Back Theatre ensemble since 2007, #autismpride
SP's favourite moments in Melbourne theatre in 2016: Sarah Mainwaring's show Duality Ok at La Mama has actually been my favourite piece in 2016. It was just a great piece of theatre and I just enjoyed it immensely. It was great to see Sarah perform outside Back to Back. I didn’t give a standing ovation, but it was a pretty good piece of theatre. If the others did it, I would have too. Sarah was just in casual clothes, and it was just the way that she spoke about her life, I don’t know how to describe it. We went with Simon Laherty, Alice Nash and Nikki Watson and we all thought it was good.
The Rabble’s Cain and Abel was good too, pretty full on and in your face and MTC’s Straight White Men with Luke Ryan I liked too.
What SP is looking forward to in Melbourne theatre in 2017: Nothing basically comes to mind just at the moment, but I haven’t quite looked into it yet, haven’t had the chance. But I really enjoy comedy shows and the Melbourne Fringe and look forward to seeing more of that stuff next year.
SM: Scott's performance of God/god in the remarkable Lady Eats Apple is one that will stay with me for a long time. As communities and societies, we make assumptions about our gods and Scott challenged every one of those assumptions.
Angharad Wynne-Jones
Artistic Director, Arts House
AWJ's favourite moment in Melbourne theatre in 2016: While I love the energy and risk in the experience of a work that has come to realisation in performance, I also really enjoy seeing works in development; work in development allows you to see the issues the artist is resolving, the pathways they might go down, the edits they might make.
This year I've had the opportunity to see Lz Dunn's work Aeon (premiering in March 2017 in Dance Massive) in a number of different places as she's developed it through the support of the Mobile States consortia. As a process of collaboration and co-commissioning with colleagues across the country, facilitated by Performing Lines, this has been an incredibly rewarding and enlivening experience. Running and walking across the meadow in Royal Park (one of the traditional meeting places of the Kulin Nations and one of my most favourite places in Melbourne) with other test audience members was one of those times (of which there are so many working with the phenomenal artists that we do) that I felt so happy and honoured to be working at Arts House, with artists who are fiercely committed, deeply talented and determinedly experimental.
What AWJ is looking forward to in Melbourne theatre in 2017: Oh so much! It's liking asking a parent to pick a favourite child … impossible. So, a couple at least are two new festivals: the gargantuan Asia TOPA that will change forever how Australia’s sees itself as part of Asia and gives us at Arts House the opportunity to present two works from Japan. We are presenting the incredible chelfitsch with a beautiful, haunting contemplation on love and loss with Time's Journey Through a Room. We also welcome Hamanaka Company with Kagerou – Study of Translating Performance, a lyrical investigation into what it is to document disaster. Both works filled with the reverberations of life in Japan of post Fukishima, which resonate deeply with our Antipodean experience of the climate change emergency. And then Yirramboi, Melbourne’s First Nations festival creatively directed by Jacob Boheme, is a chance for us to work with First Nations artist Emily Johnson who with Shore, a quartet of community visioning, volunteering, storytelling and performance works models new ways and forms of collective imaging. A necessity now more than ever.
SM: 2017 is the year I will try even harder to see everything at Arts House. Sometimes we get so caught up with complaining about the boring regressive commercial theatre in Melbourne that we forget that Arts House is doing everything wonderful with progressive, exciting, inclusive, challenging, personal theatre. My favourites this year were a night at FOLA and Nic Green's Trilogy – another bloody amazing show that didn't get a review. Here was so much work that challenged the ridiculous perfection that is expected of women's bodies; so much work that let people leave and walk around in the world feeling good about the bodies that they have – and stop those conscious and unconscious judgments we make based on appearance.
But my favourite moment was seeing the photo Angharad chose. A photo that looks like the person and lets her true amazingness be seen without makeup and the insane need to Photoshop out every "imperfection". Thank you Pier Carthew for taking photos like this. Every time I open a program and see headshots of smooth faces that make them look computer-generated and barely resemble themselves, I wonder who took the photo, who chose the photo and why the person designing the program didn't question it. There's nothing wrong with looking like yourself.
Cameron Lukey
Development Manager and Executive Producer, fortyfivedownstairs
CL's favourite moments in Melbourne theatre in 2016: I went to the closing night of Daniel Lammin's show Awakening at Trades Hall. I knew it had been a labour of love, and having worked with Daniel on Master Class, knew how much time and effort he pours into every show he works on. It was funny, charming, insightful, and ultimately, very moving. I left feeling I'd seen someone really leave a piece of themselves on the stage. We're bringing it to fortyfivedownstairs next May for a return season, which is very exciting. I think it will have a great life in our space.
From a personal perspective (and I'm completely biased) it was also a thrill to watch Paul Capsis transform himself into Quentin Crisp in Resident Alien. I had been witness to his process, but watching him in front of an audience for the first time was pretty special. I forgot I had seen it dozens of times in rehearsal because his relationship with his audience is so unique.
What CL is looking forward to in Melbourne theatre in 2017: I think it would be a bit Sophie's Choice to have to choose a show at fortyfivedownstairs, so outside of fortyfive, I'm looking forward to The Testament of Mary with Pamela Rabe at the Malthouse and Cabaret, which opens at the Athenaeum in April, with Capsis as the Emcee. That just seems like dream casting for both shows.
(Opps. In part 4 What Daniel Lammin is looking forward to didn't make it up yesterday, but it's there now.)
Scott Price
Member of the Back to Back Theatre ensemble since 2007, #autismpride
 |
| Scott Price. Photo by Jeff Busby |
SP's favourite moments in Melbourne theatre in 2016: Sarah Mainwaring's show Duality Ok at La Mama has actually been my favourite piece in 2016. It was just a great piece of theatre and I just enjoyed it immensely. It was great to see Sarah perform outside Back to Back. I didn’t give a standing ovation, but it was a pretty good piece of theatre. If the others did it, I would have too. Sarah was just in casual clothes, and it was just the way that she spoke about her life, I don’t know how to describe it. We went with Simon Laherty, Alice Nash and Nikki Watson and we all thought it was good.
The Rabble’s Cain and Abel was good too, pretty full on and in your face and MTC’s Straight White Men with Luke Ryan I liked too.
What SP is looking forward to in Melbourne theatre in 2017: Nothing basically comes to mind just at the moment, but I haven’t quite looked into it yet, haven’t had the chance. But I really enjoy comedy shows and the Melbourne Fringe and look forward to seeing more of that stuff next year.
SM: Scott's performance of God/god in the remarkable Lady Eats Apple is one that will stay with me for a long time. As communities and societies, we make assumptions about our gods and Scott challenged every one of those assumptions.
Angharad Wynne-Jones
Artistic Director, Arts House
 |
| Angharad Wynne-Jones. Photo by Pier Carthew |
AWJ's favourite moment in Melbourne theatre in 2016: While I love the energy and risk in the experience of a work that has come to realisation in performance, I also really enjoy seeing works in development; work in development allows you to see the issues the artist is resolving, the pathways they might go down, the edits they might make.
This year I've had the opportunity to see Lz Dunn's work Aeon (premiering in March 2017 in Dance Massive) in a number of different places as she's developed it through the support of the Mobile States consortia. As a process of collaboration and co-commissioning with colleagues across the country, facilitated by Performing Lines, this has been an incredibly rewarding and enlivening experience. Running and walking across the meadow in Royal Park (one of the traditional meeting places of the Kulin Nations and one of my most favourite places in Melbourne) with other test audience members was one of those times (of which there are so many working with the phenomenal artists that we do) that I felt so happy and honoured to be working at Arts House, with artists who are fiercely committed, deeply talented and determinedly experimental.
What AWJ is looking forward to in Melbourne theatre in 2017: Oh so much! It's liking asking a parent to pick a favourite child … impossible. So, a couple at least are two new festivals: the gargantuan Asia TOPA that will change forever how Australia’s sees itself as part of Asia and gives us at Arts House the opportunity to present two works from Japan. We are presenting the incredible chelfitsch with a beautiful, haunting contemplation on love and loss with Time's Journey Through a Room. We also welcome Hamanaka Company with Kagerou – Study of Translating Performance, a lyrical investigation into what it is to document disaster. Both works filled with the reverberations of life in Japan of post Fukishima, which resonate deeply with our Antipodean experience of the climate change emergency. And then Yirramboi, Melbourne’s First Nations festival creatively directed by Jacob Boheme, is a chance for us to work with First Nations artist Emily Johnson who with Shore, a quartet of community visioning, volunteering, storytelling and performance works models new ways and forms of collective imaging. A necessity now more than ever.
SM: 2017 is the year I will try even harder to see everything at Arts House. Sometimes we get so caught up with complaining about the boring regressive commercial theatre in Melbourne that we forget that Arts House is doing everything wonderful with progressive, exciting, inclusive, challenging, personal theatre. My favourites this year were a night at FOLA and Nic Green's Trilogy – another bloody amazing show that didn't get a review. Here was so much work that challenged the ridiculous perfection that is expected of women's bodies; so much work that let people leave and walk around in the world feeling good about the bodies that they have – and stop those conscious and unconscious judgments we make based on appearance.
But my favourite moment was seeing the photo Angharad chose. A photo that looks like the person and lets her true amazingness be seen without makeup and the insane need to Photoshop out every "imperfection". Thank you Pier Carthew for taking photos like this. Every time I open a program and see headshots of smooth faces that make them look computer-generated and barely resemble themselves, I wonder who took the photo, who chose the photo and why the person designing the program didn't question it. There's nothing wrong with looking like yourself.
Cameron Lukey
Development Manager and Executive Producer, fortyfivedownstairs
 |
| Cameron Lukey. Photo by Sarah Walker |
CL's favourite moments in Melbourne theatre in 2016: I went to the closing night of Daniel Lammin's show Awakening at Trades Hall. I knew it had been a labour of love, and having worked with Daniel on Master Class, knew how much time and effort he pours into every show he works on. It was funny, charming, insightful, and ultimately, very moving. I left feeling I'd seen someone really leave a piece of themselves on the stage. We're bringing it to fortyfivedownstairs next May for a return season, which is very exciting. I think it will have a great life in our space.
From a personal perspective (and I'm completely biased) it was also a thrill to watch Paul Capsis transform himself into Quentin Crisp in Resident Alien. I had been witness to his process, but watching him in front of an audience for the first time was pretty special. I forgot I had seen it dozens of times in rehearsal because his relationship with his audience is so unique.
What CL is looking forward to in Melbourne theatre in 2017: I think it would be a bit Sophie's Choice to have to choose a show at fortyfivedownstairs, so outside of fortyfive, I'm looking forward to The Testament of Mary with Pamela Rabe at the Malthouse and Cabaret, which opens at the Athenaeum in April, with Capsis as the Emcee. That just seems like dream casting for both shows.
SM: My favourite is easily reading the email Cameron sent me yesterday after I'd said in part 4 how much I wanted to see a return season of Daniel Lammin's Awakening. He told me how fortyfivedownstairs are doing that season and gently hinted that he'd sent me an email* with that very info over a week ago. And fortyfivedownstairs giving Shit another season.
The first half of next year's fortyfivedownstairs season is unmissable. Not only for Awakening (I'm so happy to see this devastatingly wonderful work get another season), but there's another season of L’amante anglaise and I'm putting I am My Own Wife and Trainspotting in my diary now.
*As I say a lot: if I don't respond, it's likely that I haven't read it because it's lost in the deluge, flagged to read later or I just didn't see it.
24 July 2016
Review: Retrofuturismus New World
Retrofuturismus New World
Anni and Maude Davey
8 July 2016
fortyfivedownstairs
to 31 July
fortyfivedownstairs.com
There’s a gap between nostalgia and embracing retro fashions, as there’s a chasm between the future world we want and the one we’re likely to have. This space in between is where Retrofuturismus New World create, dream and play; where they fill the emptiness with feminist performance art that questions itself and dares its audience to enjoy themselves even when they know that every thought and act is political.
Maude and Anni Davey host in gold jumpsuits with retro-future shoulder pads (they will be back), comfy rubber heels and hair buns that show man-buns how to bun. They don’t hide their 50-somethingness and don’t concede to any ideas that women in their 50s shouldn’t be astronauts or cockroaches, or that burlesque, cabaret or circus should adhere to dated ideas and expectations.
They are joined by Anna Lumb, who always brings the unexpected with hoops; Gabi Barton, who leaves everyone wanting to dye their ‘unsightly’ body hair bright yellow; and Teresa Blake, who remembers the phrase “shit a brick”, makes a reverse strip even more questioning, and knows that being naked isn’t always about sex or enticement.
Each bring themselves to their art and love that their work is so much the better by always asking why. They are joined by a guest artist each week, with Kura Puru (13–17 July), Yana Alana (20-24 July) and The Huxleys (27-31) July. But week one was Azaria Universe.
Universe performed on a single trapeze in frilly retro bikini and elastic bands that cut into her bare body every few centimetres. It must hurt, it exacerbates the fat on her strong and fit body and she smiles because she has to; why would a woman do that to themselves? Maybe ask the women in slimming underwear that doesn’t let them eat, or breathe, and shoes that they take off as soon as they sit down.
Retrofuturismus New World is a space that loves the future image of the past in the likes of Barabella but re-invents the way women are treated in the film. Theirs is a future that’s created by the best of now and one that re-invents any ideas that women are hysterical creatures that should never dare to be themselves.
This was on AussieTheatre.com.
Anni and Maude Davey
8 July 2016
fortyfivedownstairs
to 31 July
fortyfivedownstairs.com
 |
| Teresa Blake. Photo by Ponch Hawkes |
Maude and Anni Davey host in gold jumpsuits with retro-future shoulder pads (they will be back), comfy rubber heels and hair buns that show man-buns how to bun. They don’t hide their 50-somethingness and don’t concede to any ideas that women in their 50s shouldn’t be astronauts or cockroaches, or that burlesque, cabaret or circus should adhere to dated ideas and expectations.
They are joined by Anna Lumb, who always brings the unexpected with hoops; Gabi Barton, who leaves everyone wanting to dye their ‘unsightly’ body hair bright yellow; and Teresa Blake, who remembers the phrase “shit a brick”, makes a reverse strip even more questioning, and knows that being naked isn’t always about sex or enticement.
Each bring themselves to their art and love that their work is so much the better by always asking why. They are joined by a guest artist each week, with Kura Puru (13–17 July), Yana Alana (20-24 July) and The Huxleys (27-31) July. But week one was Azaria Universe.
 |
| Azaria Universe. Photo by Ponch Hawkes |
Universe performed on a single trapeze in frilly retro bikini and elastic bands that cut into her bare body every few centimetres. It must hurt, it exacerbates the fat on her strong and fit body and she smiles because she has to; why would a woman do that to themselves? Maybe ask the women in slimming underwear that doesn’t let them eat, or breathe, and shoes that they take off as soon as they sit down.
Retrofuturismus New World is a space that loves the future image of the past in the likes of Barabella but re-invents the way women are treated in the film. Theirs is a future that’s created by the best of now and one that re-invents any ideas that women are hysterical creatures that should never dare to be themselves.
This was on AussieTheatre.com.
27 May 2016
Review: Resident Alien
Resident Alien
Cameron Lukey presents
26 May 2016
fortyfivedownstairs
to 12 June
fortyfivedownstairs.com
Cameron Lukey presents
26 May 2016
fortyfivedownstairs
to 12 June
fortyfivedownstairs.com
 |
| Paul Capsis. Photo by Sarah Walker |
My review is in The Age/SMH.
29 April 2016
More Shit
Shit
4–15 May
fortyfivedownstairs
fortyfivedownstairs.com
In last year's MTC Neon season, one show sold out and was raved about in ways that left the city excited about theatre.
Shit by Dee & Cornelius.
So many people didn't get to see it, so don't miss this opportunity. This remount opens next week at fortyfivedownstairs and runs until 15 May.
To start, listen to the Susie Dee (director) and Patricia Cornelius (writer) talking about it with Richard Watts on Smart Arts on RRR.
ondemand.rrr.org.au It's about an hour in.
It won four Independent Theatre Green Room Awards and was one of my favourite shows of 2016.
My review.
Cameron Woodhead's review.
Myron My's review.
Tim Byrne's review on Time Out seems to have vanished, but it's a good one.
4–15 May
fortyfivedownstairs
fortyfivedownstairs.com
 |
| Photo by Sebastian Bourges |
In last year's MTC Neon season, one show sold out and was raved about in ways that left the city excited about theatre.
Shit by Dee & Cornelius.
So many people didn't get to see it, so don't miss this opportunity. This remount opens next week at fortyfivedownstairs and runs until 15 May.
To start, listen to the Susie Dee (director) and Patricia Cornelius (writer) talking about it with Richard Watts on Smart Arts on RRR.
ondemand.rrr.org.au It's about an hour in.
It won four Independent Theatre Green Room Awards and was one of my favourite shows of 2016.
(Patricia) Cornelius's writing leaves me shaking. Her dialogue sounds natural but it isn't like spoken language. She makes the profane poetic and lets language be so much more than words with assumed meaning. Her text has shape and rhythm and feels like it's beating to the heartbeats of her characters. It makes us listen to every "fuck" and "cunt" – and there are many – and really hear what they mean. And she only tells what needs to be told, leaving the subtext and the untold as the voice on stage that sneaks into your guts and doesn't let go.
My review.
Cameron Woodhead's review.
Myron My's review.
Tim Byrne's review on Time Out seems to have vanished, but it's a good one.
24 February 2016
Mini review: Triumph
Triumph
New Working Group, supported by fortyfive downstairs
19 February 2016
fortyfive downstairs
to 28 February
fortyfivedownstairs.com
I became a Louris van de Geer fan when MKA presented her Tuesday in 2012. Her writing lets her audience continually question and re-evaluate what they are seeing as they are drawn deeper, and more personally, into her stories.
Inspired by true stories, Triumph's three parts are set in a survivor support group following a 911-type horror, a hospital where doctors can't diagnose a teenager, and a forest where two men are almost cheerfully digging two graves. The veracity of their stories change as new perspectives to the situation are revealed, but the truth at the heart of the characters stays the same. Is it harder or easier to be on someone's side when you realise their lie but know the lie comes from a wound that's far deeper and more painful?
Her writing also lets creatives bring themselves to the work to create a richness to the characters and worlds that expands on the text without taking anything away from it.
Director Mark Pritchard and design team Romanie Harper (set and costume), Amelia Lever-Davidson (lighting) and Chris Wenn (sound) use the vast fortyfive downstairs space to move from the uncomfortable light of a community hall to the darkness of a forest. And the cast (Aljin Abella, Syd Brisbane, Anouk Gleeson-Mead, Emma Hall, Leone White) ensure that there's always more to question, and that what we think we see is never what's really motivating the characters.
The result is a theatre that's engaging and fascinating and so complex that it's impossible to consciously take all of it in.
Don't forget that van de Greer's latest work, The Son is part of the MTC's Cybec Electric Reading program on March 4 and 5. And what a cast!
New Working Group, supported by fortyfive downstairs
19 February 2016
fortyfive downstairs
to 28 February
fortyfivedownstairs.com
 |
| Triumph. Photo by Sarah Walker |
I became a Louris van de Geer fan when MKA presented her Tuesday in 2012. Her writing lets her audience continually question and re-evaluate what they are seeing as they are drawn deeper, and more personally, into her stories.
Inspired by true stories, Triumph's three parts are set in a survivor support group following a 911-type horror, a hospital where doctors can't diagnose a teenager, and a forest where two men are almost cheerfully digging two graves. The veracity of their stories change as new perspectives to the situation are revealed, but the truth at the heart of the characters stays the same. Is it harder or easier to be on someone's side when you realise their lie but know the lie comes from a wound that's far deeper and more painful?
Her writing also lets creatives bring themselves to the work to create a richness to the characters and worlds that expands on the text without taking anything away from it.
Director Mark Pritchard and design team Romanie Harper (set and costume), Amelia Lever-Davidson (lighting) and Chris Wenn (sound) use the vast fortyfive downstairs space to move from the uncomfortable light of a community hall to the darkness of a forest. And the cast (Aljin Abella, Syd Brisbane, Anouk Gleeson-Mead, Emma Hall, Leone White) ensure that there's always more to question, and that what we think we see is never what's really motivating the characters.
The result is a theatre that's engaging and fascinating and so complex that it's impossible to consciously take all of it in.
Don't forget that van de Greer's latest work, The Son is part of the MTC's Cybec Electric Reading program on March 4 and 5. And what a cast!
26 August 2015
Interview: Daniel Lammin on Masterclass
Masterclass
1–13 September
fortyfivedownstairs.com
The 2014 Melbourne Green Room Award–winning production of Master Class by Terrance McNallyhas finished its Sydney Hayes Theatre season and is returning to Melbourne’s fortyfivedownstairs on 1 September. Before heading beginning rehearsals, Lammin spoke to me about how they first approached the work, what it was like to be so successful, and how they’re approaching the remount.
The production won Maria Mercedes a Best Performer award and Daniel Lammin his first nomination as Best Director.
The play opened on Broadway in 1995. It’s fiction, but is inspired by a series of recorded master classes that Callas presented at Julliard in New York in 1971 when she was 54.
By then, she had experienced the best and the worst that fame and talent bring; from being the icon and La Divina to being judged on her weight and relationships. Lammin said, “she touched the divine, looked into the heart of the universe and heard what it sounded like, and no one comes back from that unscathed.”
She died of a heart attack in 1977 and is still iconised.
How do you approach a re-mount knowing the expectations that follow such a successful first season?
My philosophy returning to Master Class was to regard the original season as unfinished. When I last spoke to Maria about the remount, both of us agreed that we had further to go with it, both in terms of her performance and with the production in general. Master Class is a deceptively dense play; its characterisation of Callas is enormous and the supporting characters are far more complex than they first appear.
Even with all the accolades and responses we got last year, we still wanted to go back and keep digging deeper.
How we approach that comes down to our own expectations of this new season. Not only will we be bringing a year’s worth of pondering and gained knowledge to it, but we also have two new cast members (Blake Bowden and Teresa Duddy), which basically means a completely new second act.
Because my original approach was to use the experiences of the original singers to inform their performances and interpretations of their characters, these new cast members will bring a whole new energy to the show and push myself and the rest of the cast into new territory. It’ll prevent us from resting on our laurels because there will be new dynamics and voices in the room that are totally unlike the original singers. The last thing I want them to do is imitate what was done before; I’m far more interested in what they have to bring.
That said, it is daunting and a little terrifying coming back to it given how well the first season went.
I’m still a young emerging director, so its success was overwhelming for me, and I’m a little nervous that I won’t be able to recapture whatever lightning in a bottle we got last year in our state of panic and passion in getting it on in the first place.
I don’t want to let down the audience, the cast and crew or the original production.
What gives me the drive with returning to Master Class though is that I’m not interested in repeating myself or just rehashing what we did before. Of course, we want to remount it because it was successful and people wanted to see it again (or at all), but artistically I had no interest in pulling it out of the box and plonking it on stage.
The play addresses so many things I feel very passionately and personally about – the role of art in a society, the sacrifices it requires, how unforgiving it is, the role of women in the arts, a celebration of the powerful women who brought me up and my Mediterranean heritage – and I didn’t feel at all satisfied that I’d said what I needed to say clearly enough.
I want it to be just as fresh and dangerous, and to continue to push the play, the cast and the audience even further. If we’re going to do it again, I want to work the show and myself even harder than before.
Not being an opera singer, how did you work with the singers to integrate their first-hand experience of master classes and the needs of the piece?
In past productions, the singers in Master Class had usually been played by musical theatre actors. One of the things the producer Cameron Lukey was determined to do was use actual opera singers who could perform the arias with their necessary power. Not only did I see this as a creatively exciting decision, but also a tremendous resource for me to use in developing and rehearsing the show.
I’m a naturally inquisitive person, so when it came to approaching the opera, I just let that part of my personality take over for a bit. I have a passionate love of classical music, but my knowledge of opera is limited, so I started by just sitting and chatting with each of the singers about themselves. Why did they become an opera singer? What is their relationship with their career? How did they feel about their industry and its internal politics?
This led to talking about their own experiences of master classes, both as observers and performers. I would note down every little detail, from where they would stand in relation to the master running the class to the usual mistakes people would make.
We also discussed the differences between their experiences and the play itself. This was the stuff we used and referenced on the floor, throwing in tidbits to add to the realism of the piece.
This also meant that, rather than imposing anything on the singers (none of whom in the original production had ever acted in a play before), we were making their characters and performances more personal. I was also lucky to have Lukey, who trained as an opera singer, who was able to clarify and educate me on the more technical side of opera.
I wasn’t interested in making a piece of theatre with Callas as the absolute centre of attention. I wanted every character to be as rich and full as her, and knew that my best resource was the singers themselves.
As a director, I use the personality of the actor to help them find and inform their character; especially in this case where I was a novice entering their world. I wanted to be respectful of this industry and the people working in it, and to give the singers the opportunity to share not just their love of opera, but the impossibly hard work and dedication that goes into it.
I wanted Master Class to be as much a celebration of them as it was of Callas.
Did you (and Maria) listen to the recorded Callas master classes or did you approach it as a piece of writing?
Maria and I both took different approaches in our preparation for the show. Maria buried herself in research, reading countless books and biographies of Callas, while I decided to keep my research to a minimum and focus directly on the play text itself.
I broke it right down dramaturgically, right down to its punctuation, and studied the structure of the play and the rhythms of Callas’s dialogue. This meant that Maria would bring her mountains of knowledge into the room and allow that to inform her performance and I concerned myself with the technical side, never allowing her to put a pause or a comma wrong. I felt that was far more useful, so we had a balance of biographical knowledge and dramaturgical understanding of the play itself.
What became our greatest resource though were the recordings of Callas, particularly those specified for use in the play.
What set Callas apart was the unrelenting honesty with which she sang, less interested with technical skill than with expressing truth. That’s why her voice is so powerful, because her soul is in her singing, and this was a big clue for us to unlocking the ideas in McNally’s text. We also had hours of recordings from the actual master classes the play was inspired by, so we could listen to how Callas approached the students. It’s not verbatim in any way, but it was an interesting document to complement our understanding of the play.
How did you work with your Maria to become a Maria that was both Callas and Mercedes?
One of the rules I imposed on the show was that we weren’t doing what I called “the gay fantasia of Maria Callas” or anything that revealed in any melodrama or camp. She’s such an icon and a caricature, but I wasn’t interested in that, and I didn’t think the play itself was either.
We were far more interested in the soul of this woman than of doing a convincing imitation. We never talked about recreating her mannerisms or voice. We let the text itself and the given circumstances of Callas’s background inform us.
Like the singers, I also used Mercedes herself as a resource, drawing on her Greek background and her own experiences as a performer. It was very important to us both that we preserved Callas’s Greek heritage, because she’s rarely played in productions of Master Class by a Greek actor. It also helped that my family background is partly Maltese, so we both understood what it meant to be Mediterranean, so her put-downs and blunt comments weren’t about being a bitch but about that wonderful bluntness that Mediterranean women have.
We also spoke a lot about women in positions of power, the sexual politics between men and women and how threatening Callas would have been to the patriarchal opera world of the time.
Her uncompromising position as both an artist and a woman had an enormous effect on her professionally and romantically. This is where I thought Master Class was quite a violent and disturbing play, and Maria totally embraced that, so that in her monologues at the end of each act we went for something more visceral and uncomfortable. We wanted people to walk away from Master Class not with a set of quippy facts they could rattle off, but a deep understanding of the soul of this woman; one both immense and totally broken.
I have this driving need in being a theatre maker. With everything I do, I’m trying to hear the sound of the universe. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I want to hear the forces at work around us in all their beauty and their violence, and theatre is the tool that my inquisitive mind chooses to use to try and hear it. Callas was one of those people who actually heard it, and you know this from listening to her sing.
She touched the divine, looked into the heart of the universe and heard what it sounded like, and no one comes back from that unscathed. For Maria and I, we want the audience to catch a glimpse of that, a woman caught in a awe-inspiring and terrible ecstasy that has made her divine and ripped her apart.
It’s an impossible task to set ourselves, but it was what we saw when we read the play and listened to Callas sing, and that’s what we wanted to give the audience.
This was on AussieTheatre.com.
1–13 September
fortyfivedownstairs.com
 |
| Maria Mercedes in the Sydney season of Masterclass. Photo by Clare Hawley |
The 2014 Melbourne Green Room Award–winning production of Master Class by Terrance McNallyhas finished its Sydney Hayes Theatre season and is returning to Melbourne’s fortyfivedownstairs on 1 September. Before heading beginning rehearsals, Lammin spoke to me about how they first approached the work, what it was like to be so successful, and how they’re approaching the remount.
The production won Maria Mercedes a Best Performer award and Daniel Lammin his first nomination as Best Director.
The play opened on Broadway in 1995. It’s fiction, but is inspired by a series of recorded master classes that Callas presented at Julliard in New York in 1971 when she was 54.
By then, she had experienced the best and the worst that fame and talent bring; from being the icon and La Divina to being judged on her weight and relationships. Lammin said, “she touched the divine, looked into the heart of the universe and heard what it sounded like, and no one comes back from that unscathed.”
She died of a heart attack in 1977 and is still iconised.
 |
| Daniel Lammin. Photo by Sarah Walker |
How do you approach a re-mount knowing the expectations that follow such a successful first season?
My philosophy returning to Master Class was to regard the original season as unfinished. When I last spoke to Maria about the remount, both of us agreed that we had further to go with it, both in terms of her performance and with the production in general. Master Class is a deceptively dense play; its characterisation of Callas is enormous and the supporting characters are far more complex than they first appear.
Even with all the accolades and responses we got last year, we still wanted to go back and keep digging deeper.
How we approach that comes down to our own expectations of this new season. Not only will we be bringing a year’s worth of pondering and gained knowledge to it, but we also have two new cast members (Blake Bowden and Teresa Duddy), which basically means a completely new second act.
Because my original approach was to use the experiences of the original singers to inform their performances and interpretations of their characters, these new cast members will bring a whole new energy to the show and push myself and the rest of the cast into new territory. It’ll prevent us from resting on our laurels because there will be new dynamics and voices in the room that are totally unlike the original singers. The last thing I want them to do is imitate what was done before; I’m far more interested in what they have to bring.
That said, it is daunting and a little terrifying coming back to it given how well the first season went.
I’m still a young emerging director, so its success was overwhelming for me, and I’m a little nervous that I won’t be able to recapture whatever lightning in a bottle we got last year in our state of panic and passion in getting it on in the first place.
I don’t want to let down the audience, the cast and crew or the original production.
What gives me the drive with returning to Master Class though is that I’m not interested in repeating myself or just rehashing what we did before. Of course, we want to remount it because it was successful and people wanted to see it again (or at all), but artistically I had no interest in pulling it out of the box and plonking it on stage.
The play addresses so many things I feel very passionately and personally about – the role of art in a society, the sacrifices it requires, how unforgiving it is, the role of women in the arts, a celebration of the powerful women who brought me up and my Mediterranean heritage – and I didn’t feel at all satisfied that I’d said what I needed to say clearly enough.
I want it to be just as fresh and dangerous, and to continue to push the play, the cast and the audience even further. If we’re going to do it again, I want to work the show and myself even harder than before.
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| Photo by Clare Hawley |
Not being an opera singer, how did you work with the singers to integrate their first-hand experience of master classes and the needs of the piece?
In past productions, the singers in Master Class had usually been played by musical theatre actors. One of the things the producer Cameron Lukey was determined to do was use actual opera singers who could perform the arias with their necessary power. Not only did I see this as a creatively exciting decision, but also a tremendous resource for me to use in developing and rehearsing the show.
I’m a naturally inquisitive person, so when it came to approaching the opera, I just let that part of my personality take over for a bit. I have a passionate love of classical music, but my knowledge of opera is limited, so I started by just sitting and chatting with each of the singers about themselves. Why did they become an opera singer? What is their relationship with their career? How did they feel about their industry and its internal politics?
This led to talking about their own experiences of master classes, both as observers and performers. I would note down every little detail, from where they would stand in relation to the master running the class to the usual mistakes people would make.
We also discussed the differences between their experiences and the play itself. This was the stuff we used and referenced on the floor, throwing in tidbits to add to the realism of the piece.
This also meant that, rather than imposing anything on the singers (none of whom in the original production had ever acted in a play before), we were making their characters and performances more personal. I was also lucky to have Lukey, who trained as an opera singer, who was able to clarify and educate me on the more technical side of opera.
I wasn’t interested in making a piece of theatre with Callas as the absolute centre of attention. I wanted every character to be as rich and full as her, and knew that my best resource was the singers themselves.
As a director, I use the personality of the actor to help them find and inform their character; especially in this case where I was a novice entering their world. I wanted to be respectful of this industry and the people working in it, and to give the singers the opportunity to share not just their love of opera, but the impossibly hard work and dedication that goes into it.
I wanted Master Class to be as much a celebration of them as it was of Callas.
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| Photo by Clare Hawley |
Maria and I both took different approaches in our preparation for the show. Maria buried herself in research, reading countless books and biographies of Callas, while I decided to keep my research to a minimum and focus directly on the play text itself.
I broke it right down dramaturgically, right down to its punctuation, and studied the structure of the play and the rhythms of Callas’s dialogue. This meant that Maria would bring her mountains of knowledge into the room and allow that to inform her performance and I concerned myself with the technical side, never allowing her to put a pause or a comma wrong. I felt that was far more useful, so we had a balance of biographical knowledge and dramaturgical understanding of the play itself.
What became our greatest resource though were the recordings of Callas, particularly those specified for use in the play.
What set Callas apart was the unrelenting honesty with which she sang, less interested with technical skill than with expressing truth. That’s why her voice is so powerful, because her soul is in her singing, and this was a big clue for us to unlocking the ideas in McNally’s text. We also had hours of recordings from the actual master classes the play was inspired by, so we could listen to how Callas approached the students. It’s not verbatim in any way, but it was an interesting document to complement our understanding of the play.
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| Photo by Clare Hawley |
One of the rules I imposed on the show was that we weren’t doing what I called “the gay fantasia of Maria Callas” or anything that revealed in any melodrama or camp. She’s such an icon and a caricature, but I wasn’t interested in that, and I didn’t think the play itself was either.
We were far more interested in the soul of this woman than of doing a convincing imitation. We never talked about recreating her mannerisms or voice. We let the text itself and the given circumstances of Callas’s background inform us.
Like the singers, I also used Mercedes herself as a resource, drawing on her Greek background and her own experiences as a performer. It was very important to us both that we preserved Callas’s Greek heritage, because she’s rarely played in productions of Master Class by a Greek actor. It also helped that my family background is partly Maltese, so we both understood what it meant to be Mediterranean, so her put-downs and blunt comments weren’t about being a bitch but about that wonderful bluntness that Mediterranean women have.
We also spoke a lot about women in positions of power, the sexual politics between men and women and how threatening Callas would have been to the patriarchal opera world of the time.
Her uncompromising position as both an artist and a woman had an enormous effect on her professionally and romantically. This is where I thought Master Class was quite a violent and disturbing play, and Maria totally embraced that, so that in her monologues at the end of each act we went for something more visceral and uncomfortable. We wanted people to walk away from Master Class not with a set of quippy facts they could rattle off, but a deep understanding of the soul of this woman; one both immense and totally broken.
I have this driving need in being a theatre maker. With everything I do, I’m trying to hear the sound of the universe. I know that sounds ridiculous, but I want to hear the forces at work around us in all their beauty and their violence, and theatre is the tool that my inquisitive mind chooses to use to try and hear it. Callas was one of those people who actually heard it, and you know this from listening to her sing.
She touched the divine, looked into the heart of the universe and heard what it sounded like, and no one comes back from that unscathed. For Maria and I, we want the audience to catch a glimpse of that, a woman caught in a awe-inspiring and terrible ecstasy that has made her divine and ripped her apart.
It’s an impossible task to set ourselves, but it was what we saw when we read the play and listened to Callas sing, and that’s what we wanted to give the audience.
This was on AussieTheatre.com.
11 July 2015
Review: Cuckoo
Cuckoo
15 Minutes From Anywhere
9 July 2014
fortyfivedownstairs
to 26 July
fortyfivedownstairs.com
Jane Miller completed Cuckoo as part of the Masters of Writing for Performance at VCA. Produced with the support of fortyfivedownstairs, it's beautiful writing that lets hope shine in its blackness and continues to establish Miller as one of Melbourne's most exciting independent writers.
15 Minutes From Anywhere
9 July 2014
fortyfivedownstairs
to 26 July
fortyfivedownstairs.com
 |
| Photo by Lachlan Woods |
Jane Miller completed Cuckoo as part of the Masters of Writing for Performance at VCA. Produced with the support of fortyfivedownstairs, it's beautiful writing that lets hope shine in its blackness and continues to establish Miller as one of Melbourne's most exciting independent writers.
Mel (Natalie Carr) and Leo (Matthew Molony) are a middle-aged couple talking about their freedom as they sit at home, as they do every night; him playing with Lego and her with her laptop. When a teenager (Samuel Russo) knocks on their door claiming to have been hit by a car, he wants to eat toast and brings in memories and possibilities that Mel, Leo and their ex-cop friend Dan (David Kambouris) welcome and dread.
Miller's writing always captures the souls of her very broken characters by letting the truth of comedy reveal the disfunction that they can't see in themselves. With a structure that builds the tension like a Jenga tower, Cuckoo creates an ever-deepening mystery as everyone holds their secrets tight and hopes that their truth isn't found in the silence of the subtext.
Alice Bishop's direction keeps the rhythm beating and the tension high, the cast make the balance of laughter and the unthinkable feel as natural as they are, and Bronwyn Pringle's lighting leaves shadows that remind how the bigger picture is always bigger, darker and less defined.
Hidden underground near some of the city's best and swankiest restaurants in Little Collins Street, fortyfivedownstairs supports Melbourne independent art and artists and continues to win the support of Melbourne theatre-goers. Hopefully, it will continue to present works like Cuckoo because it's up there with some of the best script-based theatre around and without places like fortyfivedownstairs, it might never have been seen.
This was on AussieTheatre.com.
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