The Ballad of Backbone Joe

ARTS HOUSE IN AUGUST
The Ballad of Backbone Joe
The Suitcase Royale
15 August 2006
North Melbourne Town Hall

As the season of The Ballad of Backbone Joe sold out, I’m thrilled to know that more and more of Melbourne are lining up for the fabulous madness and unexpected beauty of The Suitcase Royale.

With the beliefs of anarchists and the souls of poets, this Melbourne-based trio (Joseph O’Farrell, Miles O’Neil and Glen Walton) recycle junk, pop culture and their love of old film to tell stories like no one else could dream of.

Ballad is homage to film noir, but imagine the Marx Brothers staring instead of Humphrey Bogart. Detective Von Trapp from Sandringham is given a letter by woman with legs “just like cigarettes ... long, thin and white” and heads to a small town to deliver it to her husband, boxer Backbone Joe, who has no memory of the night he last saw his wife.

The gorgeous stage world is created from cardboard, ropes and venetian blinds from a hard rubbish collection, but looks like a forgotten black and white film that was delicately hand coloured frame by frame with shades of sepia and traces of red. A suitcase is transformed into the best car ever put on a stage, a cardboard skeleton almost steals the show and all is accompanied by live music – also played by the three performers.

Much of Suitcase’s appeal is that they love performing as much as we love watching them. They happily break out of character and improvise, without compromising the poignancy or tension of their story. It will be interesting to see if this can be maintained as they move into bigger theatres, are given their own telly show and become ridiculously famous.

The original music from The Ballad of Backbone Joe is on The Suitcase Royale’s debut CD, which is being launched on 10 September at the East Brunswick Club.


This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Traces

Traces
Les 7 Doigts De La Main / The 7 Fingers
Arts Projects Australia
19 August 2009
Comedy Theatre

Wow! High energy, high risk and guaranteed to leave you gasping, Traces is sure to leave its indelible mark on everyone who sees it.

Circus company Les 7 doigts de la main was formed in 2002 by seven graduates of Montreal’s National Circus School. In a city where internationally renowned companies like Cirque Éloize and Cirque du Soleil are based, this young company was determined to “create a circus of an entirely different flavour” and bring circus to a human scale.

Creators of contemporary circus look to express tricks uniquely through character and story or take them to a new level of skill. Traces has original routines that use contemporary dance, skateboards and basket balls, but stands apart by intimately presenting their performers, rather than characters.

This company is the second cast, but the show is designed to adapt, and through use of music, stories and direct audience interaction, it doesn’t take long to know Antoine, Antoine, Genevieve, Philip and Raphael like friends. Without the distraction of character, costume and effect to hide the performer’s human flaws - or giving them time off stage to recover - their circus skills are also more exposed.

And, for all it’s enticing narrative and unique street feel, Traces soars with its skill. From the addictive opening choreography to the final jaw-dropping Chinese hoop routine, there’s no hiding the astonishing, heart-stopping acrobatic strength and skill of these performers. Each are genuinely engaging personalities, but you can’t take your eyes off them when they show us their super-human side.

Like professional sport, physical risk is part of circus with margins of error measured in millimetres. Even with years of training and months of rehearsal, risk is an integral part of Traces and one of the reasons we enjoy watching it so much. If this cast of 20-somethings don’t inspire you to join the circus, they will at least inspire you to take some risks to perfect the skills and abilities that will leave your traces in your world.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Shamelessly Glitzy Work

ARTS HOUSE IN AUGUST
Shamelessly Glitzy Work
post
14 August 2009

With sequined curtains, buckets of confetti, lasers and lumpy goop, post’s Shamelessly Glitzy Work is shameless in its glitz and fearless in its attitude.

Zoe Coombs Marr, Mish Grigor and Natalie Rose formed post in 2004, after meeting at Pact Youth Theatre’s imPACT ensemble in Sydney, and haven’t stopped creating since. Their first full length work (Gifted and Talented) won awards at the 2007 Melbourne and Adelaide Fringes and Shamelessly Glitzy Work received Australia Council funding to be developed at a Performance Space residency as their second full length piece.

Post by nature, they start with a touch of ironic postmodernism and post structuralism, but they refuse to define their own genre, which blends installation, dance, monologue and magic. Expect their next work with be post-post.

Shamelessly Glitzy Work sets out to explore lies from mass marketing to drunken declarations, with content ranging from painfully accurate to slightly obvious. The manic aerobics class that morphs into a wet t-shirt competition is unforgettable, and so good that it leaves their discussion of bogans, Barinas and puking feeling a bit too familiar. But their originality and engaging performances more than compensates for any glitches in the glitz.

The show also touches on the relief and excitement of being with “people who get it”. If you love sitting amongst a crowd of others who “get” that theatre can reach beyond the obvious and should be brave enough to experiment whatever the result, keep an eye on post, as we haven’t seen the best of them yet.


This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Spectacular

ARTS HOUSE IN AUGUST
Spectacular
Forced Entertainment
7 August 2009
North Melbourne Town Hall

“We want to make work that some people love; not work that everyone will like,” explained Claire Marshall at a Q & A after Forced Entertainment’s second Melbourne performance of Spectacular.

Forced Entertainment (from Sheffield in the UK) were last in here for the 2005 Melbourne International Arts Festival with the bloody magnificent Bloody Mess. Seemingly anarchic and over indulgent, some loved it for its absurdity, passion and composed chaos, while others didn’t like it at all. I sit in the love camp.

Spectacular caused similar polarised and confused reactions. The show welcomes the audience and lets them be comfortable with their arty joke; then take the same joke further; and then forces it even further. It drove some to distraction, let others have a nap and let the rest of us enjoy the over indulgent meta-joke.

Spectacular isn’t as speccy as Bloody Mess. On a bare stage with some tied back curtains, Death (Robin Arthur) enters and tells us that normally there’s a warm up comedian, a band and some plants. He is quite a cheery fellow, wears the crappiest tracky, skivvy and balaclava skeleton costume ever made and appreciates the irony that his belly distorts the costume’s skeletal effect. Over the next 75 minutes he chats about what the show should have been, shares his thoughts about the relationships between audiences and performers, including those difficult moments when they don’t connect, and critiques the performance of Marshall, who is dying on the stage.

Marshall dies in a way teenage actors die in Shakespearean tragedies – totally over the top, attention seeking and based on every film they’ve seen – but she gets to do it for over an hour. It’s like the last scenes of Hamlet or Reservoir Dogs without any dialogue.

Director Tim Etchells says Spectacular is about the “strange game of playing dead... that can’t ever be convincingly represented.” We always know the performer is still alive, but we always know that they aren’t in love with the other actor and that the pantomime horse is really a couple of people who weren’t good enough for a main role.

Spectacular could be a lot more liked if they cut back the death scenes, put in a new character and delivered some of those promised dancing girls – but then those of us who love them wouldn’t like them at all. Surely, it’s better to have some people who love you and totally get you, than a whole lot of people who think you’re OK.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Once and for all we’re gonna tell you who we are so shut up and listen

ARTS HOUSE IN AUGUST
Once and for all we’re gonna tell you who we are so shut up and listen
Ontroerend Goed, Kopergietery and Richard Jordan Productions
7 August 2009
Meat Market

When I was a teenager in Adelaide I performed in pantomimes and bad school plays. In Belgium’s city of Ghent young performers are given an enviable creative freedom and respect that is taking their performances all over the world.

Ontroerend Goed’s Once and for all we’re gonna tell you who we are so shut up and listen is immediately similar to Victoria’s That Night Follows Day (MIAF 2005, directed by Forced Entertainment’s Tim Etchells). Both open with a line of chairs across the stage, are performed by children and teenagers and were created by Ghent-based companies.

Victoria and Etchells confront adults by exposing what children think about adult control and love, while Ontroerend Goed present teenagers without questioning the adult relationship with them.

A young man looks at the audience and says, “By looking at us you have to start feeling old”, but even if we are distanced from the cast by age, it’s comforting to see that teenagers are the same as we were and we can giggle about their fear of turning into adults like us! It’s also comforting to know that we are unlikey to live through such an angsty, hormonal and angry time again.

Director Alexander Devriendt says he “wanted to create something for the teenager inside everyone”. It’s not just their love of swearing and wearing shiny leggings that remind us of our own teenage years, but their the fearlessness and destructive power, which they don’t really understand.

Devriendt spent two months meeting weekly with his cast before any performance took shape. By creating a space where they were free to do whatever they liked, the cast of 14- to 18-year-olds created the content and Devriendt designed a repetitive structure that gives them the freedom and safety to show us their world without judgement.

The desire to shock is inherent in being a teen (and possibly in being a performer), so there is a degree of sexuality, violence and drug taking on the stage that actively tries to confront the audience, but I suspect they are showing us what we fear they are, rather than what they really are. As we know their fear about all adulthood being ‘boring’ and ‘the same’ isn’t true for everyone, adult fears that teens are behaving without thought of consequence also isn’t universally true.

The cast of 13 relish the freedom the stage gives them to experiment and be what they dream of and they present performance maturity, stage knowledge and a freshness that is irresistible to watch. Just don’t let the attention-seeking teenagers know that we see them not seeking attention, sharing a space and letting adults understand what they are thinking and saying.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Playground, A New World Order

ARTS HOUSE IN AUGUST
Playground, A New World Order
Panther
14 August 2009
Meat Market

Each performance of Playground, A New World Order is only 20 minutes long and only 20 people can enjoy the experience at a time – and it may be the most fun you can have at the theatre.

How often do you get to play in the ‘theatre’? How often do we get to play in our everyday life? I mean really play – games and stuff in a real playground made of giant wooden spools, log bridges, old tyres, ropes and lots of tan bark. Playground, A New World Order doesn’t just evoke childhood, it physically takes you back to a time when balancing and climbing were a part of daily living, running and chasing are your favourite things and strangers are instantly best friends who you are eager to share your biggest secrets with.

When was the last time you spoke with, touched and competed with 19 new people? This isn’t a passive, let the artists do their stuff performance. Within minutes of entering the space, strangers are helping each other keep their balance or jump to the ground. No one feels left out or doesn’t want to join in.

Melbourne-based collaboration Panther (Madeleine Hodge and Sarah Rodigari) create games about heroes and journeys, while making us think about our strengths, weaknesses and even how we would like to die, and playing chasing games where words, wit and quick thinking can help you win, as much as your ability to climb or hide.

Panther say that in the playground children “are the heroes and this (the playground) is their world”. For a short time, Madeleine and Sarah let us remember a time when our worlds were small, we had the confidence to overcome any problem, we be-friended people just because they were there and always felt like a hero.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Knives in Hens

Knives in Hens
5 August 2009
Malthouse Theatre
Beckett Theatre, CUB Malthouse

Anyone who knows David Harrower’s remarkable Blackbird, will be eager to see his Olivier Award winning Knives in Hens, written in 1995. This co-production by Malthouse Theatre and the State Theatre of South Australia is almost mesmerising, but gets lost in its interpretation

Anna Cordingley’s design strikes before a word is spoken, as she continues to prove her stunning visual aesthetic. We are at the end of huge drain in a world coloured by rust and moss and mud. The circles and water give lighting genius Paul Jackson a canvas that rarely disappoints our eyes – but this beautiful, beautiful design works against the text. I loved how Cordingley’s recent design for Happy Days created an incongruous gap between the text and the design, but here its dissonance is confusing and frustrating.

The huge concrete pipe with the rural-looking costumes and straightforward language of the text immediately establishes a post-now, post-apocalyptic world, as it’s a society that has created giant drains big enough for an industrial city and probably destroyed itself. Suggesting an unknown future, as an audience who know how to read stage language, we search for clues about this world - that aren’t there. In the program, Cordingley says, “The opportunities in the drain pipe offered up for Paul’s lighting and Geordie’s (Brookman – director) physical blocking were instantly compelling.” Which they are, but how does this help to tell the story and share this text?

Harrower’s text is full of metaphors and his magnificent words summon vivid visions of a rural landscape and its struggling people. As productions all over the world have proven, the dense text never restricts the creators in their interpretation, but nothing else in this production is congruous with the giant drain, so the text and the stage worlds never become one.

For all the wonderful things about Knives in Hens, it is a confusing experience. Kate Box, Robert Menzies and Dan Spielman’s performances are individually perfect, but they don’t acknowledge the world they are living in, be it moving through the water the same as they move on solid ground, letting us believe that they can see a village at the other end of the pipe or creating a relationship subtext between the characters.

This could be because Brookman’s direction is felt too much on the stage, from ‘compelling’ blocking that doesn’t always sit with the text to performance levels that restrict the performers. They start so intensely that importance becomes meaningless because they have nowhere to go. There’s a constant tension and we feel and hear a lot of powerful emotion, but it lacks light and shade, and is so relentless that there isn’t enough room for the text to speak.

This production feels like it is trying so hard to bring an originality and a theatrical intelligence to the script, that it forgets to trust the script and forgets to tell the story to the audience. As it runs, it may forget about trying to be so clever and relax enough to let the story free. And, if they can make that drain a vital part of the telling, it may still be seen as one of the best designs of the year.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

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You’re Not The Boss of Me

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

A Narrow Time For Angels

A Narrow Time For Angels
Lucy Freeman, Walking into Bars and The Store Room
7 July 2009
The Store Room

The Store Room has been presenting some of our most innovative and original independent theatre for ten years and opens its five-show 2009 season with A Narrow Time For Angels by Melbourne playwright Cerise De Gelder.

Apart from having one of the best titles ever, De Gelder’s script presents unexpected characters, creates comedy with situation and plot and sprinkles the absurdity with plenty of jokes. Structurally there are some questionable flashbacks and awkward exposition, but it’s pacy and funny enough to overcome any minor issues that may disappear in any re-writes.

However, the humour isn’t quite working on the stage yet. Lucy Freeman’s direction brings too much drama and reality into the ridiculous world. Maggie breaks into the morgue so she can find her dead ex-girlfriend’s body, but is interrupted by a ghost and a cute forensic mortician, and proceeds to tell a rambling tale of gambling, revenge, politicians and questions of fidelity when your ex-hooker girlfriend knows you need a lot of money quickly. There’s no room for soul searching and understanding; the success of this script depends on a non-stop build of joke and farcical plot. When the pace drops for the serious moments of character revelation, it gives the audience too much space and time to wonder if it’s all meant to be serious. If the comedy consistently leads everything, the empathy, understanding and the heartbreak will come much more effectively through laughter.

Marcella Russo, Hayley Butcher and Georgina Naidu are ideally cast, but each bring a different type of comedy to the stage. Naidu brings a clownish caricature to her multiple roles (we laugh at the performance), Russo lets Maggie see only the drama (we laugh at the situation) and Butcher lets Sam’s internal conflict make her choices (we laugh at the character). Each performance is equally as funny, but the different styles don’t always on the stage.

The joy of theatre is that every performance is different and A Narrow Time For Angels will settle and change as the season continues. Under the artistic direction of Todd Macdonald, The Store Room has presented the first performances of some the most remarkable scripts created in Melbourne and, as works need that first production to iron out the creases, it’s always worth a trip to North Fitzroy to see what’s being uncovered.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Care Instructions

Care Instructions
Malthouse Theatre and Aphids
11 July 2009
Tower Theatre, CUB Malthouse

You know that annoying moment when you’re watching a play, movie or even reading a book and you realise you have no idea what’s going on because your brain wandered off?

I loved watching and listening to Care Instuctions. As someone who hates washing, it was almost cathartic to see the white sheets, the pink knickers and the black t-shirts cast aside with an intriguing mix of love and irreverence. The design is beautiful, the performer trio (Jane Bayly, Liz Jones and Caroline Lee) are divine and the language flows, splashes and meanders like creek made of music – but I wasn’t listening to the words and could not have told you what this show was about had I not read the program – and even then, I still missed the Sleeping Beauty references.

I know if I read Cynthia Troup’s script, I’d probably love it and could pontificate about the perfection of every metaphor, archetype and myth reference. This is a “writerly” script, which begs to be read. The words might be perfect on paper, but they become just sound on the stage. It was like listening to someone speak a language you don’t speak fluently, so that all you do is recognise the phrases and words that you understand, but you struggle to put them into context.

I kept trying to bring myself back to the script and the words (after all, I am rather fond of words and people who put them together well) but I kept getting lost. I didn’t mind being lost, as it was delightful to just watch – and I was vividly taken back to being a four-years-old and watching my teddy bear in the giant spin dryer at the laundromat – but I was felt like I was missing the essence of what was going on.

Writers, directors and all creators can never see their own work with the innocence and freshness of new eyes. It’s hard to see that other people have no idea what we are trying to say when it’s so clear in our heads. But maybe the enjoyment of Care Instructions isn’t in the understanding; perhaps we’re just meant to enjoy it.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Happy Days

Happy Days
Malthouse Theatre
12 July 2009
Merlyn Theatre, CUB Malthouse

As I feel uncomfortably stuck to my ergonomic chair and unable to move from the confines of my desk and the growing pile of deadlines surrounding me, I have a soft spot for Winnie. Overwhelmed, out of control, unable to move and pouring forth words to someone who may not be listening; perhaps Beckett wrote Happy Days as an allegory for writers?

Writers tend to like Samuel Beckett, so do actors and people who love to natter about symbolism over a glass of Annie’s Lane Shiraz and a wedge of King Island Brie. So, of course, we love Malthouse Theatre’s Happy Days.

Director Michal Kantor lets Beckett’s words speak for themselves, while shaking up the purist opinions and giving us plenty of post-post-existentialist ideas to ponder.

If you missed out on an arts degree, Happy Days is another one of Beckett’s plays where nothing happens, but this protagonist is buried in a mound of earth. In this case, a post-apocalyptic, jagged mountain of earth supported with shards of broken existences. Anna Cordingley’s design brings an unexpected impact to the work. The deco sculptures, the endless sky curtain and the incessant circle of stage lights sustain our curiosity and wonder, while the artistry of Paul Jackson’s lighting floods the stage with emotion and changes our perspective.

At the centre of this visual gorgeousness sits Julie Forsyth as Winnie. Forsythe is already a legend for playing the same role for Anthill in the 80s and this performance confirms her status. Faced with a deteriorating world and a life without hope, Winnie still finds enjoyment in her routines and her conversations with her mostly silent husband (Peter Carroll) who lives behind her in a cave and has a pot of Vaseline to help kill some time. There’s a gun in Winnie’s bag if she ever needs it, but who would consider such an act when there’s so many other things to do? She is the eternal optimist, or the ultimate passive aggressive who turns her controlling aggression on to herself. Winnie never forgets to mention her migraines or remind herself to count her blessings; she knows that it sucks being buried in a mound of earth, but also knows that she had no choice. Forsythe’s cheery Winnie is hopeful and funny, but she also lets us glimpse Winnie’s inner-self, who only wears a smile so that no one knows that she’s defeated.

I love listening to post-show and interval audience conversations. Happy Days had the usual share of “It’s not my cup of tea”, “I stayed awake for most of it”, “I love that blue curtain” and “I prefer something with a story”. I wonder why these people come to see a Beckett. I also saw them at the MTCs current Pinter, where they said the same (just replace blue curtain with tea towels). If you know you don’t like Beckett, Kantor’s production isn’t going to convert you , so stay at home and enjoy Masterchef, and give your subscription ticket to a financially-strapped actor who can’t afford to go and really wants to see it.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

In A Dark, Dark House

In A Dark, Dark House
Red Stitch
24 July 2009
Red Stitch Actors Theatre

The great thing about seeing a Red Stitch show is knowing you are going to see an amazing script written by a playwright who loves theatre and understands the difference between writing to be read and writing to be performed. You’re also going to see the work of some of our best independent actors, directors and creators, who are involved because they love the emotional power of theatre. The opening production of Red Stitch’s 2009 Season Two is the Australian premiere of Neil La Bute’s In A Dark, Dark House.

American playwright and film director La Bute wants theatre that is unafraid. In 2008 he said to The Guardian: “Go back to the theatre, audience members everywhere, and get your hands dirty. Sit closer than you usually do. Smell the actors and make eye contact and let a little blood splash on your hem...Let us know that if we are brave enough to write about the stuff that matters, then you'll come and watch. I may never fight a battle, or run for office, or help an old lady across the street - but when I sit down and put pen to paper, I can promise to write about a subject of some importance, and to do so with honesty and courage. The time for fear and complacency is past. Bravery needs to make a comeback on both sides of the footlights, and fast.”

No wonder Red Stitch like him. In A Dark, Dark House is about the abuse, secrets and lies that bond and separate brothers Terry and Drew, and LaBute is unafraid to twist and turn the truth in this uncompromising and disturbing psychological drama.

The script pulls the audience through the story and refuses to let us go until the final moment. Director Wayne Pearn proves his detailed understanding of the script, but this knowledge is almost blocking the audience from the story. In his determination to make sure that we see every foreshadowing hint, he doesn’t let the script speak for itself and puts the audience in a position where we are too far ahead of the action. Because of some obvious sign posting with props and performances that underline the subtle clues, the Act 3 revelations are not surprising or unexpected. It’s so much more rewarding for an audience to think back and remember or re-interpret what we saw, rather than knowing the truth before its revealed to the characters.

Actors Dion Mills, Geordie Taylor and Eloise Mignon are as equally in touch with the script, but they are performing so intelligently that their process is too visible. Physical reactions are happening a split second before the character says or feels something. Characters are reacting to each other just before they actually hear what the other person says. I couldn’t “let the blood splash” on my hem, because I was watching and admiring their technique, rather than living with and feeling for the damaged souls they were portraying.

In A Dark, Dark House is already a terrific piece of theatre that may become astonishing. Everything is already there, but it need to turn the intensity down from a 9 to a 6, let the characters escape from the actors’ conscious thoughts, and trust that the script is so good that the audience don’t need to be “told” what to notice.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.