...quickly....

Oh dear, comedy festival reviews...

There are new ones on AussieTheatre.com from John, Karla and Jo.

And very quickly...

Sammy J and Randy were as brilliant as they always are.

Eddie Perfect surprised me with his perfection.

Justin Hamilton never fails to be wonderful.

And Eva Johansen's Fran I Am is gorgeous, in a cool and miserable beatnik kind of way.

Review: Fran I Am

MICF 2011
Fran I Am
Eva Johansen
10 April 2011
Imperial Hotel
to 24 April
www.comedyfestival.com.au

How can you be a beatnik when your dad's an accountant who loves your mum and spends quality time with you? What a bastard! Poor Fran couldn't be a miserable artist because there was too much love in her comfortable middle class life.

Jazz cat, interpretative mimer and poet Fran is one of the most original characters to emerge from this year's comedy festival. With silent androgynous musician Grüg at her side, she grooves, scats and rhymes her way through her struggle to find enough stuff to hate.

Eva Johansen is best known for her work with gorgeous kabaret toupe The Caravan of Love and as the sultry host of Kunst Ist Scheisse.  Fran would be scared of Madame Eva (and probably write a poem about the dark depths of her cleavage), but she lets Eva combine her room-silencing singing voice (even when she has a cold) with the kind of comic writing and physical performance not usually associated with divas.

Fran's love of all black, berets and glasses ensures that she's nearly at one with our own inner-city hipster set, but her soul is still back in Minnesota in 1961 – a time of tiny waists and pointy boobs – where she fell asleep in Alan Ginsberg's beard and woke up in 2011 Melbourne.

The future isn't what she expected. There are no silver jumpsuits and structuralists like Foucault are now called post modernists. It's a bit too much for any boho poet to understand – and even Yoko Ono refused to help out when Fran spied her ordering sushi in Yoyogi.

With a script overflowing with ejaculating malapropisms, poet-name puns and interactive po mo discussions, the humour is at the far end of the fart-joke to witticism scale, but it's never enough to intimidate.  And, as most Melbourne theatre goers spent years doing their arts degrees, it's nice to see someone acknowledging our dinner party knowledge of American 60s poets, post-structuralist philosophers and Shakespeare.

As a first run show, we know that Fran's story will develop and change. The story could do with a touch more shaping and a stronger conclusion, but with rhymes as wonderfully atrocious as a wearing black and Kerouac, images of garden flamingos and ginger poufs, and Shakespeare in interpretive dance and mime (if only the MTC's Dick 3 was that good..), there's nothing stopping Fran from becoming a festival favourite.

But, local shows sometimes have trouble finding their deserved festival audiences. Sure it's great to see TV favourites in the flesh, but it's so worth taking a risk on a local show. The tickets are cheaper, the venues more intimate and one day you'll be able to brag that you saw them when they were still performing in small rooms.

Sp please pop on your beret and let Fran release your inner bohemian. And, for the perfect poetry double, start your evening with Poet Laureate Telia Nevile in For Whom The Bell Tolls.

This review appears on AussieTheatre.com

Review: Sammy J & Randy in Bin Night

MICF 2011
Sammy J & Randy in Bin Night
Laughing Stock Productions
2 April 2011
Victoria Hotel
to 24 April and now at the Hi Fi Bar
www.comedyfestival.com.au

As Sammy J and Randy's Bin Night has moved to a bigger venue and added extra shows, they don't need another review raving about their unmissability. Sorry...

If you don't do and see Melbourne's greatest heterosexual puppet-man couple every chance you get, you're mad.  With an effortless rapport that makes Fred and Ginger's dancing look awkward, they are consistently fucking hilarious ... and smart and forever fingering the zeitgeist.

This year, they are still sharing a house in Rickett's Lane, but all is not right. Someone is putting rubbish in THEIR bin, so it's time for an all-night stake out and time to dig through the household scraps to uncover some secrets. But that's just story. This show's for anyone who remembers Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, loves pinstripe PJs and has wanted to kiss in front of Pharlap's corpse.

I'd love every comedy festival goer to take a risk and see an unknown show, but if you want to balance that risk with some guaranteed brilliance, see if there are any tickets left for Sammy J and Randy (the purple dude on the end of Heath McIvor's arm).

This review appears on AussieTheatre.com

Guest Review: Clownbusting

MICF 2011

Clownbusting

1 April 2011

Melbourne Town Hall

to 24 April

www.comedyfestival.com.au

Review by Karla Dondio

Zoe Lyons reminds me of a Leprechaun on crack, except she is neither Irish nor diminutive. It’s something about her cartoonish physical delivery and whiplash humour that makes me draws the comparison. She’s actually English and of medium stature, but oh so very funny. She’s exactly why people show up in droves every year to see stand out shows at the Melbourne International Comedy Festival.

Lyons delivers an absolute cracker of show in Clownbusting. You’d think that such an outstanding performance would be easy to write about but what do you say about a show that’s almost flawless? It doesn’t help that I was laughing so hard I missed half the material which was drowned out by my own, and others, snorts and screeches.

Lyons storytelling style is affable and effervescent with the right amount of wrong. It’s a bit like sitting down with an English mate who’s had one too many pints and won’t shut up but you keep buying them drinks anyway because they are so highly amusing. When the show comes to an end you only wish that the pub was open for another hour.

It makes me wonder how a renowned Melbourne comedian a few years back stated that female comedians aren’t funny. Obviously he’s a man who, for a change, must have been busy doing his washing because how did he miss the fact that female comedians are clever, intelligent and hilarious in their own right. But why am I even stating the obvious? All I know is Zoe Lyons Clownbusting is funniest stand up show I’ve ever seen.

Melbournians, non-Melbournians, male chauvinists and Leprechauns, alike, make sure you see this show. I promise that you will not be disappointed and you might even have to change your mind about female comedians.

This review appears on AussieTheatre.com

Guest Review: Dead Cat Bounce: Caged Heat

MICF 2011

Dead Cat Bounce: Caged Heat

1 April 2011

The Famous Spiegeltent at the Arts Centre

to 24 April

www.comedyfestival.com.au

Review by Josephine Giles

When researching Dead Cat Bounce I came across a definition of the term in, of all places, a site called Investopedia. In the world of finance it means: A temporary recovery from a prolonged decline or bear market, after which the market continues to fall.

Considering the stellar reviews which DCB garnered in their previous visit to Melbourne, I’m beginning to think the finance market may not be as stupid as it seems. This “international rock and roll comedy supergroup”, as they describe themselves on their website, feels like it peaked some time ago. Their new show, Caged Heat, has several clever songs but the concept lacks unity and is crying out for a strong directorial hand.

The four member of DCB continue a tradition of rock parody made famous in the movie This is Spinal Tap. In songs ranging in style from stadium rock, rap, boy-band and even love ballad, the general tone is in the “offend as many people as we can” vein – reinforcing the image of the faux group as testosterone charged, morally vacuous, wannabe rock gods.

The strength of DCB lies in its songs, which are far better developed than the links. Led by the attractively pouting Jim Walmsley on guitar and vocals, the band give creditable renditions of the variety of styles. Despite the generally puerile humour, probably best appreciated by folk much younger than myself, some lyrics betray an underlying intelligence and even sensitivity to gender politics. "Overly Enthusiastic Contraceptive Lady" should be required listening for any bloke on what not to do, especially if planning a visit to Sweden (I don’t want to get sued here, but just think Wikileaks and join the dots...).

The show falters in the banter between the group members between songs. By flagging and then over explaining songs that should be allowed to speak for themselves (like the surprisingly historically accurate and informative "Easter Island Song’"), they give the impression they are desperate to let us know that they are actually really nice guys just pretending to be arseholes. Maybe they’re just getting to old for their own brand of humour.

This review appears on AussieTheatre.com

PS: I also saw DCB and "ditto" to everything Jo says. If you keep telling us that you're a joke band, then the band really does become a joke. 

Review: A Modern Deception

MICF 2011

A Modern Deception

1 April 2011

The Bull and Bear Tavern

to 23 April

www.comedyfestival.com.au

If there's a prize for conquering the worst venue of the Comedy Festival, Vyom, Alex and Luke from A Modern Deception have to win it.

I don't care if it's sleight of hand, illusion or magic, I love a good trick. The deception men are as debonair as their geeky souls allow and they infuse an old-school trick show with enough originality to make it seem brand new. A Modern Deception is a comic cabaret with class, wit and nerdiness that's worthy of a far better venue.

It's not The Bull.... Tavern's fault that the sight lines are so dud that it was a struggle to see many of the tricks, but the ambient noise from the kitchen and staff was so distracting (ie: fucking loud) that I spent too long worrying about the orders at table 17 and whether the Trevally ever made it out of the kitchen. The only people who didn't seem to want to make the noise disappear were the men on the stage and they drew even the most annoyed audience member back to the show.

A Modern Deception is well on it's way to being awesome. I'd love to see the onstage characters developed further (don't worry about being loveable; be odd and extreme and you'll still be adored). Stay your gorgeous selves for corporate gigs, but for this type of cabaret, you'll go to a new level with even more story and conflict among the characters.

Apparently the ending is brilliant, but – due to a late start – I had to run or miss my next show.  If it was going the way I think it was, I'm sure I missed something spectacular. 

And to the owners and management of The Bull and Bear Tavern:

How wonderful it must be to have over hundreds of people who have never been into your venue, flock in during the laugh fest, willingly give you money in exchange for alcohol and be so impressed that they come back with tables full of their friends to try your food and soak in The Bear ....ing in the Woods ambiance.

How likely are they to come back when your kitchen starts sizzling food about 30 seconds into the show because "they're hungry now", and the sizzle continues with plate clanking, order yelling, phone answering ("There's the comedy on") and general staff discussion using their outside voices?

I'm guessing... none. 

It would be nice if you respected the artists, but even nicer if you respected the paying punters – and not just the dude who wanted Trevally.


This review appears on AussieThearte.com

Review: Dash and D'Bree Take It...

MICF 2011
Dash and D'Bree Take It...
1 April 2011
Portland Hotel
to 10 April
www.comedyfestival.com.au

As a middle-aged spunk rat who likes to browse the Laura Ashley sales rack at my leisure, Dash and D'Bree are everything I despise about shopping and gen Y;  no wonder I adore them.

I first wandered into a mall where they worked in 2009. They've since been fired from every off-the-rack fash boot in the suburb, but the Dotti Girl Clearance Outlet has two vacancies and the girls might have matured enough to last a whole day.

Katrina Mroz and Hayley Butcher created their grotesquely gorgeous duo after meeting at St Martins Youth Arts Centre. Self-involved, ridiculously dressed and dreaming about their totes orig song for Australia's Got Talent, their diet of Aero bars and UDLs keeps them in shape for any karaoke bar, and work would be perfs if the customers wouldn't bother them.

Satire that doesn't totes come from understanding is a waste of time. Like the only really funny Adelaide jokes are from people who live(d) in Adelaide, the only peeps who can satirise gen Y with enough love to make it rib-aching funny are those who don't believe that anyone could live without an iPhone and think it's cool (people still say cool, right?) to live with your parents in your 20s.

And it's the twenty-somethings who can't get enough of Dash and D'Bree. They recognise themselves and are laughing with them.  Oldies may still be laughing at, but we can see Rod Quantock (over 40s) or Eddie Perfect (over 30s) for our generational in-jokes.

With Wes Snelling at the directorial reins, Take It... is more sketch than story, but this is perfect for an early-evening Comedy Festival show in the bar of a hotel. And there are divine new atrocious song and dance numbers (go just to find out what UDL stands for) and new characters. When they make their tv show (I still think they're heading towards Kath and Kim status), there will be room for story and for the hint of vulnerability and that is going to take them into everyone's hearts.

And if you see me pulling my sequined hot pants out of my camel toe, well you'd better go to Dash and D'Bree's show and blame them in person.

This review appears on AussieTheate.com

Review: Nothing Extraordinary Ever Happens in Toowoomba (Ever)

 Nothing Extraordinary Ever Happens in Toowoomba (Ever)
La Mama
29 April 2010
Courthouse Theatre
to 10 April
www.lamama.com.au

We sit through a lot of meh theatre, but we keep going back because we know that every now and then there's a show that leaves us feeling so happy that we fall asleep smiling that night and wake up with the same grin. I had one of those moments at the 2008 Melbourne Fringe at Nothing Extraordinary Ever Happens in Toowoomba (Ever) and I still think it's one of the most gorgeous shows ever.

Sarah Collins's wrote and tells us the story of Kevin John and his quest to win the Jump Rope For Heart competition with his remedial class schoolmates. As narrator, she effortlessly slips in and out of character and each mad, broken and glorious person is so vivid that it's too easy to forget that it's Sarah in a hat.  The 2011 La Mama version is structurally tighter and Sarah is a more confident performer, but it maintains the joy, love and refreshing originality of the first season. And it's still bitterly and painfully funny.

Sarah writes from the heart. Sure her mind understands the components of story, has a marvellous grasp of metaphor ("the Milk Arrowroot and watered-down church cordial of short courses") and creates imagery so clear that I swear I've seen a Toowoomba Carnival of Flowers Parade (and I've never been near Toowoomba) – but this is technical stuff that writers have to learn. Her writing reaches us because she loves every character she's created. Each are so complete and so real that we can't help but feel every bit of their pain, frustration and joy.

Working with director Yvonne Virsik doesn't hurt either. Yvonne is a director who find things in a script that the writers didn't know they created, and she consistently brings out the strengths that her performers never knew they had.  Sarah's writing is wonderful, but Yvonne ensures that the story is shared with the audience.

As the Comedy Festival is in full swing, shows like this can slip off the radar. Don't let it. Once you've met Kevin John, Wren, Julie, Fairlie Pony and everyone else from Toowoomba, they will be with you forever. You will leave the thearte seeing the greatness in everyone – even in yourself – and have a whole new relationship with the letter D.

PS. I've searched for a negative (because isn't that what reviewers do?), so... Mel disappears in the narrative. Julie is so wonderful at the end (I LOVE her), but I'd love to see Mel again.

This review appears on AussieThearte.com

Review: Misanthropology

MICF 2011

Eddie Perfect in Misanthropology

A Token Event

1 April 2011

The Famous Spiegeltent at the Arts Centre

to 24 April 

www.comedyfestival.com.au

Misanthropology may be the wankiest show title around, but not to worry because everyone will recommend Eddie Perfect in the always-gorgeous Spiegeltent because musical cabaret doesn't get much slicker than this.

From Shane Warne The Musical to his unforgettable Mack in Threepenny Opera and his musican-next-door sweetness in TV's Offspring, Eddie never fails to impress – but in his solo show he's free to share his concern that our society seems to be stalling in its anthropological progress. 

There's our obsession with the intrinsic goodness of "primitives", the faux caring of eco-lodge visitors and the obscene fashion sense of cyclists.  All are easy targets because they are us; or our neighbours if we don't want to admit our own hypocrisies.  And this kind of work would be enough to leave most Comedy Festival audiences happy enough to buy another bottle of fizz. But why settle for audience love when you can push them further?

Boob jobs could be controversial and "Daddy's Tits" should become the hold music for every cosmetic surgery.  Parents paying for their daughters's fucked personal image is one thing, but it's a brave performer who tackles rape to get a giggle. A failed rape joke is one thing that will assure that I never waste my time seeing a comedian again. I will see Eddie again. His material about professional footballers attacking a child for not being an adult is the best I've seen this issue presented on the stage – and the best Kerrie-Ann ever.  

Director Craig Ilott (director and and co-creator of the divine Smoke and Mirrors) has ensured  Misanthropology is perfected to a level that surpasses most on the cabaret circuit. Working with someone as awesome as Eddie is a good start, but Ilott understands the need for story and connection and shapes a performance that is created to be shared with an audience, which is so different from a show created to be watched. I've only become aware of him this year and will try to make up for missing his earlier works by seeing anything he directs from now on.

In true self-reflection style, the last song of the night is dedicated to the theatre and another great director, our own Barrie Kosky.  (And it's an even braver performer who takes on Barrie... )  If you haven't seen a Bazza show, Eddie's "Too Fucking Long" song is so spot on that you might not need to see a Bazza show. It's everything that keeps people away from "serious" theatre and everything that the people who go hate "but say that they love it." If there isn't an Oz Co grant that can send Eddie around to sing it to every director and soon-to-be director, perhaps we can send a collection bucket around during the interval(s) of any show over 90 minutes.

Oh Eddie Perfect ... dammit, you are.

This review appears on AussieTheatre.com

Review: Howie the Rookie

Howie The Rookie
Red Stitch Actors Theatre
18 March 2011
Red Stitch Theatre
to 16 April
www.redstitch.net

Red Stitch first brought the bloody incredible Howie The Rookie to Melbourne in 2002. I wasn't here, but am among the many who are thrilled to see this new production, which is part of a program celebrating the tenth anniversary of the independent company that regularly puts our funded companies to shame and brings us the scripts and the performances that Melbourne audiences deserve to see.

Mark O'Rowe's an Irish writer rightly won a stack of for his 1999 epic of redemption and loss. With language scooped from filthy Dublin gutters, it's told through two monologues with a present tense immediacy that drags us into a world so violent, devastating and fucking funny that we can't imagine how we ever thought that bashed boys with scabies or obese scrags in white leggings could be anything but beautiful. It's the kind of writing that makes me hurt because it's so good.

Paul Ashcroft (The Howie) and Tim Ross (The Rookie) attack each half with the kind of guts and energy that would let them win a Dublin pub fight. Ashcroft's physicality is frighteningly confronting, while Ross brings out the humour that could so easily get lost in the mess of piss, blood and scabies cream.

Greg Carroll's direction lets his actors draw deep and fill the stage with an energy that sparks. But I would have loved to see him trust the text a bit more, as there were moments that felt like they were underlining what was already bolded and hightlighted. It's so well written that the audience don't need to have it drawn so clearly; especially at the end of part one, which was given away too early. Don't warn us with mood; kick us in the guts as hard as Howie has been.

Even if our lives will never reflect the world of this play, the story has so much heart and goddam humanity that we have no choice but to know their rough and damaged souls. And this is where I get frustrated with Red Stitch. Some shows are so caught up with creating an authentic "them" (and showing the astonishing skill it takes to create "them") that the story struggles to be ours. We're so busy watching and admiring that we don't get lost in the world and have that inexpressible connection and understanding that every artist and audience longs for.

If it sounds like I'm being excessively picky about a company that I love, it's because sometimes they are so close to brilliant that the tiniest distractions can seem huge.

And don't you dare let it stop you seeing Howie The Rookie; it's a night of theatre that drags you into those filthy gutters, stabs your heart and leaves you breathless.



Photo by Jodie Hutchinson

This review appears on AussieThearte.com

Terrific Writing Tips #4: read Amy's blog

Tell us your story
Aim to Change BLOG

The more I learn to write, the more I get that it's just telling our stories.  Amy would blush if I called her a writer, but her story is inspiring.

Sharing what happened to us (even through fictional worlds and folk) is when writers, performers and people connect with other people. How amazing is it to see a play, read a book/article/blog/poem on the back of a toilet door and feel that it was written for us? Of course it wasn't and the writer has no idea who we are, yet we recognise ourselves in their work because their writing comes from something real.

This is such a different experience from respecting or acknowledging the wordy aptitude or dictionary knowledge of a writer, but ultimately being a bit bored. Writing that isn't from some part of our selves doesn't connect.

It's hard and brave to write from the heart and it's something I'm still working on. It's easier to hide in words that are composed to tell anything but our truths.

So, I want to share the story of a young woman whose words have been inspiring others for three years.

I read Amy's story after I had a bit of a health hiccough,  saw a couple of horror photos and realised that I wasn't the hot and healthy 30-something I imagined myself to be. Seeing the word obese next to your name is hard and I felt as angry and frustrated as I did when I was a miserable and lonely fat teenager. For all the talk of accepting people for who they are, being a chubster still sucks.

So, it was off to the doctor and time to acknowledge that my clothes really didn't shrink in my wardrobe. And it's going well. I'll never be the size 12 I was in my 20s (for a few weeks), but I won't be heading to diabetes either.

Amy is a stranger who has inspired me and convinced me that giving up isn't an option. This is the beginning of her blog called Aim to Change.

She's already lost over 80 kg as a member of the online Biggest Loser Club (yes the TV show one) – and let's not argue the rights and wrongs of reality TV.

Amy has been a member for three years and in that time has been active in the forums. Here people (mostly women) share their stories and frustrations.  Some are heartbreaking. It's sometimes easier to tell invisible strangers how you feel than to tell your closest and most loved.  Amy is one of the most supportive and encouraging people on the forums. Her advice is always positive and never judgemental (so we know she's not a reviewer) and she's beginning to realise just how much sharing her story has helped people.

I sometimes chat on the forums and am continually inspired by the support and encouragement that strangers – who often have nothing in common except a struggle with weight – give to each other simply by sharing their experiences. (I don't even care that some don't care about spelling and grammar or think that Comic Sans is an acceptable font.)

Even if weight isn't your issue,  read Aim to Change. It's a story about overcoming the overwhelming by taking lots of small steps and reaching out when you need help, by a writer who is brave enough to be honest.

Today it was announced that Amy will appear on the finale of the TV show, which will take her from being a hero to a small group of people to being an inspiration to thousands. I've never met her, but couldn't be more proud and excited for her.

Review: Cafe Scheherazade

Cafe Scheherazade
fortyfivedownstairs
12 March 2011
fortyfivedownstairs
to 3 April
www.fortyfivedownstairs.com

Should I be sad because I already know too many people who never went to Cafe Scheherazade in Acland Street? After 40 years, it closed in 2008 and is fading into memory as St Kilda evolves into a different place.

Therese Radic's Cafe Scheherazade is loosely based on Arnold Zable's book and lets us share writer Martin's experience of listening to and writing about the stories he heard at the famous and loved cafe. Dramatically, I'm not sure that there's enough to draw a non-familar audience through, but there are enough generations who remember the "old" St Kilda to love a re-visit and its strength and vitality is its reflections on memories and the importance of telling our stories.

With live Klezmer music,  Laminex tables and the room's pillars covered in the very familiar brown and gold flowered wallpaper, it's easy to be back in Acland Street. I even had a pang of jealousy because Martin (based on Zable) was served a vegetarian meal, even with the jibes. I never had a famous Scheherazade schnitzel, but I'm drooling at the memory of the plum dumplings.

The owners and customers Cafe Scheherazade share their stories about being Jewish in Europe in the 1940s. Sometimes they are reluctant as some experiences "can never be understood". We have heard similar stories , but this work reminds us how they must keep being told. As too many people don't know how good a cream cheese blintze is with black coffee,  many haven't heard first-hand stories about fleeing Europe. As this generation dies, their stories and voices have to remain.

It's not easy to listen to something that is so far from our own experiences of life, but the discomfort is more ours than the teller's. Our unease is shared by Martin who is compelled to hear how this generation of strangers ended up in beach-side Melbourne, but knows that he cannot ever really understand; even in his imagination he has to stop at the gates of the ghetto.

His unease continues with his reluctance to share his stories. "A story must be answered with another story"; we can't just be listeners.  Even if its facts are twisted to make the teller look good, it's those "wonderful lies" that reveal the real truth.

I live in a Melbourne suburb where there are still more bakeries that sell Challah than there are Baker's Delights, it's easy to buy dairy-free chocolate and there's no such thing as a bagel that hasn't been boiled. Here, European Yiddish culture is as Aussie as a pie at the footy, but there is still palpable distance. This is touched on as a man talks to Martin about "you Australians" and still having no sense of belonging here, even after 50 years.

Fleeing your home and seeing atrocities that even the secular pray never happen again is so hard to understand if you've grown up safe. Perhaps we forget that many refugees (wherever they are from) didn't imagine their futures in Australia. Even if they are welcomed with open arms and minds, "These people are not us" and many came because they had no choice.

Avram and Masha opened a cafe and gave us a taste of bohemian Europe and Black Forest cake, but Cafe Scherherazade gave many a memory of home, where they could "sit and eat like civilised men" and know that they were with others who understood why sometimes their stories were wonderful lies or left untold.

Cafe Scheherazade is nearly sold out, but there are some matinee tickets still available. If you miss the cafe, it's almost as good as being there and the stories told remind us why they must never be forgotten.

photo be Jeff Busby

This review appears on AussieTheatre.com

Guest Review: Wagner and Me

Wagner and Me, with Stephen Fry

Cinema Nova

2 March 2011

cinemanova.com.au

Review by Josephine Giles

Stephen Fry is a rightly celebrated performer who manages to combine light entertainment with his unabashed celebration of intelligence and his insatiable curiosity.  Until I saw this documentary, I felt I couldn’t get enough of the man. However, in Wagner and Me, the dominance of Fry’s personality (and his bad shirts) detracts from this reasonably informative exploration of the music and politics of the German composer.

Wagner and Me is apparently an extended version of an hour long documentary made for the BBC, and the lower production values are evident in the beginning scenes with sweeping camera shots that made me feel a bit sick. Things settle down though, as self confessed Wagner tragic Fry breathlessly introduces us to preparations for the next production of The Ring Cycle at Bayreuth – the spiritual home of Wagner and the site of his famous purpose built opera theatre.

What follows is essentially a course in Wagner for Dummies – justifiable on the grounds that most theatre-goers know little about this ground breaking composer, except perhaps that his operas are ridiculously long, and that Hitler was his number one fan. And I am always pro to any attempts to educate the masses in the magic of my favourite art form.

A narrative tension is created by the conflict between Fry’s passionate love of Wagner’s music, and the well documented facts of Wagner’s (and his heirs’s) anti-Semitism – which Fry, having lost relatives in the Holocaust of WWII, feels duty bound to explore. The documentary gets really interesting when we are shown photos of Hitler appearing at a window of Bayreuth, waving to hoards of delirious fans; and scenes of Nuremburg, where we learn that Wagner sing-alongs often preceded the famous Nazi rallies. Another powerful moment is when Fry talks to a survivor of the Auschwitz, a cellist whose survival depended on playing for officers of the SS.

Behind the scenes peeks at rehearsals, both at Bayreuth and at a very interesting looking production of the Ring in St Petersburg, are interspersed with the historic and political, but most of the music scenes are too short to be really satisfying. While  the shrieking women of the Valkyries are always a hoot, the musical  highlight is a whole scene played on piano which demonstrates the magic of the “Tristan Chord”, and the way that Wagner uses an unresolving musical motif to keep the audience emotionally on tenterhooks until the final chord – some five hours later.

Fry’s love of Wagner’s music, and his delight at being backstage in the master’s theatre, are infectious. But he sabotages identification with this enthusiasm through constant self-deprecatory remarks - “You must think I’m mad” being a common one. As well as being intensely annoying, it destroys the mood that has just been set up – maybe by some sublime music – and here we are in Stephen Fry land again. God knows we get enough of that on the box every week.

This doco could have been, in someone else’s hands, an interesting exploration of whether it is possible to separate our appreciation of a genius’s creativity from our knowledge of their politics. Unfortunately, it comes across here as lip-service by Fry to counter the criticism that his slavish devotion to Wagner’s music will inevitably provoke.

Opera Australia recently announced, to great fanfare, they will be mounting a new production of the Ring Cycle in Melbourne in 2013. If you want to know what all the fuss is about, Wagner and Me is a good place to start. But, honestly, I’d wait for the DVD.

This review appears on AussieThearte.com