Vamp

Vamp
Malthouse Theatre and Sydney Opera House
6 September 2008
CUB Malthouse, Merlyn Theatre

What a time for cabaret in this town! The ever-wonderful Burlesque Hour is still running, The Tiger Lillies were scary and wonderful, and now Meow Meow returns to her hometown in Vamp.

David Bowie describes Meow Meow as one of “certain artists you just never miss.” I’m kinda chuffed that have a conversation starter for the time I meet Dave, as I also believe that Meow should never be missed.

Meow has pounced, hissed, purred and sold out in the Spiegeltent; she’s performed at more international festivals than I can list; she’s better known in Shanghai, New York and various European capitals than her hometown; and collaborated with the likes of the Dresden Dolls and John Cameron Mitchell (Hedwig and the Angry Inch).

Vamp was commissioned by Malthouse Theatre and Sydney Opera House, so Meow could work with local wonders including Iain Grandage (composition), Michael Kantor (direction), Anna Tregloan (design), Shaun Parker (choreography) and Paul Jackson (lighting). While Vamp is every moment Meow’s show, the depth and completeness of the piece come from the collaboration.

Vamp was inspired by by Wilde’s Salome. Meow describes it as the “dual empowerment and disempowerment of the body and its sensual or ridiculous dance”. She understands the ridiculousness, but continues to participate and craves the attention. She lets us see that the wild and sexy goddess is really just a bored and lonely woman in a skin coloured body suit and some stick on pasties, but she continues to be amazed at her own stage beauty. This vamp knows how absurd she is, but wants to believe the image. She alternatively criticises her audience, but forces some to hold her close (literally) and help create the facade. To the audience participation men – what was so difficult about the “shape of a swastika” request?

Meow herself is a parody of a parody that takes us so uncomfortably close to the truth that laughter is the only possible release. Perhaps we will all get our ’15 Minutes of Femme’ one day - but do we want it?

The memorable, the incredible and the best stage characters have an independent life, far removed from their creators, while their creators are so much more than their one character. As Dame Edna is to Barry Humphries, Meow Meow is to Melissa Madden Gray.

Gray could grace any musical theatre, opera or dance stage in the world, while earning a fine living from singing on morning chat shows and posing for women’s magazine lifestyle features. We (David Bowie and me) are so grateful that she has chosen a path that is far more dangerous and extraordinary. She creates on the edge, takes risks and chooses creative and original over safe and predictable.

Gray’s outstanding technique, skill, passion and determination clearly support Meow, but Meow is far too self-centred to let Gray share her limelight. Gray doesn’t even get a mention in the program, and Meow herself drinks fizzy wine at the after show party.

Early in the show, Meow tells the audience “You may not be moved, but you will be touched.” This performance touches you and stays with you. Meow is tantalising, seductive and very bendy, but arouses our latent intelligence. Vamp is the real deal. Don’t regret missing it.
 
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

MelBorn08: Playspotting

MELBOURNE FRINGE 2008
Melborn 08: Playspotting
Melbourne Writers' Theatre
27 September 2008
Carlton Courthouse

The Melbourne Writers’ Theatre is a wonderful organisation dedicated to developing, promoting and showcasing Australian script writing. Following the success of the 2007 MelBorn short play festival, I was looking forward to MelBorn08: Playspotting.

Playspotting is 12 short plays, selected from 138 entries, featuring 11 directors and 15 actors. With such a large group of creatives, the quality and standard are always going to vary, and this years’ crop ranged from outstanding to woeful.

Jane Miller’s A Cup of Sugar was my highlight of the evening. Every time I see something she writes, I’m engaged and moved. Miller reveals extraordinary stories in ordinary lives, creates authentic, empathetic characters, and forces them to make unthinkable decisions and choices.  In this work, her characters have no choice but to tell heartbreaking lies that we can see staying with them for ever.

What made this work stand above the rest is that I cared about her characters and their stories. In so many other Playspotting plays, the characters were simply a means for the author to tell us a joke, preach an opinion or show off their knowledge. This resulted in too many clichéd, one-dimensional or simply forgettable characters – including an over-representation of poor, downtrodden, misunderstood artist protagonists.

There were some amazing, original and insightful ideas in all the scripts. The writing talent is obvious, but some were trying so hard to be original that that forgot to tell a story or just weren’t ready to be performed. Many felt like early drafts, and I have to wonder if the MWT work shopping and feedback processes are vigorous (or honest) enough.

At three hours, MelBorn08: Playspotting is a long haul, twelve stories are a lot to think about and – despite appreciating the work of every artist involved – I was disappointed in the result.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Zoetrope

MELBOURNE FRINGE 2008

Zoetrope
interior thearte
26 September 2008
Festival Club, Arts House

Forget the rides at the Melbourne show, and jump on the Zoetrope at the Fringe Club.

Zoetrope is an experience, not just a performance. Creator Telia Nevile is determined to make audiences a much more integral and interactive part of the theatrical experience, because “the give and take of energy and emotion is what gives theatre its incredible buzz.”

Closed into a white picket fence enclose, her audience have to chat, communicate and move – just to fit everyone in.

Nevile and dancer Emily Amisano jump into the ride and the trip begins. Inspired by the smallest moments in daily life, they present identifiable glimpses of love, banality, boredom, passion and crudity – each tripping and effortlessly blending into each other.

As the performance happens outside of the enclosure, the assembled group juggle positions and taller folk happily squat and move, so that everyone can see the Zoetrope whimsy. The reactions of the assembled audience, and curious onlookers, are as much a part of the show as are the performers. “It’s exciting to make a show that pushes you as a maker and a performer, and it’s wonderful to watch how the audience reacts to it each night,” says Neville.

Now, it is possible to watch Zoetrope for free in the Fringe Club - but it’s like watching a roller coaster – you have no idea what it feels like unless you give it a go.

It’s only $5 for a spin (as much as beer) - and you’ll come away with a pretty cool better buzz, without any risk of hangover.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com

The Undressing Room

MELBOURNE FRINGE 2008

The Undressing Room 

Heavens to Betsy productions

26 September 2008

Fringe Hub, Lithuanian Club 

I’ve seen Imogen Kelly’s work around the traps and always loved it. She grabs burlesque and strip by the tender bits and twists it into something fabulous, ironic and subversive. The Undressing Room is her first full-length, solo show, which somehow manages to turn burlesque and strip in something a bit self indulgent and boring.

The individual strips that Kelly performs within the show are as spectacularly brilliant as they always are, and there are some wonderful jokes - but they mean nothing in the context of the piece. When a character is built around a series of sketches, the sketches need to reflect, support or contradict that character. Instead of seeing moments of understanding, empathy and love, I was just left asking ‘why’?

The Undressing Room is screaming out for a director, a writer or at least some critical outside eye to say ‘No’. I don’t care about the abundance of technical hitches that plagued opening night – in fact, they actually helped by breaking the tension and allowing the audience to comfortably laugh AT something. I do care that this show lacks structure, character, story and premise.

The concept seems to be that we are watching the performer behind the stripper - indeed a fabulous and intriguing start. In her dressing room Kelly’s character chats to an off-stage voice. They discuss the age-old question of what to call her girl bits. She has to reject ‘muff’, as these days strippers have to shave and ‘it’ is no longer fluffy. So ‘clacker’ to ‘husband hole’ are offered, with no real conclusion reached (and the opportunity for a fringe/minge joke was ignored).

We finally find out that the off-stage voice is her ego (at one stage, I thought it was her vagina) – which she eventually kills – I’m not sure why – but her ego disappears in a Psychoesque shower scene. Nonetheless, even though she is ego free, nothing about her performances seems to change.

I couldn’t figure out if this character likes her job. Does she enjoy the power of stripping, does she resent it, is she all exhibitionist, does she find it sexual, or is it just something she does to achieve her goal of being seen naked by one million people? As an audience, it’s very difficult to support her strip performances if we’re worried that the character hates what she is doing, or doesn’t have any concept of the politics of what she is doing.

If Kelly performed as herself, I’m sure it would be much clearer – as she does understand the things that her character seems to have missed. When Kelly let the character go, there was a much better connection with the audience and these moments were much more enjoyable.

The best thing about a Fringe festival is seeing the work artists really want to make and sharing in their experiments, discoveries and risks.  Kelly is a bloody great performer with amazing material. I’m sure that The Undressing Room will tighten up as the season continues, but it needs a lot of work before it becomes the show it can (and I’m sure will) be.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com

Andrew McClelland's Somewhat Accurate History of Pirates

MELBOURNE FRINGE 2008

Andrew McClelland's Somewhat Accurate History of Pirates (1550–2017)

Australian Comedy Management

26 September 2008

Festival Hub, Lithuanian Club

 Ahhh … now that I’ve realised that Andrew McClelland's Somewhat Accurate History of Pirates (1550–2017) is a return season of a 2003 show, I’m much more comfortable with it. For one thing, it proves just how far McClelland has come as a performer and writer, and I changed my opinion from ‘Argh! - walk the plank ya scurvy tossser‘ to ‘Arrrr, yee be a fine and amusing lad’.

Pirates is presented as a “lecture” about the history of piracy, specifically the pirates of the Caribbean (and not a Johnny Depp in sight!) The information is more year 8 project than honours thesis, but it appears as somewhat accurate as the title suggests. (And I will proudly file my Bachelor of Piratology with my other well-used academic qualifications.)

McClelland is one of the most likable comedians around, and his Mix Tape is one of my favourite stand up shows in recentish times. Much of his success is based on him being a delightfully likeable nerd. Pirates is presented by a likeable-but-not-quite-as-likeable professor, who becomes much more likeable when McClelland drops the character and takes over. It’s a very dodgy character performance, but the professor needed McClelland’s intervention when the show lagged. The character created distance, while Andrew created intimacy.

As a return show, McClelland spent his time enjoying the visit to his past and soaking in the obvious love from his very full audience. He also seemed determined to include every possible joke, which slowed the pace down considerably and resulted in a very rushed conclusion. 

It was kind of nice to see where McClelland came from, Pirates was fun, but it’s no where near as good as his recent work, and I’m very glad that he’s sailed into more complex waters.

This review appeared on AussieThearte.com

Mysteries of the Convent '08

MELBOURNE FRINGE 2008

Mysteries of the Convent '08 

Peepshow Inc

25 September 2008

Abbotsfod Convent

I know I shouldn’t be calling favourites this early in the festival, but it’s going to take something special to top Mysteries of the Convent '08.

All tours should be as fun and inspiring as Peepshow Inc’s tour of the Abbotsford Convent.  Being greeted with a mug of mulled wine and wandering this stunning complex at night is worth the ticket alone, but the delightfully incompetent and perfectly hilarious tour guide (created by Robyn McMicking) is an unforgettable bonus. She reveals the special features of the convent, like the lead light window of a man in a robe with a staff and a sheep – she doesn’t know who he is.

As the tour explores the buildings, they glimpse, watch and are met by ghosts and memories of the convent’s first occupants. Director and creator Melinda Hetzel worked with the cast to create a unique experience that combines a deep respect for the history of the place, with a dark poignancy and a loving, whimsical and often unexpected humour.

Puppetry, movement, live music and projection effortlessly meld with the spaces to create vignettes and that are as close to perfect as possible. By allowing the images to speak for themselves, Hetzel’s direction lets the unsaid be as strong as the said, and creates complexity within the simplicity of the story.  Oil drop projections, a nun with a cello, Geelong religious icons and ‘The Vatican Rag’ ensure laughter, but this absurdity and incongruity result in a beauty and warmth that is irresistible.

Peepshow Inc takes us out of the theatre into a world made theatrical. Mysteries of the Convent '08 is gorgeous, delicate and inspiring. Make time to see this show, and remember to wear your flat shoes and bring a jacket.

This review appeared on AussieThearte.com

Fringe story on Vibewire

Vibewire guest blog

The Rocky Horror Show

The Rocky Horror Show

Dainty Consolidated Entertainment, Ambassador Theatre Group 

18 September 2008

Word on the street was that iOTA is the best Frank N Furter ever. That’s some pretty big, stiletto, patent boots to fill. Last night Melbourne got to see if what all the fuss was about, as The Rocky Horror Show opened in the less-sunny capital.

Let me take you (if I may) back to 1980. The Time Warp was a contender on the Countdown Top Ten, with Ashes to Ashes as its main competition for the number one spot. It was close, but Richard O’Brien beat David Bowie. So that means it’s about 28 years since I discovered and fell in love with The Rocky Horror Show. I’ve seen many Franks since then. (I am too young to have seen Reg Livermore though.) Frank remains an original, intriguing and unforgettable character. When he’s played right, every member of the audience wants him; when he’s played wrong, he’s a boring and offensive parody. I expected a lot from iOTA, not only from hearsay about this performance, but because his original music is rarely off my iPOD play lists.  Did he live up to expectation, comparison and hope?

Oh, yes! iOTA is a goddam super star. It’s hard to describe the difference between a very good performer and a great one, until you see one of the greats. iOTA is one of the great ones. He doesn’t perform Frank – he is Frank.  He owns the room and no matter how amazing the rest of the cast are, they almost pale in comparison.

This cast is indeed fabulous. The ensemble is as tight as a corset and their skill, talent, dedication and enthusiasm are undeniable. But has Gale Edwards directed a great production?

This Rocky plays with the rhythm and melody of the music, the design has been described as a bit too ‘Bratz dolls’, and the characterisations are slightly different from the well-known expectations. I didn’t like all of the choices, but this production offers something new and reveals unexpected and original moments, like the "Don’t Dream It" cock chariot that is simply going to be adored or hated.

However, to get an opinion different from my own, I went with a friend who had never seen a Rocky (not even the film). He didn’t get what the fuss was about and said that he had no idea why the audience where whooping and cheering. After some intense questioning, he admitted that he didn’t understand what was going on.

From the biggest arena to the tiniest theatre, success comes down to understanding the characters and following their journey. The Rocky Horror Show is a surprising and original story about unique characters who all grow, act and change. This production relies heavily on an assumption that the audience knows what’s going on. The rushed first act doesn’t allow time to create or discover an empathy with or understanding of the brilliant characters.

After some thought, my friend also said, “It’s like watching a technically amazing band performing covers. You can’t fault it, but it just doesn’t feel right.”

Despite everything that is terrific about this Rocky Horror Show, in it’s determination to be a Rocky that we haven’t seen, it loses the essence of what made this show so great when it all began.

But iOTA is the best Frank ever. If you love the show, see this Frank.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com

The Real Thring

The Real Thring

Hoy Polloy and Triple R

12 September 2008

Triple R Performance Space

If you believe the legend, Frank Thring was outrageous, offensive and remarkably talented. For once, the legend is very close to the truth. Hoy Polloy’s premiere of Barry Dickins’s The Real Thring explores this legend (and his urban legends) here in the city where Thring created himself.

If you were born after 1970, you may not know Frank Thring. I remember him from his appearances on Blankety Blanks – which are now on DVD or U-Tube. Also, check U-Tube for a rather interesting Thring interview on Tonight Live. By the 1980s Thring was someone we laughed at, but in the 1950s he was performing Shakespeare, Shaw and Brecht in the West End, with co-stars including Laurence Oliver and Vivien Leigh. Moving to Hollywood his film appearances included Pontius Pilate in Ben-Hur (“loved Bad, hated Her”) and Herod in King of Kings. Thring was a rising star when he returned to his home town of Melbourne. Here he regularly appeared on stage, but was best known for his many voiceovers (he was the Continental Soup voice), for being a regular villain on Skippy the Bush Kangaroo and film appearances that included Alvin Purple Rides Again and Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome. He also hit the height of Melbourne sainthood by being crowned King of Moomba in 1982.

It isn’t clear why Thring decided to return to Melbourne. Was it just big fish (and Frank was a very big fish) in a small pond? Back home Thring was an original Fitzroyal; at a time when a terrace near Brunswick St was crossing over from working class to bohemian. He was very close to the city theatres, the Collingwood brothels and the RRR radio studio – all of which he loved and frequented with equal passion.

In The Real Thring, Thring is neither alive nor dead, but thinks he may be dreaming that he’s alive. He admits he “made narcissm feel like anonymity” and wishes that he “hadn’t tried to be so fantastic”. This leaves a memory of a sad and terribly lonely man who hid behind sarcasm, outfits of camp black and bling, and a joy in shocking anyone. The Real Thring doesn’t really consider that this was simply Frank. Certainly, it was a façade, but we all choose facades that are very close to our real selves.

Dickins’s script is quite remarkable. It is written with a dexterous rhythm and witty rhyme (St Pauls/balls, monster/imposter, severe/queer) that force you to listen. The wonderful words do get in the way of story though. It feels like there’s an assumption that we already know Thring’s story. On opening night, this was certainly the case, but I’m not sure how it will sit with less familiar audiences.

The Real Thring is also a loving tribute to the world of Melbourne theatre that was. Name-dropping Lawler, Hopgood and Carillo will always get a well-deserved snicker of recognition; however, there were so many names that are, sadly, no longer recognized. I want to know about Fred and Joan who lived in Kooyong Road.

Finally, it takes a fine performer to present such a difficult script. Michael F Cahill is such a performer. Filling a toga that big is a big ask. Cahill’s performance works, because he captures the essence of Thring, without trying to be Frank. He presents so much more than shock and bling, without ever making us feel sorry for him. Luckily he doesn’t force us to love or care about him too much either, as a sympathetic Thring would have been too far from the truth

As a celebration and exploration of a personality and a time that is slipping away from memory, The Real Thring is a glorious achievement. The script and this performance may not translate out of Melbourne (it may not even work on the South side of the Yarra), but the language and the character will ensure that it’s a script we see again some day.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com

Special Fringe Appearance at The Outland Institute

Guest appearance at The Outland Institute.

AussieTheatre Fringe Reviews 2008

MELBOURNE FRINGE 2008

Here are the AussieTheatre reviews from 2008.

A Suicide for Winter

A Suicide for Winter
The Tiger Lillies
August 4 2008
North Melbourne Town Hall

If I have bar for measuring great cabaret, it’s The Tiger Lillies. If I have a bar for measuring great comedy, it’s The Tiger Lillies. The inspired punk cabaret of A Suicide for Winter continues to defy genre, as it draws new comers into the (alleged) Tiger Lillies cult.

Melbourne joyously revels in regular visits from the UK based trio. (Songwriter, singer, accordion player and piano player Martyn Jacques, bass/musical saw player Adrian Stout and percussionist extraordinaire Adrian Huge.) Many cabaret artists claim their  dark, ironic and so naughty influence, but none dare copy as this trio balance on the summit of originality.

A Suicide for Winter mixes old favourites with a new selection of Deadly Sins (anyone currently in Edinburgh can see all seven sins in their new show). No hamsters, sheep or giraffes with sky-high vaginas were defiled in this display of harmonious musings, but the wonderful Huge took a poo joke to a level that would make a poo-obsessed toddler blush, and, I am surprised, that this is the first time I’ve seen Jacques play the piano with a rubbery sex toy.

White faced, be-suited, ponytailed and a little bit pudgy Jacques doesn’t try to be a lead singer. The glorious melancholy of his music seeps into your soul and gently squeezes your heart until it bleeds. His castrati-style vocals channel the distorted libidos of every true castrato, as he reveals a world of sordid violence and desperation that would break the most calloused heart – but you’re far too busy laughing to care.

Perhaps if Brecht had written a Carry On script (Carry on One-Legged Transsexual Crack Whore) and Ken Loach was asked to direct, it may come close to the images that flow from Jacques’s mind – but it would still feel like The Sound of Music in comparison.

If the content of A Suicide for Winter weren’t so extreme, it would just be smutty and dull. As the world is united in its worship of young, lycra-clad people with no body fat and IQs the size of a competing rhythmic gymnasts waist (listen to them being interviewed), it’s a comfort to have ‘the best freak show in town’ acting as a much needed counter balance.

PS.  If I ever have a funeral, please play ‘Getting old’ by The Tiger Lillies, even if it does result in some walkouts.

Photo by Andrew Attkinson

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Winner - What I Liked in 2008.

First Man Standing

First Man Standing
Rod Quantock
7 August 2008
Trades Hall

1968 was a year of change, protest and assassination. Nixon was elected, Hussein came into power and someone left the cake out in the rain in ‘McArthur Park’. Back in Melbourne, a young architecture student took some jokes to the review stage, and he hasn’t left yet.

Rod Quantock has been nudging our sensibilities for 40 years. As I was born in 1968, I am rather fond of that year. We’re the love children of the 60s, we managed a year or two of free tertiary education (which I spent in the uni bar), and we still can’t believe that anyone seriously supported little Johnny Howard.  We’re not Baby Boomers, but we’re too old to identify with Generation X, so I’m declaring us Generation Rod.

He’s been there all our life. We probably first saw him on the 80s sketch comedy Australia: you’re standing in it, or it might have been a Captain Snooze ad. As we started hanging out at Fringes, there was Rod, fuelling our leftie anger as we enjoyed our middle class arts festivals. The luckiest ones have been on a Bus trip and met Trevor the rubber chicken. (I would have been there, if I hadn’t been living in Adelaide at the time.)

In First Man Standing, Rod celebrates the last 40 years. There’s a lot of reminiscing to be had. Victorians revelled in the Jeff era, but Rod’s most heartfelt thanks was to Little Johnny – the man who wrote every one of his jokes for 11 years. Then he gives us another chance to cheer because the little critter was voted out of his own seat. Kevin07 isn’t funny enough yet to take Johhny’s place, but Rod knows the tide will turn. In the meantime, Peter Garrett is doing a fine job of becoming our most embarrassing politician. (Us Generation Rodders are burning our Midnight Oil vinyls in disgust.)

Rod’s style doesn’t change much, but he has moved from blackboard and chalk to laptop and mouse. (However, he uses technology like someone who still can’t believe that computers really exist.) If you saw his recent Melbourne Comedy Festival show will be thrilled to see the late comers and audience statistic graphs have developed. And latecomers – well you have been warned.

The best comedy comes from truth. Sure, we laugh at Jeff’s phallic sculptures, and Bracks and Brumby’s round tunnels, but we’re only laughing because the other option is crying. Rod’s comedy is as sharp, intelligent and bitingly hilarious as ever.

One of the great things about his shows is the audiences. It’s rare to see people in their teens and in their 60s cacking themselves at the same material. Young ones in the audience (anyone under 45) can look forward to a very special moment. If you screamed at your parents, marched in protest, or re-used plastic bags before it became cool: Rod leads the Baby Boomers present in an apology to the generations Rod, X and Y. But do we feel any better knowing that our projections of environmental disaster have come to fruition…Sometimes it might be nicer to be proven wrong.

If you’ve enjoyed Mr Q at anytime over the last 40 years (even if it was just as Captain Snooze), get down to Trades Hall for First Man Standing – you won’t be disappointed. If you’ve somehow managed to miss him in the last 40 years, it’s time you found out what all the fuss is about.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com