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03 August 2015

The Container Festival: interview Fleur Kilpatrick

Blessed
A play reading
The Container Festival
MUST
3 August (tonight)
Monash University, Clayton Campus

Guest blogger Chris Edwards


Fleur Kilpatrick, serious playwright

Tonight, I'm not missing the reading of Fleur Kilpatrick’s Blessed. I’ve been looking forward to this since getting a sneak peek at the script earlier this year. Fleur’s show Braves was my favourite piece from the first Container Festival back in 2013. (SM: mine too.)  Her writing finds the poetic in the mundane and the specificity of character in the act of storytelling. I’m excited.


Last week Fleur generously took a few minutes out of her ever-so-slightly hectic schedule (she currently has Yours the Face  at Theatre Works as part of the Flight Festival, and is in rehearsal for two other shows, one as director and one as playwright, both of which will appear in this year’s Melbourne Fringe) to talk about Blessed and The Container Festival.

Chris: Where did Blessed come from? What was the impetus?

Fleur: The very first impetus was a song by a band called Elbow, and specifically just this line – “Jesus is a Rochdale girl, forty-four CDs, got a house that you can smoke in” – and just this image of this holy being with a house that you can smoke in was actually the jumping off point. But it very quickly became about poverty and about escape… and about the budget. Early last year the budget came out, the first Abbott government budget, and it just really struck me that not only is the gap between rich and poor getting bigger, no one gives a fuck anymore? They’re just like “Yeah that’s a thing, some people are really rich and some people are really poor, that’s Australia now!”

So when that happened that became a real focussing point for me for Blessed, this sense that there’s other people living a suburb over, and they know we’re here, but they don’t give a fuck. Yeah I think that was the starting point.

C: So then how did that, going from “the budget” to this tale of poverty and…

F: Sometimes you’re really lucky and the characters walk in and just start talking, and these two did. So I say it started from that song, it literally started in an exercise that myself and some playwrights were doing where we’d play a song and then have five minutes to write based on a thought that came to us. And I heard that line, imagined a couple where one of them is turning into an angel in this shitty house, and then I just wrote the first scene almost in its entirety, almost exactly as it now stands. So the fact that the characters came along so easily, and were so vibrant from the beginning really really helped and that’s rare. And I am so grateful to them for that in a way, because a lot of plays you have to fight for, but this one, it was just… honey. Onto the page. For a good eight hours on that first day, and I ended up with the first three scenes. Which are pretty much what they were when I wrote them that day. I now understand what they mean, in a way that I didn’t then… that felt like such a gift, just like ‘Here we’ll give you this one’.

C: So then, why The Container Festival?

F: I think the festival is wonderful. I think there’s something really beautiful about creating work in tiny spaces, something that’s very much about you and your audience and the relationship between you and your audience. And the Monash community means a lot to me, and has been incredibly supportive of me and my work, and so the idea of getting to share this new thing eight months before the rest of Melbourne will see it was really lovely. 

C: Do you still consider it a work in progress? Because it does have the forum after it as well-

F: The forum isn’t so much about me getting feedback, it’s a bit more about us talking about the process of what it’s like working on new writing as a director and writer team. Which makes me feel like an arrogant dickhead to be like “I’m not gonna get anything out of this” because I’m sure I will and I’m sure people will give me feedback that will mean a lot, but it’s not my main aim. My main aim is just to hear it with these voices and to let Danny [Delahunty; the director] play and to share it with this community in this forum that I really love.

05 December 2016

What Melbourne loved in 2016, part 3

Today we hear from playwrights Fleur Kilpatrick and Keith Gow, and Circus Oz's Rob Tannion.

Fleur Kilpatrick
playwright, director, beagle lover

Fleur Kilpatrick by Jack G Kennedy

FK's favourite moments in Melbourne theatre in 2016: My highlight for the year was Trilogy by Nic Green at Arts House. It managed to be the single most joyful thing I'd seen on stage in a long time, whilst talking about extremely damaging discrimination faced by women for over a century. As a female artist, it posed a wonderful question: how do we talk about the victimisation of our gender without talking about ourselves as victims?

Trilogy was a celebration of the strength, humour and power of women as both individuals and as a community. I left feeling stronger – feeling my cup replenished – and feeling immensely grateful for the women who came before me and changed what it means to be a woman today. Plus, dozens of amazing naked ladies dancing like mad on stage. It was impossible not to beam like an idiot.

My favourite mainstage work was Picnic at Hanging Rock, an outstanding new adaption of an Australian novel. A particular highlight for me was sitting in an audience full of school students during Picnic. Before the show, a girl next to me said to the boy she was with, "I would rather watch eight hours of footage of a public toilet". They then proceeded to scream, gasp and be completely engaged by the work for the entire 85 minutes. At the end, the boy turned to the girl and said, "Oh my heart", as I quietly punched the air next to them and celebrated the transformative powers of live theatre.

My favourite moment of new writing was Kill Climate Deniers by David Finnigin. David stood on stage in a bar and read his entire, ridiculous script, performing every character (all female) and describing terrorists abseiling down from the roof of Parliament House. The audience sat cross-legged on the floor of the bar, laughed and cheered on the story of a federal environment minister with nothing to lose and a killer playlist of house music from 1988 to 1993.

In the midst of the laugher, there was also the totally fascinating story of David's father, a climate scientist, trying to learn how to talk to the media back in the 1980s, when climate scientists suddenly became people the media wanted to talk to and undermine. This was the perfect version of this work. I'm so glad that David went in this beautiful, anarchic direction with the show, rather than placing it on a more conventional theatre stage with a cast and design elements. Plus, the night ended with the dance party I didn't know I needed.


What FK is looking forward to in Melbourne theatre in 2017: I have the privilege of seeing a lot of readings of new work so, rather than talk about things that are programmed for 2017, I want to make mention of a kick-arse script that I really want to see programmed soon! Jessica Bellamy’s The One About the Two Rabbis, which we read in her living room over cheese and dip. Including the playwright, only four people were present and we loved every second of it. Religion meets time travel as Jess explores the religious stories and traditions that still have an impact on the lives of young Jewish women today. I want to see this staged! Someone please make this happen for me!

SM: Fleur adapted and directed Kurt Vonnegut Jnr's Slaughterhouse Five for MUST (Monash University Student Theatre). It's another great show that didn't get a review and wasn't seen by nearly enough people (although it filled the MUST space). What I loved the most about it was how much the student performers and creators took ownership of the content and its story. I remember rolling my eyes when I saw that it was over two hours long, but by interval I was so involved that I would happily have stayed for another couple of hours. 

If you haven't seen a MUST production, please make it a goal for next year.

Keith Gow
playwright, reviewer


Keith Gow. Photo by Keith Gow

KG's favourite moments in Melbourne theatre in 2016: I am not a performer and I don’t harbour that desire at all, but I’ve spent a lot of time on stage this year and a lot of time immersed in shows where I’ve ostensibly been part of the action. Immersive theatre and audience participation can be a tricky business; pick the wrong audience member and you can sink the good will your show has built up to that point.

I spent time on stage with Meow Meow and Chris Ryan in The Little Mermaid at the Malthouse. I wrestled with Adrienne Truscott as she wrestled with her critics in One Trick Pony!

As for immersive theatre, I was quite taken by the one-person-audience experience of The Maze during Melbourne Fringe; following a woman around the dark streets of North Melbourne was troubling in the way theatre should strive to be. I was also part of a two-person audience for Menage and a three-person audience for Dion.

I think theatre should embrace things only theatre can do. Yes, we can sit in the dark and watch figures under a proscenium, but sometimes that feels no different to watching a film. Some of the audience interaction I experienced was uncomfortable, in a bad way. But some of it was thrilling and, by extension, unforgettable.

What KG is looking forward to in Melbourne theatre in 2017: The Malthouse Theatre. I’m always keen to check out the mainstage company’s news seasons from across Australia, once they start revealing them in August. I’m often envious of Sydneysiders and their Belvoir seasons. And their Griffin seasons. I didn’t make it to Sydney once this year, but I will next year.

That said, I’m mostly excited for the Malthouse. I’m excited by everything they have on offer, even though I’m sure there will be some shows that I won’t get along with.

How can I choose between new work from Declan Greene or Nicola Gunn or Tom Wright and Matthew Lutton’s Elephant Man? I can’t and you can’t make me. I’m looking forward to spending a lot of time at the Malthouse and in the Malthouse foyer after.

SM: One night during Melbourne Fringe, I waved and called out to Keith from my car as he was at the tram stop and he didn't react. I watched him walk down the street and not react to anything: he was seeing/experiencing The Maze and was so involved that he couldn't be distracted. It was also pretty damn cool to see his first tv script on live to air TV (Sonningsburg on Ch 31).

Rob Tannion 
Circus Oz Artistic Director


Rob Tannion. Photo by Tania Jovanovic

RT's favourite moments in Melbourne theatre in 2016: I have two very clear moments which defined Melbourne theatre in 2016. The first was seeing Patricia Cornelius’s Shit, at fortyfivedownstairs, directed by the amazing Susie Dee. An outstanding, raw and potent Australian production with an outstanding cast of Nicci Wilks, Sarah Ward and Peta Brady. It blew me out of the water, and still haunts me.

The second moment was during the Circus Oz Big Top season in July at Birrarung Marr. We were contacted via Facebook by a good samaritan to see if we could offer tickets up to a seriously ill 4 year old Indy, and her family. It was Indy’s dream to come to the circus, and being able to make that a reality for her was priceless. Her visit and reaction underlined why we are in the arts and the power it has to positively touch lives.

What RT is looking forward to in Melbourne theatre in 2017: I am really looking forward to the smorgasborg of festivals that Melbourne has on offer: Midsumma, Asia TOPA, Melbourne International Comedy Festival, Yirramboi, Melbourne Fringe and Melbourne Festival… They are like cultural stepping stones crossing my year… I just wish I had the time and money to see everything. Definitely will not miss The Encounter by Complicite in early February at the Malthouse. They are a UK physical theatre company very close to my heart who always pushes boundaries.

SM: I don't know Rob (yet) but every Circus Oz opening night in Birrurung Marr is one of my favourite nights. I love this company; their politics, passion and heart are the voice of Australian theatre that I want to see, in a big top or on the poshest of stages. Circus Oz question the status quo and show what stages, workshops and admin offices can be like when barriers are kicked out of the way and boring choices are rejected.

part 1
part 2
2014
2013
2012

13 August 2015

The Container Festival: Bedtime Stories for Girls, Blessed and The Wiggle

The Container Festival
MUST
31 July to 15 August
Monash University, Clayton Campus

Guest blogger Chris Edwards

The Container Festival

 I’ve seen some damn good theatre lately.

MUST’s Container Festival been in full swing for just over a week and I’ve been spending a lot of time in tiny performance spaces forgetting about the cold thanks to the excellent art in front of me. So much time, in fact, that finding the time to write up my thoughts on these shows has been difficult, to say the least.

But, without further ado, here are some of the best shows that I’ve been lucky enough to get to, and with two nights of performances left, do try and get out to Clayton to see what all of the artists have on offer.

Bedtime Stories for Girls
By Genevieve Atkins
Directed by Jessica McLaughlin Cafferty

Possibly my favourite show of the festival, this is a shockingly honest and brutal deconstruction of the hierarchies and cruelties of young female relationships – and it’s also terrifyingly hilarious. The writing is the hero here, as Atkins’s biting wit and sharp satire brings to mind Amy Schumer or a David Mamet who’s more-feminist and less-douchebag, and sustains what might have just been a sketch-length concept to half an hour without showing any signs of strain.

Bedtime Stories for Girls

The direction and performances are just as striking, with Imogen Walsh and Hayley Foster particularly standing out as the bitchiest of the four girls, though all four (including Aislinn Murray and Emily Stokes) have excellent chemistry and comic timing. This is an angry shout of a play, viciously attacking the way in which this society teaches young women to fear their own bodies and hate each other. Go see it, and definitely watch out for whatever this team makes next.

Blessed
A play reading
By Fleur Kilpatrick
Directed by Danny Delahunty

If you’ve read my previous post then you’ve already heard me wax rhapsodic about Fleur Kilpatrick’s writing, so I’ll try to keep this brief:  I loved it. In a pared back reading, with just performers Olivia Monticcuolo and Kevin Kiernan-Molloy onstage, the beauty of Kilpatrick’s words shone through. The poetry of her dialogue, the simplicity and skill of the performers, and her ability to hone in on the specificity of a character through how comfortable they are or aren’t with their own poetry, make the script a pleasure to experience.

Plus there’s something particularly impressive in the fact that Kilpatrick has written a play that is both about religion and full of a potent rage, but not one that’s directed at that religion. To say anymore would be to delve into spoiler territory, but suffice it to say that this rage is more directed at a society in which the gap between the rich and the poor keeps growing bigger and bigger and nobody seems to care anymore. I will definitely be seeing whatever full production this text receives at the beginning of next year.

The Wiggle: A One Man Tribute to the Best Band of the Nineties
Created and performed by Jordan Broadway



This show is just pure fun. Jordan Broadway embodies everyone’s favourite group of colour-coded children’s entertainers in a 25-minute nostalgia-based contact high. I sat in an audience of 40-plus adults who all sang and danced along as Broadway’s crystal clear voice perfectly covered such classics as "Hot Potato" and "Big Red Car". 

If you don't have a particular connection to The Wiggles, then this may not be the show for you, but if you do, prepare to feel like a little kid again. I don't think I've purely enjoyed any other show from this year's festival quite as much as I did this one, and that's saying something.


I'll be posting more reviews over the next few days, but do make sure you make the trek out to Clayton tonight and tomorrow night for the last two nights of regular performances before Saturday's Closing Night Gala. There have been some truly great shows this year, and I'm looking forward to telling you about some more of them!

SM: I'm back in Melbourne and heading out on Friday.

16 August 2013

A night at The Container Festival

The Container Festival
MUSTMonash University, Clayton
2–20 August
monashstudentassociation.com
Facebook page

When Rob was King

As armageddon wind blew Monash Uni a bit closer to the city, I rugged up for a night with MUST and The Container Festival and highly recommend you try and do the same before it ends next week.

My night started in the Container Hub, where there was no wind, a good bar, cheap food and public art wonder Saryraphin Lothian (from the  Pop up Players) was testing a new game called Monarch of Melbourne. King Rob Reid set the standard, but was quickly displaced. Reigns were short and bloody until Queen Fleur decided to extend her rule by knighting the likes of Sir Sarah.

Who's Queen?

And that's before seeing any shows.

The first was Fleur Kilpatrick's Braves. Only 15 people can fit into the festival's  shipping container theatres, which makes for an intimacy that leaves La Mama feel distancing and creates an instant connection between audience and performer. 

Accompanied by Roderick Cairns on strings, Fleur wrote it and performs as Molly. Molly sings and tells us how she married her high-school sweet heart, the boy she lost her virginity to. It didn't work out for ever and she asks if it's even possible to be so brave at 16 to face a truth you don't understand. 

With its delicate, sad but hopeful story and its musical interludes, it reminds me of Daniel Kitson's The Ballad of Roger and Grace (one of my favourite shows ever). Fleur and Daniel are nothing alike, but they both know that the real magic of theatre is telling a story directly to your audience.

Sarah Walker and Fleur Kilpatrick

Next was 6", Uncut. I was a bit sad that I wasn't seeing Taylor Mac at the Recital Centre tonight, but I still got to see a ukelele playing man dressed in his finery with a leopard coat, beige wedge heels and underwear made for adjusting. Bunny Hutch (Jack Beeby) hates love and shares his confusion through ukelele songs, Dr Grin (Grindr) performance poetry, and stories like the first time he was fisted and the importance of telling lovers what you ate that morning. This is a new show that's getting its first outing in a shipping container, but is so adorably filthy and funny that it has to be seen more.

Jack Beeby as Bunny Hutch

It was then a rainy rush to S. Rules, a show that has caused the words like "censorship" and "how dare you" to be bandied about the university this week. I respond with "boring", "prude" and "as if you haven't done similar or at least thought about it". Ok, I take the last one back, because in the 15 minutes  I spent with a young lady (Tom Wells) called Slut, I saw things I hadn't thought about. If you're likely to be shocked about S-E-X and hilarious incest and abortion stories, you might not like Slut. But I got to end my night cradling a dragged-up Slut in my lap as she masturbated to a photo of Jonbenet Ramsey; I haven't done that before.

If it wasn't such an insane theatre week in Melbourne, I'd have happily spent a few nights at The Container Festival. This is an amazing chance to see independent artists and students experimenting and reaching out to see if there's an audience for their art and voices. And everyone gets to hang in a cool club, have a drink and draw a penis or some breasts (there's an art wall that just screams undergraduate).

The festival finishes on 20 August, but there's a gala tomorrow night (Saturday) that will let you catch up on some of the 200 performances and events you've missed. And King Rob is directing a rehearsed reading of Bacche Rising (60s New York meets classics) on Monday. The program is here.

09 December 2014

What Melbourne loved in 2014, part 4

Today Fleur Kilpatrick, Soren Jensen and Kerith Manderon-Galvin talk about moments of human connection. If that connection isn't there, what's the point of making and going to see theatre?

Fleur Kilpatrick
playwright, blogger, mentor


Photo by Matto Lucas

Fleur: Melbourne theatre is in a really great place right now. On a regular basis I find myself dumbstruck, standing in awe in a theatre foyer, words inadequate to describe what I’ve seen. I saw over 80 shows this year. Here are some of my personal highpoints:

Red Stitch’s Grounded. I wrote of it at the time that it was “outstanding storytelling that immerses us so deeply in one person’s world view that it changes our own”. But I also wrote of the very personal impact this show had on me: “Sitting there and hearing of the brown people made grey by the drone’s cameras, made body-parts by their blasts, and I was acutely aware – although no one would know it to look at me – that these people looked just like my beloved grandmother… I knew this and it tore me to pieces. In showing how America de-humanises both its own and my grandmother’s people, Grounded found humanity for both”.

There was exceptional new writing to be found in Melbourne and Fringe was full of it: Marcel Dorney’s Prehistoric made me want to riot. It was the best possible mix of rage, heart, comedy and music and my heart felt like it was exploding in my chest.

Also during Fringe I saw Emilie Collyer’s Once Were Pirates and Mark Wilson and Olivia Monticciolo’s Richard II (on the same day so that was a total overload of amazingness).

Emilie’s work somehow found a way to present the dilemmas of being “the modern male” through a story about pirates marooned in Northcote: after centuries and centuries in which physical dominance and brutality have been a man’s most desirable attribute, how does one suppress that violence and find their own self-worth in their suit and tie?

Richard II was perhaps the most politically challenging and defiant work I saw all year. I wrote at the time about how proud I was of Mark and Olivia, who “grabbed Shakespeare’s text with their teeth and dragged it into our ugly present. This is independent theatre at its best: vicious, dangerous, entertaining, hilarious and completely of this moment in time”.

But the work that I’ll carry with me into the future, cradled most tenderly to my chest was Roslyn Oades’s Hello, Goodbye, Happy Birthday. I didn’t write about it at the time and still sort of don’t want to. My experience felt too private. Aside from just being utterly swept up by the storytelling and performances, this was one of those shows that changed my perception of what theatre can be: how delicately it can make its point and how tenderly it can give voice to a community.

Thanks Melbourne. I love you.

SM: Fleur wrote The City They Burned. She wasn't there the night I saw it; I wish she had been so that she could've seen that my reaction was deep in my guts and very real. This is also the show I've argued about – professionally and personally – the most about this year. I saw it push known and refuse-to-acknowlegde buttons as it got reactions from "best thing I've seen" to "some things should never be written". I think that's what we want from theatre. I'd rather someone hate a show than think "meh"; at least they felt something real.

And we both mentored at MUST camp. Drama camp was awesome.

And School for Birds, always.

Soren Jensen
actor




Soren: With a new little one taking up much of our time, I missed more of the good stuff than I got to see this year. But made it along to a few standouts.

Hard to go past the end of year Calpurnia Descending. Powerful cast, hilarious, subversive and the technical elements of the live movie staging of Act 2 blew my mind the more I thought about it. Irreverent, fun and with a deeply-touching final image.

Also the powerful work from MKA with Richard II was very memorable. Intelligent political satire with two compelling performances, and a strip tease from Mark Wilson as Julia Gillard that made me angry, until I realised how not far off the point it was of our treatment of our first female PM. It was topical, with the right balance of classical text and modern satire.

But my favourite moments this year came from when the fourth wall was dropped in some of the things I experienced in theatre this year:

Mark in Richard II dropping all performance and addressing the audience with “They remember Whitlam”

Pop Up Playground's True Romans All, which threw you into the story of Julius Caesar, making you choose a side and meet the characters, and your choices determined the final outcome of the attempted assassination.

Mockingbird’s Quills, which led the audience straight into the asylum of the “lunatics”, which I had the pleasure to observe as assistant director

And finally, the experience of The City They Burned, which fully immersed the audience in the world of Sodom, making them present, validated and, in the end, complicate in the action that was unfolding.

I found with all of these, when the question is asked what can theatre offer in a modern interactive and expanding world of technology, that I could remember these moments of direct human connection between audience and performer, to the point where the audience could influence and help shape what was being experienced in that particular performance and say “This”.

SM: As a performer in The City They Burned, Soren did get to see my reaction, and was responsible for some of it. Soren is an actor who consistently creates characters from the inside out. I don't see his acting. As the cast of City interacted with the audience, there was a moment when I was hiding on a staircase in case someone asked me to dance. Soren's character was someone I wouldn't normally chat to at a party and when he came towards me, I had no where to hide, so had to give in and do what I was asked to. All we did was move to another part of the room. He also saved my theatre date by moving her to a less-confronting spot.

Kerith Manderson-Galvin
playwright, performer




It's much easier for me to think of my worst moments in theatre of 2014. That time I thought a show was a comedy and it wasn't. The time I thought the show I was in didn't exist. The times I was hurt by shows and times when I hurt myself because of my inability to sit still and just enjoy something.

The best moments are:

5) I took myself on a solo date to see Miley Cyrus. I wore Sally Hansen Airbrush Fake Tan and drank pink champagne and danced in new shoes next to teenagers. Miley was funny and fearless and clever and so was the show. She tried to get all the girls in the audience to kiss each other and I cried of happiness. Then she sang "Wrecking Ball" and I cried because that song is really moving and I had a difficult break up last year where I listened to Miley on repeat. When I left the show a young girl yelled out "Lady Gaga" and she was talking about me.

4) During the Melbourne Fringe I went on an OK Cupid date with someone I didn't really want to meet to see a show I didn't really want to see. I cancelled on the date. Then I uncancelled. On the way I got in a fight with someone on the street who then started following me. But I couldn't be happier I went. The show was Post-Mortem and I loved every moment of it. It was gentle and touching and sad and sweet and other words to describe a show with no words. I wish everyone could've seen it. I hope they do it again and more. It took me in to another world and I am so thankful for it. It was untouched and original and genuine. The date turned out to be pretty lovely too although he's a bit of a jerk really. I think he doesn't really like me as a person.

3) Crazy Horse Paris. I went to Crazy Horse in Paris. It was life affirming and probably my favourite thing I have ever seen ever.  There’s also Crazy Horse on Elizabeth Street. I went to the cinema there the other night. I really like it there.

2) Everything about Tobi Manderson-Galvin. Thank You, Thank You Love was exceptional and his best work to date as an actor/writer/director. My favourite Tobi moment is being in Bundanon and looking at wombats and writing songs together. We wrote a really good song about the internet being broken and then replaced the word internet with the name Antoinette: "Antoinette, why are you broken again?" My second favourite Tobi moment of 2014 is when we both went to Live Art Camp and I was terrified the entire time and kept crying but he looked after me. We played a getting to know you game on one of the days. We had to say what we couldn't live with out and I said, "my brother".

1) The Facebook message sent to me by someone in Melbourne Theatre Land telling me I *used* to be a pleasant and likeable girl. I cried for a long time but it's now my favourite thing that has happened all year. If you come and see Being Dead (Don Quixote) chances are that message will have made it in to the show. A woman never has to be pleasant.

**Honourable mention to the other night when I went to a show and asked my date if my hair was as long as the actor's on stage. My date said my hair is longer. That makes me really happy.

SM: Fuck pleasant and likeable. Actually, who wants to fuck pleasant and likeable? I love that Kerith always pulls me up if she thinks I'm being an old fuddy duddy. She made me look at Miley differently. And I love that she sat next to me when I saw her play Don't Bring LuLu at Melbourne Uni Union House Theatre. So often arts writers sit alone or, at least, not next to the artists who created the work we're watching. I love watching people watch their own work.

But my moment was her sending me the picture of her being a wombat because I would have chosen that very photo from all of her Facebook pics.

2103 Favourites
2012 Favourites


03 December 2019

What Melbourne Loved in 2019, part 4

Today we go to indie, funded and opera stages with three SM regulars.

To share your love, all you have to do is fill in this form. The trend this year is long; be free to buck the trend if you want. If you've sent me one and it hasn't been published,  please let me know because there are gremlins in the internet.


Fleur Kilpatrick
Playwright, librettist, director, pot plant parent and person who chats about theatre on the radio

Fleur Kilpatrick. Photo by Sarah Walker

Favourite moments in 2019.
Robot Song’s (Theatre Works) warm tenderness and compassion was theatre at its best. It met its audience where they were, be they children or adults. I think back in particular to the parent characters, who spent most of the play as back up musicians to their child, watching her struggle with the cruelties of the world and unable to make it all right. The gentle ways in which they tried to make magic for and around her as she stood in the centre of the stage will stay with me. I learnt a lot about love watching it.

The beautiful, dreamlike way in which Love/Chamberlain’s (also Theatre Works) script and set spoke to each other still gives me a little shudder. The audience were so still, tipping forward in their seats, leaning into this gentle grief world where two blamed and shamed women – Courtney Love and Lindy Chamberlain – met and shared a moment in a dream desert.

Emma Hall’s World Problems use of past tense, dragging us through time and the gorgeous image of her labouring away to create a trampoline. The sight of her bouncing gently up and down brought back so many memories of childhood hours spent in airborne storytelling. To go straight from this play into a practical response – the night I saw it, a workshop on energy saving in your home – was such a beautiful way to make her imagined world part of our real one.

Looking forward to in 2020.
I don't know. But I hope everyone is nice to each other and we all get some rest.

SM: I recently asked someone "What was the name of Fleur's play about whales that had a whale in it?". "You mean Whale." Yes I did. I loved it. I might not remember names and titles but I remember how I felt during Whale and how I felt after and that Fleur and her team of amazing creators trusted that an audience of strangers would step up every night to make this piece of theatre.


Katie Purvis
Theatregoer, comedy and cabaret lover, sometime critic, radio presenter

Katie Purvis. Photo by Betty Sujecki

Favourite moments in 2019.
In theatres: Barbara and the Camp Dogs at Malthouse broke my heart into tiny pieces; I was thrilled by MTC's A View From A Bridge; Come From Away at the Comedy Theatre made me leap to my feet to applaud and cheer; and I laughed till my face hurt at Nakkiah Lui's Black is the New White at MTC.

At the Melbourne International Comedy Festival: Larry Dean's Bampot was face-achingly funny and unexpectedly poignant; Jude Perl's I Have a Face was seriously great; and I literally laughed till I cried at Lano and Woodley's brilliantly silly Fly.

Musical highlights: It was a privilege to be at Hamer Hall for Deborah Cheetham's Eumeralla : A Requiem for Peace, sung entirely in dialects of the Gunditjmara people and featuring a huge cast of performers (including the Melbourne Symphony Orchestra and Chorus and the Dhungala Children’s Choir); the prolonged standing ovation was hugely deserved. And it was a joy to see piano man Trevor Jones doing his thing at the 2019 Melbourne Cabaret Festival Closing Party – simply superb, and the best night I had in a performance space all year.

Looking forward to in 2020.
Haus of Hans:Disco Spektaculär
at MICF; Grey Arias at Malthouse, featuring Le Gateau Chocolat and Adrienne Truscott; Conchita Wurst and Trevor Ashley in concert at Hamer Hall; and Fun Home at MTC.


SM: Katie is my go-to editor and reader. She understands why I despair because program notes almost never seem to be proofed and are usually filled with grammar mistakes that change the meaning of what the writer is trying to say. Katie also hosts Miss Chatelaine on Joy 94.9 on Sunday mornings; she knows me well enough to know that I am never awake to listen live, but I do listen to some of the on-demand recordings. Yay for on demand.


Paul Selar
Opera critic, the Opera Chaser

Paul Selar. Selfie

Favourite moments in 2019.
Melbourne has generally supported a rather good balance of opera on a variety of scales. The year produced many highlights; however, from the all-important small independent players, it didn’t feel like it was buzzing with the same kind of optimism of recent years. Apart from a sympathetic re-staging of Australian composer Barry Conyngham's 1984 Fly, Lyric Opera of Melbourne have been unaccustomedly quiet and BK Opera seem to epitomise what living hand to mouth from one show to the next is like.

It’s all to do with money. Isn’t it always? Gertrude Opera’s much appreciated hard work behind the scenes is paying off with simple, effective and increasingly impressive production quality. Every opera-loving soul should’ve clogged the roads to get to the company’s Yarra Valley Opera Festival, now in its second year. Two of the year’s best small independent works could have been seen on one day! Jonathan Dove’s, The Enchanted Pig, in its Australian premiere, was a gorgeously slick, infectiously entertaining and superbly sung work. Monteverdi’s almost 370 year-old early baroque opera, Poppea, looked, felt and sounded as fresh as any new theatre. Both were directed with an acute eye for drawing meaningful characters by Gale Edwards.

On a far larger scale, a Rossini rarity got masterpiece treatment, literally, in Opera Australia’s Il Viaggio a Reims from director Damiano Michieletto, whose ingeniously devised production and inventive angle came with a long list of radiant performances. The company also stood out on top in a concert performance of Giordano’s Andrea Chénier, a work often criticised for its thin plot but more than compensated for by splendid musicality. It helped that international star tenor Jonas Kaufmann, who deserves every glowing superlative showered upon him, was there giving layers of magnificently coloured and carved vocals.

Melbourne’s continuing love affair with Wagner resulted in two memorable outings. In Victorian Opera’s Parsifal, director Roger Hodgman brought clarity to every character and subtlety to its strong symbolic and religious overtones and Melbourne Opera, without a penny of taxpayer funding, got the year off to a brilliant start with The Flying Dutchman. Darren Jeffery’s performance as the Dutchman had thunderous heft and stature and the large chorus of sailors and weavers won’t be forgotten. It’ll be hard to forget the company’s production of Bellini’s Norma as well. I saw it three times. Anyone who knows how precious an experience it is to hear soprano Helena Dix sing her proud and glorious high notes would count themselves lucky. And she’s a devilishly good gestural magnet.

Looking forward to in 2020
More Wagner! I feel enormously lucky to live in a city that is up to the challenge of staging Wagner’s sprawling works. We’ll be getting Opera Australia’s Lohengrin, a co-production with Théâtre Royal de la Monnaie, with English heldon tenor David Butt Philip making his company debut in the title role. And Melbourne Opera, who have been instrumental in presenting Wagner’s works, have a new production of Das Rheingold up their sleeves. My prediction (it’s already a year old) is that this will be the start of another Ring Cycle for Melbourne. There’s also Victorian Opera’s Salome, Gertrude Opera’s Yarra Valley Festival and news from Lyric  that they haven’t fallen by the wayside.

You can also join me for my 5th Annual OperaChaser Awards on Twitter party to celebrate and honour the exceptional work of opera companies and individuals. It starts at 5 pm on 28 December.

SM: Paul has a job that lets him fly all over the world and see the kind of opera that leaves many of us seething with jealousy. There are so few opera critics in Australia. Without people who know an art form inside out, it's so hard to share why we love it to new audiences and to people who think of opera as stuffy and boring. Some of it IS stuffy and boring, but so much of is isn't. You can read Paul's reviews at operachaser.blogspot.com.

07 December 2021

What Melbourne Loved in 2021 (and 2020), part 2

Today we see hear from long-time Sometimes Melbourne regulars Fluer Kilpatrick and Stephen Nicolazzo.

Stephen Nicolazzo
Little Ones Theatre
Director, teacher, high camp, high stakes

Stephen Nicolazzo riding to work

What theatre/art/creative experience did you love the most 2021 (or 2020)?
I had two incredibly satisfying creative experiences in 2020 and 2021 in spite of Corona (the pandemic, not the 1990s techno singer). The first being our pivot from a live stage adaptation of Christos Tsiolkas’s Loaded into an audio experience. Working so deeply and closely with Dan Giovannoni and Christos on the script over the course of two years, it felt vital to bring the show to life in what ever way we could. Originally we were going to be in the Beckett theatre, then the Malthouse Outdoor Stage and when things took a turn for the worse, I knew we couldn’t let our baby fade into oblivion. So, we decided to explore a new form, focusing on text, audio design and composition; creating the world of Loaded through the audience’s ears. It was an incredible experience. Rehearsing, recording, editing, mixing, composing over the course of 8 weeks of lockdown. Luckily during this time we had the privilege of bubble buddies, so I basically moved in with sound designer Daniel Nixon and we worked into the night developing the sonic experience of this one person show. It was truly liberating. It was like creating a film without pictures. It was a godsend in a time where producing work felt uncertain and more unstable than usual. I learned a lot and felt incredibly proud of the result. It was a true test of creative limits and that felt like a lesson worth learning in a time of darkness.

The second was my first live outing after 6 months locked away – Considerable Sexual License, Joel Bray’s immersive dance theatre work. Getting to be in a space again and not only putting on a show but making one designed to have the entire audience dancing and participating was truly inspiring and emotional. Getting to watch audience after audience dancing around Northcote Town Hall to Donna Summer over the course of May was a true highlight and one I will cherish for as long as I live.

What surprised you about finding new ways to make art in locked-down worlds?
The surprising thing was that it meant you could delve deeper into the world of the work – develop and question from the comfort of your home. I was in development for Looking for Alibrandi, Loaded, Considerable Sexual License and The Monkey’s Mask over the course of these two hellish years and what I found so humbling was that instead of rushing works to the stage they were given space to grow and develop and shine with time and rigorous focus. The thing that was most surprising during this period was the clarity – not being muddied by self doubt or reviews or box office – there was something really special about just being able to make the art again and not listen to the noise around you.

What did you do to stay connected to your arts community?
I kept working. I made work. I taught at Monash and VCA and Collarts and was constantly engaging with young artists and watching them make INCREDIBLE online art. For me, it was my connection to young people that really kept me engaged with the art; their perspectives and experiences of the pandemic gave me a real insight into the pain this pandemic caused emerging dreamers. All I wanted to do as a result was continue to try and inspire them – every day – even if I didn’t want to get out of bed in the morning, or had drank myself to sleep the night before.

What are you looking forward to in 2022?

I am looking forward to unleashing the projects I have been working on over the last two years. I am looking forward to being in live spaces again and making things that elate audiences post-the-never-ending dampening of our spirits. I am looking forward to watching people dance again on stage – and sharing Looking for Alibrandi (Malthouse and Belvoir) with audiences (if Omicron permits…).

SM: In Stephen's first WML in 2012, he talked about creating without "censorship or fear" and he's still exploring that idea.

Listening to Loaded in my flat in lockdown was a highlight of 2020 for me. I think I enjoyed it more as an audio experience than I might have on the stage because it felt like I was there. I also love that it's now around for ever and not forgotten once its season was over. Considerable Sexual License was another absolute joy, even if I didn't dance. The works Joel and Stephen are creating continue to create glittery and so-pretty words that are supported by darkness and honestly. They address identity, belonging and sexuality in ways that let audiences question everything about themselves by being in someone else's story. 

And I can't forget  Body Horror, an online 1970s horror weirdness created with Monash students for Melbourne Fringe. So much blood.

 

Fleur Kilpatrick
Gardner, grower, spoon maker, teacher, dog whisperer, writer
Creative Producer, Riverland Youth Theatre
https://www.facebook.com/riverlandyouththeatre

 

Fleur Kilpatrick at work in early December

What theatre/art/creative experience did you love the most 2021 (or 2020)?
Sensorium Theatre’s Woosh! At the Chaffey Theatre in Renmark, with a class from Riverland Special School. I went to space for an hour, ate space food, touched squish things, made things beep, smelt things and sung songs. Especially special was seeing the teachers relax as they came to understand that this was an experience made for their class and that the performers were ready for anything and everything.  
 
 What surprised you about finding new ways to make art in locked-down worlds?
Everything about this year surprised me. I am still shocked when I look around and see where I am and how I came to be here. I started the year traumatised and depressed after losing my beloved job and community at Monash Centre for Theatre and Performance (and the Centre itself) to Covid cuts. I lived in a caravan without power. I had nightmares about bumping into colleagues I couldn’t deal with seeing again. I dug holes, pulled weeds and planted trees and grasses and little native ground covers, perhaps 1000 of them, on my little block of land. Then suddenly I had a job, a new community, a new part of the country and a Chaos Monster (dog) and everything changed. I now run Riverland Youth Theatre in beautiful Renmark, South Australia, and I work hard every day to serve my community through art, creativity and play.  

I think the big surprise has been just discovering have valuable artistic skills are to communities. Things that seem so simple and obvious to me (‘Oh you want something else for your Halloween Spooktacular events but don’t know what? Give me a few hundred dollars and I’ll get up some great actors – they have clown training! – to be witches and tell fortunes! Easy!’) are so big and strange to others. (‘So what do I say to the actors? Do we have to write a script or rehearse or something?’ ‘No, this is what they do: they create worlds and interact with people in those worlds. It will be really simple and beautiful.’) Some of the best moments and conversations have come about from community members saying ‘we have this problem’ (for instance, struggling families have nothing to look forward to) ‘can you see a way to help?’ And the answer is always ‘yes’ because art does these things so well.

I think for me, it has been about discovering how special and valuable the tools in any artist’s tool belt are in a community context.  
 
What did you do to stay connected to your arts community?
It was hard. It was hard to stay connected, particularly when my friends were all too ‘zoomed out’. And at the start of the year I was so depressed and then things improved for me and they went back into lockdown. But voice recordings helped. It was like having a phone conversation in slow motion and just when friends wanted to engage. A little message – ‘I’m out walking along Bookmark Creek, oh and that jingle is Betty’s collar. I was thinking of you today when I…’ – a few words of love or a summary of a podcast listened to. For my friend Kat, I found ponds or creeks filled with the sound of frogs and bush birds and sent her little bushland soundscape from the Riverland to Melbourne.  
 
What are you looking forward to in 2022?
I have a passion project I am creating with local children and their guardians called Everything I Know About You And Me, in which they attempt to document their entire relationship through stories, drawings, dancers, jokes and songs. I think that having a creative way to bond and celebrate their relationship and the wins will be good for our vulnerable families. I am looking forward to knowing more about my job and community and river. And to being less scared of budgets and grant applications.

Most of all, I want to see my friends again. I want to hold the people I have barely held in two years – the people I grew up with over 15 years in Melbourne. I want to attend Danny and Lucy’s wedding and feel so full of love for them and celebrate, not only their relationship but that the wedding, postponed so many times, is finally here. I want to raise my glass with you all and say ‘Wow. We did it. You are here and I am here. We are still standing.’  

 SM: When Fleur started at RYT, all I could say was what a perfect job it is for her. It's like it was just waiting for her to come along. 

I've loved seeing Fleur's dog Betty become a more good dog every day though pictures and videos, especially when she does things like make Fleur strip off and jump in the river to save Betty from a kangaroo – even though Betty and the roo didn't need any help. I also love that she likes every photo I post up of my cat, Imado. But my favourite Fleur animal-memory of the last year or so was being too-awake in the middle of the night and seeing on Facebook that Fleur was struggling with a spider in her caravan. I know how she feels about our 8-legged friends and all I could do was be a witness and hope that she didn't burn the caravan, her block of land, and the town down. If we ever need to look for a 2020-21 metaphor, it's the hunstman spider on the curtains in the caravan.

 


 

17 December 2013

What Melbourne loved in 2013, part 15

What Melbourne loved is nearly over.

But today's a goody with a crooner Mikelangelo, critic Chris Boyd an writer Fleur Kilpatrick.

Mikelangelo
Artist, Entertainer, Impresario


Mikelangelo: My favourite moment in 2013 was being asked to be Santa at the PBS Switched on Twistmas last weekend at Bella Union. They said you can go without the beard and comb your hair into your best quiff, then gave me the most lush velvet santa suit one could imagine. I never had any particular desire to be Santa, but posing for photos with a bevy of excitable men and women over the course of the evening truly did put me in the spirit for Christmas.

Often the best theatre is that which is found in life, and I certainly got theatre au naturale in spades on that velvet evening.

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

SM: Could it really be a year in which I wasn't serenaded by Mikel? Come on 2013, that's not good enough. But we crossed paths in the Arts Centre one afternoon. He was at a Melbourne Music Week conference, I was at the Melbourne  Ring Cycle. Such music extremes, but all in the one place and all loved – and neither of us could consider reaching a Wagnerian high C.

Chris Boyd
reviewer


CHRIS: Favourite theatre moment. Hmm. Most of mine have already been mentioned. (You know who you are!)

I think it was Jane Howard (from Part 2) who said that the shows that blow your mind – that leave you not knowing what you think – rarely end up in posterity’s junk pile.  They usually turn out to be highlights of your year, of your life. My Melbourne Festival was ruined (in a good way) by one the first festival shows I saw.

M+M was like a supernova that made everything that followed invisible. It shut me down like one of those unkillable little SvcHst.exe files that hog 99% of cpu time when you’re on a deadline.

Room of Regret caused a similar kind of flash-blindness, but in a single evening. It started with a tiny supernova and most of what followed was barely visible. I liked being veiled, especially in a show with audience participation. And I’m pretty good with the role playing thing. So, when I ended up in a confessional-sized room with an equally veiled actor, I played my part ... even though I felt like a Big Brother inmate, sure that everything I did was visible in the dark! Anyway, my anonymous lover for a minute or two turned out to be Emily Milledge (from Part 13), who gave one of the most sustained, most raw and intense performance I saw this year.

But my fave moment of the year came in the dying scene of Das Rheingold, the first opera in the Melbourne Ring Cycle. When the squad of rainbow showgirls pranced on with their feather wings for the finale, I recognised Benjamin Hancock in the front ranks. I doubt than many noticed there was a cuckoo in the nest. When I emailed Opera Australia just to check it was Ben, they politely denied it. Mocked the suggestion even with a “we're pretty sure all the showgirls are girls”.  You know, “brackets, dickhead, close brackets”. It looked like the denial was going to be the story.  (I got a groveling apology a day or two later.) Anyway, I felt weirdly proud: for Ben, for director Neil Armfield, for Opera Australia.

I loved loved loved what the Sisters Grimm did with the gender- and race-blind casting in The Sovereign Wife too. It helped them reach the highest and most dizzying euphoric peak of 2013.

SM: The hard-core reviewers see a lot of each other. If I'm at an opening night and Chris isn't there, I wonder what I'm missing.

I'm often in awe of newspaper reviewers because they usually have to file hours after seeing a show. To be awake at 3 am (after opening night drinks) is a skill; to be articulate and intelligent and not make typos, swear or confess undying lust to a performer is an art.

Chris has been reviewing since the 80s. That's longer than some of the people he now reviews have been alive. And  every one of those shows is stored somewhere in his memory.

I read his reviews (The Australian), especially for shows I haven't seen. In relatively few words, he consistently gives an evocative picture of the work and an honest opinion, and tends to throw in an obscure fact that helps to understand the piece or a metaphor that the artists will be quoting for years. (I mean, "M+M was like a supernova that made everything that followed invisible."!)

He inspires me to write better, or at least to not settle for the obvious adjective.

He also fights for independent theatre to get mainstream reviews.

Fleur Kilpatrick
writer, director


FLEUR: A highlight for me was MTC’s NEON Festival. It wasn’t even about the individual shows (although Schlusser’s Menagerie had me hyperventilating). Rather, it was about seeing the MTC really embrace what it is that makes our hometown so vibrant and unique. It was truly affirming and, regardless of the recent controversy, I was so, so proud of our community.

Giving standing ovations was another highlight. They feel so good. I gave four this year and each time it was such a joyful celebration. I love loving theatre. I love telling people how much I love their theatre. This year I stood for Matilda (in London), Einstein on the Beach, The Shadow King (Malthouse) and Sun (Melbourne Festival). These were all big shows. They urged me to leap out of my seat. The sheer scale demanded my entire height.

But there was other shows I loved no less that I had to love quietly. I had to sit with them. Tommy Bradson’s Sweet Sixteen or The Birthday Party Massacre, They saw a thylacine and Jon Bennett’s My Dad’s Deaths all left their mark on me. A reading of Patrick McCarthy’s Grief and the Lullaby also made the cut. The actors stood with scripts in hand and I was still shaking with sobs. I can’t wait to see Patrick’s work grow.

Personally, 2013 has been an incredible year for me. Returning to university to work with Raimondo Cortese and Rob Reid has thrilled me and has helped me find my voice not only as a playwright but as an arts writer. I’ve so very much enjoyed writing about theatre not as a reviewer but as an artist responding to the work I love with consideration and relish.

SM: Read Fleur's blog. Bookmark it and go back to it a lot. It's called School for Birds. It's passionate and her arts writing is an artist responding to what she loves.

When I feel my own writing slipping into formula, Fleur's writing reminds me to be passionate and to show that I care about what's happening on a stage – even when the pieces didn't fit together for the artists who made it.

She reminds us all to go into every show wondering what it's going to give us, wondering if it's going to be one of those shows that changes your life, and, at the very least, respecting the people who created it for you.

Her own theatre writing is pretty cool, too. My favourite moment was the look on her face when I said that she's one of the few people who can over write and I love for doing so. I could see her brain trying to figure out if it was a compliment or an insult. It was a compliment.