Review: King Kong

King Kong
Global Creatures
15 June 2013
Regent Theatre
kingkongliveonstage.com

Oh King Kong! You gorgeous, sexy, magnificent beast. Your entrance may be the most spectacular thing ever seen on a live stage. Every time you’re on, the audience is yours for the taking, as all around you pale to dull, despite all manner of shiny costume. You are glorious and unforgettable. If only a fraction of the care, love, money and time that went into your creation was put into creating the story you are doomed to play in.

After a couple weeks of previews and rumours, King Kong opened last night.

It’s spectacular. Visually and technically, this is theatre that we haven’t seen before and it has to be seen just to see its amazing pretty.

Peter England’s design, Peter Mumford’s lighting, Frieder Weiss’s projections and Roger Kirk’s costumes are so WOW! that doesn’t matter that it doesn’t feel like New York or that Skull Island screams Tron. The sea of light, the Skelator Statue of Liberty and the fluffy monkey leotards are so sensorially sensational that it’s easy to forgive the inconsistent style and questionable portrayal of women.

Then there’s the beast created by Sonny Tilders and his team. Kong defies superlatives. With a team of puppeteers (led by Peter Wilson), this amazing critter shows emotion and heart befitting his size; his breath-taking magnificence is the reason alone to see his show. (But if you’re taking young theatre fans who could be scared, it’s worth speaking to someone who has seen it.)

And there are humans to see as well. The huge ensemble is sensational. With choreography by John O’Connell and circus/aerial direction by Gavin Robins, their energy and step-perfection fills the huge theatre as much as Kong’s roars.

Principals Esther Hannaford (Ann, Kong’s love), Chris Ryan (Jack, Ann’s love), Queenie Van De Zandt (Cassandra, a prophet) sing beautifully and bring so much more than they are given to their roles. And they are given so little to work with.

Hannaford even overcomes the endless sniffing of Ann (her girly smell attracts monkeys and men of all sizes) and a dream sequence where she realises she’s an ok woman because dream angels in black pvc corsets tell her she’s hot and sing, “We don’t need no story or director to make us perfect”.

Hot you may be dream angels, but why you are there is one of those mysteries that may never be answered.

The story isn’t there. There’s a plot based on assuming the audience know King Kong’s film story, but it’s filled with illogical leaps, clunky dialogue and the melodrama of unearned emotion.  It feels like it was written around the spectacle (during a tech run, before previews).

Kong deserves some writers. They don’t have to be expensive, award-winning writers, just writers who know story and how to tell story in theatre. People who know that a foreshadowing monkey has to come back; that unearned kisses don’t create love; that if a guy sings a song about Lady Liberty, his story should be about liberty; and that long-legged women don’t fill plot holes.

It’s a slightly dodgy analogy, but I’m going to compare it to a Pixar/Disney film. Films like Wal E, Toy Story and Monsters Inc are visually and technically sensational, but they start, end and are seen by zillions because of their stories. These scripts are written in writers’ rooms and drafted until they are perfect. Every syllable and story beat is analysed and worked until it’s assured that there isn’t a second where the audience will stop caring or drift off. The animation is the icing and ribbon around the cake of the story. Icing is vital and delicious, but doesn’t make sense without cakey substance.

When interval and post-show conversations are “what if they …”, instead of “what about when”, there’s something wrong.

Oh A-M, you’re a writer, so of course you care about the writing; the general public don’t care, they just want to see pretty. No one cares about story.

Think of your favourite stories – book, film, comic, tv, told in the pub. How many of them do you wish were different? How many do you remember just for how they looked? The sleazy producer Carl, who captures Kong, even says in the opening scenes “People want stories”!

So, it looks amazing, the dancing monkey is to-die-for and the cast nearly overcome the woeful story, but what about the music? It’s music theatre after all.

The music is forgettable. It’s not boring, but it doesn’t move the story, show character or add much more than a beat for the spectacle that it’s supporting.

The most successful number is Ann’s lullaby to Kong on Skull Island. Emotionally and dramatically, this is the moment for Ann to tell her secret, to reveal her soul to the god who can never share her truth. It’s the moment the audience is meant to be so with these two that every subsequent obstacle to their survival is heart breaking. Its repetition in Act 2 should leave the audience crying. But it’s a song about the moon. It’s performed beautifully and looks stunning, but it’s gutless.

The music could be removed from the show without affecting the story. I can’t name a long-running or award-winning show that can say the same.

King Kong could be a game changer. There is so much jaw-dropping, razzle-dazzle magnificence on the stage that it’s already changing the rules, but until the same amount of work that created its dazzling glory goes into the writing and the music, it’s just a couple hours of exquisite pretty that’s too easily forgotten.

Photos by Belinda Strodder.

This was on AussieTheatre.com.

Review: The Wild Duck

The Wild Duck
Malthouse presents a Belvoir production
21 February 2012
Merlyn Theatre
to 17 March

Melbourne's Hayloft Project gang flew their The Wild Duck back to the Malthouse from Belvoir Street with a swag of 2011 awards and the opening night anticipation was palpable.  Riveting in its intimacy, this is the kind of theatre that will ruin lesser productions for you. So book now and read the reviews later, because tickets are disappearing by the minute.

While Ibsen's 19th century naturalism and tragedy is often rejected for its obvious metaphor and an unnatural coincidental melodrama worthy of a daytime soap, re-workings (and re-readings) continue to reveal the genius of his storytelling. In a society where we demand to know the truth, this story asks if it's better to keep truth hidden and leaves its character knowing that if they could make even tiny decisions again, they wouldn't chose the truth.

Writers Simon Stone and Chris Ryan and dramaturg Eamon Flack have tightened it into three acts, stripped it back to reveal its soul and re-worked it to expose the web-like frailty of its world. Writers may cringe, but this re-writing of stories allows us to see that a writer's original words are not what makes us love them; it's story and the reflection of ourselves that takes a work from the admiration of our minds to the illogical love of our hearts.

Stone also directs. The duck and attic forrest metaphors are incorporated so delicately that all we can see is their beauty, and he builds a tension that is almost as unbearable as the truth that's revealed. There's a stop-breathing second when the audience know more than the characters and can see the inevitable end, yet Stone guides the story so we're still left shocked and hoping that someone will make a choice that fixes everything.

Ralph Myers's fish bowl design is initially disconcerting as we watch the glassed-in void like a huge screen TV. But, not only supplying a fourth wall, this remarkable design distances us from the inevitability of the story so much that we're drawn to its emotion, and the use of microphones brings us even closer with the sound of breath between sobs and the squelch of a kiss that makes you reach for tissues.

And none of this would mean much without an astonishing cast.  John Gaden, Anita Hegh, Ewen Leslie, Eloise Mignon, Anthony Phelan and Toby Schmitz's performances start with their on-stage relationships. They let us feel the unspoken actions between them and grasp the thoughts and feelings behind the words they use to hide their truths from each other. This creates an intimacy that makes you almost want to turn away to give them privacy.

This is the kind of performance that draws you in so deeply that even a live duck doesn't distract – a very cute live duck swimming in a perspex pond.

This is my benchmark production for 2012. If you're not creating work with this much passion, intelligence and understanding, why even bother.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Photo by Pia Johnson

Review: 'Tis Pity She's A Whore

 'Tis Pity She's A Whore
Malthouse Theatre
19 February 2011
Merlyn Thearte
to 5 March
www.malthousetheatre.com.au

I'm looking forward to Marion Pott's first program at Malthouse. To date, everything I've seen her direct has excited and inspired me and even if 'Tis Pity She's a Whore didn't leave me dancing in the streets, I certainly enjoyed it.

John Ford wrote Whore in the seventeenth century, not long after the popular playwright Shakespeare died.  Potts loves the complex and centuries-old language that often alienates our lazy contemporary ears and what I love most about Potts's direction is that she shows the emotional intent of the language and tells the straightforward story without dismissing the poetry and sound of the original words.

Some performers, like Laura Luttuada as Putana, shone because they spoke as if it were written today, while others suffered by concentrating too much on presenting the language or relying on the wonderful music that supported the emotional truth of work.

Potts also uses sound and music to bring a deeper emotional depth to her productions and the original music by Andree Greenwall, sound design and live music by Jethro Woodward's and the glorious sound of the wandering angel soprano Julia County ensured Whore's consistency and delicately intertwined the sounds and morality of the seventeenth and the twenty-first centuries.

I haven't read Ford's text, but know Potts cut characters and script to reveal its bones and those bones are a story about incest. The production tried to distance itself from the brother/sister romance to focus on the consequences of the taboo act and the inconsistent morality of everyone else. It's no revelation that the presentation of women as virgins, madonna mothers or whores hasn't changed too much since, neither has the double sexual standard of men and women – which is handed to the awesome Chris Ryan as a one person bogun-stud chorus.

I would have loved to see the love between Annabella and her brother Giovanni at the centre of tale. To have their romance as irresistible as teen lovers Romeo and Juliet and to make the audience hate themselves for wanting these two together, blessed by their family and loving their baby (who would have all its chromosomes). Just as Ford's world was clinging to ideas of absolute rights and wrongs – those Puritans had some impact – so is our world. Incest is an almost a universal taboo. We still joke about Tasmanians marrying their cousins and loathe to reveal any great grandparents who were first cousins. To have an audience blubbering at their deaths (of course they die) instead of feeling relieved that the problem is solved would have been a far more interesting conclusion and emotionally disturbing night of theatre.

So, 'tis pity that this Whore confirms our morality, rather than questions it – but I still look forward to the seeing whatever Marion Potts directs.

This review appears on AussieThearte.com

Photo by Jeff Busby

The Hypocrite

The Hypocrite
Melbourne Theatre Company
20 November 2008
The Playhouse, The Arts Centre

The Hypocrite is an ideal end-of year crowd-pleaser for the MTC. It’s cast with favourites, knee-slapping funny, pretty to look at and offers a neat interpretation of a work that most MTC subscribers read during their formal education.

Molière penned the original in French rhyme and Justin Fleming’s translation shines as brightly as the 22 fabulous chandeliers glittering over the stage. Fleming’s clever and intricate rhyme scheme changes as the content moves from hypocrisy to true love, and a very effective pattern differentiates Tartuffe. As Dr Seuss proves, none can resist the delight of a rhyming couplet, and beauties like knowledge/porridge, dig it/bigot and chassis/map of Tassie won many well-deserved cackles.

This Hypocrite is directed, designed and performed for laughs. It’s like a panto for grown-ups, with clownish performances, over-the-top costumes, big hair, closet jokes and well-known actors. Who’s not going to laugh at Garry Macdonald (Orgon) in thigh-high, lace up gold boots and a full length, lime-green velvet jacket? There’s even the ultimate “he’s behind you” gag, which becomes evident during the deus ex machina ending.

Kerry Walker is the stand out as Madame Pernelle. She handles the difficult language with ease and creates a grumpy and believable clown. It would be hard for Macdonald and Nicholas Bell (Cléante) to deliver anything other than great; Marina Prior’s comic timing was a welcome surprise; and Martin Sharpe (Laurent), Sara Gleeson (Mariane) and Chris Ryan (Damis) are delightfully petulant teenagers, but need to listen to Kerry in order to master the delivery of rhyme.

It’s also very rare for Kim Gyngell to disappoint. His performance is impeccable, but I wonder about some of the character and direction choices. He’s a sleazy, ridiculous and totally transparent fraud – which Kim does perfectly, but this doesn’t leave any doubt about the rightness of the family and the delusion of Orgon and his mum. It’s hard not to compare it with Malthouse’s recent version of the same work (Tartuffe), but what struck me about Marcus Graham’s Tartuffe was the creation of empathy and doubt. To feel the impact of Tartuffe’s deceit and downfall, we need to know why Orgon and his mother were so besotted with this man and wonder if the family’s opinion of him is selfish and misguided. (And, of course, it would be wrong to compare Kim’s underwear scene to Marcus’s.)

The Hypocrite is like indulging in a vanilla slice from a posh Toorak bakery. It looks scrumptious, is totally enjoyable at the time and much better than a cheap version - but the gratification doesn’t last and you know there are more substantial, nutritious or unforgettable options out there.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.