MELBOURNE FESTIVAL: Two Jews Walk Into A Theatre

MELBOURNE FESTIVAL 2017
Two Jews Walk Into A Theatre
Brian Lipson and Gideon Obarzanek
19 October 2017
Beckett Theatre
to 22 October
www.festival.melbourne/2017

Brian Lipson and Gideon Obarzane. Photo by Sarah Walker

Laurence Lipson and Zenek Obarzanek never met but their sons, actor Brian Lipson and dancer/choreographer Gideon Obarzanek, have worked together making theatre in Melbourne. Last year the fathers met for the first time waiting in the Arts House foyer to see a show their sons had made about the fictional meeting of their fathers. This Melbourne Festival, they are meeting again for the first time on the too-high foyer chairs at the Coopers Malthouse.

Brian's now in his 60s and Gideon's in his 50s. As middle age is the time when you're horrified or thrilled to see more of a parent in yourself than you ever imagined, what better time to become their fathers on stage.

With conversations that are partly improvised, it's a satire about the theatre they have made together, an examination of Australian Jewish identity and a reflection on the father-son relationship.

Children mostly know their parents in a way that no one else can, and this knowledge is mostly formed from interactions and behaviours that no one else sees. The adult children create loving characters in their fathers – even when they are angry and stubborn – but it's their sharing of the moments they never forgot as children that shows the heart of the work.

Shane Warne: The Musical

Shane Warne: The Musical
Token Events and TrafficLight
11 December 2008
Athenaeum Theatre

I didn’t care for or about Shane Warne before the musical, and I still don’t, but Eddie Perfect can SMS me any time.

Perfect wrote this great Aussie musical and stars as its fallen hero. Being as Aussie as beetroot on a burger, Shane Warne: The Musical might not make a Broadway away tour, and it’s no good taking it to the West End, cos the poms will just whinge about it – but every Australian state, city and medium-sized country town deserves a leg of the tour.

We all know Warnie – he’s either the greatest spin bowler Australia’s yet to produce (don’t worry if you’re cricket illiterate, there’s a scene that explains that stuff) or he’s that twat who cheated on his missus, couldn’t give up smoking and was tempted by Indian bribes. Shane eventually grasps that these two parts of himself are connected, and is forced to accept, “I’ll never be captain, so I guess that’s that then”. He helped bring back the ashes, but his personal life ruined any chance he had of being a real hero.

Warnie’s the archetypal anti-hero, with his larrikin faults and inability to say no to temptation.  If Perfect and Co had pulverised him, it wouldn’t be fair to Shane; if they’d ignored his foibles, it wouldn’t be fair to us. Shane Warne: The Musical keeps hitting sixes with a remarkable balance of satire and celebration.

And, to be fair, it also takes the piss out of musical theatre, with numbers reminiscent of stage and screen favourites from Fame to Godspell to Sweeney Todd (it was “fucking beautiful” ) – and who knew AIS was even more fan to dance-spell than YMCA.

Warnie in song works so well because ultimately the jokes on us. Perfect makes us look at ourselves and how we all supported and created the spin around the spin. As the marketing chorus sing, “Everyone’s a little bit like Shane”. We can’t blame him for being just like us.

With a such an impressive creative team around Perfect – director Neil Armfield (demi-god of Australian directing), dramaturge Casey Benneto (Keating), choreographer Gideon Obarzanek (Chunky Move) and designer Brian Thomson (shows too numerous to mention, but this the design is reminiscent of his original Rocky Horror set) –  it would have been disappointing if Shane Warne: The Musical wasn’t this good. It proves that sometimes it’s a damn good idea to let those arty-farty types loose on a commercial show.

Perfect lives up to his name as Warne and it’s going to be interesting to see what happens when he’s had enough, as the show is very dependent on his appeal. The rest of the on-stage team are bonza, with Rosemarie Harris a standout as Simone.

Shane Warne: The Musical will become as legendary as its namesake. It’s not a celebration of Warne the cricketer or a gut-punch to Shane the man. It lets you laugh at him, laugh with him and ultimately cack yourself because his ridiculous, media-controlled, fame-driven life led to a Melbourne-based cabaret performer writing a musical all about it.


A note for patrons more used to stadiums
Last night there were a number of Warnie fans in the audience who didn’t get the concept of live theatre. It’s not like the MCG. Getting up in the middle of the first half (or “act”) and coming back into the theatre with beer for your mates isn’t acceptable “theatre” behaviour – and it just encouraged other blokes to do the same. Please wait for half time (or “interval”) and don’t do it again in the second half. Or, at least, come back with enough beers for the people sitting near you!



 This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com

Two Faced Bastard

MIAF 2008

Two Faced Bastard

Chunky Move and Melbourne International Arts Festival

11 October 2008
Arts House

What can you say when a performer declares that they don’t like reviews that describe the experience of a show and that there’s no room for flippancy in reviews, because the artists are too highly invested in the work?  “Umm…you are really good looking and I liked the beer I had at the bar…” Surely, if there is room for flippancy on the stage, there is room for flippancy in a review?

Chunky Move’s Two Faced Bastard is about duality. It’s directed and choreographed by Lucy Guerin and Gideon Obarzank, and explores the on and off stage aspects of theatre and the “Jekyll and Hyde” nature of performance – seriously and flippantly.

The stage is split down the middle with the equally split audience on either side. Each side only see half of the show, whilst glimpsing and hearing the other. Stage and backstage become one, as the exit to one is the entrance to the other. (Sorry to ruin the experience – but even the program guide gave that away.)

Audiences appear as equally split in their opinions about its success. I really liked the mystery of what was going on beyond the curtain, but in the Q&A after the show, nearly half of the remaining audience indicated that they thought they missed out on something.

Two Faced Bastard was created though workshops and a series of development performances. The process is still very clear on the stage, especially as and performers (actors and dancers) discuss their opinions and fears.

The questions are fascinating and this festival is the ideal place to ask them. However, I felt that the concepts weren’t explored beyond an almost obvious level. I don’t think it’s a revelation that performers are scared of stuffing up on a stage or that artists continually ask if they are creating to please themselves or an audience.  I would have liked to see the creators express a firmer opinion, rather than just offer the questions. I'd love to know your answers.

Being on the non-dance side of the room, I didn’t see much of the dance, until the final scene when the curtain is withdrawn. These final moments were stunning, and expressed the concept of the show more simply, succinctly and easily than what went before.

The process seemed like a lot of fun, but the final product still seems to be finding itself. After the performance, Obarzank said, “It’s searching for itself and I’m quite happy about that.” Perhaps that is the answer I’m looking for.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com