The Dark Party

ADELAIDE FRINGE 2009
The Dark Party
The Dirty Brothers Sideshow
11 March 2009
The Garden of Unearthly Delights, Le Cascadeur

The Dark Party is what Waiting for Godot might have been if Beckett had been brought up in a travelling circus.

Sometimes sideshow tricks do belong on the side and on the street, but the Dirty Brothers have brought their sword swallowing and nipple stretching into the theatre. The tricks are just as cringe-worthy and “ewww”able as ever, but they leap high above the tattooed throng with their old-fashioned use of character and story.

In flasher trench coats and faded clown faces, their sense of almost surreal pathos sets the mood, and each trick is placed within a character sketch, bringing a level of tension and comedy often missed in trick-based shows. Staple-gunning of the chest is tired, but when it’s a sad, fat bloke being forced to dance a hoola and make his plastic flower lei with a staple gun, its bitterness is endearing.

If sideshow is your thing, don’t miss The Dark Party, but you’re not into watching the eating of maggots, you might still love this for its irony, comedy and darkness.


This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

The Mad & Ugly Show

ADELAIDE FRINGE 2009
The Mad & Ugly Show
Cocoloco
12 March 2009
The Garden of Unearthly Delights, Bosco Theatre

Best known for their eccentric and sometimes shocking street theatre, London’s Cocoloco warn that The Mad & Ugly Show is not for the faint hearted or children – a sure way to entice an Adelaide Fringe crowd into the theatre.

The ripping opening is on a screen, with a series of women of all shapes and ages (top half only) enduring a wax. By their pained, shocked and horrified reactions, there’s never any doubt about what hair is being removed, and I was expecting a show that explores the absurdity of the “mad” things people do to fix their “ugly” bits.

The first tantalising glimpse of the creators, Helen Statman and Trevor Stuart, is as mirror image Alices – now old, faded, and reciting the naughty nursery rhymes and poems that our grandparents might have avoided at story time. Supported by firm, but gentle audience interaction, the sinister Alices were a taste of Cocoloco’s ability to grab a stereotype and twist it into something far more interesting. Maybe it is about aging and holding onto beauty?

The use of the screen let the company play with ideas that are not an option on the street, such as a close up of a masturbating monkey – complete with the dodgy video commentary of “What does a monkey do with a handful of cum?” Thirteen-year-old boys on their first trip to Bali have more interesting and context-based clips on YouTube. So perhaps The Mad & Ugly Show is just a handful of wank

The theme continued with close ups of vaginas (one with ironic itchy, red lumps of post-wax re-growth) violently masturbating to Vivaldi’s “Four Seasons”, sucking on a giant baby’s dummy or popping out a rubber dildo. Confronting taboos and pushing boundaries is going to grab my attention – but I couldn’t grasp the point of this. It wasn’t erotica, porn or art – and I wouldn’t call it theatre. There were laughs, but there’s a noticeable difference between an audience laugh of release and recognition and a laugh of discomfort.

Stuart and Statman’s sketches included the obligatory pulling a skateboard with cock, and more confronting characters like a pregnant woman’s musing about sucking a baby’s penis. Some of this struck an amazing balance between shock and content – but too much felt like it was there just for a reaction. Shock for the sake of shock – really isn’t shocking. I don’t think people left because they were shocked – they left because they were bored.

The most flabbergasting (and ironically, most interesting) part of The Mad & Ugly Show was the company’s show reel! What first seemed like a collection of wacky email pictures was photos of their street theatre. I’ve since looked at the same pics on their web page. Cocoloco’s street theatre looks incredible. It’s challenging, confronting and immediately funny. But why were these images included into their theatre show? They didn’t support anything on the stage - and they created disappointment because we saw hints of what they do well.

If Cocoloco are out on the streets – I’ll follow them throwing money, but The Mad & Ugly Show… well I guess it lived up to its name.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Potted Potter

ADELAIDE FRINGE 2009
Potted Potter
14 March 2009
The Garden of Unearthly Delights, The Pod

Two nerds have 70 minutes to tell the stories of all seven Harry Potter books to a sold-out audience of obsessive Harry Potter fans (myself included)...

Potter Potter was created by UK TV presenters Daniel Clarkson and Jefferson Turner. Dan and Jeff haven’t come down under, but secreted their sold-out-show spell to John Helier and David Ahmad for its journey to Oz.

And all should be keeping the list of ingredients and the magic word under Gringott’s protection, because Potted Potter is non-stop hilarity that young and old Potter fans lap up and non-potheads can still enjoy.

From a warthog (Hogwarts) gag, through to the perfect rendition of the Snape/Potter relationship, a Daniel Radcliffe/Equus reference, an audience participation game of Quiddich, and the final “Death and Camping” joke, Potted Potter never fails in its knowledge of the books (or the films), while ensuring that it can be enjoyed by everyone.

Helier and Ahmad’s are as irresistible as an all-you-can-eat afternoon in Honeydukes, while the script’s secret is its determination to be unexpected and fun. Harry’s story is really just the subplot, as the straight and nerdy book-guy is continually frustrated by his impulsive, inventive (and nerdy) mate, who thinks they might be performing Lord of the Rings (set in Narnia) and has spent all the money for hiring a cast on a dragon for book four.

The Adelaide shows are selling out (with about a 50:50 kid: adult ratio), but it’s on its way to the Melbourne International Comedy Festival. Don’t worry if your kids (or you) are still working their way through the series, as its fast and enough to miss any significant spoilers – except that it does end happily. If you’ve read them all three or four times, there is enough content to keep you enthralled and if you’ve thought of renting the DVD, come along and see what the fuss is about – and expect to stop at the library or the bookstore on your way home.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Jimmy Yukka and His Amazing Band

Jimmy Yukka and His Amazing Band27 March 2009
IDGAF

Somewhere along the spectrum of satire to rock god sits Jimmy Yukka.

Clad in leather high-pants, Yukka rips off his posh cream silk shirt to reveal a more working class Chesty Bonds. Never quite sure if he is serious about his art or totally taking the piss, the charismatic singer is joined by sidekick drummer Quick Sticks to complete Jimmy Yukka and His Amazing Band.

What Yukka lacks in musical prowess, he makes up for with originality and did-he-just-sing-that lyrics. He screams his way though the Eurythmics inspired “Love God” (“I look in the mirror and what do I see – a sexy mother fucker looking back at me”) and his UK hit “Lezbian Hedgehog”. His move down under is reflected in the bush-themed “Bitten by a spider” and “Mosquito”, but Yukka’s favourite topic is himself.

While “Rocket to Ecstasy” oozes rock ‘n’ roll ego, the crowd favourite is “My Space Blues” – an honest reflection of how the grunt and sweat of rock is being sucked away by social networking on the world wide web - “If it were my dog, I’d put it down; if it were my horse, I’d shoot it; But it’s MySpace, so I have to use it”.

Combining character and performance on a pub stage can be the difference between a good band and a popular band – but do we consider this type of performance theatre? Where is the line between the fiction of Hedwig and Freddie Mercury? There may not be a director and writer behind Yukka (yet...), but put The Amazing Band on at the Fringe Club or The Spiegletent and we’ll be swapping our long necks for wine glasses and calling it cabaret.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Salon de Dance

Salon de Dance
La Mama
Finucane & Smith
22 March 2009
La Mama Theatre

So you think you know dance? Forgive the television analogy,  but you don’t know squat until you’ve been to Salone de Dance.

I’ve written a lot this week about authenticity, originality and other words we bandy around in regard to art. All are difficult to define, but obvious when we see them. The cabaret/burlesque/butoh/gothic/ bloody-terrific creations of Moira Finucane and Jackie Smith continue to be both – and so much more.

LaMama is transformed into a back ally Kabaret with pale crushed-velvet table clothes, candles and swinging light blubs, highlighted with sips of bright green absinthe (that may have been crème de menthe) and carefree toasts to La Danse. If you bring some coins, you can even buy your own dance during the most perfect of intervals.

From the bizarre to the gorgeous, la tres French Maude Davey hosts the soiree’s collection – all in a space barely big enough for a full split (as Paul Cordeiro demonstrates with ease, in a pair of crucifix decorated undies). None is suitable for a prime time telly “competition” – and for that, I’ll have another swig of green liquor and declare Viva! This isn’t dance that’s rated by popularity; this is dance that breaks the rules and lets us see what lurks in the hearts and thoughts of the dancers.

Jess Love combines ease with distress en pointe – with hoops; Rob McCredie charms with freestyle in a tux; Yumi Umimare battles with a possessed coat; Codreiro shows us his god complex; Holly Durant and Harriet Ritchie burst some fantasies about tits; and Moira barely moves, but her partnership with the smoke from a cigarette makes me want to abandon a life of non-smoking.

The most complete piece of the night is The Banquet Room directed by Jackie. Recently performed in Japan, it was described by one reviewer as,” The most shocking dance I've ever seen in my life.” Its gothic inspired butoh style is exaggerated, extreme, unexpected and macabre; it’s everything that dance isn’t meant to be – and all the more wonderful for it.

Finucane and Smith productions welcome audiences into their world, which, for all its darkness and oddness, lets us feel the liberation of unhinged and unencumbered passion.

Great shows find audiences, so Salone de Danse (and its scrumptious partner The Feast of Argentina Gina Catalina ) are already sold out – but turn up early and there’s a good chance of getting a seat at the door.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Night Garden

Night Garden
My Darling Patricia
24 March 2009
Meat Market

Visually intricate, deliberately complex, and never dull, My Darling Patricia awakens our subconscious in their Night Garden dreamscape.

University-trained psychiatrists and weekend-market tarot readers believe that dreams reveal our deepest fears and secrets with obscure images; Jungians reveal universal connection through the shared symbolism of our dreams; and Freudians insist that we dream about our parents and our formative sexual experiences. All must approve of My Darling Patricia.

Night Garden is a tale for the theatre, where performance, puppetry and installation combine to explore the relationship of a mother and son in 1980s urban Australia. The iconic Aussie backyard images support the archetypal characters and evoke a sense of familiarity and comfort within the ominous darkness. Like our sleep-time stories, a delicate and blurred narrative symbolically exposes the disturbing truth of the soothing scenes, and the final moments force a re-assessment of all that went before it.

This is complex, intelligent theatrical story telling which allows the imaginations of its audience to fill in the gaps and create their own interpretations of the story. Vividly original images infuse the story with a life beyond its theme and if, like me, you yearn to explore our hidden and intricate shadows, a visit to the Night Garden can leave you shuddering with satisfaction, but its multiple paths can work against it by alienating and confusing those who prefer clear direction.


This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Floating

Floating
Hoipolloi
Hugh Hughes Productions
18 March 2009
North Melbourne Town Hall

After eight shows this week, I wanted to go home and watch bad telly, especially as the city was shaking again and the sky was filled with black hawk helicopters – but I saw Floating - and now I’m a bit in love with creator Hugh Hughes.

As artists, we strive for authenticity and originality in a creative world where it’s all been done before. As audiences, we crave connection and recognition that breaks away from the generic superficiality of “entertainment”. It’s rarely the technically perfect artists or the dazzlingly spectacular shows that we remember - rather it’s the creators who are brave enough to show us their hearts and souls and welcome the audience into their world.

Floating, is one of these shows. Presented by UK company Hoipolloi, it was created by artist Hugh Hughes in collaboration with Sioned Rowlands. Combining magical realism with direct intimacy, its themes of connection and disconnection, decision and choice resonate way beyond its Isle of Anglesey setting.

From the moment Rowlands, as Hughes’s Nain (grandmother), introduces Hughes, there is no us and them. Hugh and Sioned chat directly to the audience and explain what they are going to do. Both are instantly likeable, but aren’t afraid to temper their niceness with a bitter touch of hilarious condescension. To help us connect they hand around objects like Nain’s 1970s wrestling magazines, a blow up globe and a souvenir flag from Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch (you’ll get to practice saying it and if you want to be really smart – it means "The church of St Mary in the hollow of white hazel trees near the rapid whirlpool by St Tysilio's of the red cave). They even replay the beginning of the show for the benefit of a latecomer – after Hughes makes sure that there’s no resentment if they do so – because “a sense of resentment would be horrible”. (If only all shows would stop and check if the audience resented what they were doing…)

The design is as quaint as a sea-side tea house with a wooden food trolley holding the tech desk and a green doily hiding the harshness of the laptop computer, but the world created with slides, an overhead projector, the hidden laptop and their homemade props is more evocative and real than a Spielberg blockbuster.

The story is Hughes’s memories from the time he tried to leave his home of Anglesey in 1982, but an earthquake hit and the island was swept into the North Atlantic Ocean. (The rest of the world didn’t know about this because Margaret Thatcher was focussing attention on the South Atlantic and the Falkland Islands.) And the irony that Melbourne experienced another tremor that afternoon was not lost on any of us.

The faults in Floating are irrelevant. It could be tightened and polished, but its imperfections might be the secret to its appeal. By trusting their hearts and trusting that audiences want to connect, Hughes and Rowands ignored the rules to create a perfect piece of theatre.

The Arts House program at the North Melbourne Town Hall continues to bring some of the most extraordinary performances to our city. Floating finishes on Sunday night, so don’t waste time thinking about it – just go.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Poor Boy

Poor Boy
Melbourne Theatre Company and Sydney Theatre Company
27 February 2009
Sumner Theatre

The Melbourne Theatre Company opened the shiny, brand-spanking-new Sumner Theatre this very-hot week with a shiny, new, very hot Australian work.
 
Poor Boy is described as “a play with songs”. Matt Cameron’s script weaves with Tim Finn’s music from over the last 30 years, including songs from Spit Enz and his solo work.
 
This highly original work is not a piece of musical theatre. The songs are not part of the plot and used like an emotional commentary. The story stands by itself without the music and the music tells its own story without the play. As neither is dependent upon the other, they support and strengthen each other to create something surprisingly powerful and unexpectedly moving.
 
‘Poor Boy’ is also the title of a song from Split Enz’s album ‘True Colours’. (Remember, “My love is alien” with lots of dated swishy synth.)This was my favourite album of 1980 (constant playing of “I hope I never” got me though much tween-heartbreak) and still makes it onto my iPod. Ian McDonald’s arrangements make the music feel like it was written for the story, while Cameron’s script captures Finn’s recurring natural motifs and recreates the mood of each song through a completely different story.
 
When Jem turns seven, he claims to be adult Danny who died several years ago. Truths are and secrets are revealed as both families cope with the loss of a son. Cameron places the supernatural and the extraordinary well within the ordinary and recognisable world of the two families, while developing a sense of wonder and a dreamlike detachment. The MTCS’s companion piece Grace deals with similar themes, but Poor Boy is so much more powerful because the playwright never questions the truth of the situation and lets the beliefs of the characters guide the audience to their own conclusions.
 
Cameron’s perfectly crafted writing surprises at each turn and concludes so perfectly that you could never imagine it being anything else. Each character had their own complete and engaging story and balance within the overall plot. His complex imagery of water, digging, biblical heroes and zebras seems ridiculous as I write it, but beautiful on the stage and forms the lyrical base of the script. The dialogue sounds slightly unnatural, but it clearly comes from the unspoken and unconscious thoughts of the characters and conversations that are more fluid would break the haunting atmosphere.
 
The star-power of Guy Pearce as Danny will bring many people to Poor Boy – and rightly so. Pearce on stage is as enigmatic and addictive as he is on film. He puts the character before his performance and makes you completely forget you are watching an actor.
 
The rest of the cast (Greg Stone, Linda Cropper, Matt Dykrunski, Sara Gleeson, Abi Tucker, Sarah Peirse and a rotating cast of three boys) are equally as outstanding, and Simon Phillips’s direction steps back to let the script and music speak for themselves while discretely helping when a little more is needed.
 
The love that the creative team have for this work spills from the stage. There is never a moment when it doesn’t feel like this is something very special and it’s wonderful to sit amongst an audience who can feel and share this sense of pride and wonder.
 
This time last year I was saying how consistently disappointed I was with the MTC. Perhaps the move to the terrific new theatre has released some demons. Poor Boy is setting the bar high for what this company should always producing and I hope I never have to see a lesser production again.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com

The Year of Magical Thinking

The Year of Magical Thinking
Melbourne Theatre Company presents Sydney Theatre Company’s production
27 February 2009
Fairfax Studio, the Arts Centre

Joan Didion had a blessed life. She married the man she loved, had a much-adored child and enjoyed an envious writing career among the New York and LA literati. In an unfair matter of months her husband and daughter died, leaving Didion with only her writing. The Year of Magical Thinking is her memoir of that unimaginable time. She wasn’t convinced she should re-write it as a play. Fortunately, she took that risk.
 
Cate Blanchett directed Robin Nevin in the Sydney Theatre Company’s production of the 90-minute monologue in 2008 and Melbourne Theatre Company are letting us share this memorable work. The sound and lighting design didn’t cohesively make the trip, but this awkwardness did little to lessen the impact of this remarkable production.
 
In the US, Didion isn’t a tabloid-worthy celebrity, but is faced with recognition from most memoir-reading and theatre-going audiences. Blanchett knows well the joys and curses of being a celebrity persona, and her direction purposefully takes the work away from Didion as a character and reveals the raw story. The balance struck between emotion and story is where this piece shines.
 
For some, Didion’s exploration of her own grief seems distant, as she created a metaphorical world of water around her grief and structured it for “easy” reading. For others her restraint and control is natural and a relief to recognise that all heartbroken widows and mothers don’t collapse in a cliché of screaming tears to prove that their very essence is hurting.
 
The Year of Magical Thinking is about extreme emotion, but Blanchett and Nevin let the story guide the audience. It would have been easy to play the emotion – and it would have struck all the right chords – but by restraining the character, the audience infuse the story with their own experiences of grief and love – which makes the experience so much more powerful and personal.
 
None of which can take away from Nevin’s performance. It’s not just that she creates a character who lets us forget that she’s Nevin, but that she enables a full audience to empathise with a woman who is so unlike most people watching. Nevin may have an odd reputation in our gossipy world of theatre, but there are few actors who equal this level of skill and understanding. Her performance is about letting us feel our own grief and love, not about us watching her fine performance.
 
“Magical thinking” is described as tribal thinking, such as sacrificing to ensure a good harvest - but it’s not unknown to anyone. As children we try not to step on cracks; Didion chose her actions secretly believing that her behaviour would bring her loved ones back. There’s no logic or sense in the reasoning, but maybe the magic of this thinking is that lets our hearts keep beating when loss and grief are trying to overwhelm us.
 
This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com

I Love You, Bro

I Love You, Bro
Three to a Room and Malthouse Theatre
14 February 2009
The Tower, Cub Malthouse

If you heard that I Love You Bro was not to be missed – but you missed its 2007 and 2008 seasons – don’t worry because it’s at the Malthouse Theatre until the end of the month. Don’t miss it this time.

Among the madness of the 2007 Melbourne Fringe was a small show called I Love You, Bro. I wasn’t the only reviewer praising, and Adam J A Cass secured a Fringe award and a Green Room nomination for his script. Local independent producers Three to a Room came on board and more great reviews and full houses followed at a short Melbourne return season and the Edinburgh Fringe. Whilst they were on the other side of the world, the Malthouse’s Executive Producer finally caught the show and promptly placed it in the company’s 2009 season.

Cass’s script is inspired by the true story of a Manchester teenager who convinced another boy to stab him solely from their internet communications. At the time, it was almost unbelievable that anyone’s reality could be so influenced by the falseness of the net. It happened when chat was still for the geeks, but now even my Mum chats to me on Facebook and it’s not so hard to imagine how easy it was for Johnny to lure Mark to that alley.

I’ve raved about this script before, but it continues to deserve many words of praise. Cass took the facts and made it a story. His fluid flow from past to present never ceases to intrigue, his simple use of minor offstage characters shows us so much about Johnny, and he gives Johnny opportunities to make it right – whilst knowing there is no was out.

Although it was written about a very specific sub-culture, increasing technology and our willing acceptance of the virtual world has revealed a depth to the script that wasn’t so obvious at first. As many of us now interact in a virtual world as much as Johnny did, the underlying themes of lies, deceit, loneliness and power play much more strongly than the plot about the boy chatting online. As our perceptions are changing, perhaps the script could be made even more powerful with some cautious editing.

If you saw the original production, the changes to I Love You, Bro are minimal, but the growth is substantial. Jason Lehane has redesigned his subtle, yet powerful, set for the larger venue, with his projections adding their own narrative to the stage and a lighting design that must be what cyber space looks like.

The piece is now also performed with a northern English accent. Having seen both versions, I wouldn’t have noticed the accent if I hadn’t known it was there. I do wonder about the choice to add accents when a story is universal, but it adds a degree of authenticity, without distracting from its power or from the story and Ash Flanders never lets the accent define or control the character.

I can’t imagine anyone but Flanders as Johnny. He is best known around town for his questionable “ball acting” in Sisters Grimm productions. His mad, punk-camp-drag is mighty fine, but his performance in I Love You, Bro is remarkable. The complexity of the script makes it a very difficult piece to perform, demanding that the actor be Johnny, his own object of desire and every persona he creates. Flanders relishes the difficulty and his connection to the audience reflects the state of Johnny’s thoughts, being intimate and personal, then distant and detached. He never lets us feel sorry for Johnny, but gives a sense of warped understanding and empathy.

A monologue set in front of a computer, with a disjointed sense of time and minimal action isn’t something most directors would jump at. Fortunately, Yvonne Virsik jumped. Her direction gives a satisfying completeness to the work, as she finds the changing truth in the script, lets the audience find a path though the complex plot, and guides Flanders’s performance to a level that he may not have known he could achieve.

I Love You, Bro is one of those shining examples of what can be created from passion and a desire to show a story to the world. Such romantic notions are well and good, but even artists need to pay rent and have a meal, so let’s hope that this Malthouse season opens up many more doors that help Bros’s 2009 UK tour.


This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Woyzeck

Woyzeck
Malthouse Theatre
15 February 2009
Merlyn Theatre, CUB Malthouse

With music by Nick Cave and Warren Ellis, and Tim Rogers strutting around the stage, Malthouse’s Woyzeck was tipped to lure the cool folk back to the theatre and confirm the ultra-hipness of those who love hanging out in the dark spaces. It is rating well on the cool-o-meter, but opinions are very mixed on its value and success.

Woyzeck was penned by Georg Buchner around 1836-37. He died before he finished it, but his story of a solider who kills his lover continues to inspire. Director Michael Kantor writes of its “bedevilling moral conundrums” and “searing beauty” and hopes to connect the Cave/Ellis music with its universal emotion.

Well, that’s what I read in the program. I don’t think you should have to read the program to understand a show and I save my reading for the tram ride home. After reading Kantor’s program notes, I understood what he was trying to do and think he succeeded, but this understanding and intellectual connection didn’t bring this show back to life for me.

I found Woyzeck distracting. I didn’t dislike it, but was never engaged. The music was as terrific as it should be, the cast were great, the design was pretty neat and there were some great moments - but I didn’t care about the characters, didn’t feel the emotion and spent most of the show wondering why it wasn’t working.

The disjointed nature of the story makes character difficult, but there was enough inherent emotion in the story to sustain the most cynical. This production seemed so intent on looking great and living up to its anticipation that this emotional essence was lost. There were wonderful moments and performances, but the parts didn’t create a greater whole.

Of the wonderful, Tim Rogers is a lauded rock star for very good reason – he’s amazing on stage and you just can’t take your eyes off him. I loved watching him, but he seemed like a wild and bendy peg in a slightly square hole. Kantor is fond of putting singers and non-singers together on a stage. As with last years’ Sleeping Beauty, no matter how well an actor sings, they sound woeful when compared to a professional singer, and no matter how great a performer someone like Rogers is, his acting feels forced compared to the likes of Bojana Novakovic. So, instead of enjoying what these performers do best, we end up distracted by their lesser skills.

Many people love Woyzeck, so it is finding a grateful audience, but if you’re off to the Malthouse this week, I’d recommend going to see I Love You, Bro instead.


This review originally appeared on AussieThearte.com.

Grace

Grace
Melbourne Theatre Company
7 January 2009
Fairfax Studio, the Arts Centre

MTC’s 2009 season starts with Grace, a comprehensive debate about religion, belief, faith and love. It’s another play about middle aged academics in crisis, but no one can ever say that this company don’t target their core audience.

Originally performed as On Religion, Grace was developed in the UK by Mick Gordon’s company On Theatre. Gordon calls his works ‘theatre essays’. Each is a group-devised piece exploring a specific issue through a dramatic narrative, with works including On Death, On Ego and On Emotion. He co-wrote On Religion with English Philosopher A C Grayling.

Grayling is not a believer and his views sit firmly in protagonist Grace. Gordon’s views are more encompassing with each member of Grace’s family having specific and changing perspectives about religion. Questions arise when Grace’s son plans to become an Anglican priest and everyone is forced to confront their core beliefs when tragedy strikes.

Gordon says, “The theatre demands argument and balance. It’s no good at didacticism. In my experience, an audience will just not accept it.” The script reflects this with a fascinating range of well researched, contemporary and authentic arguments. And this is where the problem sits.

It’s a very well written work, but it feels too much like a philosophy student’s honours thesis. You certainly leave the theatre discussing and questioning the arguments put forward, but not talking about the characters and the world just seen. There was chat about what Noni (Hazlehurst) did and what Brian (Lipson) said rather than what Grace and Tom went though. I spent the rest of the evening discussing whether a practicing Anglican can reject a literal belief in Jesus or the concept of Christ. It’s great coffee talk, but it was academic; it wasn’t an emotional discussion about what I would do in a similar situation or dilemma.

It felt like the story was forced upon the ideas and the characters were developed from arguments and points of view. This may well be the aim of Gordon’s work, but it left his characters lacking in complexity and making decisions that were consistent with the argument, rather than the character.

Nonetheless, director Marion Potts breaks down most of the rhetoric and tells the story with warmth and passion. The most moving moments occurred when there was no dialogue and the characters were able to show us what they were really feeling. Hazlehurst is especially stunning when she reacts to a very long monologue at a grave side.

The casting is perfect. Hazlehurst and Lipson are joined by Grant Cartwright and Leah Vandenberg and each brings a complexity and emotional life to their character that isn’t evident in the writing.

Adam Gardnir is on his way to being one of the must have designers in the country and Grace is his first main stage design for the MTC. The design initially seems quite obvious and practical, but as the story unfolds, it shows its suggestiveness, and ultimately reveals its symbolism and complexity.

Grace is well worth seeing for the calibre of the creative team. Its writing is sure to encourage many discussions, but would be so much more powerful if it could break free from its own restraints and create a world not so strictly governed by text book debate.

This review appeared on AussieTheatre.com.

Golden Valley

Golden Valley
Perilous Productions
11 January 2009
Northcote Town Hall

In 1982, Dorothy Hewett’s Golden Valley won the Australia Writers’ Guild Augie award for best children’s script. Perilous Productions bring this Australian fairy tale to the stage for its first professional Melbourne production since 1985.

Director Suzanne Chaundy says, “Let’s make theatre for the young that is every bit as complex and developed as other main stage productions.” Anyone, young or not-so-young, who has sat though a kids show bored to tears, has to agree. I’ve never understood why some companies and performers think that young audiences will accept sub-standard shows and it’s exciting to see a holiday production that respects its audience and lets them engage in a complete theatre experience without a hint of condescension.

Golden Valley is a fairy tale set in the Australian bush with authentic and recognisable Aussie characters. The good guys are good, the bad guy is bad enough to create a couple “I’m scared” whimpers, and the everychild protagonist, Marigold, has faults, faces a series of challenges, is helped by adults and some natural magic, but ultimately saves the day by herself – and grows up a little bit more in the process.

Symbolism fills the poet’s script, with various layers of significance evident beyond the immediate story. This complexity is not necessary for the basic story, but the tale wouldn’t live so vividly without it. Fairy tales that have been simplified to just the superficial story are never as enjoyable or powerful.

Detail and complexity continue onto the stage. From the gorgeous collage-style design to the offstage live music and warm performances, Golden Valley is a delight.

There are only a few performances left, so don’t let young theatre buffs miss Marigold’s adventure.

This review originally appeared on AussieTheatre.com.