Thursday, January 24, 2019
Fringe World 2019
Welcome to Turnstile's run-down of the shows we've seen at Fringe World 2019.
These spot reviews will often link to full pieces either elsewhere on Turnstiles or in Seesaw Magazine.
I hope that all makes sense, and that what you're reading here helps you make some of those tricky will-I-or-won't-I fringe choices.
What Doesn’t Kill You (Blah Blah) Stronger ★★★★½
Everything I said about this Martin Sims award-winning show last Fringe holds true this time around. If anything, the snaps were snappier, the laughs laughier and the tunes even more tuneful. A little triumph you simply mustn’t miss.
Lake Disappointment ★★★
It doesn’t live down to its name, but it still feels like an opportunity lost. The script, by Lachlan Philpott and Luke Mullins, about the vanity and abandonment of a film star’s body double (Joel Sammels) is smart and well constructed, but we don’t get inside the character enough. Sammels has all the right moves, but his delivery suffered from a nervous speed which robbed some of his lines of their impact.
Icarus ★★★★½
The terrific mime artist Christopher Samuel Carroll takes the tragedy of the boy who flew too close to the sun and wraps it behind and around a modern tale of escape from indescribably danger (in Deirut? Damascus? Yemen?) and it’s fatal consequence. Unlike his previous Fringe highlight, Paradise Lost, Caroll is hirsute, mute (except for one cluck) but he is just as brilliant, technically superb and utterly transfixing.
Rest ★★★★★
As fine a piece of site-specific theatre as I can remember and an enormous credit to James Berlyn, Monica Main and Rubeun Yorkshire, the composer Rachael Dease, lighting designer Lucy Birkinshaw, stage manager Emily Stokoe and the wonderful young cast from WAYTco who made the extraordinary East Perth Cemetary come to life. The season is sold out, but I believe there may be some performances added. You should keep an eye out for them!
Blueberry Play ★★★★ Ang Collins brings sharp observational ability to the story of a teenage girl approaching adult life in Blueberry Play. Julia Robertson’s impressive emotional range allows the story to swing from playful comedy to wrenching moments with ease. If Blueberry Play was a song, it would be by Courtney Barnett.
(Read the complete review in Seesaw Magazine)
Manwatching ★★½
Written by an anonymous woman, Manwatching is about “heterosexual female desire”, though by-and-large that translates to female masturbatory fantasy. Its shtick is that it’s read by a man who has never seen the script before. Tonight’s performer was the skillful and wily actor Paul Grabovac, but before long you realized you weren’t hearing anything you hadn’t heard before, and you were hearing it rehashed too often.
(Read the complete review in Seesaw Magazine)
Djuki Mala ★★★½ The “Chooky Boys” of Elcho Island in Arnhem Land have taken their exuberant mash up of traditional and pop dancing around the world over the past eleven years. This is their third Fringe World season, and if ever the term “back by popular demand” told the story, this is it.
The purists will no doubt argue that the dancing isn’t of great technical quality - and of course they’re right – but for me, and for the rest of the packed-to-the-gunnels sea of beaming faces in the WA Spiegeltent, it didn’t matter a jot.
Orpheus ★★★★½ This simple, lovely re-telling of the myth of Orpheus and Eurydice is the first you-must-see piece of theatre this Fringe World.
It was wonderful to watch the audience (even some who weren’t quite sure why they were there at first) fall under the spell of one of humankind’s greatest, saddest stories.
(Read the complete review in Seesaw Magazine)
Elizabeth Davie: Super Woman Money Programme ★★★½ Sometimes, comedy is best when the laughing stops.
When Elizabeth Davie stops with the funnies (she gives us plenty), she sits down and reads a damning indictment of the systemic barriers raised against women who find themselves “financially independent” – either by their own choosing or by the actions of others.
She says its like cold water running down her back. And, sometimes, that’s exactly what comedy needs to be.
(Read the complete review here in Seesaw Magazine)
Feminah ★★★
Charlotte Otten, a young actor of decided presence, has quickly built a reputation built largely, so far, on anticipation. With Feminah, though, she starts to deliver.
While it’s fair to say her text tends to the sophomoric, her performance is bold brave and confronting. There’s some hilarious imagery and some terrific, torchy versions of songs from Marilyn to Britney, both of whom she’s kinda heiress to. Well worth a look.
The Violent Years (1956) ★★★ A late night spot on a blistering Sunday night at Fringe World makes for a tough room to fill – not that the cast of Rachel Kerry’s The Violent Years (1956) ain’t up for it. when you’re playing a stage musical version of Ed Woods’s gleeful sump, swirling adolescent boredom, crime, sex and anarchy into a nasty brew designed to offend every complacent, puritanical atom of 1950s America.
(Read the complete review here in Seesaw Magazine)
Poorly Drawn Shark ★★★★
Andrew Sutherland loves the fringe world, and this Fringe World will love his Poorly Drawn Shark. Both love story and revenge play, it rips into the manicured miracle of Singapore and its contradictions with baleful glee, yet with an understanding of what drives it and its leaders from Stanford Raffles to Lee Kuan Yew. Sutherland, his co-performer Ming Yang Lim and the director Joe Lui (not incidenrtally, Ming and Lui are Singaporeans who can't go home because of the nation's conscription laws) have a visceral understanding of their subject , and their play, for all its outrageousness, is shot through with blinding insight. The image of Singapore as a shark that has to keep moving forward to survive, and, if were to stop, would no longer be a shark, will stay with me a long time.
A Midnight Visit ★★★½
This fringe's showcase production has more to admire than to love about it. An extraordinary effort of design and production has transformed the old Perth Girl's School building (also once the former Police Traffic Branch headquarters) into a vast labyrinth of grottoes, dungeons and mansion rooms inspired by Edgar Allan Poe. Its dark recesses are populated with Poe people, and the bitter vignettes that play out as we stumble, crawl, stroll and dance through them are shot through with Poe's sensibility. For all that though, there's no real narrative, or even a sense of progression as you pass through, and you're left with an uneasy sense that, for all its undoubted impressiveness, nothing of any importance, or even value, has actually happened. A great show for date night though!
Grace ★★★½
Grace is a quirky little thing, but an engaging and surprisingly adept one. The Grace of the title (Ana Ika) is struggling; with her room, her mind, her life. The intrusion of an octopus (strangely and brilliantly played by Elise Wilson), followed by two more of the beasties, all of them cajoling her to join them in a vast floating island of junk in the Pacific, is guaranteed to throw her off the rails, and risks throwing us in the too-deep end, but to the credit of the writer Zachary Sheridan, the director Phoebe Sullivan and the cast nothing like that happens. The result, though a little confusing (but, hey, that's life) is a pint-size Fringe gem.
Friday, December 28, 2018
The 2018 Turnstile Awards
Very early yesterday
morning, a secretive yet glittering ceremony hosted by WA Meistersinger David
Templeman was held inside the deserted Legislative Assembly chamber to
announce the recipients of the 2018 Turnstile Awards.
![]() |
| David Templeman, Mark McGowan and Ben Wyatt belt out Tame Impala's "Apocalypse Dream" at the 2018 Turnstiles |
Templeman was joined by
WA premier Mark McGowan and state treasurer Ben Wyatt in a visceral medley of
dystopian tunes (Eve of Destruction a standout) curated by Jeffrey Jay Fowler, prior
to revealing the eleven shows that had won a prestigious Turnstile. They were:
What Doesn’t Kill You (Blah Blah) Stronger. The writer, comic actor
and singer Tyler Jacob Jones may be the most prodigious talent in this town. His
long-standing partnership with the composer Robert Woods and the versatile
performer and director Erin Hutchinson has honed their skills to starry
heights, no more so than in this precision-crafted, utterly hilarious little
musical.
You Know We belong Together. There is wonderful warmth about
Julia Hales and her co-performers, all of whom have Down Syndrome. It enveloped
the audience, creating a shared, joyous experience of the rarest kind in
theatre as these lovely and loving people tell us their stories. Some of them
are deeply moving; others are funny, sexy and sad.
The Summer of the 17th Doll. This production marked a
highpoint in the career of the talented director Adam Mitchell. The first major
play in the Australian idiom concerned with authentically Australian lives,
it’s also arguably our best. Kelton Pell plays Roo without race or colour, but
with magnificent emotional and physical power.
The Events. David Greig’s The Events, which was motivated by Anders
Breivik’s rampage in Norway in 2011, is dark, fascinating and theatrically
ambitious. Catherine McClements, gave a compelling performance, and a different
community choir performed in each performance as a cogent reminder of lives
lived and lost in the terrible “events” we have become so used to.
Hiro. This is an extraordinary story, and a true one, about a
man swept out to sea by the 2011 Fukushima tsunami, but to make it compelling
theatre requires dramatic vision and technical expertise. It’s creator and
director Samantha Chester, her co-creators and performers Humphrey Bower and
Kylie Maree, and her creative team, provided just that, and in spades.
The Tale of Tales. A small, brilliant gem of storytelling, and a
breakout achievement for its deviser and performer, Clare Testoni. She used the
fairy tales of Giambattista Basile as a jumping off point for a wider and
deeper story of four generations of her own family, the rise of Fascism in
Italy and the resistance to it, the flight of many Italians to Australia and their fate here. It was an honest show,
and a heartfelt one; as one of its characters says: “a story left untold is
destined to repeat itself.”
Court My Crotch. The writer and director James McMillan’s play is
wild, savage, and the most memorable production of the Blue Room’s 2018
seasons. Its action was as fast, furious, sweaty and grunty as any Grand Slam
final, and took a wide-ranging look at sport, society and sexuality of
surprising accuracy and topicality. The show moved so fast and so far that its
flaws were trampled underfoot.
In the Next Room – The Vibrator Play. The American playwright
Sarah Ruhl delivers a witty, playful peek into domesticity and its pitfalls,
the role of women in marriage and society, and quite a bit more besides. The
result is a wildly entertaining and intelligent piece of popular theatre.
Another Turnstile for Jeffrey Jay Fowler, the director, who accurately assessed
Ruhl’s play for what it is; a modern take on Restoration Comedy, almost a
bedroom – well consulting room – farce, highlighted by career performances from
Rebecca Davis and Jo Morris
Fever. This
collaboration by Andrew Bovell, Christos Tsiolkas, Patricia Cornelius and
Melissa Reeves dates from 2002. It’s not the first time this quartet of
playwrights’ work has been performed by WAAPA’s Aboriginal Performance
students; what was new was this production’s complete lack of specific
Aboriginality; the students, and their director Rachael Maza, ask us to come to
their work on its own merits, with no concessions or schema. What was exciting
was how terrifically they succeeded, and how, in so doing, they brought a major
and intensely relevant Australian work to a new audience.
Frankie’s. The best bars are real-life impromptu stories. The
characters in their dramas walk in without a script, and they are as varied and
various as all humanity. The actors
and musicians Libby Klysz’s Variegated Productions gathered to people Frankie’s
were, perhaps uniquely, fit for purpose. The night I dropped in (the cast and
characters change nightly), Turnstile-magnet Shane Adamczak and Sam
Longley were bartenders, the combustible Tegan Mulvany was the resident barfly,
and Chris Bedding, an oversize man with a great talent of presence, was her lost
love. It’s a great achievement that a cast could concoct such material out of
thin air.
A little piece
of housekeeping: up until now the Turnstile Awards have gone from September 1 to
August 31 each year. That now seems an awkward construct, so I’ve converted to
the calendar year. Which means to tidy things up, a stand-alone, late 2017,
Turnstile goes to:
Let the Right One In. A whopping Heath Ledger Theatre debut
for Black Swan’s new artistic director Clare Watson, the vampire romantic
thriller splendidly executed and highlighted by a tough, sexy and needy
performance by Sophia Forrest, impressively supported by Ian Michael.
I started these little
awards back in 2010/11 when I became the theatre reviewer for The West
Australian and have continued them through the eight years during which I’ve
been privileged to see, and delighted to acknowledge, some wonderful West
Australian theatre.
The awards acknowledge outstanding WA produced (or
co-produced) stage shows opening in Perth each year. Eligibility is inclusive,
rather than proscriptive. There are no set number of Turnstile winners each
year, and no attempt to rank them in order of merit. The Turnstiles are a pat
on the back, not a competition.
As it’s now apparent
(although no-one has actually taken me into a little room and delivered the coup de gras) that The West, to the
extent that it covers the arts at all, will do so “in house”, it’s a good time
to look back on those shows that have won Turnstiles up to now. I’m sure its a
list that will bring as much pleasure to those who saw these terrific pieces as
they gave to me when I did.
So indulge me for a while
as I remember the Turnstile Award winners since 2010:
Krakour. Deckchair Theatre’s production of Reg Cribb’s engaging
hagiography of the football wizards, directed by Marcelle Schmitz and starring
Jimi Bani and Sean Dow as Jim and Phil;
The Deep Blue Sea. Terence Rattigan’s ‘50s tragedy,
stylishly directed by Michael McCall for Onward Production, with a stellar
performance by Alison Van Reeken;
Waltzing the Wilarra. Yirra Yaakin’s irresistible 2011
PIAF hit, written and composed by David Milroy and directed by Wesley Enoch;
The Ugly One. Marius Von Mayenberg’s literate and adventurous
play, directed by Melissa Cantwell for the Perth Theatre Company;
Die Winterreise. Matthew Lutton’s engrossing and unsettling
theatrical extrapolation for ThinIce of Franz Schubert’s song cycle, with
striking performances by Paul Capsis and George Shevtsov;
Laryngectomy. Renegade Production’s ferocious and courageous
lament at the Blue Room, written by Joe Lui (who also directed) in
collaboration with the riveting performer Demelza Rogers;
Crazy For You. WAAPA 2nd and 3rd year music theatre student’s
ebullient and potential-crammed revival of the Gershwins' hit at the
Regal;
Scent Tales. A perfectly miraculous parable of knowledge and
love, directed by Joanne Foley for Little y Theatre, with a
transfixing performance by Georgia King;
Red. Onward Production’s second Turnstile, for Lawrie
Cullen-Tait’s auspicious main stage directorial debut with John Logan’s mighty
seat-filler, starring James Hagan as Mark Rothko;
Tender Napalm. Perth Theatre Company again, for the brutal and
vivid play by the prodigious Philip Ridley, directed by Melissa Cantwell and
starring Joshua Brennan and Anna Houston;
Adam and Eve. A smashing, laugh-out-loud modern take on The Fall,
,directed by Moya Thomas at the Blue Room, with terrific, inventive
performances, especially by St John Cowcher and Alicia Osyka in a Laurel and
Hardy-like comic pairing;
The Damned. Reg Cribb’s unlovely, memorable play for Black
Swan, firmly directed by Andrew Lewis with gripping performances by Amanda
Woodhams, Claire Lovering and, especially, Sage Douglas.
Who’s Afraid of the Working Class. An imposing, ultimately
heartbreaking play, beautifully and proudly performed by WAAPA Aboriginal
Theatre students directed by Rick Brayford.
Atishoo. A wonderful, fevered dreamscape by DNA, written for kids
under six by Rachel Riggs and Adam Bennett, who also performed alongside the
beguiling Anna Marie Biagioni.
Blackbird. Perth Theatre Company’s unsettling, exciting production,
written by David Harrower and directed by Melissa Cantwell, with fine
performances by Humphrey Bower and Anna Houston.
National Interest. Black Swan’s complete and
satisfying production, written and directed by Aiden Fennessy, with the
outstanding Julia Blake and a fine supporting cast.
How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying. WAAPA’s music theatre
students’ exuberant production of Frank Loesser’s snappy musical at the Regal.
It’s Dark Outside. A rare triumph of theatrical
ingenuity in the service of human compassion; Tim Watts, Arielle Gray and Chris
Isaacs’s wonderful production for the Perth Theatre Company.
On the Misconception of Oedipus. Perth Theatre Company’s
brilliantly conceived and executed, high gloss, play directed by Matthew Lutton
with Natasha Herbert, Daniel Schlusser and Richard Pyros as modern
manifestations of the infamous Sophoclean triangle.
Boy Gets Girl. A tense, menacing staging of Rebecca Gilman’s stalker thriller directed by
Adam Mitchell for Black Swan, with great performances by Alison van Reeken and
the genuinely creepy Myles Pollard, and a superb and, at one point, shocking
set design by Fiona Bruce.
Eve. A stand-out performance in any year from Margi Brown Ash
in at the Blue Room, the sad story of the largely forgotten writer Eve Langley,
written by Ash, Daniel Evans and Leah Mercer, who also directed.
The Motherfucker With the Hat. Stephen Adly Guirgis’s joyfully
erudite New York drama, directed by Adam Mitchell with a mighty performance by
Rhoda Lopez and a scene-stealing one by Fayssal Bazzi.
Duck, Death and the Tulip. Barking Gecko’s delicate, good
humoured, story for kids about death, directed by John Sheedy with exemplary
performances by George Shevtsov and the irresistible Ella Hetherington.
Minnie and Mona. The Duck House production of Jeffrey Jay Fowler's
funny, fierce and sad play, firmly controlled by director Kathryn Osborne and
fearlessly performed by Arielle Gray and Gita Bezard.
Hamlet. John Sheedy and Barking Gecko in partnership with WAAPA to
deliver a fresh, energized staging of The Play, with a passionate, sexy
performance by James Sweeny in The Part and a brilliant sound design by James
Luscombe.
Other Desert Cities. Black Swan’s production of John
Robin Baitz’s sparkling story of familial and political disintegration, immaculately
directed by Kate Cherry and designed by Christina Smith, with stellar
performances by Janet Andrewartha and Conrad Coleby.
Hedda. Marthe Snorresdotter Rovic brought authenticity and
magnetism to her seamless, electric adaptation of the Ibsen classic, directed
by co-adaptor Renato Fabretti with a cast including her fellow Norwegian Tone
Skaardal and the charismatic, intelligent Phil Miolin.
Storm Boy. Barking Gecko’s handsome co-production, with the
Sydney Theatre Company, of Colin Thiele’s much-loved novel, was another step
forward for our most exciting and ambitious main-stage theatre company.
Trampoline. The first of an unprecedented single-year Turnstiles
trifecta by the outrageously talented writer and actor Shane Adamczak, the
bouncy romcom at the Blue Room, directed by Damon Lockwood also starred Amanda
Woodhams and the very funny Ben Russell.
Midsummer (A Play with Songs). The most and best laughs of
anything Black Swan staged that year, thanks to Georgina Gayler and Brendan
Hansen’s performances, Damon Lockwood’s direction and David Greig's often
hilarious screw-tightening script.
DIVA. The writer and performer Tiffany Barton and director Helen
Doig collaborated to tell the story of a fading opera singer with pungency,
tempestuousness and ultimate humanity.
Vicious Circles. Adamczak again, this time
incredible as Johnny Rotten in Ben Kalman’s sad, brilliantly performed story of
the last days of Sid and Nancy, co-produced by WA’s Weeping Spoon and Canada’s
Stadium Tour for the Blue Room’s Summer Nights season at PICA.
F*@k Decaf. Pop-up theatre at its best; Tyler Jacob Jones’s café
society comedy, sharply directed by Scott Corbett with star turns by Amanda
Watson and Ann-Marie Biagioni, at the Mary Street Café on Beaufort St.
Eight Gigabytes of Hardcore Pornography. Declan Greene’s dark
comedy may not live up to its name, but it has plenty of hard drive. Perth
comedian Andrea Gibbs delivered a performance to be proud of.
Jasper Jones. Kate Mulvany’s savvy adaptation of Craig Silvey’s
wonderful book was another faultless step on John Sheedy’s mission to grow
Barking Gecko from a children’s theatre to one for young people of all
ages.
This is Not a Love Song. The stand up comedian Greg Fleet’s
impressive debut as a playwright was a sure-fire singalong hit at the Blue Room,
and more besides. Fleet performs, as does director Tegan Mulvany and, you
guessed it, Shane Adamczak.
Laughter on the 23rd Floor. Black Swan’s sparkling, handsome
revival of Neil Simon’s reminiscence of radio days. Impeccably cast, with Peter
Rowsthorn outstanding.
King Hit. Geoffrey Narkle and David Gilroy took us inside the
sideshow boxing tent, and plenty of other places, in Yirra Yaakin’s fine,
important revival of this seminal West Australian play.
Hipbone Sticking Out. A magnificent, sprawling story of
the collision of cultures in West Australia’s North-West. Created by Scott
Rankin and Big hART, inspired by, and featuring, the people of Roebourne, it
had everything theatre should have, and did everything theatre should do.
Venus in Fur. David Ives' delicious layer cake of a play-within-
a-play-within-a-book, assiduously directed by Lawrie Cullen-Tait. was sent into
orbit by the tall, fair and heedless Felicity McKay.
Monroe & Associates. Tim Watts, the kindiest member of
wunderkind company The Last Great Hunt, created a snazzy little noir world
inside a caravan, and invited his audiences of one to try to outsmart him in
it.
Under This Sun. Warwick Doddrell’s outback epic emerged from the
heat and dust of the WA desert like a modern-day Burke and Wills, and was as
impressive a writing debut as we have seen on the Perth stage.
Legally Blonde. Showed WAAPA’s splendid music theatre course and its
soon-to-be world-beating students to perfect advantage at the Regal – and was a
sell-out smash hit into the bargain.
Gudirr Gudirr. An extraordinary performance by Broome artist
Dalisa Pigram, combining tens of thousands of years of continuous cultural
endeavour with the skills and confidence of contemporary indigenous performing
art.
The Mars Project. The 3rd year acting class at WAAPA
shone in Will O’Mahoney’s intricate, coherent and moving rumination on
ambition, autism and the lure of the ultimate.
The Drowsy Chaperone. WAAPA’s 3rd Year Music Theatre students
kicked up a storm in this utterly hilarious, marvellously generous and
strangely neglected little musical about nothing other than what makes a
musical tick.
Hart. Wonderfully controlled and white hot with anger, Ian Michael wove the
stories of four indigenous men (himself included) into a rich, entertaining and
deeply moving tapestry of the terrible events of the Stolen Generation.
The Astronaut. The performer Samantha Chester and her director Frances Barbe created
something mysterious and ineffably sad between dance and drama that used the
minimalist space of the Blue Room as effectively and imaginatively as anything
I’ve seen there.
Grounded. Alison van Reeken, the very best of our actors, was taut
and sinewy as the fighter pilot cum drone operator in George Brant’s
horrifyingly real journey into bloodless, abstract, modern warfare.
The One. The arc of a love affair told as a blues by the white-hot
writer Jeffrey Jay Fowler, and Georgia King and Mark Storen, who both gave
career-best performances.
The Lighthouse Girl. Hellie Turner overcame the
intractable untheatricality of fact to fashion a touching and very real love
story in the shadow of war and death, highlighted by an outstanding rookie
performance as the girl from Daisy Coyle.
End Game. The pedigrees of the play, the director Andrew Ross, the
designer and lighting designer Tyler Hill and Mark Howlett and a fine cast were
impeccable, and they delivered Beckett’s bleak vision with wonderful clarity
and control.
The Irresistible. A singular, wholly-realised
theatre experience by the writer and director Zoe Pepper and the
performer/collaborators Tim Watts and the ferocious, highly-charged Adriane
Daff,
Good Little Soldier. Ochre Dance Theatre’s Mark Howlett
took his text about the scars of war and, working with a talented team of
deviser/performers, broke it down into a cross-disciplinary performance that,
miraculously, was even greater than the sum of its parts.
The View from the Penthouse. WAAPA Performance Making students
Isaac Diamond, Cam Pollock and the genuinely terrifying Sam Hayes concocted a
brilliant, noxious cocktail of carnality and addiction.
Monday, December 3, 2018
Theatre: Stay With Us
The Last
Great Hunt
When Marcel
Duchamp declared that it is the viewer who completes a work of art, he may have
had something like the The Last Great Hunt’s tasty exercise in bed-hopping,
Stay With Us, presently occupying three rooms in the Riverview Hotel in Mount
Street, in mind.
Created by
Arielle Gray, Chris Isaacs and Tim Watts
Directed by
Arielle Gray
Body
sculpture by Tarryn Gill
Devised and
performed by Gita Bezard, Jo Morris and Clare Testoni
Stage
management by Emily Stokoe and Zachary Sheridan
Riverview
Hotel
Until 8
December
When Marcel
Duchamp declared that it is the viewer who completes a work of art, he may have
had something like the The Last Great Hunt’s tasty exercise in bed-hopping,
Stay With Us, presently occupying three rooms in the Riverview Hotel in Mount
Street, in mind.
While each
of the short tableaux that make up the work might have worked in front of a
disengaged audience, it’s our participation – immersion more properly – in them
that gives them their hook, and their dramatic power.
There’s
little need be said about the plot of each piece, other than they relate
back to the show’s title (as, of course, does the idea of us spending an
evening with the Hunters in a hotel).
In the
first, a woman named Alana (Jo Morris, the only actor to appear in any of the
stories) is grieving the death of her twin sister Zoe when strange things begin
happening in her hotel room.
In another
room, medical staff gather around the body of an elderly woman (a sculpture by
the artist Tarryn Gill) while the objects that make her and her life up are
revealed.
In the
final piece, children in their jimjams clutch teddy bears and listen to a
goodnight story (illustrated by Tim Watts and Clare Testoni) that takes them to
the stars and beyond.
It’s the how,
not the what, though, that delivers these little stories.
There’s no
denying the artistry of the work: JoMo’s (Sorry Jo, that’s irresistible)
performance, seen up close without make-up or theatrical costuming, is as wrenching
and electric as we have come to expect from this fine actor; Gill’s old lady is
an abstraction, but captures beautifully (and quite touchingly for those who
have seen their parents in death) the sunken calm of the deceased; and, best of
all, Watts and Testoni’s projected images, starting small and squiggly, build
into a powerful and vast panorama of the galaxies and the forces within them.
What’s most
impressive is how we are wrangled into our part in proceedings. We travel in
groups of eight from the Riverview’s lobby to the three rooms, guided by a bellhop
(in our case Gita Bezard; other groups were led by Chris Isaacs and Watts) who
costumes and arranges us, and wordlessly instructs us in our participation.
I can only
imagine this duck’s legs are kicking ferociously beneath the placid surface as
the stage manager Emily Stokoe and her assistant Zachary Sheridan restore the
wreckage of each scene ready for the next audience’s incursion.
The
director Arielle Gray, along with Watts and Isaacs, created the whole
catastrophe and keeps a sure hand on a very tricky tiller throughout.
It’s
marvellous to see the Hunters in action (of them only Jeffrey Jay Fowler and
Adriane Daff, who were no doubt furiously busy elsewhere, are absent), and
their disparate talents, seen together, gives them a collective charisma
different from, if not greater than, the sum of its parts.
They’ve
added judiciously to their talent pool with Gill, Morris, Testoni and even the
effervescently ubiquitous Scott McArdle – who will be the concierge at my next
hotel – front of house.
I believe their upcoming Perth Festival debut, Le Nor, will be the first time all
six have performed in one show - this will be another stride forward for this world-class ensemble.
We’re lucky to call them our own.
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We’re lucky to call them our own.
Wednesday, October 31, 2018
Theatre: Medusa
Renegade
Productions and Bow and Dagger
Written by
Finn O’Branagáin
Directed
and sound design by Joe Lui
Set and
costume design by Ish Marrington
Lighting
design by Kristie Smith
AV design
by Clare Testoni
Performed
by Moana Lutton, Jacinta Larcombe, Jess Moyle, Mani Mae Gomes, Michelle Aitken,
Andrew Sutherland and Sandy McKendrick
Blue Room
Theatre
Until 3
November
The
greatest compliment you can pay Medusa – or, certainly, the one its writer Finn
O’Branagáin and director Joe Lui would most appreciate, I suspect – is that it
is “splitting people”.
That’s at
least what a friend texted me as I donned running shoes and easy-to-wash
clothes for 75 minutes of self-proclaimed uncomfortable (you get to stand
through the performance), loud and messy theatre.
My friend meant
that people were either loving or hating it – I’m firmly in the latter camp –
but, perhaps unconsciously, she expressed a deeper truth about the show; it
splits you.
Its
physical discomfort is paralleled by a psychic one; the action, a raging female
blood-haka, is a sensory assault; Lui’s choreography and Clare Testoni’s audio
visual work, while tight as a drum, are disconcertingly out of synch; the
actors, semi-naked, daubed in paint and blood, are pungent and self-aware, the
noise, woman-made or recorded, is percussive and intrusive.
Medusa is
quite deliberately, a sensory overload.
O’Branagáin,
Lui and Testoni are all fascinated by mythology, and their body of work is shot
through with it. Medusa, the snake-haired Gorgon monster of Greek mythology
whose gaze turned men to stone is an almost inevitable metaphor of female oppression
and rage for them.
She represents
the quintessence of woman-as-monstrous and woman-as-deadly, the touchstone of misogyny
and revulsion, the physical and psychological anathema to the orderly
patriarchal world view.
Of rape,
and murder.
(There were
times when I couldn’t help thinking of Tony Abbott and Bronwyn Bishop preening
in front of the “Ditch the Bitch” caricature of Julia Gillard – it’s a wonder
they didn’t put snakes in her hair.)
The
ensemble of young women (Moana Lutton, Jacinta Larcombe, Jess Moyle, Mani Mae
Gomes and Michelle Aitken), one androgynous man (Andrew Sutherland), and an
older, homeless woman (Sandy McKendrick) beat on drums, floors and punching
bags, chant, rage about the stage while Testoni’s images charge around them.
It’s a
remorseless and exciting barrage, often seemingly formless and without
narrative, but its messages get into your head like drumbeats.
Especially
effective is the interplay between McKendrick’s monologues, filmed live from an
adjoining room (you can wander over to watch her “live”) by Sutherland and
projected scratchily and unstable on the walls of Ish Marrington’s scribbled
set.
When McKendrick
enters the main room, perched on a gopher like a dilapidated queen, wounded by
life and defiant to the end, while the names of victims of the Medusa-myth
flash up around her, the purpose of this ramshackle, rumbustious, divisive
piece is delivered, whole and unmistakable.
Friday, October 26, 2018
Theatre: In the Next Room, or The Vibrator Play
by Sarah
Ruhl
Black
Swan State Theatre Company
Directed by Jeffrey Jay Fowler
Directed by Jeffrey Jay Fowler
Set
and costume designer Alicia Clements
Lighting
designer Lucy Birkinshaw
Vision
designer Mia Holton
Composer and sound designer Ash Gibson Greig
Composer and sound designer Ash Gibson Greig
Performed
by Rebecca Davis, Stuart Halusz, Kingsley Judd, Tariri Mavondo, Jo Morris, Tom
Stokes and Alison van Reeken
Heath
Ledger Theatre until November 4
![]() |
| Jo Morris, Stuart Halusz and Rebecca Davis |
There’s A Hit –
A Palpable Hit – In The Next Room
It’s an entertaining (if likely apocryphal) historical
factoid that the first appliance of the age of electricity was the venerable
and handy vibrator; it was certainly in wide use in doctors’ rooms as a
copacetic for female hysteria – in other words, to cure that which ails you by
the bringing on of orgasm – quite soon after those ACs and DCs started running
through Edison’s wires.
The American playwright Sarah Ruhl has bounced off all this
with In the Next Room, a witty, playful peek into domesticity and its pitfalls,
the role of women in marriage and society, and quite a bit more besides.
Along the way she neatly avoids all of the traps of
prurience and earnestness lying in wait for her, and the result is a wildly
entertaining and intelligent piece of popular theatre.
It would be anyway, just on the strength of the text, but
this production is lifted to its very considerable heights by the skill and
talent of its creative team and cast.
Jeffrey Jay Fowler, the director, has accurately assessed
Ruhl’s play for what it is; a modern take on Restoration Comedy, almost a
bedroom – well consulting room – farce, and he plays it elegantly through the
covers. He’s much assisted by his designer Alicia Clements, whose cutaway
two-way-mirror set is wholly successful – quite inspired in fact –and allows
the action to move from room to room seamlessly and often hilariously. Her
costumes, which are removed, replaced and got inside with great regularity, are
authentic and sumptuous.
Ash Gibson Greig has composed music that perfectly fits both
the play’s acoustic era and electrical subject, and Lucy Birkinshaw’s lighting
is subtly effective throughout, even when dealing with the tricky task of
switching set lighting on and off like an electric lamp.
A cast this well provisioned, led, dressed and lit has a
great opportunity, and they go to town on it. There are terrific supporting
turns by Tom Stokes as the ardent but diffidently amorous artist Leo Irving
(who gets a different, and squirm-in-the-seat, kind of vibration), Tariro
Mavondo as the African-American wet nurse Elizabeth who introduces a suite of
issues as relevant today as they were in postbellum America, and Kingsley Judd
as the straight-laced but sympathetic husband of one of the patients of the New
Machine.
Alison van Reeken, who stepped into the cast at late notice
(as she is often asked to do), is glorious (as she always is) as Annie, a Ma
Clampett nurse who gets swept up in all this tomfoolery.
The story revolves around the practice of the good doctor
Givings, and Stuart Halusz gives a perfectly pitched performance as the medical
technocrat oblivious to the torrents and torments of those around him. He’s in
pretty good shape, too.
The play belongs to its leading women, and Rebecca Davis, as
Catherine Givings, and Jo Morris as her husband’s patient Sabrina Daldry, both
give career performances.
Morris is electric (sorry) as Sabrina, and she makes her
I’ll-have-what-she’s-having scenes – she develops quite a hankering for her
little buzzing friend – a tour-de-force.
Davis rarely gets the opportunity to show her range, but she
does here, and her ability to slip easily from farce to genuine emotion is the
touchstone for the production’s stance, and its success.
There’s much talk around about the sparse opportunities for
seasoned professional actors in the current Perth theatre. There are reasons
for it, and I don’t intend to argue the whys and wherefores in a review of one
show.
This one, though, reminds us that the talent is here, and in
spades. You can help by the easy act of seeing it when you get a chance as
enjoyable as this is.
Sunday, September 16, 2018
Cabaret: #Val: A Glitery Ode to Queer Men and their Mums
John O’Hara
Accompanied by Andrew Kroenert
Downstairs at the Maj
13 – 15 September
John O’Hara. What a guy!
Raised on the Canning Highway Avenue of the Stars (Dave Faulkner at the Manning end, Dave Warner at the Bicton end), O’Hara schooled at Melville Primary and John Curtin College of the Arts, studied at WAAPA and has gone on to star on stage (Cats, Rocky Horror, Wicked, Priscilla) and cabaret, all over the place.
He’s back home, in more ways than one, with #Val: A Glittery Ode to Queer Men and their Mums, the story of his growing up, his coming out and the songs that helped him do both.
Those who’ve seen him on the Maj’s basement stage before, in Dedications (2015) or last year’s A Very Merry Christmas (there were plenty of comebackers in the audience – always a good sign) would have known they were in for a fine time in the company of a dead snappy performer.
I think they’d have also known they were in for more than that – because O’Hara’s cabarets are rare commodity in that glittery world. They are about things.
A fair swag of the songs of #Val are, in a sense, predictable. Gaga’s Born This Way, Scissor Sisters’ Let’s have a Kiki, an all-time gay anthemfest (I Will survive, Raining Men, Strike A Pose, Dance With Somebody…), George Michael’s Freedom, even the Barbie theme song, Get Your Sparkle On (we did).
But it’s the songs we don’t expect, and the way he gets inside them that we’ve never heard before, that makes O’Hara such a compelling performer. Who’s gunna to do the little tearjerker Baby of Mine from Disney’s Dumbo, Cher’s gun-totin’ Turn Back Time, or, of all things, Farnsy’s You’re the Voice?
But he does, and owns them all big time.
And when everything he’s trying to do and say comes completely together (much credit due here to his accompanist – well they’re a duo, really, Andrew Kroenert), in heartbreaking, revelatory versions of TLC’s Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls and Sia’s Titanium, it’s like you’ve never really known what they’re about until now.
That’s the strength, but also the one weakness, of #Val. The story of a gay boy growing up and into is skin, his relationships (with his fabulous mother, of course, his straight brother, his absent father) is funny, sweet and makes all the points it needs to.
The extrapolation into the history of the LGBIQ struggle way back to the Stonewall Uprising and the death of Marsha P Jackson is understandable and legitimate, but it confuses O’Hara’s narrative and dangles him on the crumbly edge of polemic.
But what the hey. That’s just me. John O’Hara, “Australia’s John O’Hara”, gives as good an hour as you’ll get to spend on this side of the footlights.
Don’t miss #Val. Don’t miss anything he does.
Accompanied by Andrew Kroenert
Downstairs at the Maj
13 – 15 September
John O’Hara. What a guy!
Raised on the Canning Highway Avenue of the Stars (Dave Faulkner at the Manning end, Dave Warner at the Bicton end), O’Hara schooled at Melville Primary and John Curtin College of the Arts, studied at WAAPA and has gone on to star on stage (Cats, Rocky Horror, Wicked, Priscilla) and cabaret, all over the place.
He’s back home, in more ways than one, with #Val: A Glittery Ode to Queer Men and their Mums, the story of his growing up, his coming out and the songs that helped him do both.
Those who’ve seen him on the Maj’s basement stage before, in Dedications (2015) or last year’s A Very Merry Christmas (there were plenty of comebackers in the audience – always a good sign) would have known they were in for a fine time in the company of a dead snappy performer.
I think they’d have also known they were in for more than that – because O’Hara’s cabarets are rare commodity in that glittery world. They are about things.
A fair swag of the songs of #Val are, in a sense, predictable. Gaga’s Born This Way, Scissor Sisters’ Let’s have a Kiki, an all-time gay anthemfest (I Will survive, Raining Men, Strike A Pose, Dance With Somebody…), George Michael’s Freedom, even the Barbie theme song, Get Your Sparkle On (we did).
But it’s the songs we don’t expect, and the way he gets inside them that we’ve never heard before, that makes O’Hara such a compelling performer. Who’s gunna to do the little tearjerker Baby of Mine from Disney’s Dumbo, Cher’s gun-totin’ Turn Back Time, or, of all things, Farnsy’s You’re the Voice?
But he does, and owns them all big time.
And when everything he’s trying to do and say comes completely together (much credit due here to his accompanist – well they’re a duo, really, Andrew Kroenert), in heartbreaking, revelatory versions of TLC’s Don’t Go Chasing Waterfalls and Sia’s Titanium, it’s like you’ve never really known what they’re about until now.
That’s the strength, but also the one weakness, of #Val. The story of a gay boy growing up and into is skin, his relationships (with his fabulous mother, of course, his straight brother, his absent father) is funny, sweet and makes all the points it needs to.
The extrapolation into the history of the LGBIQ struggle way back to the Stonewall Uprising and the death of Marsha P Jackson is understandable and legitimate, but it confuses O’Hara’s narrative and dangles him on the crumbly edge of polemic.
But what the hey. That’s just me. John O’Hara, “Australia’s John O’Hara”, gives as good an hour as you’ll get to spend on this side of the footlights.
Don’t miss #Val. Don’t miss anything he does.
Wednesday, September 12, 2018
Theatre: The Inconsequential Lives of Little Fish
Created and
performed by Frieda Lee and Sam Hayes
Blue Room
Theatre
Until 22
September
The sea,
the things that swim in it and those who catch them is the world of Frieda
Lee’s The Inconsequential Lives of Little Fish. It’s a powerful and cruel
world, and Lee’s play is a striking, heart-wrenching response to it.
Her play is
shaped like a parable, and within it the horrors of modern quasi-slavery, and the fragility of life and family are
explored.
She tells
the story of a little fish (Lee) the wife and the mother of the child of the
fisherman who caught him (Sam Hayes).
They are
the little fish, and their inconsequential, expendable lives are buffeted by
the avaricious, the capricious and the brutal (many of the incidents are drawn
from the real-life stories of indentured fishermen in Thailand and other
South-East Asian countries).
Lee is both
the little fish and the narrator of her story, and she weaves the dual role
together effectively. She is an actor of great passion and intelligence, and
gives a memorable performance.
Her husband
Hayes plays six supporting characters as well as the fisherman, and
demonstrates his versatility as well as his power in the performances.
Hayes has
the rare gift of being genuinely menacing on stage (as he showed to frightening
effect in last year’s A View from the Penthouse, which, incidentally, returns
in an extended version with a stripped-down title later in the Blue Room
Season).
In Little
Fish he also shows his capacity for tenderness and arch comedy. Hayes is an actor I’d go a long way to see.
The quality
of the performances, well supported by Maeli Cherel and Étain Boscato’s set and
costumes, Isaac Diamond’s sound and Phoebe Pilcher’s lighting designs, drives
the story of Little Fish to its fateful conclusion.
There are
some rough patches along the way – a diversion involving a capricious wealthy woman and her boyfriend
who take Little Fish in is overlong and meandering, and I felt the show needed
more of a sense of the sea to give it mystic and mythic power – but The
Inconsequential Lives of Little Fish remained engaging and engrossing theatre.
And the
ending is absolutely shameless. You’ll adore him!
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