Adam Hills - Inflatable

Thursday, 21 May 2009

Striding onto UWA’s Octagon stage like a returning hero to the strains of ‘In the Hall of the Mountain King’, Adam Hills knows he is assured a Spicktacular welcome. The crowd had braved the first night of Perth’s long awaited winter showers, and the Octagon’s intimate and oh-my-god-we’re-so-close-to-the-stage! setup gave the comedian more than enough leeway to comfortably pick out a few choice ‘victims’, ahem, audience members with which to engage his fine wit and quick improve skills.

He had a gift with his first hit, a fan of the show (her T-shirt practically branded her crew) who was sitting next to two empty seats right in the front row. Did she know the two people in those seats? Yes. Why were they running late? A pole dancing class. Hills’ face lit up so much with the possibilities that he had to thank God, and much laughter ensued from the various sly observations he shared with the crowd.

He also found time to rib a couple about how they met (it involves our own Quokka Isle, a debauched party and chest shaving); and to the left of the stage, two wholesome young Christians friends from Mt Pleasant church…awww…so sweet that bunnies were imagined hopping down the stairs towards them.

But soon it was on to the show. Hills was full of beans and bright-eyed with regular sleep, something he says does affect a lot of his regular stand-up gigs as he usually tapes, writes or works on ABC’s Spicks & Specks during the day and then heads off to work his stand-up sessions at night. But the show has finished taping for the season and he warned us to strap in ‘cos he had energy to burn!

The crowd (including regular stalker, Maria) enjoyed a highlighted comedic pop into Hills’ life, from stand-up in Europe (nothing cuts across the language barrier like Bon Jovi apparently); to the humiliation of having told a ‘dad’ joke; and then his own excitement about being a dad himself one day.

A joyous and sweat tricked version of our national anthem set to Barnsies’ ‘Working Class Man’ ended the night with whoops and cheers – whoa-oh-oh-ooo, Advance Australia Fair!

The 25th Annual Putnam Spelling Bee

Friday, 15 May 2009

I’m a pretty good speller, not fantastic and probably lazier than I used to be thanks to Microsoft Word’s automatic spell check, but I often look up words in (online) dictionaries and encyclopedias, and I love the opportunity to increase my word score (a holdover from thumbing through my grandparents Reader’s Digest as a kid).

But while I remember taking an individual oral spelling test in primary school, Australia doesn’t really have the marvelously organized spelling bees that the US have slowly elevated to the height of brain nerd chic; so much so that a few years ago, there was a fantastically popular documentary called Spellbound which followed a group of juvenile high achieving wordsmiths and the families who push, cajole and fulfil their competitive dreams through them.

This was what awaited me as the premise for this show. Having been invited by a couple of Finlay friends and intrigued by the promise of audience participation, I was wickedly delighted to find that two other pals who had come to that night’s performance were unexpectedly called to star on stage (by general announcement no less!)

Hackett Hall had recently been refurbished to boast comfortable tiered seating which with its reasonably steep incline greatly suited the gymnasium look of the production.

Archetypes were established in the quick early songs - smart Asian girl with numerous controlled hobbies; eccentric boy with delusions of self importance; sweet, slightly hippy pretty in pink girl; boy scout with something to prove; the home-schooled kid angling for notice in his big family; and the right wing, politically active Type A daughter of two dads with a surname the length of which I have not see outside a Welsh township.

These, along with four “late entries” (aka members of the audience), took us through a roundup of barely decipherable words, fun puns and bonmots; with flashback insights into their families and growing up smart – relatable stories of good kids trying to do something academically extraordinary. A marked difference to the rebelling rage of West Side Story or even Grease; but I suppose these characters are skewed to be middle school and still have that apple core of innocence, yet to experience the rumble and twist of hormones and puberty.

The look and pace of the show was an acknowledgment to Kimberley Shaw’s confident direction and choreographer Kristen Twynam-Perkins gave fun, easy dance sequences that would be well received at any school concert – the fact that the “special guests” could pick up the numbers so quickly is a credit her sound sequences and the quick coaching from their fellow actors.

Lauchlan Bain was a standout as snarky William Barfee (BAR-FEY!)- Clark Kent handsome in thick spectacles and with surprising grace in his pas de duex with sweet Olive Ostrovsky (Tamara Woolrych).

All spelt out, it was a fun visit to junior high.

Giselle

Saturday, 2 May 2009

Poor old opera. While the serious theatregoer undoubtedly appreciates the soaring heights of complex arias, dramatic plot lines and sumptuous costumes and sets; ballet will always have it beat - at least in the eyes of the tween set and under (girls in particular).

It was the closing night of Giselle, billed as the ultimate romantic ballet, and tradition abounded. The recent Perth International Arts Festival had boasted a modern take on this tragic story, but the West Australian Ballet had chosen tutus, tights and true love.

The audience demographic skewed all the way down to pre-primary ballerinas-in-training, dressed in their sparkly best and with eyes shining with the dreams of one day dancing so lightly on their toes that they could come close to flying.

But while Giselle is trimmed with happy woodland dancers from a country village, and royal hunting parties with brocade aloofness; at it's centre is a doomed love affair.

Naive woman-child Giselle (Jayne Smeulders) gives her heart to duke-in-disguise Albrecht (Ivan Gil-Ortega) and goes mad with grief upon discovering he is customarily betrothed to visiting aristocrat Bathilde (Kasey Polkinghorne).

Snatching his sword, she dances wildly, desperately and so violently that her weak heart collapses under the strain and she dies calling on the Willis, cursing her soul to join the ghosts of maidens betrayed.

Act 2 brings forth the misty scene of Giselle's forest grave at twilight. Myrtha, Queen of the Willis appears and summons her court to weave a deathtrap for the ritual punishment of all who dare step in the forest.

Hilarion (Cass Mortimer Eipper) a rival suitor for Giselle's affections, is summarily dispatched to dance to his death. Surrounded by the vengeful spirits of maidens lost, he has no choice but to accompany them, and their supernatural powers bring about his demise.

Albrecht is similarly caught, and the Queen orders Giselle, the most recent novitiate, to take her revenge, but Giselle, still in love with Albrecht, dances as slowly as she can, delaying time and again, until the break of dawn releases the dark power of the forest and her former love is left regretful and alone.

I enjoyed the opportunity to see one of the Big Ballets (Giselle is often seen as the high point in a dancer's canon of classics, the character is rich with opportunity to display complex emotions and technical skill); however I was a little disappointed that this interpretation chose to give Giselle a weak heart overcome as an explanation for her death - I recall a version I had read about in my mad balletomane tweenhood, where Giselle takes up the sword that reveals Albrecht's true nobility and at the climax of her wild dance, plunges it unto her heart. I'll admit, rather bloodthirsty, but dramatic!

Jayne Smeulders as the title character displayed a bird-like fragility and while dancing well, didn't make me experience the full tragedy of her character. Her eyes were large, but I still felt a distance from her inner life and turmoil, and so was not able to fully feel my heart break along with hers when Albrecht's betrayal was discovered.

Ivan Gil-Ortega was non-threateningly swoon-worthy as Albrecht, and probably had the eyes of a hundred ballet class pupils following his every move across the stage; but his talent and charisma marked him as the perfect leading man, and his soulful gaze soften a character that could have easily been interpreted as a redemptive cad.

The rest of the corps de ballet filled the stage with swirling folkloric motion, there were a few standouts technically amongst the throng, but really they were mostly a movable backdrop for the leads.

But I could see how much all those girls in the audience (some little, some big) enjoyed the show, it is one of the dreams of girlhood... and so despite any critical quibbles will always have the popularity of the masses.

The Way of the World

Friday, 1 May 2009

I'd almost forgotten about John Curtin College of the Arts, a spectacular private school with an emphasis on training future successful auditionees for WAAPA. I must have heard of it when I was performing in my own high school musicals... but Armadale High, despite it's dedicated music program, is a far cry from this Fremantle academic and arts institution and I'm sure I was probably jealous of every single one of the students who was lucky enough to mark attendance here.

A small but colourful entry in a community newspaper stated that William Congreve's Restoration comedy classic The Way of the World was being performed for the first time in 25 years at Curtin Theatre, located on the school grounds and starring "senior gifted and talented drama students" directed by Raymond Omodei.

I'm passingly familiar with this work due to it's sophisticated and witty monologues and was curious as to how the whole play might look on stage. Arriving just as the tones signalled the show was about to start, I dashed in, grabbed a ticket from a teacher/ parent vendor and scored a seat with an envious amount of legroom in comparison to the average. (It pays to be close to the aisle!)

Glancing around I was proven right in my teenage assumption of private school equals awesome infrastructure as the theatre was fantastic, with a large stage cleverly utilised by set and lighting designer Jake Newby to feature large painted panels of complementary or suggestive artworks.

The wardrobe worked on by Isabelle McGrath also suitably represented the ostentation of the time, with elaborate gowns, jackets and knickerbockers costumed throughout, and the most hideously large wigs I've ever seen suffered under by most of the male cast. The men in general also wore a much thicker mask of makeup; while the women (save dowager Lady Wishfort) though cinched in to emphasize a wasp waist and buxom decolletage were able to look far fresher with little powder and pretty hairstyles. At the time, this was the way of the world...

Though the plot was a trifle convoluted, and the language at times unfamiliar, the cast and the crew could not be faulted and the performances were impeccable and well received by the audience. Witwoud (Michael Colson) and Petulant (Cameron Scott) deserve props for portraying such utterly ridiculous fops and talented Rose Riley was very funny as the melodramatic Lady Wishfort. Dark horses Fainall (Adam Sollis) and his lover Mrs Marwood (Zhada Kekez) provided a complex conflict to the comedy, but ultimately a clever resolution is presented at the denouement and all ends happily with the engagement of the the sharp tongued and quick witted sparring partners Millamant (Holly O'Donoghoe) and Mirabell (Jackson Heinz).

I was very impressed with the production and while still slightly envious, I'll admit that this is more than tempered by my admiration for the talent and ambition of the actors and production staff. I'll make sure I'm on the lookout for future shows!

The Seagull

Thursday, 30 April 2009

I don’t know quite what I expected from this Chekhov play – I had heard that his works are dour, talky, with languidly morose depictions; but this adaptation actually had a lot of humour, and some of the characterisations, such as lovelorn Masha (Michelle Davidson) were really rather droll.

Gifted actress and director Marcelle Schmitz has certainly teased out relatively naturalistic performances from her cast drawn from the WAAPA 2^nd year Acting Students, as despite the heightened drama involved in the plot lines, the truth of Chekhov exploring people’s everyday lives and how they justify their choices crosses the barriers of time and place. The theme of unrequited love and cross relationship entanglements formed a lot of the scenes and while the setting may have been 19^th century Russia, the discussions on the nature of fame, age, depression, and living within your means and superannuation (!) made it seem positively modern.

Kostya (Wade Briggs – in an intense and focussing performance) is introduced to us nervous yet excited, he is about to debut his play and is eager to showcase his leading lady Nina (Aileen Huynh) with whom he is desperately in love with. She’s not immune to his enthusiasm for her, but is far more interested in impressing the writer Trigorin (Nicholas McRobbie), erstwhile lover of Kostya’s famed actress mother Arkadina (Eloise Winestock) a scene stealer in every sense, and with enough ego to swallow up all the air in the room. Winestock is hilarious and later proves her dramatic acting chops in a scene with Kostya, first comforting her son tenderly while changing his bandages and then angrily confronting him as they snipe at the complexities of their relationship.

The central role of Nina in the first act needs such a delicate balance of youthful enthusiasm and dreamy virginal sensuality (she is said to have stolen the hearts of all the men of this country estate) that when she later returns as a broken, delusional young woman desperate to just be in the same house as her ex-lover Trigorin, it’s supposed to be a visceral shock to the audience. It’s a challenging role for any actress and I found Huynh a little uneven in her characterisation, but overall the cast was up to the challenge of enormous monologues and pages of singular dialogue.

Smaller characters such as Dr Dorn (Eric Beecroft – easygoingly charismatic) and Shamrayev (Oliver Wakelin) a booming and unselfconscious fan of Arkadina, provided slices of side humour, or in the doctor’s case, a lone voice of support for the depressed Kostya. Paul Dowson as Uncle Sorin, Arkadina’s straight arrow of a civil servant brother, wishing at the end of his life to have accomplished something fair more creative and grand, almost made my heart stop at one point; his hand falling off his chest, his death dreadfully anticipated. But then he snores and everyone laughs nervously. Chekhov wouldn’t do that to us! All the big action takes place off stage! The attempted suicide of Kostya, the affair between Nina and Trigorn, the triumphs and downfalls – these are all absent from our eyes, and we simply hear of them from the characters passing news to each other concerning beloved friends and acquaintances.

The staging was neat and compact with smart use of the trellis side sets and a mirror-like movable entry. The stage crew were as ghosts, experienced and sure. The music was sweet, but forgettable, less another element to distract from the dialogue. But it is the words, words, words that fill the stage and now with this introduction to his work, I shall shy no more away from Anton Chekhov and instead welcome future opportunities to see into his broken sardonic heart.